#might post two new fics… stay tuned

[toxix-st6]

Going absolutely FERAL for the fight scene between Ballister and Ambrosius Bal is so- AAAAAAJJWJWJFJWOEKYJJRJJRHRJJRJDHFHJWKWRRGH

[kisses4reid]

understand? pt. 1 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s a doctor who wants to impress you.

genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and he’s attracted to that

warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.

w/c - 1.4k

a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so that’s what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!

req - hi pia 💞💝🩷💓 how r u? i hope you’re feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! i’ve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia 💝 lots n lots of kisses for u!

This was not what you expected. 

You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didn’t know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it. 

“Y/n L/n? I’m Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.” 

You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldn’t get attached to any of them as you’d only be assisting them for one case.

Maybe they just didn’t warm up to new people. 

“I’ll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if you’re settled down.” He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, it’s assertive yet comforting. 

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait.” You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.

Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.

“Everyone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. She’ll be assisting us with the Becker case you’ve all been informed of. She’ll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but she’ll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldn’t notice otherwise.” 

You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child. 

“This is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.” 

The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly. 

Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you weren’t a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you weren’t a trained profiler after all, just a translator.  

There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor. 

You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didn’t like you. 

“Are you okay? You seem uneasy,” he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.

“I’m fine.” You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the team’s findings. 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction. 

“What’s up? Pretty girl got your tongue?” Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.

“For someone who specialises in languages she doesn’t talk much.” 

Morgan smirked, “Maybe not to you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong though.” Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didn’t even greet her this morning.” Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. “I watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.” 

The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the plane’s window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencer’s attention was your intelligence. He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencer’s face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state. “Agent Y/n L/n.” Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways. 

“How many languages do you speak?” The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didn’t allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone. “Um, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.” You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again

“Did you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?” 

Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man, “And Latin and Russian,” Spencer turned his head up to you, “But I can understand more.” 

You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and weren’t just heartless officers. There wasn’t any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on. “That’s impressive, Doctor Reid.” You reply genuinely. 

“I mean it’s nothing compared to you though,” his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, “your brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary people’s language networks only turn on and off.” 

Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, “Thank you.” You didn’t really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it. 

“Don’t worry too much, Reid.” Morgan called, grabbing Spencer’s attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. “She digs it, I can tell. But she’s just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesn’t know how to small talk.” 

You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred. Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.

Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Get Lost

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get caught in the corn maze after dark but you don’t think those footsteps belong to someone trying to help you find your way out.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: this is the fifth and final of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Jaden points across the dash, receiving a swat from Alexandria as she tries not to veer. 

“Hey,” she cries out, “don’t do that. I can’t see over your ugly sweater.” 

“Oh, whatever, Lex,” he snips, “I was just trying to show you that.” He points again, this time without blocking her view, “you see that sign ahead?” 

“Sure, I see it,” she leans over the wheel as your nail taps across your phone screen. You huff. You wish they’d stop arguing for one moment. “A maze?” 

“A corn maze. Doesn’t that sound fun? I haven’t been to one since I was a kid.” 

“Of course, you haven’t,” you scoff and let your phone hang carelessly in your hand. “We’ve all seen that movie with the evil kids. Who wants to go running through a field?” 

“I do,” Ashton says, “better than driving around looking for those shoes that don’t exist.” 

His girlfriend, Samira, laughs and leans into him. You blow a raspberry. 

“It’s all the way out in the middle of nowhere,” you sneer. 

“Well, Mrs. Xanny, you never want to do anything so your vote counts for nothing,” Jaden retorts. 

“Excuse me,” you roll your eyes. 

“I’m up for it,” Ashton raises his hand. 

“Me too,” Samira mimics him. 

“Me three,” Jaden declares. “So looks like you two are outvoted.” 

“Whatever,” you mutter and Alexandria sighs. 

“Fine, but nobody better leave me behind. I’m not getting lost because of you idiots,” she growls. 

“Don’t worry, Lexi, I’ll hold your wittle hand,” Jaden teases. 

The others laugh and you go back to your phone. You’re more interested in the new heels at your favourite boutique than some dirty and scarecrows. Alexandria steers on as she continues to snap at Jaden to stop distracting her. Her driving is a lot scarier than anything that might be hiding in the maze. 

You swipe and tap and tune out the world around you, especially the two lovebirds exchanging not so subtle touches beside you. Jaden had to insist on sitting in the front. Finally, the car rolls, the axle jostled by the lumpy ground, and you look up at the gray sky. You hate daylight savings. 

When the wheels are still, you’re reluctant to get out. You could offer to watch the car until they get back. It’s cold and you don’t feel like slogging through soil and seed. 

“Hey, Lex,” you begin. 

“If I’m going, you’re going,” she snips as she undoes her seatbelt. 

You curl your lip and make a face at her back. The others are already out of the car. Jaden’s bouncing eagerly, Ashton’s staring at the gate to the maze, and Samira is draped off her boyfriend’s arm. They probably just want to find a dark corner so they can makeout. They are so high school. 

“Fifteen bucks?” You read the sign above the table, “blech. I could put that towards my hair appointment tomorrow.” 

“Oh, boo hoo,” Jaden snorts. 

“Don’t act like you don’t have the money,” Samira jeers. 

You call these people ‘friends’ lightly. You all just kind of stick together out of familiarity. Most people you’ve met aren’t much better so why risk downgrading. 

You take a step and feel your tall heel sink into the mud. Ew. 

“Oh, my boots,” you whine as you lift your sole, the muck dripping off of it. 

“Wash em after,” Ashton says. 

“These are Louis’,” you snarl. 

“And you have at least three identical pairs at home. Lighten up,” he barks back. 

You cross your arms and seal your lips with a wry smile. You’re not arguing with him. He’s been a jerk ever since you turned him down at his sister’s twenty-fifth. You suppose it was his birthday two, them being twins and all. Not that he looks very much like Alexandria. 

You trod after the four others, trying not to step too deep in the mud. You growl at the ground. You know what’s not dirty, a salon or a store. 

“Nice boots,” a deep voice rolls over you as you join the queue for tickets.  

You lift your head and look over at the man nearby. He steps up next to you as you eye his bristly upper lip. It’s a look, not a good one. 

“Brave girl going in alone,” he comments. 

You frown, “I’m not,” you step closer to your friends and they chatter. 

“Oh, coulda fooled me,” he remarks as he reaches into his jacket. “So, those Louis boots... those are last year’s...” 

“How would you know?” 

