#i’m the pacific one but c’mon

[cursedvida]

Honestly, ever since the new Planet of the Apes movies came out, people have been shipping apes x humans in pure self-inserts. I've seen dozens of fanfics shipping any of the characters x human!reader since I started watching the movies in 2016, so I don't know why people who have been in this fandom for years are surprised that people ship Noa with Mae. I mean, seriously? Have you been living under a cyber-rock or something? This isn't new, it's been happening for over a decade, it's just now being done with a canon human character, with plenty of hints to boot. Those of you acting surprised or scandalized either just arrived at the party or have conveniently ignored reality for years.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Bastogne

Eugene Roe X Nurse!reader

Summary: When Y/n gets assigned in Bastogne to help Doc Roe, she doesn't expect what's about to happen in that cold forest.

Warning: Swearing/ mention of blood/ people losing legs/ violence (it's WW2)/ use of Y/n/ kissing/ mention of trauma (not the word but like, you get it)/

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: I'm back bitches!!!!! Like I said, I'm rewatching BoB, The pacific and Mota, so inspiration is back!!!!! Here is a Doc Roe fic. Love y'all🤍

When she got assigned to Bastogne, she didn’t know what to expect. She knew it was going to be cold, but nothing could’ve prepared her for what she was facing the second she set foot on the frozen ground. Dick Winters introduced her to the soldiers, and her colleague Eugene Roe, the doctor. She was sent by the army as extra hands for Eugene. She was a trained doctor, but since she’s a woman, they gave her the title of nurse. “I’m Y”n Jones, I studied medicine before the war started. So I'm not just a nurse.” she explained to the doctor. “Alright Y/n, got any morphine?” he asked, his voice was thick and had an accent she found intriguing. “Yeah, they gave me some, I also have-” she didn’t finish the sentence, the second she took the scissors out of her pocket, Eugene grabbed them and ran away.

Bill Guarnere was the first to really talk to her. The third night, he invited her into his fox-hole. “How d’ya end up in a shithole like this?” he asked, smoking his cigarette. “I joined the army.” she replied, stealing his cigarette. Bill smirked, watching the woman smoke his cigarette. “Got a husband?” he questioned. Even if he saw her ringless finger, he thought it would make conversation. “Nah, don’t have time for that, y’a got a wife?” He shook his head and pouted a little. “Meh, they’re too complicated,” he said, making Y/n chuckle. Eugene Roe got to their fox-hole in silence. But he crouched on top of them, looking at the woman. “Jones, c’mon, we got our own fox-hole.” he mumbled. “Night Bill” Y/n said as she got out. “Night Y/n!” he responded.

When she met Eugene, she didn’t think much of him. Mostly because he was in such a hurry that they barely talked. Apart from medical directions, Y/n and Eugene barely interacted in the first days. But she decided that if they were going to work together, they had to communicate. So that night, she jumped in his fox-hole, determined to have a conversation with him. “Jones, is everything alright?” he asked, confused by the presence of the woman. “Doc, where are you from? I noticed an accent, but I can’t put my finger on where it's from.” she asked. He had a little smile. “Louisiana, I'm half cajun, where y’a from?” “I’ve traveled around the States ever since I was born. Never really had a home. Loved Louisiana when I went there, except for the gators-” she continued to blurt out every thought she had in mind. Eugene listened happily. It was distracting him for the wounded men he had to treat every day.

It’s been 2 weeks since she arrived. She had to heal a couple of men, but it was mostly Eugene running around. Tonight was one of the coldest nights they had. “Y/n, y’a had any soup?” Eugene asked, taking a spoon in his mouth. “A little, gave most of it to-” The sound of planes flying stopped her. The Germans were sending more planes. “TAKE COVER!” they heard Winters yell before the explosion made her ears ring. Soon after, the chaos started. “MEDIC!” Eugene ran. “ARGH! MEDIC UP FRONT!” Y/n ran. “HELP!” They both ran. The only light they had was from the fire and the explosions. When she turned her head, she saw her friend, Guarnere running to help a soldier.

That’s when a bomb dropped near them. She was in shock, did her friend die? “MEDIC!” she heard him yell. Her body was frozen, not from the cold, but from fear. Still, she blinked and ran to help Bill. He was missing a leg, and he was in shock. “Y/n, i’m fine. Go help others.” he grumbled. She couldn't believe he was still alive. The main artery was served, he was losing a lot of blood, but he was talking and responsive. Her instincts took over, she was treating him, but it wasn’t her. Her body was moving alone. “Get him in town! NOW! BRING A TRUCK FORWARD!” she yelled. For what felt like hours, she and Eugene took care of the wounded and tried to save a bunch of them. They lost men. Y/n had a mix of blood all over her.

“You okay?” Eugene asked. They were sitting in their fox-hole. She had teary eyes, but still she was in shock.When she didn’t respond, he asked again. She still didn’t answer. “Y/n” he firmly asked. She got out of the trance she was in and looked at him. A tear falling on her cheek. “What?” she said, barely louder than a whisper. “Are you okay?” she managed to nod. “I think,” she said. He wiped the tear with his thumb, leaving a little bit of heath on her face. Y/n looked at the hand of the man, then looked at his eyes. “You did good out there.” he said. “Thank you, you did too” she leaned her head on his shoulder. He laid his head on top of hers. “We deserve silence,” she whispered. He smiled and looked at the sky. Their breath was heavy, the silence meant a thousand words.

The day of Christmas was hard for Y/n, it was the first time she would spend Christmas alone. Last year, her brother came to visit her on the base she was training on. Now, in the cold night, freezing her tits off, she was alone. “Merry Christmas Y/n!” Winters said as he handed her soup. “Thank you, you too.” She drank the soup, but she also warmed her hands on the cup. “Y/n.” she heard Eugene call her. So she went into their fox-hole, under the cover, to preserve the heath. “Eugene,” she responded. “Merry Christmas, thank you for helping me like you do.” he handed her a present. “Eugene you shouldn't have. I don’t have anything for you.” She felt guilty. He gave her a bar of chocolate. She loved chocolate. “Oh my god! I love it, thank you so much!” she said with a huge smile on her face, she was really excited about a bar of chocolate. Eugene giggled at the excitement of the woman, he found it adorable. She threw herself on him, hugging him tightly. “I could kiss you! Thank you Eugene!” she laughed. “It’s nothing, Renee gave me bars, and I know you love it, so I asked for extra” he explained. She had a big smile and took his face with her hands and kissed his cheek. “I’ll get you something, hold on.” With that, she ran, fox-hole to fox-hole in order to get Eugene the medical supplies he needed. After 10 minutes, she came back, hands full with morphine, plasma, bandages.

“I wish I could get you something more, but that’s what I could find in 10 minutes” she said out of breath. Eugene laughed. “Come back here,” he said, smiling. “Thank you for these, but y’a didn’t have to.” he said, smiling. “I wanted to. Thank you for helping me every day with the stuff I don’t know about. You’re a really good person, Gene.” she said. It was his turn to take her face with his hand, but he did it more romantically than Y/n. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, with a low voice that made her blush. She nodded and leaned closer to Eugene. Her breath was shaky, she was nervous. She'd kissed before, but it was different with him. When their lips touched, she melted into him, his hand holding her in place. She reached the back of his neck, she tried to get a grip of something. The kiss was passionate and romantic. It said so many things without them actually talking. When they pulled away, out of breath, their eyes were filled with lust and love. She blushed so hard, she was red as a tomato. Eugene was smiling ear to ear.

During their time in Bastogne, they grew close to each other. After a day of running around, they would lean their head on one another and just enjoy the silence. After a while they began holding hands. Just the physical contact of the other was enough to reassure the other. Occasionally, they stole a few kisses from each other. When they got to the church, they sat next to each other, holding hands. “Is it over?” she asked. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. That night, they couldn’t sleep, how could they, after what they saw in Bastogne. They sat in the church, talking about their lives. “You got someone back home?” she asked. He shook his head. “Me either, too focused on school.” she explained. “Good, cause you’re coming back home with me,” he said. She looked at him and blushed.”I ain’t letting you go, you’re mine now.” he said, adding to her smile. “Is that a weird way to ask me to be your girlfriend?” she smiled. “Yeah it is.” he took her hand and intertwined their fingers. “Yeah, I'll be your girlfriend.” she leaned to kiss him. At least, someone got something positive in Bastogne.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

if i knew it all then, would i do it again? (b.r.b.)

a/n: this is simply an AU that i've been toying around with for a few months. s/o to @struggling-with-delia for letting me write a whole literary analysis for so that i could get my thoughts straight about this. i don't know if i'll write more to this AU but i would love to hear everyone's thoughts :)

summary: What would have happened if Rebel had left the Navy after her accident?

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | same mistakes-verse

warnings: angst, swearing, alcohol, surprisingly no MavDad? Ice lives because this is an AU and what i say goes

word count: 3.9k

“they called me weak, like i’m not just somebody’s daughter” 

He hovers, listening in to a conversation he has no right to. It feels like an invasion of your privacy, listening in like this, in all the worst ways. How the hell is he ever supposed to build a friendship with you if he can’t even get himself to walk away?

“I can’t do this anymore Ice.” You say quietly, his ears straining to even hear the words. 

“Kid-” The admiral is confused, but hidden under his confusion is concern. You don’t give him a chance to give life to that concern, cutting him off. 

“I’m done, Ice. I’m out.”

-

The noise and laughter in the bar must be heard from miles away. The bar is buzzing with customers, all celebrating the miraculous survival of the pilots. Maverick’s planted at the bar, chatting with Penny, Ice keeping a firm hand on his friend’s back. 

The pilots in question have stationed themselves at the pool table, chatting and playing and enjoying the hell out of themselves. 

The drinks have been flowing, the conversation steady, and none of the Daggers can say they’ve felt this at ease in weeks. 

With a month of leave awaiting them, how could they feel any less?

“C’mon, man. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard the rumors about her.” Payback says with a nudge of Omaha’s shoulder. “She was legendary.” 

Omaha shakes his head, taking a sip from his beer bottle. “No, tell me.” 

“The story goes, that there was this incredible pilot, who accomplished the likes of Maverick, by the callsign of Rebel.” 

Coyote perks his head at Payback’s words. 

“But then one day, her and her wingman went down in a highly classified accident over some ocean the Navy wasn’t even supposed to be in. By some miracle, her and her wingman walked away safe and sound. But no one ever saw her again, after that day. No one knows where she is or if she’s dead or alive.”

“She just… disappeared.” Fanboy finished with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“I’ve never bought that story.” Phoenix says with a shake of her head as she passes the pool cue to Bob. “It’s gotta be bullshit.” 

“I’m with Phoenix. It’s not possible.” Halo pipes up from her seat.

Payback nods, mulling over their words. “That’s always the part that gets me. How does a pilot of that caliber and legend just disappear?” 

“Well, when your godfather is the Commander of the Pacific Fleet, pretty easily actually.”

All heads at the pool table turn to see a girl standing just over Fanboy and Payback’s shoulders. She’s adorned in jeans and a tight black top, a leather jacket covering her shoulders. The jacket has patches sewn into the material, not unlike something the group suspects Maverick wears around town on his bike. Her hands are shoved in her jacket, surveying the group. 

“Ain’t no fucking way.” Hangman mutters.

-

The table is silent for a minute before the mustached-man clears his throat. “Rebel.”

Your eyes flicker over to him, looking him up and down. 

“Rooster.” 

Your tone is cool, gaze already moving away from him. 

“There’s no way in hell.” The blond says, eyes swinging between you and your old friend. “No way.” 

Lieutenant Seresin. Callsign Hangman. He brought your Dad home.

Your brain catalogs the pilots as you look around, picking up on clues and pieces on who is who from the stories and profiles Mav and Ice have told you about. 

“She’s real?” One of them says, mouth gaping open. He turns to the taller pilot standing next to him. “Man, I thought that story was made up!” 

Lieutenant Garcia. Callsign Fanboy. 

“Guess not.” The other pilot mutters. 

Lieutenant Fitch. Callsign Payback. 

“I thought that was just a rumor.” Another pilot says, glancing at the female next to him. 

Lieutenant Floyd. Callsign Bob.

“Well, the rumor seems to know Bradshaw.” The girl says with a sharp tone, cutting Bradley with a look that would make even the strongest man whimper. 

Lieutenant Trace. Callsign Phoenix. 

Bradley doesn’t even spare her a glance, unable to tear his gaze away from you. 

“What’s your name?” Bob calls, standing up from his seat. He leans over the pool table, offering you his hand. You take it with a sigh, offering him a small smile as you introduce yourself. 

“Callsign Rebel.” Coyote mutters, finally meeting your gaze. 

“Now don’t tell me the two of you know each other.” Hangman says incredulously, placing his hands on his hips. You let out a little laugh, shaking your head as you let go of Bob’s hand. You step back, putting your hands back in your pockets. 

“Please, don’t call me that. That part of me is dead and long gone.” 

Hangman smacks Coyote’s shoulder, clearly looking for an answer. Coyote sighs. 

“I’m the other part of the legend, her wingman who went down with her that day. The story’s true, what happened. Even more true, that no one ever saw or heard from her again. Even me.” 

You swallow, shoulders heavy with the weight of it all. This is the closest you’d come to Navy personnel outside of your Dad and uncles in almost two years. 

Everything suddenly felt terrifying and too much all at once. 

“How you doing, Coyote?” 

He eyes you. “Been better.” 

You clear your throat, suddenly wishing you were back at the bar with Ice and your Dad. You desperately wished Slider’s plane had landed in time for him to have come over to the pool table with you. You wished you were at home, in bed and under the covers, away from the flashbacks and the reek of burning metal-

“I just wanted to-” You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. “I just wanted to come meet the pilots that have captured my Dad’s attention so wholly.” 

“You knew Cyclone’s daughter?” Hangman demands, eyes swinging back to Coyote. 

You raise an eyebrow. “‘M wearing a leather jacket and you think I’m related to Cyclone? Try again.” 

“Pops doesn’t have a kid.” The blond says with disbelief. 

You nod. “He does. Just me though. You’re Lieutenant Seresin, right? You’re the reason my Dad is home. Thank you for that.” 

“You know who I am?” He asks, disbelief still coloring his tone. 

Of course, of course, you knew Jake. How could you not?

Lieutenant Seresin, who had an ego bigger than the Navy’s yearly budget. 

Hangman, who’d egged Rooster into nearly giving him a black eye. 

Jake, who’d brought them home. 

“Of course I do. I know who all are. My godfather didn’t take picking you all for this mission lightly, you know.” 

“Can’t believe you never said anything.” Coyote mutters. 

“Why?” You challenge, reaching your arms out to lean on the pool table. “You and I were never that particularly close. In fact, I distinctly remember you telling me to shut the fuck up on my first day.” 

Coyote lets out a breath through gritted teeth. “That’s not-”

“Fair? Yeah, neither was the way your old squadron treated me. Don’t talk to me about fair Machado.” You let out a breath, trying to calm your quickly rising anger. “I should get back to my Dad, make sure he’s not hiding any secret injuries. I just wanted to come meet you all, but maybe it would have been better if I hadn’t.” 

You turn, slipping into the crowd before one of the pilots can say another word to you.

-

“Are we gonna ever see your daughter again, Pops?” Hangman asks, toying with one of the model planes.

He lets out a little laugh, shaking his head. “She came and said hi the other night?” 

“Something like that.” Phoenix responds. 

“Did you know?” Bradley asks. “That she was Coyote’s wingman?” 

He sighs, sitting down on the couch in the hanger. “I did.” He says slowly. Coyote glances up at him. “But she wasn’t the one to tell me.” He rubs his hands together as he thinks over his words. “And she’s made it explicitly clear that her life and my career are to remain separate. And that includes any and all things to do with you kids. So to be honest with you Hangman, probably not.” 

“What happened?” Jake says, still fiddling with the toy. “Why did she just leave? Why’d she make the comment about your old squadron?” He asks, turning to Coyote as the last question leaves his mouth. 

Coyote scrunches his nose before tilting his head and looking at Hangman. “They weren’t very nice to her.” 

“Sounded like you weren’t very nice to her.” Payback says, rejoining the group with another round of beers from the kitchen. 

Coyote shrugs, remaining silent. 

“Coyote?” Bradley asks, curiosity coloring his tone. 

Coyote shakes his head, standing up from the arm of the chair he’d been sitting on next to Hangman. “I’ve regretted the way I treated her every day of my life. Can’t say the same about my old team.” 

“Javy-” Hangman calls as Coyote disappears out the door Payback had just come through.

-

“I would really like to talk to you at some point.” 

You jump up, spinning on your feet. “Jesus Christ.” You rush out, sinking on to your bed when you realize it’s just Coyote. “God, I thought you’d all still be in the hangar and I could sneak in here and get my house key. Uncle Slider has our spare.” 

“Ron ‘Slider’ Kerner? Jesus, how many Navy legends do you know?” 

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you slip the key into your purse. “Not as many as you’re probably thinking.” 

It’s quiet for a moment. 

“You know, in another life we were probably really good friends.” 

“In another life, you probably got called back here for this mission with me.” He says quietly. 

“But I didn’t and we’re not.” You say, standing up from your bed. “I gotta go.” 

“Rebel-” 

“Don’t call me that.” You say firmly. “If you’ve got something you want to say, talk that shit out with a therapist. I’m not interested in listening to what you have to say.” 

Coyote stands there for a minute, stunned. 

The old you probably wouldn't have been so harsh. The old you probably would’ve begged for his apology. The old you would’ve given up everything to be his friend.

But you weren’t the old you anymore and you never would be again. 

You walk past him before pausing in your doorway, turning. “I heard what you said out there. How you regretted the way you treated me everyday of your life. And if that’s how you feel, you did a really shit job of showing it.” 

He huffs, eyebrows furrowed together. “Fuck, you want me to get down on my knees and grovel?” 

“Yeah, actually that’d be nice.” 

“Oh my God.” He groans, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’re fucking impossible. You sit here and say that I did a shit job of showing that I was sorry, but what the hell did you want me to do? You left.”

“You could’ve picked up the damn phone for starters. It’s not like you didn’t have my fucking phone number for Christ’s sake. You could have actually picked up the phone and said Hey, I’m sorry, how are you doing?”

He lets out a long breath, shaking his head. “You know what, you weren’t ready.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

“You weren’t ready. You weren’t cut out for it. You weren’t ever going to be cut out for this life if that’s all it takes to push you out of the Navy. Good riddance.” 

It’s silent for a moment as you stare him down, your chest suddenly falling rapidly as your anger wraps up into your chest, squeezing around your heart.

“How dare you.”

Your tone is deadly quiet, a tone you’d learned from Ice decades ago, gaze piercing as you watch Coyote flinch back. 

“How dare you.” You say a bit louder this time. “How dare you stand here and say I wasn’t cut out for it. You have no idea what hell the Navy put me through, what I have suffered at the hands of men like you, pilots whose egos are so big that they refuse to let a girl get in their way.” 

It seems like you can’t get enough breath in your lungs as you look at him, the anger overshadowing everything else. 

“I always, always thought better of you Coyote, even up until the very bitter end. But as it turns out, you’re just like them. That’s all you’ll ever be.” 

-

“Whoa, what did that waffle ever do to you?” Ice jokes at your angry stab of the bread, setting his plate down on the counter. “What’s going on, kid? Stop taking it out on your breakfast.” 

“Nothing.” You snap, stabbing at the food again. 

There’s a pause, before the anger that has been swirling in your chest since that day at the hangar pushes the words right out of you. 

“I just don’t get what he sees in those fucking pilots.” 

Despite the fact that you’d had rescheduled (rescheduled because last time Omaha’s car broke down and the time before that Fanboy had the flu and needed chicken noodle soup and the time before that Hangman wanted to go for a ride in the P-51) breakfast plans with your Dad before he had to go into work (because this was the only time he could fit you in), he’d canceled because Bob’s truck wasn’t starting and needed a ride to base. 

Ice sighs, leaning back in his chair. 

“How in the hell have they been here for five fucking minutes and I’m suddenly playing second fiddle? Oh, I know. It’s because Dad’s always loved to get his eyes and hands on a shiny new toy. He’s got his fancy new kids with their fancy new squadron and fancy new promotions. Who the hell needs a failure for a kid when you have twelve golden children?” 

The words taste bitter on your tongue, spitting them out faster than you can stop yourself. 

“Kid, they’ve been here for almost six months. The Dagger squadron isn’t going anywhere. Don’t you think it’s time to, you know, put all of this aside and at least try?” 

“No!” 

Ice sighs again, picking his fork back up. “I miss my goddaughter.” Ice mumbles and based on the subtle wince immediately following them, you suspect Ice hadn’t even meant to speak the words out loud. 

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You demand, cocking your head. 

“It means that you haven’t been the same since you came home from the Green Vipers.” Ice snaps. “And sometimes I think it would’ve been better for everyone if I had just left you there.” 

You gape at your godfather, tears stinging at your eyes. “You would’ve left me there?” 

“Maybe it would’ve given you a chance to push yourself instead of taking the easy way out.” 

It’s quiet for a minute until you scoff, shaking your head. “I can not believe you’d leave me in a place where they actively tried to have me killed.” You say as Ice’s head flies up from his breakfast. You stand up from your seat, chair scraping across the floor, Ice rising with you. 