He shows the lining of his jacket. Also Louis. He pokes his fingers into the interior pocket and slides out a pack of gum. He pushes out a piece and pops it in his mouth. He tucks the pack back into his pocket and drops his hands to his hip. 

“So,” he chews the gum loudly. “You’re not really dressed for a maze.” 

“And you are?” You scowl, looking him up and down. He copies your posture and does the same to you. 

“I’m not here for the maze, baby girl,” he winks and snaps the gum. “But you have fun.” 

He turns and struts away before you can respond. Your lips open in confusion. What could he mean? You blink and shut your mouth, stepping up between Alexandria and Ashton. 

“So, how long are we going to have to stand around?” You ask. 

🌾

You hold your phone up in irritation. Your bars are totally gone. Great. This maze thing is so fucking boring. What are you supposed to do now? 

You sniff and shake your head. You sigh and put your phone in your jacket pocket, keeping your hand in the fleecy insert as the chill creeps up your leggings. You guess you’ll have to help or whatever. 

“Alex--” you look ahead then back, and side to side. Your heart leaps and you rush forward as fast as you can on your six-inch heels, “Alexandria? Ashton?” You look around the next corner and the opposite way along the other pathway. “Samira?” 

You spin again, your ankles tangling together. You blink as the tall corner adds to the dimness setting over the horizon. You gulp as your heart pounds in your throat. You slip your phone free once more and turn on the flashlight. 

You aim it ahead and listen for voices. You don’t hear much past the dense wall of stalks. As you brush a bit too close, you cry out and back away from the hanging husk. You shake of the crawling sensation and turn back and forth again. You lost your sense of direction. 

You look up at the sky. The clouds are thick, you can see neither moon or sun. You stop and pull your phone closer. You bring up your maps but it’s just a blank screen. Still no signal. 

Fuck it. Just walk, you’ll find the way. 

You shine the light ahead of you, your heels sinking into the mulch of footsteps, husks, and stones. You walk unevenly over the soft ground. You mumble obscenities as your arches start to bemoan the height. If you had known about this special excursion, you could’ve worn your Uggs. 

There’s a scuff, a strange echo of your own steps. You stop but it keeps going. You squint and twirl around, the light glinting off the corner and slicing through shadows. “Hello?” You call out. 

The footsteps continue but no one answers. You can’t tell if they’re ahead of you or behind you. Or to the left. Or right. You sway back and forth. This is getting weird. 

You take a breath and set your feet. You nearly trip as your heels dig in once more. You grunt and pull them out. You’re about to just scream for help. 

A sudden rumble makes you squeal. What the hell was that? You twist around and it happens again. It’s laughter? Someone’s laughing at you? 

You look at the tall stalks of corn, searching between the tight rows. 

“Alright, not very funny. Ashton....” you holler. 

The laughter gets louder. 

“Jaden,” you hiss. 

The laughter stops. 

“I really am not amused, okay? I want out. I never even wanted to do this stupid thing--” 

“Those boys are long gone, sweet peach,” the voice drawls around you like the wind, “I’m all man.” 

“Where are you? Who are you?” You ask. 

“I’m right behind you, baby, and I’m your knight in shining armour,” he purrs. 

You gasp and turn around. You beam the flashlight of the phone in the man’s face. You only get a glimpse of that short brown mustache before the cell is knocked from your grasp. 

“What are you tryna do? Blind me?” He snarls as your phone disappears between the corn. 

“What-- What do you want?” You step back, dragging your heels from the mud. 

“I wanna help, baby,” he slithers. “You seem lost.” 

You blink at him. He’s a dark silhouette against the greyness trapped in the maze. You bristle and look over at the corn. 

“Sure, I’ll just grab my phone, thanks--” 

“Ah, ah,” he comes up to meet you, blocking you with his arm. “I don’t work for free, honey pot.” 

“Fine, then go away,” you spit. 

“Woah, ho, you haven’t even asked what I want in return, sweetie,” he brings his other hand up to touch your cheek and you flinch away. 

“You’re not getting it, dude,” you back up. 

“Just a little suck. Hell, you give the little guy a nice kiss and I won’t even make you finish the job--” 

“Ew, no way,” you smack his hand down as he reaches for you again. “Fuck off--” 

He’s quick. He grabs you by your jaw and snarls as he looms over you, “for such a pretty mouth it sure is fucking filthy. Won’t matter what I put in it--” 

“Hey,” you grunt and writhe in his grasp, twisting your hands around his thick forearms, “get off--” 

“I’m trying, trust me--” 

You ram your knee up and feel the crunch in his pants. He wheezes and lets you go. You shove him and stagger backwards. You look at the corn one last time. Your phone is somewhere in there. 

As he cradles his crotch and snarls, the urgency of the moment slaps you across the face. Fuck your phone. You need to get away from this creep. 

Thank god you got insurance on your cell plan. You turn and lift your knees. You land on your toes, keeping your heels off the ground as much as you can. You’re not going very fast and you know you look ridiculous but you don’t care. You want to go home. 

You pump your arms as you breath hitches. You hear groans and another set of steps, just like before. You get to a corner and turn before you crash through the corn. You heave as you race away, ankles threatening to bend. At what point do you just ditch the Louis’ and mourn them with your phone. 

You cough and slow down. Shit. You’re in terrible shape. You look over your shoulder, your breath foggy in the plummeting temperature. You don’t see him. You don’t hear him either. Good. 

You turn-- 

“Boo!” The man startles you so you shriek. 

You stagger back as he cackles and you hurl yourself forward. Your feet catch as your heels stab the ground and you stumble with your arms flailing away from him. Your shallow breaths thunder around you as you charge through the maze only to find yourself trapped at a dead end. 

You stop and waver, lungs filled with fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You stomp with each internal proclamation. 

“Look, sugar tits, you can keep running and I’ll keep chasing,” the man struts up behind you as you spin to face him. “But it all ends the same way.” He sets his feet wide and cracks his knuckles. “And since you bruised my left nut,” he snarls, “you can kiss that better first.” 

“Uh, like why are you doing this?” You ask. 

He chortles, “like because I can.”  

You snarl and cross your arms, “you’re a loser. And you’re old. Like, can’t you find someone your own age to creep on?” 

He laughs louder but there’s not much humour in it. He stalks closer and your defiance glimmers, just a little. You don’t know where he gets off. Does he really think he can just tell you what to do? 

“So, I knew you were gonna be a handful,” he grabs you by the neck and you wince. You slap his wrist and he tuts, bringing his other hand up to grope your chest, “in more ways than one.” 

“Hey, fuck--” you grit out. “Hey!” 