“You know, I’m sorry trying to deal with the aftermath of surviving such a traumatic event has been such a burden.” 

-

“Sir?

He groans, reaching up to rub his temple. His goddaughter’s words had left a bad taste in his mouth and the last thing he wanted to deal with was Maverick causing an incident. 

“What is it Jamie?” 

“This file was just dropped off by Captain Peters. You’re going to want to read it, sir.” 

He holds out his hand as his secretary walks into the room, holding the file stamped CLASSIFIED on the front. 

“It’s a harassment report and preliminary investigation from pilot Julie Connors, callsign Ruby.” 

He quirks an eyebrow, taking the file from Jamie. “This feels a little bit below my jurisdiction, Jamie. A harassment report should all be handled by the responding committee.” 

She nods, letting out a breath. “Yeah, Admiral Davis specifically requested that you read this.” 

“Why?” He asks, flipping through the file.

“Your goddaughter is named several times.” 

He freezes, looking back up at his secretary. 

“Sir, they’re investigating Thompson and the Green Vipers for harassment.” 

-

“-sir? Admiral Kazansky?” 

His ears are ringing as he storms into the classroom, everyone turning to face him. His hand lands on the back of Machado’s chair, dangerously close to his neck. 

“Admiral Simpson, I am very sorry to interrupt but there’s an urgent and pressing  matter regarding Lieutenant Commander Machado’s previous assignment that I must speak with him about. Might I borrow him?” 

It’s clear to everyone in the room that Ice isn’t really asking for permission.

“Uh…” Cyclone says, with a blink. “Sure.” 

His hand falls to the back of Coyote’s service khakis. His grip is tight as the kids tumbles with him, desperately trying to keep pace as they walk down the hallway towards his office. 

Once inside, Ice can only look at the kid, the anger rising in him faster than his ability to tamp it down and be professional. 

“You have one chance, Machado, to set the story straight. If you care at all about your career, you will tell me the truth about what they did to my goddaughter.” 

His voice is quiet, but no less deadly, allowing him to see the exact minute Coyote’s mask slips into place. 

The boy’s posture is stiff, unable to meet his eye. 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to, sir.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“So you have no idea what this harassment report from Lieutenant Connors is about?” 

“Not a clue, sir.” 

He lets out a fake laugh, picking the file up from his desk. “Well let’s see then.” He says, flipping through the file he’d spent all morning poring over, horror filling his gut at every word. 

And he had told her he would’ve left her in this place?

“Ah, yes, here it is. This is a direct quote from Lieutenant Connors: The Andrews twins always spoke proudly of their greatest accomplishment: successfully breaking the pilot known by the callsign Rebel by almost having her and her wingman killed. They forced her out by putting someone else’s life on the line. They got no greater joy out of life than reminiscing on what they had done. That doesn’t ring a bell at all, Lieutenant Commander?” 

Coyote swallows, shoulders stiffening as he talks. 

“With all due respect sir, if your goddaughter couldn’t hang, that’s not really my problem.”

-

There’s a knock on the front door as you rifle through the box, sorting through the old books. 

“It’s open.” You call, pulling the set of Harry Potter books out of the box. The front door opens and then shuts again, the visitor clearly entering the home. 

When had your Dad come into possession of the Harry Potter series?

“Hey.” 

You glance up at the voice, seeing Bradley standing there with his hands shoved in his jean pockets. You sigh, setting the box set down. 

You hadn’t spoken much to Bradley over the last few months, even as much as he’d become part of your family once more. You tolerated him for your Dad but you’d made it explicitly clear where the two of you stood. He’d always respected and maintained that distance, seemingly reciprocating the need for it. 

The two of you had somehow found yourself in no man’s land without ever really meaning to. No way forward, but no way back either. 

“Dad’s not here at the moment, got caught up with something at work. Kinda sounds like your squadron is falling apart.” 

He sighs, rocking back on his feet. “It is… which is why I’m here to talk to you. How’d you know about that?” 

You side-step his question, going back to shuffling papers in the box. “What do you have to talk to me about?” 

“Is it true?” 

You don’t meet his eyes, gaze firmly planted on the copy of Catch-22 in the box. 

“Is what true Bradshaw?” 

“Is what she is alleging in that report true? What they did?” 

“You’d have to ask Machado for the answer on that one, I’m afraid.”

“Is what she alleging they did to you true?” 

You give a half shrug. “So what if it is? Doesn’t change the fact that they won.” 

You hear him squat behind you. “It matters if you left them just for them to do the same thing to somebody else.” 

You huff, standing up from where you’re seated on the floor. You can hear Bradley stand as well behind you. You turn, heading for the kitchen when Bradley speaks again. 

“Ruby deserves better than that.” 

“I deserved better than that!” You shout, turning on your heels. Bradley doesn't flinch, remaining firm. 

It’s silent for a minute as Bradley just watches you. 

“Are you going to tell them? Tell Davis and the committee what they did?” 

You huff out a frustrated laugh. “No. Hell no.” 

“Ruby-”

“Don’t sit here and lecture me about fucking Ruby, Bradshaw. I know all about her.” 

He blinks. “You know Ruby?” 

You sigh, glancing away from him. “I got in a fight with Ice this morning about them, you know? Because he said he would’ve left me there had he known this was going to be how I came back. An hour later, Ruby’s calling me to tell me she’s filed a report and she’s named me to the committee. Ruby’s calling me to compare stories, to see if the ones they told about me were true.” 

You sigh, crossing your arms as tears sting your eyes. You blink them back, unwilling to let yourself cry over them. 

“Ruby is who I would’ve become if I had stayed. And that terrifies me.” You whisper. 

It’s silent for another minute as you continuously blink back the stinging tears. 

“Are you going to talk to the committee?” 

You shake your head. “Given what happened the last time I spoke to one of the Navy’s stupid investigation committees, absolutely not.” 

Bradley quirks an eyebrow. “What happened last time?” 

You shake your head. “Doesn’t matter. I told Ruby she never should’ve filed that report. The Navy’s never gonna fire them and all they’ll do is punish her for speaking up. I know that story all too well.” 

“Coyote’s fate rests on what you tell that committee.” Bradley says, stepping closer. 

“Oh fuck Machado.” 

“Listen-” 

“No, you listen, Bradshaw. I don’t give a shit about what happens to Coyote because he certainly didn’t give a shit about what happened to me.”

“The girl I knew would have stepped up for what was right.” 

“Yeah, and in another life, you and I probably fell in love and got married. In another life, I’m probably fucking best friends with Coyote and have a happy family with Dad and he probably fucking marries Penny, I don’t know. But this is real life. This is our reality. Where I was almost killed by a squadron who believed I was better off dead, where I had a wingman who agreed with them. Where you disappeared for two decades and blamed me for everything that was never my fault. Where I can’t stand to be in the same room as the people who raised me anymore because they refuse to understand the reality we are living in, where the Navy broke me.” 

You let out a bitter laugh, looking at Bradley as you think back over the past decade of your life. “This, this, is the reality we are living in. This isn’t the reality where we all got to become some big ol’ happy family and I’m not the girl you knew anymore. This is it. This is who I am. Wake up.”

-

tagging people who were interested: @cherrycola27 @colourfulsuitwonderland @horseslovers2016

[m00nc4kes]

A Chance. pt 2. (pacific rim! au)

hobie brown x gn!reader

word count: 4.2k

summary: You and Hobie drift for the first time.

warnings: me being inconsistent with hobie's accent (pls I tried), death, blood, mostly from the memories

notes: once again, reader is gn but if I gendered anything lemme know! my readers are always black coded even if its not said outright but anyone can read :3

[part 1] [part 2] (ur here lolol)

Apparently, the sparring match had been the easy part. Convincing Hobie to actually drift with you was the hard part.

Jess had approved you and Hobie to begin drifting, but he had shut it down immediately.

“No. Absolutely not. And ‘m not goin’ back ‘n forth with ya.” Was all he said before shutting himself in his room. You sat in front of his door and complained about him acting like a stubborn child.

“C’mon! Jess said that we stood a chance!”

“That means nothin’ to me,'' came the muffled reply. You sighed and leaned your head on the metal frame of the door.

“You’re not even a little curious about what goes on in my head?” You paused then grinned. “You don’t wanna know what makes me tick?”

“Coulda sworn I said I wasn’t goin’ back ‘n forth with ya.”

You kissed your teeth and rested your head on your knees. “Fine, fine. I’ll just sit here then!” you shouted then muttered, “All night. In the cold…” You allowed yourself to trail off as your dramatics continued to climb. “I’ll just be wonderin’ why my potential drift partner hates me—”

A loud click sounded behind you and the door creaked open. Hobie peered down at you with an unamused expression. “I never said I hated ya.”

“But you did say you weren’t gonna go back ‘n forth with me.” Hobie’s scoff had you climbing to your feet. You continued, “Won’t you at least give it a chance? We won’t even be going out into the field— just inside Hellion.”

“And you’ll be in my head,” he snapped, then caught himself with a grimace. “Why do ya feel the need to push it, hm? Can’t take no for an answer or somethin’?”

“No. I can’t.” You couldn’t stop your face from contorting into a scowl as you snarked, “Why are you even here if you don’t plan on drifting with anyone?”

“I already told ya—”

“Well, I don’t believe you.”

Hobie threw his hands up, signaling that he had nothing else to say, and stepped back behind his door. “Goodnight.”

Before he could completely shut the door, you pushed your hand against it. Your mind had been struggling to find an answer to why you didn’t completely believe Hobie. His reasoning didn’t fit his character. If he was truly done being a pilot, he would’ve just left. If he was concerned about his friends risking their lives, he would find a way to convince them to leave with him. 

No, this was much much more personal than that. And he had already told you his reasoning: to make sure no one else pilots Hellion Riser.

“You don’t want anyone to replace Karl.”

That stopped Hobie completely in his tracks. He stared at you as if the words slapped him in the face. You had a horrible habit of pushing people’s buttons; sometimes you did it on purpose, while other times you couldn’t stop your mouth from moving.

“I’m not trying to replace him, Hobie, I swear it. I could never erase what you guys had— what you two did. Hell, y'all set records. I just—”

Hobie put his hand up to stop you. “I’d rather not have this chat outside.” His door creaked as he motioned you inside.

When the door closed behind you, you were met with the sight of Hobie’s covered walls. There were some posters of well known rock bands from before the war and newspaper clippings of different kaiju attacks. You wondered if they had some significance to him. Though, what had caught your eye was a sticker-covered guitar leaned up against Hobie’s nightstand.

“So, d’ya have a habit of bein’ an arse or is that jus’ wit’ me?” Hobie sat himself on his bed and crossed his arms. You stared down at him with a raised eyebrow.

“An arse? Me? Never.” You trailed your eyes along the newspaper clippings until one caught your eye. “I’m just… stubborn.” You tried to keep a steady tone but your mind had already traveled somewhere far away.

In your peripheral, you could see Hobie shift to see what you were looking at. “You have a personal history with Steelcutter, mate?”

You blinked yourself back into the present and stepped away from the wall, needing to physically distance yourself from the image. As you observed the clippings, their purpose suddenly made sense.

“These are all kaijus that Hellion has taken down.” It was a statement, no question about it.

“Yep. Majority of ‘em are from the old pilots.” He tilted his head. “You dodgin’ my question?”

“Yep,” you mocked, looking him up and down. You opened your mouth to continue, but it suddenly struck you that you were in fact alone in Hobie’s room. And he was staring at you with those champagne eyes of his and— 

No, no, no. You weren’t going to entertain that anymore. You had one goal and he was actively stopping you from reaching it. Past infatuation had no place here. It hadn’t had one in a long time and it wouldn’t get one now. 

Ignoring the heat burning at your cheeks, you cleared your throat. “So about the drift—”

“You were right, y’know.”

You felt your words die on your lips. “I… what?”

“I don’t want anyone to replace Karl. They couldn’t if they tried. But that’s only part of it.”

You blinked owlishly. You hadn’t expected him to be so outright with it.

He continued, “I don’t want to watch anyone else I care about die.”

“We don’t even know each other like that—”

“Yet.” He stood up. “That’s the part ya keep overlookin’. I’ll be finding out everything about you. I’ll be in your head and you’ll be in mine. Ya won’t get out of that without at least carin’ a little. That’s the whole point of a drift partner. Ya pilot the jaeger together, ya fight together, and ya expect to die together. I won’t get outta carin’ for ya and ya won’t get outta carin’ for me. Get it?”

Hobie’s words were passionate, borderline desperate for you to understand. And you were beginning to understand. You chewed on his words for a moment, letting the air settle. “But you enjoyed having that partner, didn’t you? You enjoyed fighting alongside him and allowing someone to be that intertwined with you, right? Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“It’s not tha’ simple.”

“Of course not. But every relationship comes with the risk of an ending. Avoiding companionship altogether will make you miserable, especially when you’re itching to go back into the field.”

An indignant laugh left Hobie’s lips. “And who told ya I wanted to go back?”

“You still train— which is how you beat me during the trials; and you don’t seem like someone who lets people die in vain. Don’t you wanna show those fuckin’ kaijus where they can stick it? Don’t you want revenge for Karl?”

There had always been a muted fire behind Hobie’s eyes. The embers of the flames would dance around his irises, refusing to turn into ash. Though, under his appraisal, you could see the blazing inferno that you had sparked. 

It made you think that your insistence had pushed Hobie too far over the edge. Maybe your luck had run out.

To your surprise, Hobie backed down and released a heavy sigh as he plopped onto his bed. He dragged a hand down his face before asking, “D’ya have any confessions?”

You frowned. “Confessions?”

“Confessions, mate. Anything you’d like to tell me before I find out against your will?”

Your heart stopped in your chest. Disbelief rose in you like a climbing rollercoaster. “...you don’t mean…”

He gave you a look that told you everything you needed to know. He raised a finger. “We’ll try it once and only once. Let’s see if Jess knows wha’ she’s talkin’ about.”

The news about you drifting with Hobie spread like a wildfire. It morphed into a bigger event than you had anticipated. There were whispers about Hellion Riser finally becoming active again, while the in-your-face doubters approached you around every corner. The doubters were either shut down by some not-so-kind words or, to your complete and utter surprise, Hobie flat out telling them to shut the fuck up before there was a problem.

His reluctance to completely accept you as his partner was still present, but he didn’t seem too fond of other people sharing that same sentiment. 

The day came when Hellion was ready for you two to test your compatibility. The nerves shook you to your core; even your steadying breaths couldn’t calm your racing heart.

There were people around you helping make sure your suit fit your frame properly. Beside you, Hobie was receiving the same treatment. You watched as he opened and closed his fist with some sort of fascination. 

His eyes suddenly flicked toward you and he gave you a small grin. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

Your grin was strained. “I just might.” 

Before you could say another word, a helmet was being placed in your hands. You put it on while the people around you adjusted it for you.

Then, you were led into the jaeger where the workers left you and Hobie to get situated. Hobie was quieter than usual as he made his way to the right side.

“Are you nervous?” you asked. You hated how meek you sounded

“Nervous?” The laugh that came from him was curt. “‘M fuckin’ terrified.”

The simulators had nothing on the real thing. Colorful displays and illuminated buttons hovered in front of your place in the jaeger. 

Across from you, Hobie took the first step into the footholds and the machine automatically adjusted to his stature. He watched you expectantly and it made you bite the bullet.

You stepped into your foothold and several things occurred at once. The machine attached to your back to hold you in place then your wrists went through the same process, though they had more free reign than your back. 

There was sudden laughter in your ears and you whipped your head around to see Hobie with an amused smile on his face. 

“What’s so funny?” you snarked, already knowing that he was laughing at you. 

“Your boat, that’s what.”

“My boat?” 

“Your face, bruv.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never had something attached to my spine before!” Your face cringed at the thought which made him snicker.

An automated voice cut through your banter. 

Pilots on board and ready to connect.

In your helmet, you could hear Hobie take a deep breath as he reached forward to flip a few switches.

Next, Jess’s voice came through the speaker. “Alright, you two, we’re preparing for the neural handshake.”

It was really happening. Your heart was in your throat and you wondered if you were truly ready for this. To let someone— Hobie in your head. Could you handle something like that?

“Oi, bruv. Don’t go chasin’ R.A.B.I.T.s, got it? Just let ‘em flow past you, don’t let ‘em stay.”

Right, right. Rabbits. Some long ass acronym for memories. “Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

Neural interface Drift initiated.

Flashes upon flashes of memories that didn’t belong to you flooded into your mind. Voices and unintelligible whispers whipped past your ears. 

You could see a smaller Hobie learning guitar from his mother. You felt the love and pride he had when he did something right. But then, you felt his desperation when his mother succumbed to alcohol.

You felt how he’d wondered what he did wrong to be neglected the way he was.

Then, memories that had been buried long ago were being unveiled before your eyes. Your parents cradling you as an infant, Your giggles as they made their silly faces.

You, as a toddler, wandering a desecrated city street. Ash and glass littered the street as you walked with a thumb in your mouth.

The memories clashed and overlapped with each other. Hobie’s time in the foster care system; you being taken in by an aunt; Hobie being accepted into the jaeger program— all of it. Moments you cherished like your introduction to being a jaeger technician and seeing Hobie for the first time.

You had admired him from afar. Someone who piloted your favorite jaeger and did it with pride. 

And when he spoke to you for the first time, your head had spun in circles and your mouth couldn’t keep up with it. 

Then, you saw Karl. 

You saw Hobie and Karl meeting for the first time during the trials. Saw them reading their results and becoming drift partners— becoming best friends. You could feel the love they had for one another, how much they cared about each other. They were inseparable. Hobie would throw an arm over Karl’s shoulder and they would share a joke no one but them understood.

Karl was his best friend.

With a sharp breath, you were back in reality. 

Right hemisphere calibrated.

Sharing a mind with someone was beyond jarring. You could hear the echoes of thoughts coming from Hobie, but none were coherent. Just feelings. You wondered if your mind was just about the same.

Left hemisphere calibrated.

You raised your right arm, perfectly in sync with Hobie, then raised your left. Together, Hellion Riser raised both of her fists in a battle stance.

Ready to activate the Jaeger.

A thought that didn’t belong to you streamlined through your mind and you laughed. Without a moment of hesitation, Hellion was raising two middle fingers.

A very unamused Jess cut through the speaker. “Very mature, you guys.”

Her displeasure only made your guys’ laughter bubble from your chests and echo into the cockpit.

Calibration complete. 

There was something familiar about laughing with him. Something that didn’t belong to you.

Because it didn’t.

You weren’t in the present anymore.

“Did you see how I fucking blasted him, dude?” You were Karl Morningdew. No, you were Hobie. Fuck, it didn’t matter. They were sharing a mind. You were both of them. 

“Bloke didn’t see it comin’!” Hobie had laughed, pride shining in his grin, and Karl joined him. 

They thought the job was done, but the kaiju had disappeared in the waters below them. Hobie had been the first to notice.

“Oi, where the fuck did it—”

Hellion was being slammed against, nearly toppling the jaeger over. “Fuck! How’s it still going?!”

Claws dug into the cockpit and they both screamed. You could feel their bewilderment and their fear— because jaegers weren’t supposed to be torn into like this. It wasn’t supposed to be possible. 

“We need to get it off!” Hobie had attempted to do so, but it had been too late.

With another swing, the kaiju tore into the right side and pulled Karl out.

You felt it all. Your senses were drowned with panic, panic, panic. Disbelief. And oh, the grief hit like a truck. It was hot in your hands— sent frigid chills down your spine.

And it hurt. 

Being thrown back into reality sent your mind into a flurry. It came with ringing alarms and a distressed Jess. 

“Hellion! You are out of alignment!”

You could hear Hobie apologizing— you could feel his grief clawing at him. At you. You’d felt like that before. You had. 

Then you’d heard him calling your name. Telling you not to chase the rabbit.

You were confused. 

What rabbit? 

You and Riri never had a rabbit. In fact, a rabbit never crossed your mind as you two walked down the city street.

New York City was a place. A place you called home. It was filled to the brim with people that narrowly dodged each other on the sidewalk. Cars honked at each other nonstop and music played from somewhere you didn’t care to check.

Beside you, Riri nudged your side. “Hey, cousin. Whatchu think ‘bout this move?” 

And in the middle of the sidewalk, she broke out in the butterfly dance. She moved her legs in a smooth in and out motion. Being fourteen, you were absolutely horrified that she was breaking out into a dance in public.

“Riri! Stoooppp!” you cried, shaking her arm. With her being two years your senior, she absolutely reveled in embarrassing you.

“Whaaat? I’m just dancin’!” 

You had to avert your eyes as she began to tootsie roll. “I’m gonna tell Teetee that you’re using her lessons for evil!” 

“You’re gonna tell my mom?!” She screeched. You laughed in her face as she playfully pushed you.

Everything stopped when the world started shaking. Your first thought was an earthquake, but the look on Riri’s face stopped you in your tracks. “What? What is it, cousin?” you pleaded.

The sound of screaming cut through the air then you were being pushed around by people running for their lives. You couldn’t tell what was happening but there was a dark cloud of destruction in the opposite direction.

Riri roughly yanked your arm and dragged you with the crowd. You wanted to ask what was going on, but a deep fear in your gut told you everything you needed to know. 

Jets flew overhead, shooting missiles at the kaiju that was dragging itself through the city.