“Look, sweetie, it’s a simple transaction. I pull my pants down, you keep those teeth to yourself, and be real nice to me,” he glares down at you. “The way you crushed my balls, you’re lucky I don’t make you lick my boots.” 

“What is wrong with you?” You growl. 

“Oh, a lot,” he smirks. “Now, those boots must kill your feet so...” he jerks you roughly, “on your knees.” 

Your eyes tinge just a little but you won’t cry. Not because of him. You gnash your teeth and grimace at him as he peels his hand away. 

“You got one thing going for you, baby, and that’s that pretty face. I can change that, trust me,” he warns. You swallow avert your eyes. He chuckles again, “god, I love that pout.” 

You bat your lash and fight to keep the litany of insults inside. You caterpillar faced fuck. You viagra powered moron. You overgrown frat boy. 

“The next time you open your mouth, it better be to gobble my cock,” he sneers, “so don’t even say it.” 

You look at him again. You set your eyes and your jaw. You step closer and he lifts his chin just slightly as he stares you down. 

You grab his belt and he twitches. You unbuckle it and whip the ends aside. You pop the button open and yank the zipper apart. He watches you, his eyebrow tweaking. You push his fly wide and roll your eyes as you feel his naked pelvis beneath your fingertips. Of course, this weirdo is hanging loose. 

You reach under his pants and angle his hard dick through the teeth of the zipper. You stroke him up and down with a dry, tight grip. He hisses and shifts his weight. 

“Careful, like sandpaper,” he rasps. 

You tut and look down. You huff. You move one foot back and bend your leg. You put one knee to the ground then the other. You make a face as you come level to his tip. Ugh. 

“Don’t look so fucking enticed,” he barks. You roll your eyes again and he swats your head. “Keep doing that and your eyes are getting stuck.” 

Old. Man. 

You pump him again and slowly, inch by inch, lean in. 

“Ah, I said kiss the left one first, then you can get to the main dish,” he puts his hand on his hip. 

You swallow and push down a tide of disgust. You lift him and lean your head to the side. You crane around and pucker, pressing your lips to his left ball. He twitches and groan. 

“Damn, those lips are soft. Do the other one.” 

With bile brewing in your stomach, you obey. You pull back and put his tip to your lips. You narrow your gaze at his pelvis and spread your mouth around him. You wet his swollen head then work your way down his length. He might be a desperate loser but he’s not small. 

You bob up and down as you take more and more of him. He curls his fingers into his hip as his other hand goes to the back of your head. He urges you on and you bat his hand with yours. You push back against him and flick your eyes up. 

“You are a stubborn one,” he rebukes. 

Your lips meet your hand and you pump him emphatically with both, popping off his tip so he whimpers. He clutches a wad of your hair as his eyes gleam desperately. 

“I kissed it better,” you wipe your mouth, “you show me the way out, and you might just finish, old man.” 

He stares down at you. Agitation and amusement battle across his expression. He takes a breath and lets it out. 

“One last kiss and I’ll get you out,” he says, “And then you’ll get me off.” 

The cold air swirls around you and the darkness floods through the corn. You squeeze him slightly and put a sloppy kiss on his tip with a loud muah. You let go and tickle along his length. You grab onto his arm and pull yourself to your feet. 

“I want out. Now.” 

“Alright, princess,” he snickers. “Don’t you worry, I got a throne you can sit on when we’re home free.” 

[oweninadaydream]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐂𝐇.𝟏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Hangman is the certified ladies' man and everyone thinks they can read him like a book, but what neither the Dagger Squad nor anyone else can even begin to imagine is where the hell Jake has been going every Saturday night for the last few months…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x male!character

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 : mentions of alcohol, some making out but nothing too smutty, emotional distress lmao, age gap relationship (27-35), some religious trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, post Top Gun : Maverick, the Dagger squad is stationed together.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2k

𝐚/𝐧 : Gif by @tay-swifts , M/N (Male Name). Hello beautiful people!!! I'm so exited about posting this project I've been working on for a while. I just wanted to say that since it's my first time writing for Jake this might be a bit OC Jake but I do hope I got it right hehe. Enjoy the fic and stay tuned for the next parts!!!

It was well after midnight when Jake arrived at the club’s entrance. The throbbing bass emanating from inside made the whole building shake, making his mind wonder what it would be like to live on top of such an obnoxiously loud place, contrasting with the quietness of the accommodations the Navy offered. The reflection of the neon sign reading  “Mon Ange” turned his natural olive-toned skin into a vivid dark azure that matched perfectly with the baby blue in his eyes. The smokers (all with stamps on their hands) were all gathered some feet away from the door to get back in after dragging a final puff from their cigarettes. The queue was not very long, mainly because everyone who was meant to be there had arrived way earlier than him. He reprimanded himself for getting there so late ; in less than two hours the nightclub would shut its doors and Jake would feel like he wasted four hours of his life for nothing. Well, his journey would not be in vain if he caught a glimpse of- 

“Jake”

This was L.A, a city 118 miles away from the Marine Corps Air Station located in Miramar, which is a two-hour long drive away from everything he knows. He had to remind himself of those facts to avoid spiraling  at the sound of his name in such a place; he hated how his body kept reacting to these kinds of situations, but not even a skilled lieutenant like himself could take the reins of these unnamed emotions that coursed through his entire being.

"What are you doing here by the door? I was worrying about you not showing up today, I was just about to send a search party. C'mon , let's grab a drink. Perhaps I can even convince you to dance this time" A wide playful smirk accompanied the flirty comment exquisitely and, even though Jake was more than used to these antics, his heart skipped a beat. Trying to compose himself, he answered while staring at the concrete floor. 

"I don't belong on that dance floor and y'know it, darlin' "

“Oh don’t say that, the 30s are the new 20s! … Even if you’re not planning to dance, you must’ve driven all the way over here for something, right?”

The damn question hit him like a truck. He could try to think of the right answer, but putting something into words made it terrifyingly real, and that was exactly what he'd been avoiding for months. The breeze made them both shiver, as the party outfits didn’t properly protect them from the chilly weather. 

“You're right” he muttered “Okay, lead the way. Make it worth the while, mh?" he teasingly replied. Even if what he was doing was definitely outside of his comfort zone, something about the constant banter between them calmed him.

"Don't you always have an amazing time with me? I thought that was why you only talk to me" a fake pout appeared on the face which Seresin couldn't help but to stare intensely in awe. Their hands intertwined and the pilot quickly melted into that comforting touch. His companion briefly exchanged some words with the bouncer and the doors opened for them. 