Through it all, you couldn’t help but get the inkling that someone was trying to get your attention. Muffled words bounced off your mind as fear clouded it. 

The kaiju moved faster than you two could run, even with its long, slow steps that destroyed everything under its feet. You made the mistake of looking back.

The cloud of destruction couldn’t hide the grotesque thing from you any longer. It walked on all fours and was covered in a monstrous variety of spikes. It dragged itself through the street, tearing through buildings and bringing a storm of glass down upon its victims.

And it was nearly upon you. You wouldn’t be able to outrun it.

The terror took hold of your legs and you fell to your stomach. Riri tried to get you back up, but you couldn’t hear her desperate pleas over your screams. You were going to die. And there wasn’t anything you could refute that with.

What you hadn’t expected was your cousin to shield your body with hers.

The rain of glass sliced open your arms and any other part of your body it could reach. However, Riri took the full brunt of it.

The kaiju walked past you two, destroying what it could over the incessant attacks from the jets. All the while, you watched Riri’s life fade from her eyes as she collapsed on top of you.

You laid there, too scared to move. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’d wake up from your nightmare. But the glass that stuck itself into Riri’s body was all too real to even consider this a dream.

So you silently cried, too scared to cry any louder. Though, your weeping came to a solid halt when another pair of giant footsteps raced through the city. Was it another kaiju? Why was there another one?

Instead, a brilliant red and blue jaeger raced from the darkness and stopped the kaiju from causing any more destruction.

You couldn’t help but think: thank god. Because if the jaeger hadn’t come, you wouldn’t be able to scream and beg for Riri to—

Wake up!

The breath that you forced into your lungs dragged you back into reality. Your helmet had been discarded somewhere else and Hobie was holding you. His face was relieved when you finally looked him in the eye.

“You’re okay. It was just a memory. Just a memory,” he whispered to you. You could feel the tears burn in your eyes. Not only from the fresh memory buzzing around your head, but from the frustration of it all.

You fucked up.

And that disappointment followed you throughout the rest of the day. Everything had passed in a blur and somehow you found yourself here, sitting in the catwalk above Hellion. The base was deep into its night hours, with very few people still out and about. Unfortunately, you were one of them.

You hadn’t expected to be so shaken up, by why wouldn’t you? The last memory of Riri hadn’t been a pleasant one and it haunted your every move. Now Hobie knew it too.

You had one shot and you blew it.

There were footsteps heading in your direction. When you looked up, you saw the last person you wanted to see. Instead of greeting Hobie, you tucked your head in your arms and curled your knees close to your chest.

“That’s one way to say hello, innit.” Hobie’s voice did things to your soul that you hadn’t expected. Being in his head, knowing what made him who he was, gave you an entirely new outlook on who Hobie Brown was. 

Hobie had been right. You can’t be inside someone’s head and expect not to care about them. But you didn’t need the drift for it to be established, no, all it did was build upon the foundation that was already there. 

And you weren’t ready to deal with that yet. Nor ever.

Hobie came close to you, standing instead of sitting beside you. “Still shaken up?”

You clicked your tongue and let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“I don’t hold it against ya, it was your first time.”

“And my only time.” You let bitterness seep into your voice while your nails dug into your arms. 

There was a sigh above you, then Hobie was sliding down to sit next to you. You could only focus on the way the side of his body pressed against yours and it did things to your heart.

“It was unrealistic to think nothin’ would go wrong our first time.” He leaned his head against the railing. “You weren’t the only one who messed up. I messed up first.”

You moved your head to peek at him. He stared off into the distance and you watched his eyes jump from place to place until they landed on you. 

Being under his gaze made you shy and you hated that it reverted you back to your intern days. Your ears burned and you tore your eyes away. His laugh was kind and far from teasing. It only made the heat flare in your cheeks.

When his laughter died down, you two sat in a comfortable silence. Once you were able to get over Hobie’s proximity, your mind traveled back to Riri. You didn’t know if your somberness had leached into the atmosphere, but Hobie ended up nudging you.

“It’s not your fault, ya know tha’, right?”

You raised your head. “What isn’t?”

“Your cousin.”

You took in a sharp breath. “Is that so?” your voice wobbled, but you held firm. “I could’ve—”

“You did what you could.”

You wanted to get defensive, you wanted to deny him because what did he know? But he knew a lot. He’d seen it. He’d seen your moment of weakness and your failure and still said it wasn’t your fault. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you wouldn’t cry for the umpteenth time today. You did what you could. And that was nothing. You couldn’t do anything but be protected. 

Hobie placed a hand on your arm and squeezed it gently. It was a warm touch that sent your soul into a delightful spiral. 

You wanted to say something, but everything died on your tongue. You just knew that there was no use in trying to argue with Hobie. 

Instead, you smiled as you were reminded of something. “So you dream of being a rockstar?”

Hobie practically blinded you with his smile. “Everyday, mate. Gonna start a band after the war.”

“You already have people in mind?”

“Course! Got me a drummer and a few youngers lookin' to rock out.” 

You muttered to yourself, “After the war, huh.” You were glad that Hobie was looking forward to something after the war— even if you doubted that the kaijus would be defeated in your lifetime. 

“Yep. Which is why Hellion is gonna stick it to those fuckin’ kaijus.”

Your eyes widened. “Wha— You actually want to try again?”

“Second time’s a charm.”

“That’s not how the saying goes.”

“It is now. D’ya want to try or not?”

By this point, you had unfurled from your position and you were openly staring at Hobie. “I— Well, yeah! I wanna try again.”

“Good.” He rose to his feet and dragged you up with him. “We’re gonna need rest if that’s the case.”

There was something about the blaze in his eyes that told you that it was never anger. No, it was the burning desire to fight. To put an end to the war so he could live his life without fear. To be free.

He threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you close. “Don’ worry. I won’t bring up the fact that you fancy me.” He poked your cheek and you could’ve sworn you were gonna faint from the sudden rush of blood to your face. “Not yet, at least.”

Steam could’ve risen from your cheeks and you wouldn’t have questioned it. 

Hobie openly laughed as you batted him away. There was no way you were gonna get away with hiding it. He was in your head and you were stuck with him now.

You had asked for a chance and he gave it to you.

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taglist: @hobieszeze

thanks for reading you guys ^^ i can’t say for sure if i’ll write another part but i’ll be focusing on my molotov fic !!

[dizzymisslizzie]

Casual Friday

Henry’s luggage is somewhere over the pacific going in the complete wrong direction.

He fantasizes that this would never happen to someone with a private jet.

The heat of LA is overwhelming in his trousers and sweater. His carry-on is a Burberry weekender that has his meds, toiletries and a few books. He’s going to have a buy a whole weeks worth of clothes.

He’s being picked up from airport by his new publisher. He’s on the curb and realizes that he didn’t pass the typical dark suited person holding a sign with his name. He’s looking around and opens his rapidly dying phone to call his contact, Zahra. Before he can type out the message, a red open jeep screeches to a halt in front him. After the dust settles, Henry sees brown curls, a sharp jaw cresting into a chin dimple, a perfect nose holding up aviator sunglasses that reflect Henry’s hapless expression. The curls are cut short but he’s imagining them longer and draped over his shoulder as… wait - is the most attractive man he’s ever seen walking towards him?

“Fox?” The southern drawl that comes out is honey smooth and adorable. He nods and this seems to amuse the gorgeous human who smirks and takes off his aviators. When he pulls the sunglasses off his face Henry notices his sinfully long fingers that he wants to suck into his mouth.

“Is that all you brought?” Adonis asks Henry who still hasn’t said a word. He shakes his head, “The airline lost my luggage.”

“So you need to go shopping?” Eros asks Henry who barely trusts himself to speak so he just nods. The brown eyes of Adonis sparkle and Henry isn’t sure why.

“Well then, Sweetheart. I’ve got just the place. Hop in. Oh! I’m Alex!” Henry’s fucked. “Hi, I’m Henry.”

“Oh I know, let’s get a move on.” Alex winks and takes Henry’s bag from his shoulder and stores it in the jeep.

A short drive full of getting to know you things later…

“Here we are!” Alex pulls in a gravel parking area with an old wooden A-frame store front with gold letters reading Vintage.

“I was expecting…” Henry starts.

“Rodeo drive, your majesty?” Alex smiles wide.

“Not exactly… but maybe one of those malls you’re all so proud of.” Henry looks over the well kept building.

“C’mon, give it a shot.” Alex claps him on the shoulder and walks him into the shop.

A bells rings when they enter, Alex leads Henry to a section of the store.

“Ok, there’s chinos and button ups but there’s some great denim for your readings and these amazing vintage t-shirts.” Alex is pointing in various directions and Henry cannot keep up.

“Sorry, too much?” Alex asks, wincing a little.

“No, I’m not a great shopper. I tend to get anxious.” Henry’s admits as he looks around at the decor on the walls. It’s got rich colors and accents that could border on over stuffed but isn’t.

“Can I pull a few things for you?” Alex asks.

“Yes… I think that’s would be helpful.” Henry is nervous that he’ll just buy whatever Alex picks out for him.

“Stellar!” Alex is off to the races, “oh! Sizes?” Henry tells him and turns to a rack of khakis. He finds a few trousers in his size, a few button up shirts that are neutral colors. He takes his finds to the dressing room where Alex has set up a dressing room full of selections.

“Jesus, we have got to work on your wardrobe.”

“My look is… classic.” Henry’s sticks out his chin.

“Absolutely! But also boring as fuck.” Alex gives him a cheeky smile.

“What’s your plan then?” Henry looks around his selections.

“Picture it! Color… on… your clothes!” Alex does silly magician flourishes and Henry honest to god giggles.

“I am in LA for professional reasons.” Henry’s reminds him.

“And I pulled several business casual options but! You could dress more your age, relate more to your audience, maybe even… gasp… show some personality.” Alex teases.

“Why would my readers care about my personality?” Henry’s quirks and eyebrow.

“They are obsessed enough to come to a reading, they are interested in you. Authenticity, well… it’s something that not everyone can give but I see you can. I think showing more of yourself will resonate with your readers. They might even feel seen.” The sincerity on Alex’s face when he says to Henry makes his inside molten with feelings.

“That’s… exactly how I wanted people to feel with my first book. I… Pez, he’s the only one who sees me.” Henry shares.

“He’s a very lucky human.” Alex says low and a little… Henry can’t place it.

“He is, we became best mates at Eton and it was like he saw straight through the uniform and confident facade and saw me. It meant everything to me and I wouldn’t be who I am today without him.” Henry smiles nostalgically.

“I’m so glad you’ve got him in your corner.” Alex says and Henry can’t believe he’s real.

“Alright, Foxy, let’s try so stuff on!” Alex turns and Henry would swear he wipes his eyes before picking up a few hangers. “Here ya go! Shopping montage!” Alex sits in an overstuffed purple chair and Henry closes the curtain.

Henry tries the trousers first and two of them fit fine, third are too long.

“Hurry up! I wanna see something! Also, I’m almost done with the pick up order for essentials. Any special requests?”

“See something? I’m trying on trousers, I don’t think I need assistance in deciding if they fit or not, Mum!” Henry’s being cheeky.

“I’ll be the judge of that!” Alex calls back. Henry smiles and rolls his eyes. Henry puts on the bright blue button up and navy trousers and opens the curtain.

Alex looks up from his phone and his smile makes Henry’s brain fuzzy.

Tagging @miss-minnelli

[elvenbeard]

Somewhere in Manila, 2078

“It is pretty nice here,” V said, and Kerry put his arm around him, pulling him a bit closer as he turned his head to look at him.

“C’mon, just ‘pretty nice’?” he asked grinning.

“Okay, it’s beautiful, breathtaking, astounding!” V said and Kerry chuckled, “You weren’t exaggerating.”

“And this is just the hotel! Wait ‘til you see the city. And the beaches! But we gotta drive a little to get to the better ones. Nothin’ beats the one in Tangalan anyway, but that’ll have to wait 'til next week…”

Kerry went on rambling about all they had planned, everything he wanted to show V, parties and events they could go to, the secret spots only he and maybe a handful of other people knew. Some of it all sounded quite adventurous, and V still struggled to imagine Kerry clambering through the jungle to get to some of these extra special hidden gems. But his excitement was downright infectious. Truly just adorable. V was relieved to see Kerry so genuinely happy again, too, the stress of the last weeks really had been weighing him down. Getting ready for this trip in the background had been his sole motivator for staying on top of the mountain of promo events for his album.

Just three more interviews before we can get on the plane. Just this one photoshoot, and then I can finally start packing my stuff. That one private show, that one industry party, that one red carpet, and then Lee can kiss my ass and we’ll fuck off across the Pacific.

Being here now finally, chilling at the hotel bar and recovering from the long flight, still felt somewhat surreal.

“… - and we really gotta go to Quinta Market later. Gonna cure your resentment to street food there once and for all.”

Kerry took a sip of his drink, then looked back at V, who had been watching him the whole time, a little tired and absentmindedly, but full of affection.

“What?” he asked, frowning slightly, but kept up his smile, the silver lines around his eyes and down his cheeks sparkling in the setting sun.

“Nothin’,” V said, “I’m happy you’re happy to be back here, is all.”

Kerry leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.

“I’m happy you’re here with me,” he said, “That’s all that matters.”

AAAAHHH. A little bit of behind the scenes rambling here!!!

I didn't forget to take a pic of my setup at least this time XD I set this up at Denny's pool (free of concrete thankfully), because there is little distracting Night City scenery in the background that would destroy the illusion of this not being Night City xD But admittedly, the setup was a little rushed bc I just wanted to do some fluffy pics. I could actually spend hours setting up my scenes with all the awesome props I keep discovering o.o

Also: I had Kerry's summer vibes outfit ready since early June, but just didn't get around to doing anything with it until two weeks ago, AND THEN I didn't have time to edit the pics because other stuff kept grabbing my attention instead xD

But there is more to come, I have a whole lot more summer pics ready, all incredibly fluffy... because I need some fluff and knowing they have this in their future waiting for them, while on the side I'm writing the most angsty fic with constant dread and setbacks and death looming on the horizon, you know XD

Dad Shirts by @pinkyjulien 💛 I love them so much, I want Kerry's shirt for myself irl, it's my fave of the tropical recolors, the colors and pattern are so nice... and suit him so well imo!!

Also this is totally the follow up to the road trip pics I posted last week. They drove to L.A., spent a day or two there, and then hopped on the plane to Manila xD

[catmansquad]

Drive (Excerpt 2)

Back in the Pacific Drive universe, back with our stranded Gabriel O'Hara...

‘C’mon, friendly dumpster, what do you have for me?’ Gabriel tapped a hand on the lid of the strange dumpster, watching the strange ooze within pulse and glow, bubbling as the lid rattled, he stepped back, waiting for it to vomit up objects of use. Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and Gabriel turned to glance out beyond the perimeter of the garage. He reacted just in time to avoid the dumpster violently launching a can of repair putty and a spare bumper from within its mysterious confines. As the provided materials clattered to the floor, Gabriel scoured the horizon, his heart leapt into his throat as the figure emerged from the darkness, striding along the dirt road towards him and stopping just on the perimeter of the garage; clad in a suit of red and black unstable molecule fabric, bearing the insignia of a skull decorated spider. ‘Gabri…’ The figure spoke to him, calling out softly. Gabriel’s gaze raced over the figure before him, latching on to the figure’s left wrist; bare, no gizmo upon it that was like his own. It was all the proof he needed to assure him that this was the Aberration, not his brother. It could exist in stabilised reality now. ‘I know what you are.’ Gabriel responded, watching the Aberration’s head tilt to one side, masked crescents widening softly, but it gave no response. Terrified, Gabriel bit back the whimper in his throat ‘Why…? Why are you after me…? What do you want?’ He gasped as the Aberration took a step forwards, onto the gravel and then walked towards him, certain in its approach. ‘Why?’ The Aberration spoke out, fingers flexing, then it reached up one hand to pull the mask away, leaving it to dangle in his fingers.

Gabriel backed away slowly, staring at the Aberration, so much like Miguel that he could find no flaw in its appearance; red eyes, messy hair, worse still was just how weary it looked, the spitting image of his brother. ‘You’re not Miguel.’ ‘I’m not Miguel?’ The Aberration spoke back, gaze narrowing as one hand pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘… I… I didn’t ask to BE Miguel. I didn’t ask to come into this world like this. I didn’t ask for this head full of PAIN!’ He watched it lash out, driving a fist into a wall and the sharp cracks splintered outwards across the entire wall. The Aberration exhaled slowly, pulling its fist away, trembling. ‘…. My head is full of memories and thoughts and feelings I didn’t want! This world hurts. I need to know why I’m here…’ It stepped closer, visibly trembling. ‘Why am I here, Gabri…?’

Gabriel fell on his back as the Aberration leapt atop him, clawed fingers digging into the floor beside his head and that face inches from his own. ‘WHY DO I EXIST?! To suffer?! What sort of life is that?!’ He saw those familiar red eyes look frantically over his own face, and Gabriel realized that the Aberration wasn’t angry, wasn’t driven by rage, but motivated by confusion and distress. ‘I want to kill you, right now…’ Those claws dug into the floor, carving through stone as its hands closed into fists. ‘I still feel it, deep inside me, Gabri, that… hungry yearning. I want to kill you. Only then can I know peace.’ The Aberration exhaled slowly, resting their foreheads together. ‘But, I don’t want to kill you, Gabri. You’re my brother.’ The Aberration closed its eyes, whispering softly, like it was reassuring itself. ‘… You’re my brother…’ After a moment, Gabriel felt brave enough to move, and lifted his arms to wrap them around the familiar form, a gentle embrace that drew a shuddering breath from the Aberration. He saw its talons retract and moved to mirror the gesture. The warm embrace was familiar to Gabriel, reassuring and comforting since the days of childhood; being held by Miguel when their parents fought seemingly every night. Miguel was always the type to show comfort through a hug. ‘I miss you, Mig… I hate that I’m stuck here…’ Gabriel felt the dam inside him break and his emotions boiled to the surface, as he fought back the urge to sob, the tears in his eyes blurred his vision and the Aberration hushed him softly, a hand moving to stroke the back of his head. ‘I wanna go home, brother… Mi hermano…. I want to go home…’ ‘Shh, Gabri… Shh, I’ve got you….’   The Aberration held him as Gabriel finally broke down, sobbing as he clung to the thing that wore his brother’s familiar’s form, comforted in familiar strong arms.

---------

A.R.D.A. LOG: 33251 (“Aberration”)

“Currently classified as an "xeno-planar entity", this Anomaly appears to originate from “outside” reality. It is unknown if these beings possess any sort of will or sentience prior to emerging into our world, attempts to interrogate an Aberration to their true nature or reality has only resulted in nonsensical gibberish. It is unknown if this is due to the nature of their reality, or our language being incapable of expressing such a concept. What can be ascertained from study is that all Aberrations exhibited differences from the individual they were mimicking, when placed in a room with this individual, lapses in memory and information were common with the Aberration. It would appear that Aberrations do not become a 1:1 of the person, but instead become a 1:1 of how their creator thinks and remembers that person, thus, information outside of their scope of awareness will also be unknown to the Aberration, how it expresses this varies when its perception is challenged; some grow enraged, some invent lies, some shut down and become unresponsive.

Due to their nature, flaws, and behaviour, Aberrations cannot be accurately relied upon for covert maneuvers or interrogation tactics. We cannot create an Aberration in the form of an enemy commander and interrogate it for information. The committee has classified Aberrations to be Anomalies of minimal usefulness, no further budgeting will be applied to their project, all Anomalies contained on site are now scheduled for immediate incineration.” - ARDA Final Study Log: Aberrations, 1963.

[zukosdualdao]

fandom asks — 8, 9, 10, 19, & 20!

-teaandcrowns 🔥

8. is there anything I wish people would write more about in fics? (A dynamic, an exploration of an arc, just a character that doesn’t get much screentime, etc)

i thing i’d be interested to see more fic reimagining aang’s arc in season three. with how much it’s come up in discourse recently, i am thinking more about how aang doesn’t really get to be an active agent in his pacifism thanks to Deus Ex Pointy Rock Et Lion Turtle, and i’d like to see more fix that lends him that agency and allows him to grow more than canon does. (i would also love for energy-bending to have more clearly defined lore, even if it’s only in fanon lol, and to be introduced wayyy earlier on. i think learning it in conjunction with his firebending as a way of tying all of his masteries of the elements together would have been really cool.)

9. is there anything in general I wish more people in the fandom talked about?

this is sort of a double-edged-sword, because i genuinely understand the criticism of the way the creators chose to write jet as being morally corrupted by extremism when he’s fighting against oppression. that being said, i do wish it was more talked about/acknowledged that the issue in jet is not just wrt whether or not his killing the fn people in the town is acceptable or not. this is a complicated issue all on its own, and one that’s been debated at length already, so i’ll let it alone for now. but what i often find the conversation is missing is the acknowledgment that there are still earth kingdom citizens living in that town, who would have been killed along with anyone in the fire nation. we see this in the scenes showing sokka warning the townspeople and getting them to safety. jet says that he’s fighting to free them, but he is making the choice all on his own, without their knowledge or consent, that the lives of the very people he says he’s trying to help are worth sacrificing in the name of his ideals and retribution against the fn. and sokka says it best: “who would be free? everyone would be dead.”

i absolutely understand the need to criticize this writing, and i’m not saying people shouldn’t. writing jet as this extremist going too far in contrast toward the Morally Upstanding version of rebellion that the show is comfortable with re: the gaang is absolutely imbued with a centrist ideology i’m uncomfortable with and critical of. but when we’re talking about analyzing in-universe character motivations, i always find it striking that this aspect of jet gets waved away or ignored in these conversations.