"Thankfully it was Joseph working tonight, I don't think Marcus would have let you in for free just like that" “I’m sure you would've charmed him into doing whatever you wanted anyway”

The thick air of the room embraced him as soon as the doors closed and the familiar feeling appeared in the pit of his stomach almost instantly; it seems like it was yesterday when he first stepped into the nightclub he now knows like the back of his hand, but in reality, that day was what it feels like ages ago. Still, the contradictions that manifested within him every time he returned persisted and only grew each day.

“I’ll go to the bar while you stay here and look pretty, okay? Same drink as always?”

It was because of moments like these that Hangman felt comfortable enough to let his guard down and be his usual extroverted self. Grabbing his wrist to stop him from going any further, he raised his voice so his words could be heard even though the music was top volume. “ Don’t you even dare to try to pay for those drinks, they’re on me.”

“Here it is, the Texan charm of Jake Seresin. I didn’t know you could apply those rules to this situation. Are you trying to imply I’m the girl in this whole affair? Shouldn't we at least draw lots for it?”

"Very funny, M/N'' the hostility that emanated from his rolling eyes made the other man realize his comment had affected Jake on a deeper level than intended. “Hey I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t hav- I know it’s  a touchy subject and I’m extremely sorry, please forgive me” the regret was visible in his expression and it also could be detected in the stuttering caused by the words rushing their way out of his mouth trying to obtain his forgiveness as fast as possible. Jake took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. 

Hangman was no saint, he didn’t go to church every Sunday or tried to look for a good christian wife to have kids with like his father did in his day. He knew God was not exactly pleased with the way he was running his life but he used to think that when the time came, He would welcome him with open arms (after having apologized profusely, that is). But now that he had fallen for the most vile trick in the book, he couldn't trust that previous statement anymore. Lust was a capital sin, pretty serious if you asked any priest from the church the Seresin family attended back in Texas, but sodomy? Say goodbye to eternal salvation, son. If Jake was being honest, the promise of heaven or the threat of hell didn't scare him. It was the destruction of all the life lessons that made him act the way he acted,  of his purpose as a son, as a man. The thing that truly haunted him at night  was the thought of a deity (and his father)  designing him to be this flawless individual with a very clear life path , only to end up as a filthy, disgusting f-

“Hey, are you okay? Would you like me to leave you alone for a bit?”

The thought of M/N walking away while he sank deeper and deeper in the sea of guilt and fury frightened him. “Please don’t” he begged “everything’s fine, I promise. Let’s down a couple shots and , who knows, maybe I’ll be in the mood to dance for a bit” the last comment was a futile attempt to hide the everlasting agony that clouded his mind. M/N moved so they were a few inches away and raised his hand to caress his cheek. His next step consisted in resting his arms around his shoulders and starting kissing him delicately in the neck and in the whole face in general, in hopes to kiss the discomfort away. 

How could something so delicate and sweet be so dirty? Was it even dirty to begin with? What about the women he had dated? He was attracted to them but now he- Too many questions Jake was not willing to answer that night. He only wanted one thing, and he was about to claim it. 

After regaining control of himself, Jake put his right hand on the younger male’s back to guide him to the counter where people were piling up fighting to get the barman’s attention. Being as attractive and well-built as he was, he obtained the alcoholic beverages rather quickly. After the last drop of tequila had made its way down their throats, Hangman took control and led him onto the dance floor. His mind was only filled of the smell of M/N’s cologne mixed with his natural scent enhanced by their bodies crashing against each other while swaying to the 2000s pop remixes, his eyes fixed on his partner’s hypnotizing movements and his hands focused on feeling what they can reach, testing if they can go further in their journey through M/N’s body. Jake was simply standing close and moving according to the song's beat but in a subtle way, just like he would do at the locals he frequented with his coworkers ; manly enough to keep his dignity intact but provocative enough to awake that lustful hunger in the other person’s soul.

‘Mon Ange’ had finally closed down and the two men were still all over each other on the angelino streets. The tingle settling in his chest could only be compared with the adrenaline rush he had previously experienced on those wild nights spent in college, the farewell by the porch of the first girl he had taken on a date or the night out after his first deployment; if he closed his eyes he could swear he was 20 again, but reality made sure to remind him of those fifteen more years that had passed. 

M/N had this juvenile thing about him, Jake couldn’t guess confidently his age from afar and his curiosity was finally satiated after befriending him and asking him about it directly ; he was 27, even though he looked some years younger. His bold character combined with his kindness and humor made M/N resemble a butterfly flying around collecting the pollen from every flower in the garden and making it seem effortless. That was one of the many things that hooked Jake on him as if he were the most addicting drug out there, making him throw away his plan of not getting attached and limiting this experience with sporadic hookups that would end then and there, never with the same person twice. That was the problem, he appeared and started moving his hips to some song, making the whole room turn around him and ever since then (even if Jake was still in denial), he was a goner.

The next thing he knew, he was laying down on M/N’s bed, a king size mattress close to a very big window that allowed him to take in the beautiful sight of the sleeping city. He had only been to the apartment twice, but he had always  left before the sun had made its appearance in the sky, moved by remorse and skepticism. This time though, he had stayed the whole night that was filled with passionate sex and heart to heart conversations and finally some cuddling that lured him to rest for a while. Now he was wide awake, sitting against the headboard, resting his eyes on the sunrise and on the slumbering figure facing him. He looked so calm, so peaceful. In that moment, turning his gaze away, he tried to repress a sob that came with a single tear falling through his left cheek. 

M/N had always known he was queer, embracing his bisexuality in childhood. Jake had never had any problems with people who were not straight, even if the people around him growing up did, but everything was different when it came to himself. For fuck’s sake, he was closer to being 40 than from his teenage years, what was he doing? He could only paralyze at the idea of anyone seeing what he was doing. It was definitely too late for him. Risking his life everyday up in the sky felt like a minor burden compared to the endurance of the dilemmas he carried with him everywhere, just like Christ had carried the cross all the way to Calvary.

He could feel himself falling for the person right next to him, and that was the worst thing that had ever happened to Lieutenant Jacob Seresin. His calloused hand cupped M/N’s soft face, making the other man lean in closer in search of that delightful warmth. Jake’s lips burned in desperate need to say something out loud. His heart started palpitating at a dangerous speed, as he knew the thing trying to escape from his mind was a cruel thing to say and that he was a horrible being just by thinking that. It was no one’s fault and it had no solution, yet the idea popped up in his mind like an unwanted ad appearing on your phone. His chest ached at the possibility of M/N hearing the words, so he tried to whisper as quietly as it was humanly possible. 

“I wish you were a girl”

[shutupineedtothink]

Ok so my friend and I just recorded 4 HOURS of raw audio breaking down the OUAT pilot, season 1 finale, and discussing the show in general for our new podcast where we make each other watch episodes of our favorite shows and talk about them together. It’s exactly as fun as you would imagine. :)

But even after all that, I still have things I forgot to say or didn’t get to. So here’s a few of them:

1. “Evil” as addiction: the OUAT writers treat the concept of being evil like addiction/substance abuse which is really interesting and kind of a bold choice for a 2011 show about fairytales. Then within that structure they show basically the two choices you have when facing addiction: choose not to use and become a better, healed version of yourself (Regina) or keep using and stay stuck in your patterns and hurt everyone you love forever (Rumple). As a child of an alcoholic who has chosen the latter, I loved watching Regina’s journey in this context and while she stumbles a lot, she keeps striving to be good even though she gets the short end of the stick most of the time. And her North Star is always Henry, which I think is important to show that you don’t just change because you feel like it, there usually has to be the threat of something worse happening if you don’t change (in this case, losing Henry physically and emotionally).

2. Regina Mills might be the most psychologically complex and interesting character on prime time tv in the 2010s? Period??

3. I rambled a good bit in the podcast about the costumes and color symbolism but here’s a bit more for you: Once Regina is on team heroes she often wears some kind of red top (the hero’s color) with a black jacket/coat over it showing that she’s changed on the inside but she still *looks* like the evil queen on the outside and can now use that persona/power to her advantage instead of being consumed by it. By the end of S5 this contrasts with Emma who wears her signature red jacket but a black/white/gray sweater underneath, showing that she’s a little more of a mix of good and evil these days post-dark one. In a color sense, they’re almost mirror images of each other at this point, and it’s really cool.

4. I know a lot of people are really salty about how Emma’s light kind of dims toward S4, 5, 6, and I’m right there with you. Her character feels flatter, and honestly kind of depressed. Now idk if this was a real choice on the writers’/JMo’s part, if she was going through some stuff at this time and it just showed up in the character, or what. That said, it does track for me in a way, especially post-dark one. She should be kind of thrown off by everything that’s happened! She should be changed! I just wish they had done something with it instead of pretending it was normal. If Regina’s struggle with evil is analogous to addiction, why can’t Emma’s struggle with evil be analogous to depression? It would have been an interesting take. Somebody write the fic.

I could keep going but I’ll stop here for now. Stay tuned for the podcast!

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Morning Things (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: It’s another morning in Eddie’s room, just a slice of peace before you have to face the world.

AN: Found an old Eddie fic in my OneDrive back when I still fancied him/liked Stranger Things lmaoo, might as well post it.

Reader is gender neutral, no use of Y/N.

Masterlist

You didn’t realise that you were being greedy when you first woke up. As you rolled over to your back, you found your body was bundled up in the double duvet, which you sent sprawling out as your legs and arms stretched out across the span of the boxspring bed. A distinct dip cradled your head, between the two pillows that assigned sides to you and your boyfriend. Cracking open your eyes revealed the ceiling - the only dull wall in this room. 

It was like rolling to see the posters popping off their paper roused your other senses. You felt the entire duvet around you with no tug of war from Eddie to retrieve his fair share. No contact was made no matter where your hands reached. 

The twang of a beloved electric guitar caught your ears. No amp powering its usual timbre, its strings pinged against Eddie’s calloused fingertips before pausing. The man was down to his boxers, his instrument balanced across a bare thigh, and a sleeveless shirt hung off his shoulders to expose most of his tattoos to the break of dawn. Eddie placed his pick between his lips, swapping it with the pen already in there so he could scribble in his song book in front of him. He hummed the tune as he scribbled. He began mumbling then some semblance of lyrics emerged through half-closed lips before he flipped back to his pick to strum again. Once he’d repeated the tune, he experimented with a new sequence but winced, shaking his head with his mop of hair following behind.

Groggily, you managed to say, “Morning.”

The second Eddie laid his eyes on you, he dropped the pen from between his teeth, threw off his guitar, and dropped his pick onto his open song book. 

“Oh, I was enjoying that,” you complained pathetically.

Completely disregarding what you said as he crawled over you, Eddie’s nose nudged up against yours. 

“Good morning, sweet thing,” he grinned whilst he balanced over you. 

After stretching up, you rested your arms around his neck and anchored Eddie into the bed, half laying atop you. 

“What were you playing?” You sighed against his neck. 

“Just mucking around, throwing some bits I’ve been thinking of together. Seeing if they mesh.”

“And do they?”

“They’re starting to align.” Eddie rolled over onto his back, bringing you with him as he gestured above you, “I gotta encourage them to get their shit together a little more before I can show you.”

“Can’t fucking wait,” you said into the ticklish tips of his curls. 

Eddie kissed the crown of your head, “You gonna get up?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“You inspire me no matter where you are. From lying here in my bed,” He waved grandly to wear his feet almost hung off the end, “To perched at the end of it.” You let out a close-mouthed giggle, invoking Eddie to do the same and allow those dimples to peep out of his cheeks, his hand crossing behind your back and squeezing you as he said, “So, you got places to be?”

“Nowhere but next to you.” 

“Does that include the bathroom?”

“You wanna shower together again, after what happened last time?”

“I was thinking more like pooping together.”

Hiding in his neck again, you groaned, “Eddie.”

“I feel like we’re at that stage in our relationship.”

“Nothing like communal shitting to inspire your next big hit, I guess,” and you pushed up a little, “Wanna stay here a bit longer first.” To sweeten the deal, you squashed his left cheek with your lips, smacking them loudly when you slumped back down into him. 

Accepting the bribe, Eddie tightened his grip around you and said serenely, “I can make time for that.”

[happiness-of-the-pursuit]

WIP Wednesday

It's still Wednesday here, and I have WIP that @affectionatelyrs and I have been working furiously on over the past week. If you follow us on the bird app, you might've seen some snippets, but here's something just for here. Stay tuned, this should be coming to screens near you soon :))

Fully epistolary, roommates fic:

A sticky note, left on a bag of dog treats: saw these at the bodega and thought David might like them! A new sticky note, left on a bag of dog treats: Thank you, but David can’t eat these. Do you still have the receipt? Perhaps you can return them so that they’re not a waste of money. A sticky note, left on the side of a kettle: so… they only accepted exchanges, which is what I get for going to some new big-box store instead of the bodega a few blocks down I guess. anyway, here’s to round two: noticed you were out of tea, so I bought you a box of green to save you a trip!! always happy to enable a fellow caffeine addict like myself lol. A new sticky note, left on the box of tea: Unfortunately, green tea makes me rather ill. I import my Earl Grey from England; I don’t trust the American tea industry. A sticky note, attached to the receipt for the tea. sorry to have offended your delicate sensibilities. 