10. A fic from the fandom I haven’t read yet, but I want to read

incendiary!

19. favorite headcanon

the gaang all do lots of traveling together (be it for political meetings or adventures without the weight of the world quite-so on their shoulders) post-war and stay in pretty regular contact.

20. least favorite headcanon

i know that this is less headcanon and more just how much post-canon screwed her over but the idea that katara would not want to have her hands DEEP in policy and politics (beyond banning bloodbending (which i don’t like but she wasn’t even there for it? c’mon!)) and not only that but have PLENTY of leverage to be as active and involved as she wants (even ignoring that she’s chief hakoda’s daughter and dating the avatar, she’s also a war hero ALL ON HER OWN)??? sounds fake.

thanks for the ask friend!

[thelastspeecher]

Another Foster Ford AU prompt, Ford bonding with his foster sisters and parents.

Beach episode :) Enjoy!

———————————————————————————————————–

              The Young family minivan stopped perfectly within the lines of a parking spot.

              “Good choice, dear,” Madeline Young, Ford’s foster mother, said to her husband.  Her husband and Ford’s foster father, Wyatt Young, smiled.

              “I wanted to park as close as I could to the sand so the kids can get to playing right away without walking across the hot parking lot.”

              “C’mon, c’mon!” ten-year-old Tina, one of Ford’s four foster sisters, said impatiently.  She was practically vibrating in her seat with excitement.  “I wanna swim!”  Madeline and Wyatt chuckled.

              “You can unload, girls,” Wyatt said.  “We’ll bring everything with us and set up on the beach.”

              “What about Stan?” asked seventeen-year-old Octavia.

              “We’ll bring him, too.  He’s too little to be allowed to run off without proper adult supervision,” Madeline said.  Ford’s foster sisters – Octavia, Tina, twelve-year-old Ashley, and fifteen-year-old Stephanie – eagerly opened the door of the minivan and bolted away.  Ford scowled from his car seat as he watched them sprint towards the ocean, shouting happily.

              For once, I wish Madeline and Wyatt would have been fine with the girls watching me.  I want to swim, too!  In fact, that was why they had come to the beach.  Wyatt took Ford to the neighborhood pool the week before, and when he discovered how much Ford liked to swim, suggested they take a family trip to the beach.  As someone who grew up in a beachside city, Ford was thrilled by the opportunity.

              “All right, Stan, let’s go set up a spot,” Wyatt said, unbuckling Ford from his car seat.  He headed for the beach.  As they walked across the sand, Ford started to squirm.  “What’s wrong?”

              “Put me down,” Ford said.  “Please,” he added quickly.

              “Are you sure?  The sand’s a bit hot and difficult for a little boy like you,” Wyatt said.

              “I’m sure, I’m sure!”

              “Okay.”  Wyatt set Ford down.  Ford promptly dug his tiny toes into the warm sand.  The familiar sensation made him smile.  “Wow, someone’s happy!”

              “I like the beach,” Ford said quietly.

              “You’ve been to one before?” Madeline, who had caught up to them with the rest of the supplies, asked.  Ford nodded.  “Huh.  That’s surprising.  Did your parents take you on vacation?”  Belatedly, Ford remembered that his foster family believed he was born and raised in Gravity Falls, Oregon.  He nodded again.

              “But not this kind of beach,” Ford said, watching the turquoise waves.  That, at least, was true.  The Atlantic Ocean at Glass Shard Beach was a far cry from the Pacific Ocean at San Diego.  Not only was the water a completely different color, but the sand was white, clean, and soft.

              Honestly, this makes the beach I grew up near seem like garbage.  Wyatt took ahold of Ford’s hand.

              “Then I’m happy we’re giving you a new experience,” Wyatt said cheerfully.  They continued to walk down the beach.  Ford stared at the water longingly.

              “I want to swim,” he whined to Wyatt.  Wyatt chuckled.

              “Don’t worry, you’ll get to swim.  But we need to set up first and get your floaties on.”  Ford scowled.  “I know you don’t like your floaties or your life vest, but they’re important to keep you safe.”

              When I was this age before, I had no such safety devices.  Though that might be more of a poor reflection on Mom and Pops than Wyatt and Madeline.  They reached a spot on the beach that Wyatt deemed satisfactory.  Ford sat down on the sand while he waited for Wyatt and Madeline to set up the umbrella and lay down the towels.  Once the umbrella was up, Wyatt scooched Ford underneath the shade.

              “I have sunscreen on, though,” Ford protested.  Before leaving the house, all the children had been thoroughly coated in sunscreen, as the instructions on the bottle said to apply fifteen minutes before sun exposure.  Wyatt ruffled his hair.

              “Yes, but we still want to keep you out of the sun as much as possible.  Your skin is more sensitive than someone older.”

              “I guess,” Ford mumbled.  In truth, he was relieved he wouldn’t be experiencing a repeat of the many sunburnt days of his first childhood.

              Again, not something that reflects well on my parents.  Ford watched his foster parents finish setting things up.  The toys they had packed for playing in the sand, he wouldn’t deny he was excited by.  But the ocean was practically calling to him, getting louder and louder the longer he sat under the umbrella.  After what felt like hours, Madeline finally put Ford’s life vest and arm floaties on him.

              “I’ll watch the things,” Madeline said to Wyatt.  “You take Stan and have some fun in the water.”

              “Will do.”  Wyatt grinned at Ford.  “Want to go swim?”

              “Yes!” Ford enthused.  He jumped to his feet and sprinted towards the ocean, scattering sand.  He could hear Wyatt, Madeline, and a few other beachgoers chuckling at his antics, but didn’t care.  The loose, dry sand became wet and firm as he took his first steps in the Pacific Ocean.  Before he could go into water any deeper than his waist, however, he felt two hands pick him up.  “Hey!”

              “You can’t go past your waist without an adult right next to you,” scolded Wyatt, who had picked him up.  Ford scowled, but nodded.  Wyatt set him down again.  The two slowly walked further into the ocean.  When they got too deep for Ford’s feet to reach the bottom, Wyatt spoke again.  “How are you doing?”

              “Great!” Ford said cheerfully.  Wyatt beamed.

              “Good.  Let me know if the current gets too strong for you.”

              “I’ll be fine,” Ford said dismissively.  He swam happily in the salty water, ignoring his foster father nearby, just enjoying himself.  Much faster than he preferred, he felt himself slow down as he tired.  Wyatt spotted this immediately.

              “I think it’s time to go back to the beach,” he said.

              “But-”

              “There’s plenty of fun to be had other than swimming,” Wyatt said.  He put a hand on Ford’s back and guided him towards the beach.  As they emerged from the ocean, water splashed their backs.  Ford and Wyatt spun around.  Tina and Ashley stood in the shallows, giggling.  “Did you just splash us?”

              “Maybe,” Tina said in a sing-song tone.  Ford took a few steps back into the ocean and splashed his foster sisters.  Tina and Ashley let out shrieks of faux outrage, still giggling.  Ford grinned.

              “Do you girls want to help us make a sandcastle?” Wyatt asked.

              “Sure!” Ashley said.  “I’ll go get the stuff from Mom!”  She sprinted off to Madeline.

              “Sorry, Stan, I just decided for us that we would make a sandcastle together,” Wyatt said to Ford.  “Are you all right with that?”

              “Yeah,” Ford said with a shrug.

              Stan wasn’t much of a sandcastle person, so we didn’t try making them very often.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll find that I enjoy it.  Ashley came back, her arms full of plastic molds.

              “Should we give our sandcastle a moat?” Wyatt asked as they sat down to begin building.

              “Obviously,” Ford, Ashley, and Tina said at the same time.  Tina and Ashley giggled.  To his surprise, so did Ford.  The salty ocean breeze picked up, whisking away the heat of the sun, as Ford and his foster family began construction on their sandcastle.  Ford could feel his happiness increasing by the minute.  After so long in unfamiliar and strange situations, being in one that was so similar to what he’d grown up with, he finally began feeling like he might be at home.

[seriousfic]

For reasons unknown even to me, I “watched” that modern Power Rangers reboot. Since the first thing to happen after the teaser is a bull getting jerked off, I decided to fast-forward until some, y’know, Power Rangers showed up.

-Not many notes about the teaser, which is just Zordon and Rita snarling at each other, except that this takes itself way too seriously for a scene involving a character named Rita Repulsa. They’re speaking in an alien language with subtitles, I mean, c’mon.

-Oh, and the Power Rangers suits are nanotech, like in the MCU, but when you turn them off, they disappear and you’re left naked. A tactfully shot, but fully nude, Walter White is perhaps not the epic and solemn moodsetter the director intended for it to be.

-After that--I swear to God this is true--the Power Rangers don’t become Power Rangers for a full NINETY MINUTES. That is the length of Mighty Morphing Power Rangers: The Movie, which features many, multiple scenes of Power Rangers and Zords. This is a two hour movie and you have to wait until the last thirty minutes to get actual Power Rangers. And it’s not a full half hour, it’s twenty minutes, because there’s a bit of epilogue and credits.

-So, basically, you know how it’s kind of lame that Spider-Man 2 and Superman 2 have these long lengths of the movie where the title characters stops being the title character and you get so much of them being a Muggle? This is the first movie and they’re putting you through that!

When they finally become Rangers and start piloting their Zords, they’re all going “ooh, I don’t know how this works! What does this button do?” Like, dude, this is first act stuff! Imagine if they made a Spider-Man movie where Peter Parker didn’t put on the costume until the last thirty minutes and he was having his final showdown with Green Goblin while trying to figure out web-slinging and shit! Insane!

-Aside from Billy, these characters are really bland. I’m sure there’s a long line of people to tell me how Zach being into hip-hop hasn’t aged well, but without shit like that, these Rangers are so generic and indistinguishable. And even Billy is a motormouthed babbling ‘nerd’, not the affectless scientist the old Billy was. Which is weird, because I heard this one is supposed to be canon autistic. I guess that translates to ‘adorkable’ for Hollywood. In high school terms, he’s way more of a spaz than a brain, which is a crucial distinction.

-Because all the Power Rangers content is crammed into the third act, they really speed-run through all the stuff you’d want to see. The Rangers spend all of five minutes fighting Putties, then they’re in their Zords for the rest of the action. This movie should’ve been called Zords!

-And their first fight is in this zero-G space where they’re totally CGI. I try not to be too much of a practical effects purist--I get the American Godzilla movies making Goji CGI because he’s a five hundred foot tall dinosaur. We should at least give CGI a chance there.

When it’s supposed to be people in suits battling man-sized monsters, but it’s just a bunch of CGI being rendered... yeah, I’m sure on some scale it’s higher production value than the show, but it’s just lacking in any charm.

Yeah, great, the new Ranger suits don’t have wrinkles, but it’s just so soulless. Lots of Disney live-action remake energy.

-Oh, and the fight ends with Billy coming in and blasting all the Putties with his Zord, so... what’s the point of being Power Rangers?

-As for the Zord fighting, it’s pretty dismal. This is no Pacific Rim. Mostly, the Zords just act as tanks, firing away at the Putties and Goldar (who... yeah, you know that shit. I’m not gonna get into it). And with these craptacular designs, I can barely tell Billy’s Triceratops and Zack’s Woolly Mammoth apart.

-In fact, the characters are lacking their Zord motifs altogether. In the original, they’re not just different colors. They’ve got little sabretooth tiger and T-rex design elements in their costumes.

I don’t know, maybe something like that is going on with these new costumes, but it gets totally lost in all the noise and business of these cluttered designs. I hate it.

Also, don’t those chestpieces look like unaesthetic hollow spaces to you? They were probably going for Iron Man, but why rip-off Iron Man instead of centering the power coins? Try to find them--they’re just about lost in a blur of glowy bullshit!

So we spend like ten minutes on the Zords fighting, then they turn into the Megazord off-screen with Billy naming it a Megazord in one of those lampshade-hanging ways instead of Megazord just being its name. He initially calls it a Mother Zord.

The Megazord fights Goldar (whose ‘liquid gold’ texture looks like absolute shit, barely rendered at all) for maybe a minute, since this is the big Super Saiyan power-up and not really a phase of the fight. No sword-fighting with the Power Sword or anything. So, again, Power Rangers movie where most of the action is the individual Zords running around Angel Grove.

Also, the Rangers aren’t all in one big cockpit together, they’re in these little capsules scattered all over the Megazord’s body, which seems more risky and a waste of a perfectly good chance to allow the actors to act off each other instead of all being off in their own Skype call. But whatever.

Rita is dealt with by being bitch-slapped into the vacuum of space, where she’s frozen solid, which is another example of this movie not being sure how camp it should be, and also... after she tanked the extinction of the dinosaurs in the opening scene, shouldn’t someone pick her up and put her in jail? It seems like asking for trouble to just leave her floating out there where she can land on another planet or be picked up by a spaceship and cause more problems.

Lastly, for being a giant T-1000 made of gold, Goldar is surprisingly vulnerable to being stabbed with swords. I’m not sure how that works. He’s a golem made of animated liquid gold. How would being stabbed affect him at all? If it were some super beam attack and he was basically atomized, okay, but don’t use the design principle of a Gelatinous Cube and then tell me it’s vulnerable to being shived.

Also, no kaiju blowing up while the Megazord strikes a pose. Fail.

[cursedvida]

"Media literacy is dead and btw proximus just wanted the better for apekind" 💀 joke wrote itself

Media literacy is dead but Mae was a narcissistic selfish bitch for wanting the best for humans while Proximus was a misunderstood poor baby who just wanted the best for apes lol

[ofstoriesandstardust]

after all the interest was shown in my AUs, i decided to share a little except from one of them entitled if i knew it all then, would i do it all again?

swearing under the cut

“C’mon, man. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard the rumors about her.” Payback says with a nudge of Omaha’s shoulder. “She was legendary.” 

Omaha shakes his head, taking a sip from his beer bottle. “No, tell me.” 

“The story goes, that there was incredible pilot, who accomplished the likes of Maverick, by the callsign of Rebel.” 

Coyote perks his head at Payback’s words. 

“But then one day, her and wingman went down in a highly classified accident over some ocean the Navy wasn’t even supposed to be in. By some miracle, her and her wingman walked away safe and sound. But no one ever saw her again, after that day. No one knows where she is or if she’s dead or alive.”

“She just… disappeared.” Fanboy finished with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“I’ve never bought that story.” Phoenix says with a shake of her head as she passes the pool cue to Bob. “It’s gotta be bullshit.” 

“I’m with Phoenix. It’s not possible.” Halo pipes up from her seat.

Payback nods, muelling over their words. “That’s always the part that gets me. How does a pilot of that caliber and legend just disappear?” 

“Well, when your godfather is Commander of the Pacific Fleet, pretty easy actually.”

[junipersdragon]

Center of Gravity

A Gravity Falls Fanfic

(Part 1)

If you’ve ever taken a roadtrip through the Pacific Northwest, you’ve probably seen a bumper sticker for a place called Gravity Falls. It’s not on any maps, and most people have never even heard of it. I certainly hadn’t before my dad decided to uproot our entire lives and move there one summer when I was thirteen. At the time, I resented him for it. I was being forced to leave everything I had ever known behind for a dinky little tourist town in the middle of nowhere Oregon. I had to leave behind my childhood home, my best friend, and most importantly, any chance of solving the biggest mystery of my life.

Needless to say, I was pretty moody.

“Oh, c’mon now Goose.” My dad said, nudging my arm gently when he noticed the sour expression on my face. “This will be a new adventure for the both of us!”

I huffed softly, slouching in the seat of the packed SUV while he drove. “We’re quite literally moving to a town that has laws about marrying woodpeckers, Dad. Woodpeckers. Y’know, the bird?”

He chuckled nervously, clearing his throat and waving his hand dismissively. “So it’s got some… character… but I’m an expert when it comes to that!”

I gave him a flat look. “Please, no author puns. I’m not in the mood.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to find another way to make you laugh!” He grinned cheekily and reached over to the passenger seat, poking me in the ribs and making me squeak.

“Agh!!!! No!!!” I screeched as he poked me over and over again, causing me to laugh until my eyes watered.

Dad started laughing too, and once he was satisfied, he finally took his hand away and looked fully back at the road.

“Trust me, Harmony.” He said, ruffling my hair. “This will be good for us.”

My laughter died down as I fixed my hair, but a pit in my stomach was slowly growing the closer and closer we got to our destination.

~~~

“Ah, just smell that fresh air!” My dad exclaimed as he got out of the car, stretching his arm up over his head. “Man, I haven’t been back in Oregon since I was in my twenties!”

“Theres definitely a lot of trees here…” I stated bluntly, looking around the car to our new house. I scrunched my nose up a bit as I looked at the peeling yellow paint and sagging porch. “And termites…”

“Mr. Evans!” A man in a suit called before coming over to my dad and shaking his hand. “Glad you were able to make it safely!”

My dad took the man’s hand and shook it, his kind smile pulling at his lips. “Please, call me Simon.” He said before looking past the man and raising an eyebrow at the house. “Is this it?”

“This is indeed! 722 Gopher Rd.” The realtor confirmed. “What do you think?”

He paused for a moment, looking the house over with that calculating look of his, before nodding and beaming at the man. “It’s perfect!”

“What?” I asked, shocked. “Dad, that house is one earthquake or windstorm away from toppling over!”

“I can assure you, Miss, the house is perfectly safe!” The realtor tried to assure me. Immediately after he said that, the mailbox that was hanging next to the front door fell off the wall and clattered onto the porch.

“I’ve always wanted a fixer-upper house!” Dad explained, clasping his hands together and looking excitedly at the house. “It has everything we need already, we just need to give it a little TLC!”

“More like TNT…” I grumbled, folding my arms over my chest.

My dad looked back at him, that bright smile still on his face. “What was that, Goose?”

I looked at him for a moment, the fact slowly sinking in. My dad was in love with this house, and he was so excited to make it a home. I couldn’t crush him like that…

Sighing, I gave him a small smile. “Which room is mine?”

~~~

“Ugh, finally!” I groaned, putting down the last box and straightening my back. “That took forever!”

My dad laughed, tossing a rolled up ball of packing tape at me like a snowball. “Good work today, kiddo!”

“Eh, it was nothing.” I shrugged before grinning at him. “I’m just surprised that we were able to fit all your plants into one room. I thought we would have to leave some behind.”

He gasped, putting a hand to his chest in mock horror. “Never!”

I laughed, picking up the packing tape ball and tossing at him. Before it could hit him in the shoulder though, he caught it.

“I’m going to order us a pizza for dinner. Why don’t you go explore a bit, huh?” He asked, jerking his head toward the window and the tree line beyond.

I looked out the window and hummed, frowning slightly. “You’re gonna let your thirteen year old daughter wander around unsupervised?”

“Goose, you’re a teenager now. I want you to explore and grow. Find things that interest you, get into a new hobby!” He paused for a second before saying, “Make some friends…?”

I huffed slightly at what he was implying. “I have Jenna.”

Dad rubbed the back of his neck, eyebrows knit together like he was worried. “Well, yes, that’s true, but your cousin is overseas for College now and… I just thought it would be nice if you tried making some friends that are closer to your age…?”

Most kids my age think the things I’m into are weird.

I bit back the snide comment and shoved my hands deep into my pockets, shrugging. “I guess…” I murmured.

Satisfied with the answer for now, my dad smiled and ruffled my hair as he walked past. “Don’t wander too far, okay? Pizza should be here in an hour or so.”

“Okay Dad, I won’t.” I promised, smiling back at him before he disappeared into the kitchen to order the food.