Tags below the cut because I went ham with thanks and tagging lol

Thank you to @rockyroadkylers @kiwiana-writes @cactusdragon517 @itsmaybitheway @junebugclaremontdiaz @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @bigassbowlingballhead @songliili @leojfitz @suseagull04 @wordsofhoneydew for the Wednesday tags, and @captainjunglegym @eusuntgratie @leaves-of-laurelin @magicandarchery @getmehighonmagic for the Sunday tags that I missed! I'm still working on catching up but I love seeing y'all's work :)

Tagging @anincompletelist @bribumblebee @cultofsappho @dumbpeachjuice @daisymae-12 @everwitch-magiks @emmalostinwonderland @futureseaempress @firenati0n @ghostwithatophat @gayrootvegetable @gay-flyboys @hillerskas @inexplicablymine @juloviz @missgeevious @matherines @nocoastposts @read-and-write- @run-for-chamo-miles @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @littlemisskittentoes @14carrotghoul if y'all also want to slide in late, or post on a day of your choosing!

[writtenontheport]

Hi can you do a lockwood fic where you’re in the library late at night and you decide to play classical music and he asks you to dance (kiss on hand as a greeting, lucy recording and having a bet with george, etc) thanks!

Hear the Crackle of the Radio, I Know I’m Home

Anthony Lockwood x (gn) Reader

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, sleepy Lockwood, dancing but it’s more like just staying in each other’s arms for the sake of it, repetition, I’m a SUCKER for fluff

Notes: Thank you anon for this sweet little request, I absolutely adored writing it!! I didn’t know how to incorporate a classic piece at first (considering their technology would be quite behind and they don’t have access to boomboxes or speakers) but then I remembered the old radio my family used to have. Lovely thing it was, I miss the crackle of it dearly!

ALSO, I MISREAD YOUR REQUEST SO BAD ANON. IM SO SORRY 😭 -added after posting LMAO,,,,

Summary: It’s a quiet day in the library— until Lockwood comes and forces you up from your seat to dance with him.

The static of the radio fades away into the crunch of violin and piano compositions, coming through gently and filling the room. There’s an air of old books and frail paper about you as you handle the fragile pages. The paper is old under your fingers, the texture familiar in your hands; the library smells of the past and sounds of it too.

You didn’t expect anyone else to be awake considering they all just got back home after a long and tedious case, but Lockwood comes into the library with a sleepy smile and you find yourself pleasantly surprised. He’s in a loose white T-shirt and the pyjama pants you bought him not too long ago, looking just about ready to pass out as he makes his way over to you. Much like a cat, he smiles patiently as you put away your book before unceremoniously dropping himself into your lap.

“Anthony,” You laugh, moving him around into a more comfortable position. He’s like putty in your hands, he is; sleepy and warm and all too happy.

“I checked, and you weren’t in bed,” He mumbles, his face resting in the space between your head and collar. His eyes peer at you from behind his lashes, hooded with exhaustion that has him blinking slowly. “ ‘Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I am very alright, now that you lot are all home.” You press a kiss onto his head, a hand combing through his hair. “I was about to head to bed, actually. Have you checked on Lucy and George?”

“Already—“ he yawns here, stretching out all his lanky limbs “—did. They’ve both headed into their rooms already.”

He leans into your touch and into you, relaxing in your arms. He snakes his arms your waist and his lips end up on your jaw. If Lucy or George were here, they might have had half the mind to call you both out on your lovesick behaviour. Since it was just you two, though, that goes unspoken. You hope Lockwood ignores the quick beating of your heart just as Lockwood hopes you can’t feel his smile on your skin growing coy. The world filters back in around you with every breath; library pages and the sound of something slow and relaxing.

“Let’s dance,” Lockwood mumbles, not pulling himself up. “This is our song.”

It is not your song; you don’t have one, (yet, you secretly hope) but you indulge him with a laugh. “Get up then. I can’t dance if you’re on me now, can I?”

It takes a solid minute for him to make good on that, at which point you think he’s fallen asleep before he blows into the skin of your neck and you swat him. It’s a giggly affair getting up, books left forgotten on the table and the radio drowned out by your joy. You take your places in the center of the room, Lockwood more awake as he gazes lovingly into your eyes. The piece rises to new heights as you both begin dancing slowly, a bit off beat with the music, but in tune with the rhythm of your hearts.

With one arm wrapped around your lower back, and the other in yours, it’s more of a sway than a dance. And yet you sway, to and fro, to and fro, as the music swells and softens through the radio crackle. His eyes trace your face with such tenderness and care; smiling subconsciously as he sways with you.

When you’re on the job, Lockwood is doing little more than burning himself into ash and soot to protect you all; ghoulishly hollow in all the ways he has already given himself up for you, George, and Lucy. You scold him for it, all of you, and he does try to make it better, but sometimes you can only be thankful of what you have still. This look of his is one of them.

This particular look is reserved for you alone, made of gentle edges whittled down by your persistence to get close; the walls around his heart so low they’re all but flattened. This particular look is full of something more than just ash and hollow soot: it’s full of warmth and giddy happiness. This particular look is one you can’t help but cherish.

“You look lovely today,” He hums, peering into your eyes as he masterfully dodges stepping on your feet. His hair is messy and crumpled from where you’d ran your hand through it, making him all the more endearing.

“And you look like you’re about to pass out,” you tease, squeezing his hand.

“How do I look like besides that, though?”

“Gorgeous and radiant,” You playfully coo, laughing when his face splits into a wide grin.

Nothing else is said after as you both fall into the rhythm of being near each other. To and fro, to and fro, you sway; to and fro. The smell of old books and the sound of a crackling radio all fade into the background as you and Lockwood slowly but surely lean in to rest your foreheads gently against one another’s. He pushes his nose into yours, humming along to the song, and like instinct your lips fall into each other’s. The world sways as you do, to and fro, to and fro.

Kissing him tastes like warmth and joy bottled up; feels like sinking into your bed and hiding yourself away from the world. Kissing him feels like everything is going to be all right.

A camera click startles you both and you quickly pull away (still in each other’s arms) to find Lucy at the door. She’s grinning ear to ear with a twinkle in her eyes as she leans back out of the doorway and yells,

“George! I won!” and leaves.