Once he was gone though, I let the smile drop and I sighed, scuffing my shoe against the floor before turning and walking out the door.

~~~

I let my mind wander as I walked through the forest, kicking a rock down the path every few feet. While the forest was pretty, I couldn’t help but miss Lake Tahoe. Dad and I would go camping with Jenna every summer in a forest near the lake just like this one, but now…

I frowned, glaring down at the rock and kicking it as hard as I could. I listened as it skittered off the path, into the brush and then, to my surprise, clatter against something stone at the bottom of the small hill.

“What the…?” I murmured, knitting my eyebrows together and craning my neck to peak into the underbrush. At the bottom of the hill, I could make out something made out of stone. “A statue?”

Carefully, I picked my way down the hill and through the underbrush into a small clearing in the middle of the woods. Picking leaves out of my hair, I approached the odd statue and examined it.

“Weird…” I said in a hushed voice. The statue was what looked like the all-seeing eye but it was… personified? That’s the best way I could describe it, really. It was a pyramid with one eye, a top hat, and a bow tie with one arm outstretched in greeting. The stone was cracked and crumbling in different places, and it had moss and mushrooms growing on it.

Squatting down in front of the statue, I looked at it closer before humming. “I bet you’re lonely out here all by yourself, huh?”

Of corse I didn’t expect the statue to answer. It’s a statue, why would it? But the silence that followed my question didn’t feel empty, as though the statue was silently telling me, “go on.”

I sighed, sitting down and looking at it. “Well, I feel you there. My dad moved us all the way out here because he thinks it’ll be good for us, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

Hugging my knees to my chest, I continued. “But, with Jenna traveling Europe for her architecture major, and us in this new place, it makes me wonder if there’s another reason he moved us out here. Like…” I hesitated, but I needed to put it out there. “Like… he thinks that Mom really isn’t coming back and he’s… moving on…”

Eight years ago my mom, Johanna Evans, suddenly just… disappeared. She had her normal day bag packed as dropped me off at school with a promise of something really good for dinner that night. That was the last time I saw her.

She didn’t come to pick me up from school that day, so my Dad had to come pick me up. I remember sitting there on the curb for hours, waiting for my mom and watching how all my other classmates got picked up. When we got home, the police were there and had to question me about what happened that morning.

Mom’s car was found parked on the side of the road up in the mountains the next afternoon. There was no trace of her, or where she could have gone. Her purse and day bag were left behind, there were no footprints leading to or from the car, and there was no DNA evidence found except for my Dad’s and my own.

The fact that my mother’s dna wasn’t in the the car period was baffling, but it was nowhere near the horrifying discovery of the groceries in the back trunk. Despite the receipt having the previous day’s date to go along with the food, everything was rotted and decaying as if it had been there an entire year. The entire situation was too bizzarre and no one could explain what happened to her, so the case went cold.

But I didn’t give up on her. So, I started playing detective… and part of me just, never stopped.

Taking in a deep breath, I told my story to this strange statue. I’m not entirely sure why, but I wanted to tell someone how I really felt about all of this. And once I had finished, I felt almost… lighter. Like a weight I had been carrying with me had finally been lifted off my shoulders.

Once I finished my story, I stood up and dusted myself off. “Thanks for listening to me, statue guy.” I said to the inanimate object. I looked at the stone depiction and smiled softly. “I think I really needed it…”

~~~

For the next week, any time my dad told me to go “exploring”, I went back to that clearing with the statue. I’m not sure why I kept going back, but I just… did. It was nice, I guess, to have someone actually listen to what I had to say. I talked to it about anything and everything.

I told it about Lake Tahoe, about my favorite books; my hobbies and my interest in code cracking and the paranormal. But mostly, I talked about my Mom. I talked about the things I remembered about her, the stories my dad told me about her, and the theories I had about her disappearance.

“Maybe she was abducted by aliens?” I wondered aloud as I walked around the clearing, poking and prodding at the different foliage with a stick for anything that might catch my eye. Nothing did. “It might explain the groceries and why there weren’t any footprints?”

Of corse, the statue didn’t answer, but that’s okay. Sometimes it was better to have someone listen than to have their input.

After a week of being in Gravity Falls, we finally got the majority of the new house put together and it was starting to look a lot less dilapidated. Dad’s office was now in a converted sun room so he could be surrounded by his plants while he worked. That’s where I found him when I was on my way out of the house to go to the clearing again.

“You off to go hang out with your new friend?” He asked over his shoulder, finishing the sentence he was typing on his computer before turning to look at me.

“Who?” I asked absently before dropping my shoe and looking at him. “Oh! Right! My friend!” I said, smiling wide. I just hoped it didn’t look forced or anything.

“You should bring them over sometime! I’d like to meet them!” Dad smiled, leaning back in his office chair.

“Uh… y-yeah, maybe…? I’m not sure if they’d be into that…” I shrugged before bending down to tuck the laces of my shoes into the sides. Not to mention this new friend was a statue and not a person.

“Never hurts to ask, Goose.” He assured me before turning back around in his chair to face the computer again. “Just make sure you’re home for dinner, okay?”

“Will do.” I said, standing up once my shoe was secured. “See you later dad!” I called as I left the house.

Grabbing my walking stick, I made my way down the familiar path to the clearing. Honestly, I was pretty glad to. There was some sort of “Welcome Back” party or something going on at the house down the road, and I would do anything to avoid it.

Well… house was maybe a bit of an understatement.

Dad and I had to pass by the place on our way to the store the other day. 618 Gopher Road wasn’t a house, but more of a roadside attraction. The self proclaimed “Mystery Shack” was originally the home of a cryptozoologist turned tourist trap that, despite selling plastic junk and paying an arm and a leg for fake attractions, was well beloved by townsfolk and travelers alike.

“Cheep tourist tricks…” I grumbled to myself, taking my walking stick and stabbing it down into the ground. To my surprise, the tip of the stick hit something hard and snapped in half.

“Aw man, my stick…!” I frowned, grabbing the two halves of the stick and tossing them into the underbrush. As I was about to walk away, however, I noticed something that I hadn’t before. A small, dirty black box.

Knitting my eyebrows together, I bent down and grabbed the box, turning it over in my hands. It looked old, like it had been there for a while.

“What is this, some sort of ring box…?” I murmured, finding the front of the box and opening it.

Inside the box was a blue, lozenge-cut crystal. It was about the length of the tip of my finger to my second knuckle and was semi-clear. It was weird, the thing almost seemed to be… glowing.

“Weird…” I murmured, but shrugged and closed the box, slipping it into my pocket. “Maybe I’ll make it into a necklace.” I said to myself as I continued down my path.

The closer I got to the clearing, the further the weird crystal slipped from my mind. I was looking forward to talking to statue guy and sitting against a tree with a good book today. I was getting to a really good part and I was excited to see how it ended.

When I was nearly to my spot, I couldn’t help but notice a low sound coming from the clearing. A sound that sounded a lot like… talking. I froze. No! Not my little sanctuary! Quickly, I hid behind a tree before I could be noticed and peered down into the clearing.

Crouching down in front of the triangle statue was, surprisingly, a boy. He looked like he was about my age, with brown hair that peaked out from underneath a trapper cap. I could tell that he was talking to the statue by the way his lips were moving, but I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. I closed my eyes and strained my ears to listen.

It really wasn’t much use. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, only bits and pieces. But, there was one thing that I was able to make out. A name.

Bill.

After a short amount of time, the boy stood up, put his hands in his pockets, and walked away from the statue. I waited until he had left before carefully picking my way through the brush and down into the clearing again.

I looked around, curious to see if there was any trace left behind by the boy. Satisfied that there wasn’t, I finally looked at the statue and tilted my head.

“Bill, huh? Is that your name?” I asked, looking at the statue closely. I thought about it for a moment and hummed.

“Well, it’s better than just calling you statue guy, so…” I shrugged, smiling a bit and reached my hand out to the statue’s outstretched one. “Nice to meet you Bill, I’m Harmony.”

Once my hand was grasped around the statue’s, I knew I had made a big mistake. The world around me drained of all color and froze, as though time itself no longer existed. I gasped, snatching my hand back and looking around in horror.

“What’s going on?!” I asked, eyes wide with fear. And this time, I was answered.

“FINALLY!!!!” A voice boomed seemingly from nowhere. Cracks began to form along the statue’s surface, bright light emanating from underneath as the cracks grew in size.

I shielded my eyes from the bright light until a loud boom echoed through the forest, followed by laughter that sent chills down my spine.

“I’m free!!!! I’m finally free!!!” The voice cried out joyously. Blinking hard to clear my vision, I lowered my arm to finally face the owner of the voice.

In front of me was the statue, except not. Instead of solid stone, the thing floating in front of me was very much alive, despite how ridiculous it seemed. A yellow triangle with one eye wearing a top hat and bow tie, a glowing blue crack along the right side of its… I think it was its face.

“I… I’m dreaming…!” I murmured to myself in disbelief, unable to wrap my mind around what I was seeing. “That’s got to be it…! I-I must have fallen asleep in the clearing or something!”

The creature laughed, finally seeming to notice me. He disappeared suddenly before re-appearing right in front of my face, causing me to jump. “Hate to break it to ya’ kid, but this isn’t a dream! This is very real!”

“N-no! There’s no way!” I shook my head, scooting backwards. “What even are you?!”

“The name’s Bill Cipher, pleasure to meet ya!” He said, and though he didn’t have a mouth, I could tell in his voice that he was grinning.

“Bill…?” I asked. That was the name that boy had called the statue earlier!

“Thats right!” He replied, floating closer to me. “And you, kid, are going to have the pleasure of helping me get revenge on those who wronged me! All you gotta do is make one teeny tiny little deal with me.” He outstretched his hand towards me. “What do you sa-?” Before he could finish, he recoiled his hand and let out an unearthly, ear-piercing screech.

I winced, covering my ears and squeezing my eyes shut. The box in my pocket suddenly felt warm, but it was comforting and put my mind at ease.

“This isn’t over, Semiquaver!” Bill growled, but I kept my eyes tightly closed. “You’ll separate from that thing eventually, and when you do, I’ll be waiting! I see and know everything! You’ll come back when you can’t find what you’re looking for! They always do!”

As he talked, his voice sounded further and further way, until finally, it was gone. With a sudden whoosh of air, the silence was filled with the normal sounds of the forest.

Slowly, I cracked my eyes open to take in my surroundings. I was in the clearing. There was color, and sound, and there was movement. But, when I looked towards where the statue usually sat, my stomach flipped and I nearly lost my breakfast. Why?

Because the statue was gone.

[thatlovinfeelin]

Eye Of The Storm - two- Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Baby Kazansky OC X Rooster

One

“God, I feel like my head is going to split,” Beth groaned the next morning.

“Well, pull yourself together. My dad is having a garden party of sorts in two hours,” Molly pointed out, pinning back the front pieces of her hair.

“A garden party?” Erika groaned, “God, that sounds horrible.”

“Why do you think I told you guys to pack nice dresses,” Molly laughed, pulling out a lightweight sundress, “It’s to celebrate the success of a recent mission or something.”

“Then can we go to the beach?” Beth begged.

“Yes, trust me, you’re going to want to get drunk on the beach,” Molly teased, “These things are always so boring. We just have to stay long enough to make my dad happy. So look like sweet little college seniors, please.”

“Us? Sweet?” Erika laughed, “Bliz, c’mon. We all know you’re just as crazy as the rest of us.”

“Not when I’m Admiral Kazansky’s daughter,” She pointed out, “I can’t be Blizzard while I’m here.”

“Your dad is literally called Iceman and you’re saying you can’t be Blizzard?” Beth questioned, “You’re an adult, and you’re still going to play daddy’s little princess?”

Molly sighed, sinking down onto her bed. She knew the two young women in front of her knew her better than anyone else. They saw more than she ever let anyone outside of the apartment see. Hell, she let them in more than the rest of their team. She tried for years to keep up a certain reputation, because it was all she had.

“The last year and a half was a mistake, and we aren’t going to mention it,” Molly said quietly, “I’m graduating soon, and coming back here. I got into UCLA’s masters program. I’ll likely spend every weekend here….I can’t be Bliz anymore. It’s time to be Molly Kazansky, daughter of the great Admiral Kazansky, Commander of the Pacific Fleet.”

Beth took a seat next to her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “You’ll suffocate if you live like that.”

“I made that choice when I accepted UCLA’s offer. If it means I have to put Bliz in a little box and shove her under my bed, I will.”

The other two girls shook their heads. Molly wasn’t wild at school, but less than forty eight hours ago, she was out drinking half of a frat and making out with several of them in the corner. She was known to have fun and be wild, yet too closed off to let anyone get close to her. She didn’t date, she just had fun. She didn’t party during the week or during the back half of the volleyball season, so she could focus on school and the game. She worked hard, but when she wanted to, she played even harder.

“Just get ready please? And look like you belong at a very respected admiral’s garden party. You can borrow anything from my closet that you need,” Molly told them, walking into her small bathroom.

An hour later, Molly stood next to her parents, making small talk with guests. Her sweet smile was mostly genuine, as she hadn’t seen many of them in years. But at the same time, she couldn’t wait to get out and go to the beach with the girls.

Her hair was sticking to the back of her neck, her chiffon sundress didn’t breathe either, causing her to be endlessly uncomfortable. Yet she kept smiling and nodding while politely answering the few questions that she was asked. The perfect little girl returned home.

“It’s nice to see you again, Molly,” Pete Mitchell gave her a quick hug, “Last time I saw you, you still had braces.”

Molly forced back the embarrassment that tried to flood her, “Good to see you too, Captain Mitchell. If I recall, you were a Captain last time I saw you.”

He raised his eyebrows before letting out a laugh, “Ah, but I’m a highly decorated Captain now.”

“I hear you were the reason the mission succeeded though,” Molly pointed out, “So, it seems we owe you our thanks, once again.”

“Oh, I didn’t do it on my own,” Pete assured her, turning to get another man’s attention, “I had a lot of help. Molly, meet Rooster Bradshaw.”

Her fake sickly sweet smile fell, because the man that turned around was the same man from the bar. Brad, or at least that’s what he said. She assumed Rooster was his callsign. She let out a deep breath, shifting on her feet quickly before forcing another smile onto her face.

He seemed to have the same reaction, faltering for a split second before recovering and making his way over. He smiled, shaking her father’s hand and giving her mother a quick hug. They seemed to be acquainted with one another. She could only assume that happened while she was away.

“This is our youngest, Molly,” her father said, smiling proudly at her, “She’s getting ready to graduate from UConn, with a degree in engineering.”

“Nice to meet you,” Molly said sweetly, holding her hand out, “You must be one hell of a pilot to keep up with my Uncle Maverick.”

He licked his lips, trying not to smirk at her, “Well, I try Miss. It’s nice to meet you as well. I’ve heard a great deal about you from Maverick.”

Off to the side, Erika and Beth were huddled together, eyeing their friend and the Lieutenant. While they were pretty tipsy the night before, they knew it was the same guy. They also knew the flush that was rising up Molly’s cheeks and chest wasn’t just from the Californian heat. They looked at their friend with a mischievous smile.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to get a lemonade. It’s a little hot,” Molly said sweetly, still looking at Rooster.

“Oh, actually honey, if you could get some more deviled eggs from the kitchen? It looks like we’re almost out,” Her mother asked her, “Maybe one of the girls could help you?”

“I can help her, ma’am,” Rooster spoke, suddenly standing straighter again, “If that’s okay with you?”

Molly nodded softly, “I’ll lead the way.”

They walked quietly to the back door. Bradley held the back door open for Molly, stepping aside so she could enter. Molly took a deep breath, letting the AC cool her body. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before making her way over to the fridge.

“I have to put them on the trays first, you know, make them look nice,” Molly didn’t glance behind her as she reached for the fridge.

“You never mentioned who you were,” Brad, or Rooster, said lowly from the other side of kitchen island.

She shrugged, grabbing a tray and setting it down behind her, “You didn’t ask.”

He watched as she moved around the kitchen. She seemed almost smaller today than she did last night. There was something about this Molly that seemed vastly different from the girl who seemed larger than life in the bar last night.

“You’re in college,” He stated, “and the Admiral’s daughter.”

“You say that like he’s the only Admiral,” She rolled her eyes, lining up the eggs on a platter.

“Considering who your father is, he’s the only one that matters,” He pointed out, voice lowering even more.

Her back was still to him, which meant that he couldn’t see the way she paused. The way her face fell. Sometimes she hated being a Kazansky, because of the way people acted around her, how it changed everything.

She gripped the door of the refrigerator, forcing a deep breath to fill her lungs before turning around, “Look, last night I was just a girl in a bar. All that happened was that you saved me from some very pushy young pilot. I was just a girl in a bar.”

“How old are you, Molly?” He didn’t want to ask, he didn’t want to know, but he needed to.

She closed her eyes, head hung low, “Twenty-one.”

He cursed under his breath, taking a few steps away. For some reason, Molly felt like she was doing something that she shouldn’t, breaking rules she didn’t even know existed. She felt like a small child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Guess I’m not just a girl in a bar anymore,” She whispered.

“I wish you were,” He admitted softly.

She nodded, putting the last of the deviled eggs on the platter, “Believe me, so do I, Lieutenant Bradshaw. But I don’t get to be her while I’m here.”

She shook her head and cleared her throat, “If you’ll take this platter, I’ll get the other one.”

She seemed smaller and smaller as she made her way to the back door. He watched as she paused, straightening her shoulders like she was getting ready to walk back into the lion’s den. He could see the precise moment she changed and put on the act. He could see how she suddenly became the perfect admiral’s daughter.

He couldn’t help but wonder who the girl he saw last night really was. Or if he could somehow see her again. He liked the way she smiled, an almost dangerous sort of smile. He liked the confidence she seemed to have as she walked away from him last night, the sly glance back over her shoulder.

Twenty minutes later, Molly walked back towards her parents, Erika and Beth just behind her, “Pardon the interruption, would you mind terribly if the girls and I left? I promised I’d take them to the beach today.”

“Oh, of course honey. Just stay close to The Hard Deck so Penny can keep an eye on you,” Her mother said softly.

“Oh, already planning on it,” She met Bradley’s eyes from across the yard, “Penny said she was going to help Amelia with her homework on the deck. We’ll stay close, I promise.”

Rooster took note of the way she smiled sweetly, but how her eyebrows raised slightly when she turned away from her parents and faced him. Fanboy shoved his shoulder, telling him to cool off staring at her. But he caught the shift again, seeing the prim and proper, quiet and studious daughter melt away to something else.

Her two friends waved at the three pilots before disappearing into the house. The girls laughed all the way up the stairs. Dresses went flying the second they were back in Molly’s room, being replaced with bikinis and tank tops. Molly yanked the pins out of her hair and tossed it up into a ponytail before slipping on her flip flops.

“Do you still have that easy set up net?” Erika questioned.

“Already in the back of the truck,” Molly laughed, “Now c’mon, we gotta go out through the front so we avoid everyone.”

“Whatever, you two better get ready for me to kick your asses on the beach,” Beth joked.

“Did you forget that I had the best hitting percentage in the Big East last season?” Molly questioned.

“I didn’t forget,” Erika groaned, “I had a concussion at the beginning of the season because of you.”

“Yeah yeah, she’s got an arm on her. Faster we get out there, the faster we can play, and the faster I can tan.”

Molly laughed, grabbing her friends hands and dragging them back down the steps. She could still hear the gentle music from the party in the backyard, but it was drowned out by the sound of her two friends laughing.

The three of them made a break for Molly’s pickup truck, throwing their bags in the back. Molly was buzzing, ready to feel the sand between her toes. Being away from the water like this was one of the things she hated most about being all the way at UConn. She traded the beach for blizzards.

“Where are you sneaking off to, Miss Kazansky?”

Molly spun around, seeing Bradley leaning against the garage with two other guys behind him, “Going to play some volleyball on the beach. You and your friends are welcome to join, Lieutenant.”

“You can bring those too, you might need them,” Beth called, hanging out of the window of the truck, “Molly here has quite the arm on her.”

Molly coughed, turning to glare at Beth, “They dodge missiles and fly fighters for a living.”

“And? You fire missiles of your own. Now get in the damned truck and let’s go.”

Molly looked back over at Bradley one last time, giving him that same smile again, before she climbed into the driver’s seat of her truck. The other girls gave her hell the whole drive over to The Hard Deck, but even that stopped the moment they all got on the beach. There was silence as they set up the volleyball net. There was something about beach volleyball, just having fun with friends, that made Molly feel free again.

Penny and Amelia watched from the back deck of the bar, trying not to laugh. The girls played singles, making the person on the other side of the net really work for every point. Molly already had sweat dripping down her face and back, but she loved it. Her shorts were long forgotten on her towel, leaving her in her bikini and tank top.  

“C’mon Moll, slam her!” Erika yelled from her spot on the towels, “No mercy.”

Molly laughed as she set the ball up high enough for her to maneuver for the hit. She flew through the air, swinging her arm with almost too much force as she connected with the ball. Her breath came out as a grunt as she connected to the ground again. Beth didn’t even seem to have time to think about the ball before it was already landing in the sand.

“God, she wasn’t kidding.”

Erika looked up, seeing Bradley standing next to her, “No, Beth wasn’t joking. Molly becomes a whole different person on the court. There’s a reason she was team captain too.”

He smiled, watching her play. Her friend was right, Molly seemed like a different person. Last night she was confident and larger than life, at her house she was meek and agreeable, but on the court like this she was fierce and unstoppable. Even though she was the only one to cover her half of the court, she managed with ease.

“Look, I don’t know why you decided to come, or what kind of hold you already seem to have over her. But between you and me, she has a fragile heart. She’ll act like she doesn’t, but she does. Beth and I might be the use once and walk away kind of girls, but Molly isn’t. So, think long and hard before you get involved with her, flyboy.”

He cleared his throat and bent down to be at eye level with Erika, “I’m not one of those guys.”

Erika scoffed, “No, you are. Even if you don’t want to admit it. Because one way or another, you will leave. She’s special, the faster you realize that the better.”

“And why exactly are you telling me this?” Bradley questioned.

“Look, Bradshaw, was it? I’ve known Molly for a really long time, and she’s never really looked at guys. Claimed she never had time for them. The guys tried, believe me, but no one ever won her over. Yet, you’ve had two conversations with her, and she’s acting…well she’s acting more like herself than I think I’ve ever seen. So, be careful with her. That’s why I’m telling you, because she’ll be all in before she even realizes it.”

“WOOOOO that’s game!” Molly cheered as the ball slammed down one last time, “If I hit that thing any harder it would’ve been on fire.”

“I know, I had to dive out of the way so I didn’t lose my head,” Beth laughed.

The two high fived before Molly jumped on Beth. Erika couldn’t help but smile, their days of playing collegiate volleyball were over, but she knew the three of them would always be a team in some way. Even if it would just be beach games from time to time.

“Oh, you came,” Molly froze the second she turned to see Bradley standing next to Erika, “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Is it okay that I did?” He questioned.

“No- I mean yeah, I did tell you where we’d be,” She fumbled, “Uh, Erika, it’s your turn to get your ass kicked.”

Erika laughed, smacking the back of Molly’s shoulder as she walked by her. Molly hissed, automatically doubling over and grabbing her shoulder. She groaned and cursed, doing her best to keep her arm steady. Beth dropped the volleyball, running over to her friend.

“You okay? Is it dislocated?” Erika gently put a hand on Molly’s back.

“No, not fully,” Molly shook her head, straightening up a little.

“Are you alright?” Bradley knew she was in pain, yet she was still trying to smile.

“It’s an old volleyball thing,” She explained, “I technically need surgery. But I’m alright, just need to pop it back in.”

“Up and over?” Erika questioned.

Molly nodded, bracing herself. Bradley clenched his fists, hating to see anyone in pain. She swung her arm in a way that forced it back into socket. He watched the way her body sagged, and how her two friends took care of her.

“Alright, sit and use a beer from the cooler as an ice pack,” Erika seemed to order, “Do you still have Advil in your bag?”

“Yes, you know I always have some,” Molly rolled her eyes, “Go play, I’ll be fine.”

Molly plopped down on one of the beach towels, motioning for Bradley to join her. She grabbed two beer out of the cooler and handed one to Bradley, holding the ther one on her shoulder. She sighed, sinking down into the sand.

“Does that happen a lot?” Bradley asked after a few minutes.

“Not as much now that I’m not playing all of the time,” She shrugged, “I got really good at popping it back in after a play.”

“So, you were really serious about volleyball, weren’t you?”

She shrugged, wincing a bit as she did, “Yeah, I mean it was my life for a while. It was a really good distraction, kept me from thinking about where everyone was and if they were okay. I don’t know, I guess I just channeled everything into it. Next thing I knew, I was playing at UConn.”

“I was that way with baseball,” He admitted.

She looked over at him, studding him for a moment, “You look like a baseball guy, in a good way.”

He forced back a laugh and took a long drink from his beer, “How long are you here for?”

“Spring break and Easter break manage to back up to each other this year. So, Erika and Beth are leaving at the end of the week so they can spend time with their families. I’ll probably end up driving down to UCLA to check out my tiny shoe box apartment at some point.”

“UCLA?”

She watched the way a smile spread across her face as she looked back over at him. Her eyes even seemed to twinkle. There was a pink tint to her cheeks and nose, he wasn’t sure if she was blushing or if it was from the sun, but he liked it.

“Yeah, I’m going there for my Masters. I didn’t want to stay in San Diego so I picked LA. It’s only a couple of hours, so I figured I could drive back on the weekends. Maybe see friends and stuff.”

She felt her body heating up, but not from the sun. The way he was looking at her made her want to squirm away, or climb on him. She wasn’t entirely sure. His eyes were soft, kind even, but there were layers to him. Like there was a lot right under the surface just waiting to be seen. She licked her lips, trying to break the haze that seemed to set in over her.

“What are you doing tonight?” He asked, shifting a little closer to her.

She took a deep breath before smiling, “I don’t know, Lieutenant Bradshaw, what am I doing tonight?”

She tried to look confident, for the sake of the man sitting next to her. Molly didn’t want him to know that her heart was beating so hard and fast that her chest almost hurt. She wasn’t entirely sure that she could breathe properly either. She didn’t get nervous around guys, she never allowed them to have that kind of power over her.

But now she was worried that she might say or do the wrong thing. Or that she wouldn’t be the right kind of girl for the pilot sitting next to her. She wanted the chance to get to know him, really know him. For the first time, she wanted someone to really get to know her too.

Slowly, as they looked at each other on the beach, she began to realize one very complicated fact. She just wanted him.

[leiawritesstories]

The Red Dress

Well. This has been in the works for....some time now. And it is finally time to share it with y’all. Inspired by the song “Night Changes” by One Direction. 

Word count: ~10.8k 

Warnings: language, teenage flirting, SMUT, teenage pregnancy, brief non-graphic descriptions of birth, arguing, ANGST. RATED M FOR MATURE!!!

so many thanks to @morganofthewildfire for her angst advice!! it was so very helpful in this process! 

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

“Have fun, Evie!” Aelin called from the front porch, watching her sixteen-year-old daughter climb into her best friend’s car. “Be back by one, okay?”

“I will!” Evalin Galathynius blew her mother a kiss. “Let’s go, Sana,” she muttered to the driver. “I can’t risk Mom seeing me change.”

Sana Whitethorn snickered and reversed out of the driveway. “You got it, Evs.”

Safely out of her neighborhood, Evie tugged off her knee-length denim skirt, slipping the silky red camisole dress she’d found buried in the back of her mom’s closet on over her cropped white tee. Shaking her hair free from its messy bun, she fluffed her blonde waves, a few shades lighter than her mother’s golden, grabbed a tube of bright red lipstick from her mini backpack, applied it to her lips. Sana wiggled her brows in the rearview mirror. 

“Hot damn, Evs, you trying to catch someone’s attention?”

Evie flushed. “Shut up, Sana.”

“Callan Ilnair, then?”

“Fuck, Sana, you know me too well,” Evie groaned, flopping back against her seat. 

“I’m just trying to help you catch your man, Evs.” Sana parked the lot, pulling up next to another friend’s car, and fluffed her silvery-blonde hair in the rearview mirror. Evie hopped out of the car and headed for the cluster of people standing under the bright lights. 

Half an hour later, she found herself in Cal Ilnair’s convertible, the roof down, speeding along the coast highway and singing at the tops of their lungs, the moonlight gilding the strands of her hair. She yelled out the chorus, catching Cal’s eye--and his smile--grinning from the adrenaline pumping through her blood. Cal pulled into a parking lot, parked, hopped out, and like a true gentleman, opened Evie’s door for her. She almost slipped in the sand piled on the asphalt, and Cal grabbed her hand. 

“Easy, Evie.” 

She steadied herself, gripping his hand. “Thanks.” Her balance regained, she loosened her grasp, but neither of them pulled away. Evie looked at him, her turquoise eyes meeting his bright hazel ones, and smiled, shyly. 

Cal was blushing, though he tried to hide it. “C’mon,” he encouraged, tugging her towards the shore. Laughing, Evie followed him. Seize the chance while you have it, Galathynius, she told herself. 

They ended up sprawled on a blanket Cal had brought, watching the stars in the sky and the waves of the Pacific, talking and joking. Evie found it so easy to talk to Cal, especially once she found out how similar of tastes they had in books and movies. 

“No fucking way! You read all of them?”

“All twelve,” Cal confirmed, “and I started watching the Netflix series just last month.”

“Oh gods,” Evie groaned, “the series sucks ass.”

“It really fucking does. I mean, they couldn’t even bother to cast half the characters right, and none of them have any chemistry!”

“I would never have guessed you’re a sappy-YA-lit guy, Cal.”

“Can you blame me? Enemies to steamy lovers is one of my favorite tropes,” he smirked. 

Evie gaped, then broke into peals of helpless laughter, falling onto her back. “Oh my god,” she wheezed, “this is too perfect.” As she calmed herself, she realized she’d all but fallen against Cal, and quickly sat up, not wanting him to get the wrong impression.

He chuckled. “’S’okay, I won’t bite, Evie.”

Blushing a bit, she raised her brows. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” He patted the blanket right next to him. “C’mere.”

~

Callan Ilnair had harbored a massive crush on Evie Galathynius for at least a year, hiding his emotions behind a snarky, carefree façade. He had a tough-guy reputation to uphold, after all--how could he let the bros know he secretly loved smutty books and romances and watching and either loving or shitting on the TV adaptations of his beloved books. 

No doubt he’d inherited his love of those books from his mother. Nesta Archeron-Ilnair did love herself a good steamy romance.

He’d fallen for Evalin Galathynius--”no, no, I go by Evie”--the moment she waltzed into Ms. Lochan’s freshman biology class, a pencil tucked behind her right ear, plopped down next to Sana Whitethorn, and grumbled about how she was missing bingeing her favorite Netflix series again for this. Had known he was well and truly fucked when Ms. Lochan announced that lab partners would be assigned alphabetically by last name, and proceeded to call off the pairs, one of which was Galathynius and Ilnair. 

In true Ilnair fashion, when Evie came to sit next to him, he’d stretched out his legs, crossed his arms behind his head, and drawled “Looks like you’re stuck with me, then.”

She’d just given him a flat look. “Don’t think you’re getting out of doing your fair share of the labs.” And with that, she’d proceeded to largely ignore him for the rest of class time.

Things got better when they actually did lab experiments, Evie cracking smiles at his snide jokes and eventually falling into an easy, casual sort of friendship with him. They’d exchanged numbers after a few weeks, Cal pointing out that they needed to communicate about lab reports somehow, and their text chain ranged from Evie yelling at him to complete assignments to stupid memes to long, emotional, half-incoherent paragraphs typed out at three in the morning when one of them was having a rough night. 

Those texts were a recent development, something they’d only just started to trust each other with. Something Cal had been vulnerable enough to admit one late, late night when he was at a low point and Evie had been willing to listen. 

That was when he’d started to fall in love with her, damning himself all the way for doing so, because she was his best friend, goddammit...and also the girl of his dreams. 

Sitting there on the beach, late at night, Evie tentatively tucking herself against his side, Cal stifled the nerves threatening to make his hands shake. Calm the fuck down, Ilnair, this is not the time to shake like a middle-schooler.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Evie murmured, parroting his earlier words. “I won’t bite.” She grinned.

Cal snickered. “I’m trying my goddamn best not to get the jitters, but shit, Evie, something about you makes my heart beat twice as fast.”

“I like you too, y’know,” she admitted, bluntly. Cal goggled.

“What?!”

She snorted a laugh. “Cal, it’s blatantly obvious that you have a huge crush on me. This is me telling you I feel the same, you idiot.” She leaned into him. “Now wrap your arm around me like we both know you want to, dammit.”

He slipped his arm around her shoulders, marveling at how perfectly she fit against his side, her head falling so naturally onto his shoulder. “As you wish.”

“Thank you, Westley,” Evie teased.

Cal grinned. “Literary references, the way to my heart.”

“Does that mean you’ll finally ask me out?”

“Will you say yes if I do?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well then, Evie Galathynius, can I take you on a date next Saturday?”

“Yes you may, Callan Ilnair.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a long while, watching the Pacific ebb and flow, marveling at this new turn in their relationship. At some point, Evie must have drifted off, because before she knew it, Cal was shaking her gently. 

“Evie! Evie, wake up! Fuck,” he swore softly, “it’s almost two, fuck, goddammit, we gotta get back before my parents kill me. Before your mom kills me.”

Evie jerked awake. “Two?! Fuck!” She hastily got up, shook out the blanket, and ran back to Cal’s car, hand in hand with him. 

He all but floored it driving back, cutting the hour-long drive down to forty minutes. Evie was on her phone half the time, having checked it and found a string of texts from her mother, each more frantic than the last.

>Evie, it’s almost 1, you close to home?

>Evie, I’ll leave the door unlocked, lock it when you get back.

>I hope you’re watching the time...

>Please let me know if you decided to sleep over so I don’t lose my shit.

>Evie Galathynius, where are you?

>I need an update. Now. Please.

>Evalin Alanna Galathynius, if you are not home in the next twenty minutes, I am going to track your phone.

>I mean it.

She swore and sent her mom an apology.

<I’m so sorry, Mom, we were at the beach and we lost track of time and I fell asleep and it’s totally my fault. We’ll be home in twenty, I promise. Gods, I’m so sorry.

<Please don’t be mad, I know it’s my fault.

Only a minute later, Aelin replied.

>Your curfew is going to be ten o’clock for at least two weeks, young lady. But thank you for the explanation. The door is still unlocked. -Mom.

Evie groaned. “She’s gonna have my ass tomorrow.”

“I’m so sorry, Evie.” Cal flicked his eyes to hers as he drove through town. 

“It’s not your fault, Cal, and please keep your eyes on the road.” She gave him a soft little smile. 

When he pulled into her driveway, he put the car into park. “Should I walk with you? Apologize to your mom?”

Her heart melted at his sincerity. “That’s not necessary, but thank you. You’re the best, Cal.”

He chuckled softly. “That I am not, but thank you.” As she moved to climb out of the car, he caught her wrist. “Wait!”

“What?”

“I...uh...good night?”

She smothered a mischievous grin. “Good night, Cal.” And she leaned over and kissed him, just a peck of her lips. He froze for a moment, then slipped a hand behind her head and kissed her properly. 

She was grinning, eyes sparkling, when she pulled away. “Good night, Cal.”

“Good night, Evie.” A stupidly happy smile on his own face.

Evie let herself into her house, locked the front door behind her, and crept down the hall to her bedroom. She was almost home free when she heard her mother’s bedroom door creak open.

“Welcome home, Evi--holy shit!”

Evie turned, finding her mother standing in the doorway, gaping at her outfit. Aelin looked as if she’d seen a ghost. 

“Where the hells did you find that dress?”

“Um, it was in your closet when we were cleaning it out, Mom. I guess it was buried in a pile, but I found it and it fit, so I, uh, kept it.”

Aelin took a deep, calming breath. “I see. Good night, Evie. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Okay. Good night, Mom.” Evie closed her door.

Aelin stepped back into her room, closed her door, and almost in a daze, collapsed backwards onto her bed and laid there, staring at the ceiling, a flood of memories pouring through her mind. That dress. That goddamned red dress. She should have burned it years ago, not thrown it in the back of her closet. It held too many memories, too many painful memories, too many things she never wanted to face.