You and Lockwood stay there standing, before slowly falling into a fit of giggles and deeper into each other’s arms. From beyond the door, Lucy and George race down the steps in a thunderous manner, and suddenly the whole of 35 Portland Row is awake well past midnight. You wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Your song plays again the next day in the library, and the smile that takes you over has Lockwood kissing you again just for how beautiful you are to him. The world settles in your kisses, and when you dance you do little more than hold onto each other and sway; to and fro, to and fro.

A/N: This actually gave me some nostalgia, because I used to love the radio (the old classic ones they don’t make anymore) and I loved when we used it. I’m also SUCH fan of swaying with someone you love gently, and just— UGH.

[dailydragon08]

Closing The Tomb

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x F!Jedi!Reader   Summary: The sequel to Darkness Calls. Luke deals with the consequences of almost using the dark side to save your life, leaving you in suspense of whether he'll re-implement the no attachment rule in his new Jedi Order. With the ghost of Obi-wan pushing him one way while Luke's heart is pulled another, secrets are revealed and friendships are left hanging on the edge of a knife. Warnings: Slight anti-Jedi/anti "no attachments" rhetoric, mainly against the stringent rules the prequel era Jedi had. Major angst, with Luke struggling a lot and feeling very guilty. Reader gets a brief, nondescript leg injury at some point that heals quickly (realizing I injure reader's leg a lot specifically so Luke can carry her lol), mentions of Luke having insomnia and PTSD, slow burn, mutual pining, angsty ending that will be resolved in the final part 3 of this trilogy. A/N:  Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, and my masterlist can be found linked in the pinned post on top of my blog. This fic is also included in my AO3 (DragonHeartstring360). Stay tuned for the final part 3 and enjoy!

**

You squinted to see through the oncoming smoky haze. Stars wheeled in a circle with a thin, glass-like pathway cutting through the middle of a dark sky. It glowed faintly, casting its reflections on none other than Luke’s terrified face. He stared straight at you before glancing at the two pieces of rope he was clinging to. Obi-wan Kenobi held one end while a man who bore a striking resemblance to Luke held the other. You recognized him as Anakin in his prime, except this Anakin’s eyes kept flashing yellow. Everyone looked at you before turning to each other, and chaos ensued. Obi-wan and Anakin both bore down on their ends of the rope and pulled as hard as they could.

Luke squeezed his eyes closed and grimaced, mumbling, “wait…no…I can find balance…with both—”

“No, you can’t,” the others said in unison before pulling even harder.

“Luke, just let go!” you yelled, but to no avail as the ropes suddenly wound their way up Luke’s hands to wrap around his arms like snakes.

Obi-wan and Anakin pulled even harder, and you could see the strain on Luke’s arms from where you floated above. You tried to yell your friend’s name again only to have him stare at you with horror—the eye closest to his old mentor it’s usual blue, the one closest to his father an ominous yellow—

Your eyes flew open as you hyperventilated. You clutched your bed sheets to reassure yourself you were home on the Redeemer before looking around at the cargo hold that Luke had lovingly converted into a bedroom just for you. You remembered how excited he was to show you the imperial shuttle once he’d finished his renovations. At first, you’d thought he was just excited to show you his work and were sad at the thought that he might leave soon after. There was nothing to describe the amount of relief and joy when you realized there wasn’t just one bedroom, but two—and Luke had proudly announced this one belonged to you and you alone and he’d love for you to travel with him, so you could both learn more about the ways of the Force and the jedi from each other and hunt for ancient texts and artifacts to help restore the order.

You sat up and took in the darkness of the hold. That had felt like an eternity ago and you could feel the anxious pressure building in your chest at the thought of things never being that easy, warm, and welcoming again. Luke had been avoiding you ever since the incident aboard the imperial cruiser. Amid some jammed communications, you had almost been sucked out of the ship’s porthole into space along with your attackers and Luke had barely saved you in time – but not before nearly slipping to the dark side to aid in his rescue. You knew he was ashamed of himself and could sense his turmoil through the Force any time the two of you were in close proximity (which was unfortunately becoming less and less). He was still polite, helpful, and kind, but there was a new distance and coldness to him that felt like a knife in your chest.

You swung your feet over the bed and half-heartedly stuffed some pants and shoes on. The fact that you were sleeping in an oversized shirt of Luke’s only added to your own turmoil as you shrugged a jacket over your shoulders. Padding through the dark, empty main hold of the ship revealed Luke’s bedroom door still wide open like it had been when you’d gone to sleep and R2 nowhere to be found. You quietly made your way down the landing ramp to where the ship sat on Khofar, where the two of you were hunting for yet another Force artifact to further your studies and the resurrection of the order. Crickets chirped as the moon hung full above with a gentle breeze. You thought how much you and Luke might have even enjoyed the peace of this place if he would just forgive himself.

Voices floated through the trees, along with the telltale whistles of an astromech and you followed, careful to make your footsteps as light and quiet as possible. A winding dirt path through the trees led to a small clearing with a fallen log. Luke sat with his back to you, and you recognized the glowing blue figure of Obi-wan’s ghost. R2 was nowhere to be seen and you wondered if Luke had sent him away. The idea that he had worried you; he took R2 everywhere with him and must’ve really been in a dire state if he told him to leave.

“…cannot tell you what to do,” Obi-wan continued as you quietly wedged yourself behind a tree trunk. If either of them sensed your presence, it didn’t stop them from talking. “It will be your order, after all. But I don’t think it was wrong for the Jedi Council to impose the no attachment rule during my time exactly for reasons such as this. One mistake does not guarantee your downfall, but as Master Yoda used to say: fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. A lesson your father unfortunately learned very well.”

“But there was still good in him,” Luke argued, his voice rough and strained from lack of sleep. This was the third night in a row he’d snuck off to converse with his Force ghost council—and would likely be the fourth day in a row of dark bags under his eyes. “And I managed to convince him to turn back to the good side and help defeat Palpatine because of our attachment. Isn’t that what you always thought was his destiny as the Chosen One: to destroy the Sith? How could I have convinced him to do that without our attachment? And I couldn’t even imagine where I’d be without Han or Leia…” His voice turned quiet and mournful. “Or Y/N.”

“This is your order, Luke. I cannot and will not interfere too much. There’s a possibility you could be right, and this could be a new age and era for the jedi where attachment isn’t as dangerous.”

“But without the danger of the Sith, wouldn’t that make it less dangerous? Couldn’t I make teaching about healthy attachment or connection versus unhealthy possession part of the training I give?”

A bird cawed low and long overhead and you glanced at the sky to see the first flecks of light shine through the trees. You hoped that didn’t mean Luke had been awake all night.