But face them she must.

~~~~

ALMOST SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO

In the backseat of Elide’s car, Aelin shimmied out of her blouse and black midi skirt, slipping a silky red camisole dress over her head, enjoying the feel of the swingy skirts against her legs. Her parents would have a fit if they saw Aelin in this dress, insistent that their only daughter “be modest.” Aelin inwardly rolled her eyes every time her mother or her father said something like that, never having understood that reasoning, believing it was just some arbitrary rule. She was seventeen, nearly eighteen, almost an adult, surely she could be trusted to pick out her own goddamn clothes. 

They sped through the streets, music blaring from the speakers, the two of them singing along with gusto, if not much pitch. Too soon, they reached their destination, and Elide slowed down, driving only the speed limit, and turned down their music. She pulled into a car-laden driveway shortly later and parked, grabbed her clutch, and refreshed her makeup. 

“You ready, Ace?” Elide asked, pursing her glossy lips. 

Aelin checked her hair in the mirror, smoothing down her flyaways. “Yeah, now I am. Let’s go.”

Elide locked up her little Toyota as the two went up the front path of Lorcan Salvaterre’s house. Technically, his aunt’s, but Maeve was never home, so Lorcan, Rowan, Fenrys, Connall, and Vaughan basically owned the place. All five were seniors, though Lorcan was nineteen. As he told it, he’d been held back in kindergarten for beating up other kids on the playground. Aelin half believed him; the guy definitely had the temper to prove it. But despite his rocky exterior, he was a big softy, head over heels for her best friend, and Elide knew full well her power over him. 

“Where’s the booze, Salvaterre?” Elide hollered, shoving through the front door. 

“Kitchen, Elli!” he yelled back, poking his head out of the living room. He whistled when he saw Aelin’s dress. “Damn. Galathynius, you trying to catch someone’s eye?”

“Not yours, you already have a girlfriend,” she snarked. “And besides, I don’t need to dress up to catch Rowan’s eye. I just wanted to dress up tonight.”

Lorcan tipped his bottle at her. “Cheers to that, Ace. Booze is mostly in the kitchen, and Rowan’s in the living room.”

Calling her thanks, Aelin swung into the kitchen, grabbing a hard cider from the fridge. She hated beer, referred to it only as “swill,” or some other expletive if she was tipsy. Cracking open the bottle, she took a long draft as she headed for the living room.

“You and your bougie-ass drinks, Ace,” drawled a low, slightly slurred voice to her left. Turning her best dry gaze towards the voice, Aelin locked her eyes with Rowan’s and took another deep draft.

“Not my fault you uncultured swine like the cheap shit,” she snorted, dropping onto the couch’s armrest. “Scoot over, Whitethorn, just because you can take up an entire couch doesn’t mean you should.”

Grumbling something crude, Rowan sat up, resting an arm on the back of the couch. Aelin slipped into the space beside him, her red dress a bright contrast with the beige cushions. Her boyfriend’s arm slipped down around her, pulling her into his side. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she grinned, eyes sparkling up at him. 

“That dress looks fucking amazing on you, Ace.”

“Thank you,” she blushed, “my parents would have my ass if they saw me in it, though. Gotta be modest and all that.”

He scoffed. “It’s knee-length, doesn’t that make it ‘modest?’”

Aelin cackled. “No no no, you misunderstand, buzzard. Being knee-length isn’t the only criterion. It has to be mom- and dad-approved, and let me tell you, my mom took one look at this dress and said hell no. Don’t ask me why, I have no idea.”

“Still, Fireheart, you look gorgeous in it.” His voice dipped low. “So fucking gorgeous.”

~

Too many drinks later, Aelin, Rowan, and everyone else were sitting on the floor, spinning a bottle. Elide and Lorcan had already spent their seven minutes in heaven--or, more accurately, the bathroom--and returned with swollen lips to great hooting and catcalls. Elide wiggled her brows suggestively at Aelin when the bottle landed on Rowan, who groaned a string of slurred curses and reluctantly spun it. 

It landed on Aelin.

“Whoooooo, Galathynius!” Fenrys crowed from his sprawled position on the floor. “Kissy-kissy time!”

“Shut the fuck up, Fen.” Aelin tossed her empty cup at his head, snickering at his yelp when it smacked him on the forehead. She stood, smoothing out her skirt. Rowan offered his hand to much laughter. 

“Aww, look, he’s such a gentleman,” Lorcan crooned. Rowan flipped him off, letting Aelin go into the bathroom first. He locked the door behind them.

“This wasn’t how I pictured getting some alone time tonight,” Aelin snorted, “but here we are.”

Rowan chuckled. “Here we are indeed.” He stepped close to her, bracing his arms on the counter on either side of her. He leaned down, his face a breath away from hers. “As Fen so eloquently put it, kissy-kissy time?”

Aelin tipped her head back, laughing wildly. “Please don’t ever use those words ever again.” She threaded her hands into his shaggy, silvery-blonde hair, tugging his face to hers, and kissed him. 

He tasted of the alcohol they’d all been drinking, of beer and punch and Rowan. She let her lips open at the brush of his tongue, meeting his passionate kiss stroke for stroke. His warm, broad hands slid down her back to her ass, hefting her up onto the counter. Not breaking the kiss, she wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him close. 

Panting, he yanked his lips from hers, trailing hot kisses down her jaw, her neck. She shivered when his lips found her pulse point, unable to stop a soft moan from escaping. Which only made his eyes darken further as he nipped at that spot, surging back up to claim her lips. 

And then Lorcan pounded on the door. “All right, you horny children, time’s up!”

“I’m not a fucking child!” Rowan yelled back, helping Aelin off the counter.

“You’re not eighteen yet, Whitethorn!”

“Asshole,” Rowan grumbled, walking out of the bathroom hand in hand with Aelin. Before they could get to the living room, she stopped, tugging at his hand. 

“Do you really want to go back out?” She raised her brows, dark promise in her turquoise eyes. 

“Fuck no,” Rowan breathed, instantly reversing his steps. Aelin chuckled as he pulled her upstairs, pressed her against the wall to kiss her again. 

“This isn’t your room,” she panted, feeling her lacy little panties start to soak through. 

They stumbled into his bedroom, Rowan slamming the door behind them. A round of laughter sounded from downstairs, accompanied by at least three wolf whistles.

“They’re so mature,” Aelin snorted. 

“But we love them,” Rowan added. 

“Nah, I just love you,” she grinned. 

Emotion flashed through his dark, green eyes. “I love you too, Ace,” he whispered. And then he pounced, lifting her into his arms, his lips crashing into hers. Not once breaking the kiss, he walked her backwards, until the backs of his legs hit his bed, then turned and all but tossed her onto the mattress, bracing himself atop her. 

Aelin’s eyes were wild, breath heaving, that gorgeous red dress bunched up around her hips. “Are you sure, Ro?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he murmured, gently brushing a strand of hair off her face. 

Satisfied with that answer, Aelin grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it to the floor, revealing her simple strapless bra and lacy panties. Rowan’s eyes trailed over her, drinking in the elegant lines of her body. 

“You’re so beautiful, Fireheart,” he breathed. He stripped off his own shirt, his jeans, throwing them in the general direction of Aelin’s dress. She let her eyes rove over him, his athlete’s body, his tattoo--the two lines of black text that wrapped around his arm just below his shoulder. 

“And you’re so damn gorgeous,” she breathed. “Now kiss me, buzzard.”

“So demanding,” he chuckled, lowering his mouth to hers. 

“You love it,” she shot back, kissing him. 

Yeah he fucking did. Moving his lips back to her neck, he found the place that hade her moan, sucking a mark into the crook of her neck. Aelin released another delightful moan, her hips bucking. Smirking darkly, Rowan tracked his hands up her back, finding the clasps of her bra, and flung it off, his eyes latching onto her prefect breasts. He swore he got harder at the sight. Aelin, of course, noticed his reaction and sat up, pressing her breasts against his chest. 

“Fuck,” he swore, his hands cupping her tits. “These are killing me, Fireheart.”

“Do something about it, then,” she purred. 

So he did. When she was writhing beneath him, his teasing so much, he finally, finally dipped his fingers into her panties, cursing at the wetness he found there. Aelin slid her panties down her legs, kicking them to the floor. 

“All for you,” she panted, “all for you.”

He needed no further encouragement to slide two fingers through her wetness, finding her clit and drawing a deep, throaty moan from her. She swore, low in her throat, as his thumb traced circles over her clit, one finger just barely dipping into her center, his free hand still at her breasts. Her hips arched beneath his hand and he chuckled darkly as he acceded to her unspoken demand and slid that finger all the way in. Aelin’s back arched off the bed, her mouth opening in a silent moan, as he stroked her, careful to be gentle. Her leg brushed against his hardness, still covered by his boxers, and he felt himself twitch at the touch. 

“Not yet,” he purred, quickening the pace of his fingers. “You have to come first.”

“Fuck,” she groaned, “fuck, Rowan, yes!” He kissed her, all lips and tongue and teeth, not stopping the pace of his fingers, until she came with a breathy moan, her body shaking. When she stilled, he brought his fingers up, watching them glisten in the moonlight filtering through his curtains. And licked them clean, groaning at her taste. Not holding back any longer, he shoved his boxers off. Aelin’s eyes roved over his length, proud and hard. 

“Fuck me, Whitethorn,” she groaned.

“I’m trying,” he returned, grinning. 

Aelin snorted a laugh and kissed him deeply, a hand sliding down his torso and reaching his cock, stroking. His hips bucked into her touch. 

“Shit, Fireheart, if you keep doing that I won’t last a minute,” he growled, yanking her hands back up. She just smirked, the expression tinged with the wild edge he loved so much. He laid her back down, unexpected nerves coursing through him. Aelin cupped her hands around his face. 

“I’m nervous too, Ro,” she admitted. He smiled at her, a little shakily. “But I love you, buzzard, and I trust you.”

“Gods, I love you too,” he murmured, lining himself up. “Breathe, Fireheart, and I...I’ll try not to hurt you.” He pushed forward, slowly, carefully, her tightness molding around him like they were made to fit together. Aelin’s brows scrunched up, the pressure getting to her. Rowan petted a hand down her stomach, stroked her clit, helping her to ease up. She mewled, her walls relaxing, and he pushed all the way in, stopping as they both breathed, adjusting to the flood of new sensations. And then she nodded, and he moved, rolling his hips into hers, finding a rhythm. Aelin moaned, her back arching off the bed, her head falling back. She felt herself hurtling towards that edge again, her body tensing as Rowan’s hips began to stutter. 

“Come with me, Ro,” she moaned. And he did, spilling himself into her as she shattered, moving with her through the throes of their climaxes. 

Spent and sated, he pulled out, drops of their release spilling out of Aelin. He flopped onto the bed next to her, overwhelmed and elated all at once. She turned her head towards him, love shining in her bright eyes. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he breathed, shaky. “I...I feel like I should get you a washcloth or something to clean up with, but I don’t think I can move.”

Aelin giggled, the sound bright and clear. “It’s okay, Ro. I don’t think I can move either.” They lay next to each other for some moments, regaining their strength, Eventually, Rowan got up, got a warm washcloth, and brought it to her, carefully cleaning their mixed releases off her thighs. And then he went still, tense. 

“What?” Concern on her face.

“Fuck,” he swore, sense suddenly slamming into his brain, “I didn’t wear a condom!” 

Shock washed over her face, then understanding. She sat up, taking his hands. “I’m on the pill, Ro. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “I would never want to put you in that position.”

A soft smile graced her face. “You’re too good to be true, Rowan Whitethorn.”

~

TWO MONTHS LATER

Aelin was shaking. Literally. She braced her hands atop her right thigh, pressing down as if it would stop her leg from jittering against the medical tile flooring. Nobody knew she was here--not her parents, not her friends, not Elide, not even Rowan. She’d woken up one morning a couple weeks after her first time with Rowan feeling...off. Like the way she felt right before her period, but she wasn’t bleeding. 

Didn’t bleed.

She’d been puking almost every morning for two-ish weeks now, and she was no longer able to shove away the questions burning into her mind--Am I pregnant? How is that possible? So she’d quietly called her gynecologist, now being eighteen and legally able to schedule her own appointments without her parents knowing, and her doctor had referred her here, to this OB. Aelin had made an appointment for a scan, somehow managing to keep her voice steady, and then broken down and cried in her room for a while. She was scared. So scared. But she knew this had to happen. She had to know. 

“Aelin Galathynius?” A kind-faced, middle-aged nurse came into the waiting room. Aelin stood and went over to her. “Hi, Ms. Galathynius, my name is Peggy. I’ll be taking your vitals and getting you all set up today.”

“It’s Aelin, please.” Aelin smiled a little, finding herself at ease with the woman’s kindliness. 

“Okay, Aelin then.” Nurse Peggy took her height and weight and blood pressure, and pulled a stool up in front of the examining table. “Now, I have to ask you some questions before your scan. Everything is 100% confidential, I promise.”

“Okay,” Aelin breathed. “Ask away, then.”

“Do you think you might be pregnant?”

“Yes.” Aelin’s voice shook. “Yes, I do.”

“When did you start to think this?” Peggy’s voice was soothing.

“About three weeks ago.”

“What led you to this thought? Or, what symptoms have you noticed?”

“I missed my period. Twice now. And it’s very regular. Also, I’ve been throwing up in the mornings for two and a half weeks.”

Peggy wrote some notes on her clipboard. “Okay. And--I have to ask you this, it’s part of the information we take--when was the last time you had sexual intercourse?”

Aelin blushed. “Uhh...three weeks ago? Yeah. About three weeks ago.”

“Was this your first time?”

“No, my first time was about five-ish weeks before that.” Her blush deepened. “I have a healthy relationship with my boyfriend, if that matters.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Nurse Peggy smiled. “All right, Aelin, you’ll need to wait here for a little bit. Dr. Carde will be in to take your scan.”

“I didn’t think the doctor usually took scans?” Aelin asked.

“No, but since this is your first visit, and Dr. Towers referred you here, she would like to meet you.”

“Ah.” Aelin settled herself onto the table. “Thank you, Nurse Peggy.”

“Of course.” The nurse smiled at her and left the room, closing the door with a soft click. 

Not quite ten minutes later, a polite knock sounded on the door, and a younger woman in lavender scrubs and a white coat entered. “Hi, you must be Aelin Galathynius. I’m Dr. Amy Carde.”

Aelin shook her hand. “Hi, Doctor. I’m Aelin.”

“And you think you might have a little bean, yes?”

Aelin grinned at the woman’s kindness and humor. “I think so, yeah.”

“Have you been taking birth control?”

“Not for about six weeks, when I first missed my period and though the pill was screwing with my cycle.”

“Okay. That was a good decision. If you are pregnant, continuing to take birth control could cause serious complications.”

“Am I...pregnant?” Aelin’s voice trembled.

“Well, let’s find out.” The doctor scrubbed her hands and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. “Lift up your shirt please. The ultrasound gel is cold, fair warning.”

Aelin pulled up her tee and squeaked when the gel hit her belly. It was rather cold. The doctor grinned. 

“I warned you.”

“It’s just...a foreign sensation,” Aelin chuckled. 

“Right,” the doctor said, finishing with the gel. She turned off the lights, turned on the screen opposite of Aelin and grabbed the ultrasound probe from the machine. “Let’s see if there’s a baby in there.” She moved the probe around, static filling the small room. “Hmm...here’s the uterus, let’s zoom in some more.” She adjusted the machine, the image zooming in. A little blob became visible in the black-and-white image, growing clearer as the ultrasound zoomed in. Dr. Carde looked at Aelin, a delighted smile on her face. “You’re pregnant, Aelin.”

Aelin stared in utter shock at the image on the screen, watching the little blob pulse and move, and... “Could you move the image around, Doctor?”

“Of course.” She toggled the ultrasound, moving the image. And gasped as it became evident that there were decidedly two little beans. “It’s...it’s twins,” she breathed, just as stunned as Aelin.

Tears streamed down Aelin’s face. “It’s twins,” she gasped, transfixed by the image. 

“Would you like to hear the heartbeats?” Dr. Carde asked gently.

“Is that possible?” 

“I would put you at about eight weeks, so yes, it is.”

“Yes,” Aelin breathed, emotion filling her voice. Dr. Carde’s mouth twisted into a gleeful little smile. She touched a few buttons, and a staticky, fast thrumming sounded through the room. 

“Yep, two little heartbeats, and don’t freak out, Aelin, this pace is perfectly normal and healthy.”

Aelin was full-out crying. “Gods,” she sniffled, “I’m sorry I’m such a mess, but today has been an emotional rollercoaster.” She listened to her babies’ heartbeats in silence, wiping the tears from her face. 

“Would you like the pictures?” the doctor asked. 

“Of course,” Aelin sniffled. “Of course I would.”

She left the office that day with an envelope containing her first ultrasounds of her twins, an appointment for next month’s ultrasound, and a heart swelling with emotions. In her car, the first thing she did was call Rowan. 

“Can we meet at your place? There’s something I need to tell you.”

~

SIX MONTHS LATER

Aelin thanked all the gods it had been so close to graduation when she’d found out she was pregnant, because there was no way in hell she’d have been able to keep showing up to class once her pregnancy was showing beyond concealment. She had graduated with honors in mid-May and immediately taken her possessions and moved into Rowan’s apartment. He’d signed off on the place shortly after their first night together, explaining that he’d been planning to move out anyway and all he had to do was wait until his 18th birthday to legally sign the lease papers.

The day she told him she was pregnant had been an experience for both of them. He cried, Aelin cried, they looked at the ultrasounds and cried some more, and then he had asked if she would move in with him. Once he got the apartment, of course. She had agreed instantly.

Which turned out to be rather convenient for her, as her parents were completely floored when she told them a week after graduation that she was pregnant. That had been a day and a half, it had. Rhoe and Evalin were speechless for a long time, processing everything their 18-year-old daughter had just said, and then the questions began. Did Rowan know? How were they going to support the babies? What about college? Was Aelin aware that she was throwing her life away to become a mom so young? What about all of her plans?

It was all Aelin could do to explain herself. Yes, of course Rowan knew. They both had summer jobs, and Aelin was looking for employers hiring for remote work. As for college, she had decided to defer and had already notified her university. Rowan, on the other hand, was planning to go to community college and work part-time. Aelin would look for a part-time job too, once she was recovered enough to work and had found care for her babies while she worked. 

And no, she wasn’t “throwing away her life.” She was accepting this new turn.

Her parents had looked more than a little skeptical of her certainty, but nonetheless, they accepted her decision. They were less than pleased when she told them she was moving in with Rowan, though they recognized her rationale. So it was that shortly after graduating high school, Aelin Galathynius packed her belongings into her little old Subaru and officially moved in with her boyfriend. 

Her pregnancy had gone surprisingly smoothly, despite her bouts of severe morning sickness and the added possibilities of complications that came with twins. At her last month’s ultrasound, she and Dr. Carde had decided together than it would be best to set an induction date and plan to deliver the babies then, unless they decided to come earlier.

~

Aelin closed her laptop with a groan of relief and put it away, then awkwardly shoved herself off the couch and waddled to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

Rowan, reading one of his textbooks by the light of the bedside lamp, looked up and smiled, his reading glasses adorably askew. “You alright, Fireheart?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, going into the bathroom. She came out some time later in her pj’s, her hair back in a loose braid. “Help me into bed, Ro?”

He was at her side in a blink, guiding her back against her pregnancy pillow and tucking the covers over her. He placed two gentle kisses to her swollen belly. “Good night, my girls,” he whispered. 

Aelin’s eyes filled with tears at his softness. The moment they’d found out the twins were both girls, Rowan had started calling them and Aelin “his girls” collectively, and damn if it didn’t make her fall more in love with him every day. He got back into bed, snuggling himself next to her, and laid an arm across her bump. “Good night, Fireheart.”

“G’night, buzzard,” she mumbled, already dozing off.

A sharp flash of pain through her abdomen jerked her awake at three in the morning. “Rowan,” she mumbled, then sharper, “Rowan!”

He popped awake. “Hmmmm?”

“I--” Aelin braced her hands on her hips and breathed like Dr. Carde had taught her-- “I think I’m going into labor.”

He was out of bed in seconds, throwing on a shirt and sweats, grabbing the toiletry bag from the bathroom and setting it with their hospital bag. He tucked his phone and wallet into his pocket, grabbed Aelin’s phone and put it in her purse, ran her purse and their hospital bag out to the front door. Back in the bedroom, he helped Aelin out of bed and into her shoes. His eyes were wild. Aelin cupped her hands around his jaw. 

“Calm down, buzzard. You need to be levelheaded to drive, my love.”

He took a deep breath and released it. “Okay. Okay, Fireheart, let’s get you to the hospital.”

In the car, Aelin grabbed her phone and called Dr. Carde. She picked up on the third ring. 

“Aelin?”

“Hey, Doctor, we’re going to the hospital. I’m pretty damn certain I’m in labor.”

“Are you doing your breathing exercises?” Dr. Carde went into full OB mode. 

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m on call right now, so I’ll probably be delivering your babies. Come into the main entrance, there will be a nurse waiting for you two. I’ll get everything set up. Rowan will probably have to fill out some paperwork for you two, just admissions stuff, when you get here.”

“Okay.” Aelin stopped and breathed. “Okay, thank you so much.”

“See you soon, Aelin.”

As Dr. Carde promised, a nurse was waiting in the lobby when Aelin and Rowan entered the hospital. She helped Aelin into a wheelchair and led them off the the labor and delivery wing, handing Rowan a clipboard with some paperwork. Almost before she registered it, Aelin was settled in the L&D room, hooked up to machines that monitored her and the babies’ vitals. 

The actual delivery was something of a blur, the events of the night all running together in a haze of contractions, an epidural, tears, sweat, yelling, “Push, Aelin!,” pushing again, and the hearty cries of two infant girls coming into the world. Aelin cried uncontrollably as both babies were placed against her skin, as she cradled her two baby girls for the first time. She turned her head to Rowan, who hadn’t left her side all through her labor, seeing the tears spilling over his cheeks. 

“Look at our babies, Ro,” she breathed, voice hoarse. “Look at them.”

~

They named the twins Evalin, after Aelin’s mother, and Sana, after Rowan’s grandmother. Both were healthy, beautiful babies with tufts of soft, light blonde hair and blue-green eyes. As they grew older, Evalin’s eyes settled into the same turquoise as her mother’s and Sana’s settled into a green like her father’s. Aelin slept a lot after delivering the twins, her body needing the time to recover. 

When they brought the twins home, a week after they were born, their two-bedroom apartment had been packed full of diapers, wipes, baby toys, clothes, blankets, burp cloths, and gadgets. Their sleep schedule went completely to hell for the first few months, Aelin especially sleeping and waking on the twins’ feeding schedule. She was determined to breastfeed them both, and managed it most of the time, but there were times when all she could do was pump a few bottles and let Rowan feed the babies while her young, exhausted body rested. And damn her if her heart didn’t positively melt every time she watched her shirtless boyfriend cradling and feeding one of their babies, murmuring softly against her tiny little head.

Things calmed down after a number of months, as the twins settled into a regular sleep schedule and Aelin’s body recovered. Rowan had managed to get some paternity leave from his part-time office job and had switched his classes to online, giving him more time to be home with Aelin, Evie, and Sana. And life went on, hectic with two babies to care for but nonetheless a joy, until the day everything fell apart.

~

TEN MONTHS LATER

“You want us to do what?” Aelin was incredulous. 

“I’ve been accepted into a program at Duke that will allow me to work half-time and take classes half-time while I get my accounting degree,” Rowan repeated. “It’s an amazing opportunity, Fireheart.”

“An opportunity that requires you to move across the country!” She didn’t mean to yell, but her voice was rising. 

“Us,” Rowan said.

“What?”

“Us, Aelin. We would move there, all four of us. You could find a job there, or maybe even apply to university like you want to. We would still be a family, just in a different place.”

“You sound awfully certain about all this,” she said, tightly. 

“I...” Rowan raked a hand through his cropped hair. “I’ve already accepted the offer.”

“Without talking to me?” Aelin’s voice cracked. “Am I so unimportant? Do we mean so little to you, Mr. Career Man?”

“No, no, no, you are my world, my everything!”

“Then why in the holy fuck are you telling me this now?” Her voice rose high and broke, tears forming in her eyes. 

“I didn’t want you to stress about all the possibilities!” His voice was strained, frustrated. “I know you, and I know you’d obsess over the little details and wonder if you could do it, if we could do it, and I didn’t want to put that burden on you!”

“So you know how I think, now. You spend more and more time caught up in your work, your studies, ignoring me, and now you know how I think.” Her voice went flat, angry. 

“No--fuck--Aelin--I--” he sputtered.

“Rowan. I respect your decision, but I’m not going.”

Silence.

“Wh--what?”

“I. Am. Not. Moving. Across. The. Country.” she repeated, her eyes boring into his. “I have a life and a family here, Rowan Whitethorn, I have been accepted into the state university, I have my chance to be both a mother and a college student and get my degree, right here, I cannot just uproot myself and leave.” 

“So you’re ending things? Just like that?” He choked back tears of his own.

“I don’t see any other way.” Her voice was clipped, tight, forcing down the sobs that swelled in her throat.

“You can’t keep my daughters from me,” he said, whirling around. “Aelin, you can’t. I’ll file my claims.”

“I don’t want legal trouble,” she replied, hollowness settling into her voice, her eyes. “How do we settle this without getting a nasty court case involved? We aren’t married; I don’t want our parting marred by...that.”

They went silent, staring at each other, thoughts spinning through their minds. Aelin looked over at the twins’ room, both girls sleeping peacefully in their cribs.

“What if we each raised one daughter?” she choked out. “Would that satisfy you?”

“If we see updates regularly,” he rasped. “If we stay in contact enough to watch our daughters grow up.”

“All right,” she whispered, “I agree.” And she burst into sobs, burying her face in her hands. Rowan wrapped his arms around her, holding her shaking form. She pushed him away. “Don’t,” she croaked. “Just...don’t.”

~

Rowan and Sana moved to Duke University the next week, and all Aelin saw of the two of them for the next ten years were the photos and videos Rowan sent her periodically. She sent him photos and videos of Evie, so each of them could watch their daughters grow and change, their unique personalities develop. They were so young when Aelin and Rowan separated, young enough not to remember anything. She’d thought she would never see him again.

Until he moved back to their hometown ten years later, having received a job with a large accounting firm in the city. 

Aelin had picked Evie up from school one afternoon and asked, as usual, what had happened at school that day.

“We got a new classmate, Mama! And she’s my table partner and I think we’re gonna be friends!” Evie declared. 

“Oh? Isn’t it a little odd to have a new student at this time of year?” It was early spring. 

“Yeah, but Mrs. Walker said it was a ‘special case’ ’cause Sana and her daddy just moved here.”

Aelin nearly ran her car off the road. “Her name is Sana?”

“Yeah! And she has the same birthday as me!”

“That’s lovely, Evie. I’m glad you’re getting to know her.” Aelin made her voice light, no sign of what she felt. 

“Mrs. Walker said I could tell Sana ’bout the school and the city,” Evie said proudly. “Cuz I’ve lived here all my life.”

“Wonderful.” Aelin smiled at her daughter in the rearview mirror.

The minute they got home--to the house Aelin had bought three years ago when she was finally, finally financially stable enough to have a mortgage, having worked her ass off to do her undergrad in English lit in three years while working part-time, and then obtain her master’s in twentieth-century British literature and receive a job offer from a major publishing firm--Aelin pulled out her phone and texted Rowan, demanding an explanation.

>Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you, Aelin. E&H moved me to this office, promoted me, entrusted me with a department here. And they used all of that against me when I tried to keep myself where I was. I couldn’t talk my way out of the job, no matter how hard I tried.

<Does our agreement still stand?

>Of course. I won’t try to infiltrate your life. I promise.

<Thank you. I promise not to infiltrate your life as well.

And they’d left it at that. 

But their daughters became fast friends, remaining in the same school, the same middle school, the same high school. Sana and Evie started going to each other’s houses, to the well-concealed shock of their parents, who for the first time in a decade were seeing the other twin in the flesh. It was so hard, so fucking hard, for Aelin to keep the truth quiet when Sana was over, especially when she tilted her head in a gesture that was so very Rowan it was all Aelin could do not to gape. It was so hard, so fucking hard, for Rowan not to blurt out the truth when Evie was over, especially when she propped her hands on her hips in a gesture that was so Aelin it was all Rowan could do not to goggle. Sana and Evie became inseparable best friends, not once suspecting the truth, that they were twins.

~~~

PRESENT

Aelin had very nearly lost her shit when Evie didn’t come home by her curfew. She knew from her daughter that she and her friends were probably going to hang out at the beach, it being only about an hour’s drive away and one of Evie’s favorite places, but her daughter was always punctual. 

She liked to think that was a trait inherited from her father.

So, naturally, she’d sent a string of texts, each one growing more frantic, as she paced the house, waiting for a response. 

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t almost melted in relief when Evie finally texted her back at 1:50 am, apologizing and saying she’d be back soon.

Aelin had waited in her bedroom, listening for the front door, and bad heaved a great sigh of relief when she heard the door open and close and the lock click into place. Evie had walked quietly down the hall to her room, no doubt hoping not to disturb Aelin if she was asleep. Aelin smiled to herself at Evie’s thoughtfulness, but nonetheless had walked over and opened her door to say good night. 

And frozen in complete and total shock at the sight of her sixteen-year-old daughter wearing the dress.

The silky, red camisole dress Aelin had worn the night she got pregnant.

Granted, Evie wore it differently, paired with a white tee and her Converse, her mini backpack slung over a shoulder, but it was still the dress.

After Evie had gone into her room, Aelin had all but fallen back into her bedroom, sixteen years of suppressed memories hitting her like a wall of bricks. She had to tell Evie. She knew it deep in her bones. That didn’t make it any easier, of course, but after her reaction to the dress, she knew she couldn’t hide the truth any longer. 

Just before she drifted off, she grabbed her phone from her nightstand, opened her text thread with Rowan, and typed out a message, thumb shaking as she sent it. 

<I have to tell Evie. She...I can’t keep the secret any longer. I’m so sorry.

Aelin slept fitfully that night, haunted by dreams that were really just flashes of memory--her, Rowan, and the twins as babies, their little old apartment, their youthful idealism, the argument that had brought it all crashing down. 

She woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through her curtains and the scent of coffee wafting in from the kitchen. She checked her phone, seeing that Rowan had replied. 

>I understand. And I forgive you. I confess I was about to tell Sana too. 

Aelin’s throat went tight at the words, at the emotion she could sense hiding behind the white text. Pushing herself out of bed and into leggings, a sweater, and her beat-up old slippers, Aelin tied up her golden hair in a messy bun and went out to the kitchen. Evie sat at the table, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and cropped leggings, sipping from a mug of coffee with almond creamer. Aelin poured herself a cup from the coffeepot, adding a splash of the creamer, and sat down across from her daughter. 

“Thanks for making the coffee, Evie.” She offered her daughter a tired half-smile.

Evie nodded. “You’re welcome, Mom.” She wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, the gesture so like Aelin that Aelin herself blinked in shock. She sighed. “Mom, talk to me. Why’d you freak out when I came home last night?”

Aelin took a calming breath. “It was the dress.”

“What about it?” Evie looked genuinely confused. “I guess I should have told you before I wore it, but why do I feel like it’s a hell of a lot more than just me wearing the dress out?”

“Language, Evie,” Aelin chided, raising an eyebrow. 

Evie pursed her lips to hold back her smirk. “Okay.”

“You’re calling me out for my language, aren’t you.” Aelin chuckled. “Fine, you’re not wrong.” She sipped at her coffee. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, it’s more than just you wearing the dress. A hell of a lot more. And...and I confess I’m not really sure where to begin with what I have to tell you.”

Evie set her coffee down, stood up, grabbed her mother’s hand and a box of tissues, and led her over to the living room couch. “This is gonna be a sit-down kind of talk, isn’t it?”

Aelin’s eyes went distant. “Yeah.” She collected herself, cleared her throat. “Evie, that dress you wore last night is the dress I was wearing on the night I got pregnant with you.”

Her daughter’s eyes went huge. “I...I don’t think I’m ever going to touch that dress again.”

Aelin snorted a laugh. “I didn’t finish my thought, Evie. I wore that same red dress the night I got pregnant with you...and your twin sister.”

Evie’s jaw dropped. She flopped back against the sofa cushions, dumbstruck. “What.” 

“You have a twin sister,” Aelin repeated, her voice clogging with emotion, “and I have sixteen years of hiding that fact to apologize for.”

“Where...” Evie trailed off, cleared her throat. “Where is she?”

“Here in town, actually.” She locked eyes with her daughter. “You’ve known her since you two were ten, you just never knew you were sisters.” Aelin watched her daughter’s face as she processed the words, watched the shock, the gears turning in her mind, the realization dawning on her face.

“Sana?” she breathed, voice shaking. “Sana?”

Aelin nodded mutely, tears spilling out of her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

Evie grabbed a tissue, muffling the half-sob, half-shocked-gasp that she let out. Tears pooled in her Ashryver eyes. “Why the fuck did you keep this a secret?!”

Aelin chose her words very, very carefully. “Because Rowan and I...we agreed to raise you separately when we broke up. That was our accord.” She wiped her eyes, sniffled. “Do you want to hear the story?”

“Of course I do, Mom,” Evie croaked, blowing her nose. “I want to know everything.”

So Aelin spoke. “That dress, Evie, it reminds me of what I lost that night, even if I didn’t know I was losing it yet.”

“Mom, if you’re referring to your virginity...eugh.” Evie shuddered.

Aelin grinned. “No, honey, I don’t mean that. I knew full well your dad and I were going to have our first time that night. He did have a thing for me in red.”

“Ewwwww!” Evie groaned.

“That part isn’t important. Evie, the dress brought back all the memories I have of you and Rowan and Sana, all four of us, memories I thought I’d locked away in the back of my mind. I...I freaked out when I saw you in that dress, because you reminded me so very much of me on that night, all dressed up and bright-eyed, all hopeful. How fast the night changed.” A look of longing flashed across her face. 

“Okay, so you weren’t freaking out because you, by some strange mom power, knew I’d been kissing Cal before I came inside. Thank the gods.”

Aelin’s eyes twinkled. “Well, I did not know that, but I’m sure Nesta and Cass will be overjoyed to hear that their son finally acted on his crush.”

“Oh gods, forget everything I just said,” Evie grumbled. “You’ve barely told me anything about me and Sana, Mom. I want to know everything. Please.”

So Aelin told her everything. She told her about her and Rowan, about their young love, about the mingled terror and euphoria of finding out she was pregnant at 18, about moving into their first apartment together, about the all-too-brief time they spent there, together, young and idealistic and in love. She told her of the first few months of her and Sana’s lives, the chaos of having baby twins, the power of Rowan’s love for his and Aelin’s daughters. “I couldn’t have wished for a better man, Evie. I loved him--I love him. I love him, so much, and it hurts every day knowing he’s here, so close but so far away.” 

And she told her daughter of the end, of Rowan’s decision to go away to Duke, of the fight that split them apart, each of them taking a daughter to raise. She told Evie of their agreement to raise her and Sana separately, because of the way they’d parted. “We didn’t want you two to grow up knowing your parents parted ways badly. We wanted you to be happy, even if that means only knowing one parent. That’s why we never spoke of each other, save for vague mentions when you asked. But then Rowan moved back here, ten years after he left, and you can bet I freaked the fuck out. I thought he was breaking his promise not to return, and yeah, I was mad. But he told me he’d tried everything in his power not to move back here, that it was a higher-level decision forcing him to move, and I realized he was just as good as he always has been. I wish things had been different, Evie, I really do. I wish to all the gods the four of us were still a family, but here we are. Apart. Broken. And I don’t know how to fix anything.” Her voice broke, shattering into heaving sobs, all the years of pent-up emotion spilled over and out. 

Evie hugged her mother, handed her tissues as she cried, held her through her pain. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my Evalin,” Aelin sniffled, her eyes red and puffy. “You did nothing wrong. It was me who broke our family, and I don’t know if I can repair it.”

Evie looked straight into her mom’s eyes. “You can, Mom. I know you can. Telling me was the first step, wasn’t it?” Aelin slowly nodded. “I think you know what’s going to happen next, but if you don’t, here it is: I’m going to tell Sana. She deserves to know too.”

Aelin blew her nose and tossed the dirty Kleenex into the pile. “I’m fairly certain Rowan is telling her the story as we speak.”

“You told Mr. Whiteth--Row--my dad that you were going to tell me the story?”

“Yes.” Aelin wiped her eyes again. “Part of our agreement was that we text each other with updates about each of you. We both knew we’d end up telling you at some point in your lives; we just didn’t know when. Turns out when is now. Today.”

“Okay. So Sana knows. And we’re going to have a hell of a lot to talk about the next time we see each other, which will probably be very soon.”

“What now?”

“That’s what I’m asking you, Mom. What now?”

Another tear tracked down Aelin’s cheek. “I’m scared, Evie. We haven’t actually talked in sixteen years, aside from sending each other photos and videos of you and Sana, or quick texts here and there.”

“That’s still communicating, Mom, and I’m pretty sure that’s a good sign.”

“You being the rational one isn’t fair,” Aelin griped, cleaning up her face. “I’m the mother, I’m supposed to be the one with the answers.”

“Well, I’m just repeating the stuff you’ve told me whenever I got into an argument with my friends,” Evie shrugged. 

Aelin hugged her daughter tightly. “Thank you, Evie.”

“Thank you, Mom.” Evie wrapped her arms around Aelin. “I will warn you, the first thing I’m going to do now is text Sana to meet up so we can talk. As--as sisters.”

“As you have every right to do,” Aelin murmured. “And in that vein, I’ll grow some cojones and talk to Rowan. If our daughters can do it, so can we.”

~

The park was prettily landscaped, not a leaf or blade of grass out of place, just as groomed as the tidy neighborhood of condos and townhouses that subtly spoke of well-paid owners. Aelin strolled slowly down a raked gravel pathway, luxuriating in the spring sunshine filtering through the trees, contemplating every possibility of the day. Rowan had offered this park as a meeting place, neither of them ready to open their homes to each other quite yet. She took a seat on a wooden bench overlooking the pond in the middle of the park, watched the wind ruffle the surface of the water. 

The soft crunch of footfalls on the gravel turned her head to the right, her eyes falling on Rowan’s achingly familiar face. True, he was older now, the sixteen years they’d spent apart having further defined his broad strength and shaped the planes of his face. He was casually dressed in chinos and a soft t-shirt, the short sleeves revealing that the simple tattoo he’d had at eighteen now extended down the length of his tanned arm and flicked up part of his neck, the intricate black-inked characters terminating at his wrist. Aelin stood, meeting his eyes, as he came closer to the bench. 

Not sure what to say, she just looked at him, sixteen years of memories swimming in the depths of her eyes. 

A shy smile crooked up one corner of his full lips. “Hi,” he breathed, his voice quivering with emotion.

A timid smile curved the corners of her mouth. “Hi,” she breathed back. “I...I’m not sure what to say, not at all. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Rowan whispered, “so, so sorry.”

~

Nothing on earth could have prepared Rowan Whitethorn for the heart-stopping sight of Aelin Galathynius. She was just as stunning, of not more so, than she had been when they parted ways at nineteen, the years since then having defined the elegant lines and curves of her frame, shaped the angles of her cheekbones, added a mature serenity to her posture. She still carried herself with that impeccable poise, and her turquoise-and-gold eyes had arrested him the second he walked within her sight line and she turned to see him. 

Carefully, hesitantly, he offered Aelin his hand, hoping beyond hope she wouldn’t slap him. “I never meant for us to fall apart,” he said hoarsely, his voice a rasp. 

Aelin’s hand slid across his palm, her fingers curling ever so gently around his. “I regret our parting every day,” she choked out. “I dream of what could have been more than I care to admit. I missed out on so much life because I was stupid, and stubborn, and stupid.” Tears pooled in her eyes. She struggled to hold them back. 

“Gods, Aelin, I was such a fucking moron.” Rowan’s voice broke. “I tore us apart, and I have never forgiven myself for it.”

Aelin sniffled. “You are not the only one at fault, buzzard.” The familiar nickname slipped out before she could catch herself. “I never wanted to leave, never wanted you to leave. I loved you so fiercely, and I couldn’t see past that. I’m so sorry. So. Fucking. Sorry.”

“I never stopped loving you, Fireheart,” Rowan murmured, tugging her closer to him. “Never. Not once. I’m so sorry, so fucking sorry, that I never had the balls to apologize for hurting you. For hurting us.”

“I forgive you, Ro.” Her voice cracked, chest heaving in a great, restrained sob. “But can you ever forgive me?”

“I forgive you, Aelin,” he croaked, voice quivering with the effort of holding back his own emotion.

She broke then, sixteen years of pent-up grief and regret overflowing into sobs. On impulse, Rowan pulled her close against him, wrapping his arms around her. The top of her head just barely reached his shoulder. Aelin collapsed against him, her arms twining around his waist. It felt so...right. Like two halves of a single whole locking into place.

He buried his face in her hair, tears falling down his own face, shoulders shaking. And they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, every barrier they’d built between themselves in the last sixteen years breaking down.

Calming, Aelin lifted her face, locked eyes with him. Even with tears streaming down her cheeks, even with her eyes red and puffy, she was still the most beautiful woman Rowan had ever seen. 

“I never stopped loving you, either,” she admitted. “I still love you, Rowan Whitethorn.”

“I love you too, Aelin Galathynius,” he breathed. 

“So what now?” 

“Well...our daughters know now.”

“That they do,” Aelin agreed. “And it would be rather awkward if we didn’t at least pretend to get along now.”

“So then, Aelin, may I take you to dinner?” He scratched the back of his neck, an old nervous habit that he apparently had never outgrown. 

She huffed a little chuckle, a real smile blooming across her face. “It’s a date.”

~

ONE YEAR LATER

“You ready, Mom?” The question coming from two voices.

Aelin looked at her daughters, one on each side of her, and smiled, her eyes going hazy. “I am.”

Evie swooped in with a tissue. “No tears yet, Mom, you can’t ruin your makeup before Dad has a chance to see it.”

Aelin grinned. “You’re right, Evie. I have to wait a while before Dad can ruin my makeup.”

“Mom! Gross!” Sana made a gagging face. “I did not need that image!” Behind her, Evie pantomimed vomiting, her face scrunched up. 

Aelin blew a kiss at each twin. “I love you too, darlings!”

A quick knock sounded on the door, and Elide poked her head in. “It’s time.”

Aelin took a deep breath, smoothed out the full skirt of her dress, checked her elegant low bun in the mirror. “Are we ready?”

Sana and Evie took their places on each side of her. “Ready as we’ll ever be,” they smiled. 

Aelin’s heart swelled with love and joy. “Let’s get me married, then.”

Her twin daughters led her down the chapel’s short aisle, down to where Rowan stood at the altar, his pine-green eyes brimming with tears. “Hi,” he mouthed. 

“Hi,” she mouthed back. 

“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” 

“We do,” chorused Evie and Sana, linking Aelin and Rowan’s hands. 

And so they were married, almost eighteen years of love and heartbreak later, in a small ceremony with just their families and close friends present. Aelin cried when she spoke her vows, and Rowan cried when he spoke his. As he slid a simple rose-gold band adorned with a square-cut diamond flanked by twin emeralds onto her finger, he breathed three words, three words that settled deep into Aelin’s heart.

“To whatever end.”

“To whatever end,” she repeated as she slid a wider gold band with an inlay of tiny diamonds and rubies onto his finger. 

“You may now kiss the bride.”

And kiss her Rowan did, molding his lips to hers, pouring every ounce of his love into the kiss. Aelin returned his fervor equally, all of her love poured into the press of her lips. When they broke apart, grinning breathlessly at each other, the little chapel broke into applause and cheers. Aelin and Rowan walked down the aisle hand in hand, smiling radiantly, their lives at last forever intertwined. 

~

They went to the beach for their honeymoon, booking a secluded little cottage just a short walk from the beach. Aelin slipped into the master bathroom to change out of her wedding dress, a slightly wicked grin sliding across her face as she admired her reflection in the mirror. Pulling the door open, she leaned against the doorframe, waiting for Rowan to turn around. 

His face slackened in shock when he saw her, her frame gilded in the soft lamplight. “You--you’re wearing the dress, Fireheart,” he gasped.

“I am,” she smirked. “Oh, yes I am.”

“I promise not to break your heart ever again, Fireheart,” he murmured, his heartfelt words in sharp contrast to the hunger in his eyes.

Aelin laughed, walking over to stand in front of him. “And I promise not to break yours, my buzzard. I am yours, if you will have me.”

“I love you,” he purred, cupping her face in his hands. 

“I love you too.”

Always and forever.

~~~

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[gumnut-logic]

“Tracy is an Irish surname. This is ridiculous.”

Scott fiddled with his ‘jabot’ or whatever the hell it was called. Virgil, of course, knew exactly what every piece of this damned costume was named. He eyed his artistic brother.

The smirk was annoying.

“Actually, some say Tracy is French.” Gordon, to Scott’s ultimate annoyance had managed to kit himself out without any issue. Probably had previous practice since this was all his fault anyway.

“I don’t care. I’m American and this is ridiculous.”

“A little respect for national dress, please, Scott.” Gordon was arching an eyebrow at him, desperately attempting to keep a straight face. His fish brother was enjoying this far too much.

Scott experienced a moment of distraction envisioning suitable retaliation once he made it through this pile of pageantry.

At least Alan seemed to be having as much trouble as Scott.

That prompted a flash of guilt at taking reassurance from his youngest brother’s predicament.

“I look stupid.” The astronaut was completely out of his element.

Scott took a step towards Alan, but Gordon beat him to it, fussing as very much the older brother.

“C’mon, Scott, it is only for a few hours.” Virgil, already as perfectly dressed as Gordon, stepped up to straighten the silly jabot thing and hand him his jacket.

Okay, so the jacket wasn’t the worst part of the outfit.

That was taken by the kilt.

Virgil looked right at home. Of course, he did. Plaid was his natural dress on any day of the week. But then Scott had to admit Virgil did wear it well.

The tartan they had chosen was logical, but a complete fantasy when it came to official tartans. Gordon had joked that they could register it as the tartan of Tracy Island, but that would require identifying their refuge in the South Pacific to the general public and that was never going to happen.

In any case, the tartan consisted of the colours of the five Thunderbirds on a deep blue background.

Virgil wore the kilt with the plaid tossed over his shoulder and pinned with a stylised metal version of his uniform patch. His jacket was trimmed in Thunderbird green.

Truly a costume.

The annoying thing was that with his faux mohawk hairstyle, Virgil looked like he was born into it.

While Scott felt like some gawky teenager with cold knees.

A knock at the door and John stuck his head in. “They ready yet?”

Virgil muttered as he fussed over Scott’s jacket. “Nearly there.”

And there was another thing – John. The man was a sociophobe. Scott respected that. Never pushed and even helped him avoid social engagements. But this one? John had been the first to put up his hand.

Scott had stared at him enough for John to worry if there was something wrong with him. “You usually hate this kind of thing.”

“Have you been to Edinburgh?”

“No.” It was amazing really. There was one place on the planet that had failed to collapse, blow up, or somehow otherwise self-destruct and need International Rescue.

Must be full of smart people.

“It’s worth it.” And John had stars in his eyes.

Maybe that was where the red hair had come from.

Scott settled for just glaring at him.

John had been his fallback plan and the red-headed menace had just blown it out the window and joined the enemy.

Betrayal burned.

Especially when John knew as much as Virgil about this costume and wore it as well or better than their artistic brother. Silly socks included.

Alan. Scott was going to cling to Alan, the only loyal brother.

As if to punctuate that thought, his little brother squawked at Gordon in protest. “That was skin!”

Pins, so many pins.

Virgil shuffled Scott in front of a mirror, lobbed the great swath of fabric over his shoulder, and pinned it in place with his stylised Thunderbird One metal pin. “There you go. As handsome as ever.” A grin as he eyed his brother. “You look good in anything and you know it.”

Scott glared at him sideways.

But he had to admit, Virgil was right, he didn’t look too bad. The blue, as always, suited him well, and standing next to his brother, the sense of a Scottish IR formal uniform came into play. He had a dash of Highland drama about him from one of those movies that both Grandma and Kayo melted over.

Not that Kayo would ever admit it, but Scott had seen those tears in her eyes…over a movie.

Maybe that was why Virgil wore plaid so much…for the girls.

Scott snorted at the thought, prompting his brother to arch an eyebrow in his direction. “What?” The eyebrow flattened into a suspicious glare.

“I was just thinking there might be a reason you prefer to wear so much plaid.”

“Why?”

“To attract girls.” Scott grinned at him.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Sure. There are so many girls on Tracy Island. They’re flocking.” He picked lint, imaginary or not, off Scott’s shoulder.

Scott stared at Virgil a moment longer, frowning just a little, but then straightened.

Alan was tugging at his socks.

“Are we ready?” Kilt or no, he was still Commander Tracy.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Alan slapped a foot to the ground and stood up properly. Gordon picked lint off his shoulder in echo of what Virgil had done to Scott not a moment earlier.

Scott held back a snort.

Striding towards the door, he didn’t have to look back to know he was being followed. “Let’s do this.”

Twenty minutes later, all five Tracy brothers stepped out of their limousine and onto the red carpet at the main gate of Edinburgh Castle.

Holocams flashed, reporters yelled for their attention, and Scott’s knees froze…it was Scotland, for goodness’ sake.

But he stood at the head of his clan, Virgil at his right, John at his left, Gordon behind and Alan fiddling with his socks again.

Scott hissed. “Alan!”

Gordon snorted.

The youngest stood up, brushing his kilt back into place with an embarrassed grin on his face.

Scott’s lips twisted, but he turned, set his shoulders, and led them into the castle.

And tried to ignore the draught.

-o-o-o-