“Just because the Sith are less of a danger doesn’t mean the dark side is any less so,” Obi-wan continued. “You still need to be vigilant. It can still be a very slippery slope that’s difficult—near impossible—to come back from. The choice is ultimately up to you and I will respect whatever you decide. But keep in mind what you almost did because of your attachment.” He glanced quickly at your hiding spot before turning his eyes back to Luke. “More than one friend on this planet is waking, so I think it’s best you either start your day or get a few final moments of rest while you can. I will be here if you need further guidance on this matter.”

You stayed put behind your tree, but knew the resounding silence meant the ghost had faded into the morning light. Luke sighed long and hard before there were several rustling noises. When no footsteps followed, you peeked around the tree to see him sitting cross-legged in the brush with his back to you. For a moment, you admired the slope of it and how his perfectly tailored jacket clung to the toned muscle. Luke was so good at sensing you from much further away, there was no doubt in your mind he knew you were there. Was he choosing to ignore you? Or was he just really that tired that maybe he didn’t notice?

Either way, you suddenly felt very unwelcome and made your way back to the ship as quietly as you could. During your absence, R2 had also returned and was refilling Luke’s waterskin at the sink. He beeped sadly at you as you passed towards your room. You laid a comforting hand on his dome and knew he was feeling the weight of his master just as much.

With a wave of your hand, the hydraulic door closed behind you. You sat back on your bed, kicking off your shoes and flopping back to stare at the ceiling. What if Luke did decide to re-implement the no attachment rule? What would that mean for his relationship with his friends, his sister—with you? You doubted he’d send you away—at least, not at first. He’d never explicitly invited you to be part of his new Jedi Order, but he’d hinted at it several times. And why would he have made a whole bedroom in the Redeemer for you, reiterated that this was supposed to be as much your home as his several times, and still be taking you on Force-related missions with him if he was planning to give you the boot? But even if he didn’t ask you to leave, you weren’t sure how long you could handle this new cold and distant version of Luke. It was too painful—especially with your growing feelings for him, and what you had thought were his growing feelings for you. Maybe that’s why he was so afraid. He’d never really explained to you why his father fell to the dark side outside of something to do with a secret, forbidden marriage with his mother. But was that the whole story? You had a feeling not, but felt it wasn’t your place to ask either Luke or Anakin’s ghost. You’d never even spoken to any of the Force ghosts.

But if the old jedi had forbade relationships out of fear of it turning into a gateway to the dark side, weren’t they just giving into the very think they preached against: fear?

You sighed as you heard Luke’s boots thump up the boarding ramp. “Hi, R2,” he said sadly. You locked onto his Force signature in your mind, feeling his sadness, confusion, guilt, longing, turmoil, and a sense that he saw himself as unworthy to be the one to lead the jedi to a new beginning. Perhaps against better judgement, you sent a wave of comfort to him through your link and heard his boots stop on their way to his room just ahead of yours. You closed your eyes and leaned into the Force to sense every movement on the ship. His footsteps suddenly turned and halted just outside your door and you could sense him raising his hand to knock, then stop. He lowered it, then raised it, then lowered it again before running a hand through his hair and down the front of his face. He turned and quickly made his way into his room, and you could hear the muffled whoosh of the door behind him. The lack of returning comfort from him made your heart sink and you couldn’t help but wonder if it would just be best to get on a ship and go elsewhere, alone, after this mission was done to dull the pain for both of you.

~***~

Things remained just as stilted and awkward over the next few days as you and Luke stayed on-world. The jedi texts remained elusive, but the planet’s dangers didn’t. Many animals attacked you out of pure instinct to protect their home, and storms and rockslides from the nearby cliff were annoyingly common.

An animal had sunk their teeth deep into your leg at some point and Luke immediately went into protection mode, even carrying you to a secluded spot to clean and dress your wound. The return of his softness, care, and openness as he asked repeatedly if you were all right and if you could walk almost made you tear up in relief. However, once you confirmed you would be fine and could walk by yourself, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He still turned around to check on you many times as you continued your trek, holding out his hand to help you over any unsteady or slippery points on the ground. You relished the feeling of his warm skin against yours, eyeing your initials sewn in red on the new black leather glove you’d given him after his had been lost out the porthole. At least he hadn’t taken it off with a replacement he had lying around the Redeemer (and you knew for a fact he had some extras). That had to be a good sign—right?

Just as the two of you had put enough together to realize there was likely an abandoned temple somewhere up on the mountaintop, a torrential rain began. Luke was at your side in an instant, throwing his cloak over top of you and pulling the hood up over your head.

“This way! There’s an overhang!” he cried, R2 beeping urgently and zipping behind him.

He kept a firm hand on your back as he led you to a shallow lip in the mountainside that would perfectly shield you from the rain. It was small—so small, the two of you had to sit shoulder to shoulder while R2 tried to hide under a large leaf from a nearby plant.

The pounding of the rain almost drowned out the pounding of your heart in your ears as your and Luke’s breaths slowed. This was usually a time you wouldn’t hesitate to lean into Luke’s side or give his hand a reassuring squeeze, but you could still sense his deep anguish through the Force and decided against it.

The two of you had sat in silence before and it had always felt safe and comfortable. This time, it was the most awkward silence you’d ever experienced. You glanced at your friend out of the corner of your eye to catch his sad gaze before he quickly looked away.

“Luke, it’s okay—”

“I’m all right.” He looked anything but. The dark circles were still prevalent and he was beginning to look pale and gaunt. You hadn’t seen him eat much the past few days and he looked especially miserable in his soaked jedi blacks, his hair plastered to his forehead. You realized you were still wearing his cloak and tried to extend it so it wrapped around him as well. Where before he would’ve immediately leaned into you with a grateful smile, he kept himself stiff and stared straight ahead as if you weren’t even there.

“Luke, please, don’t torture yourself. I can guarantee you every jedi has done it at some point. It’s natural. It doesn’t make you—”

“Like my father,” he interrupted quietly, still staring off into the distance at something you couldn’t see.

“You’re nothing like him though,” you prodded gently, hoping this might get him to open up and let you back in. The distance of the last few days was about to make you crawl out of your skin.

“I am though. I have so many similarities to Anakin before his fall. I can’t become Vader—I can’t create another Vader. I—” He shook his head and turned away from you. “It wasn’t just a simple mistake. I have…to be a leader, I have to be able to set an example and protect people, I have to recreate an entire order…” He shook his head before turning to you, his face empty and distant once again. “I’m sorry. I’ll figure this out on my own.”

“But you don’t have to.”

Luke turned his gaze to his feet and was silent for a long time. “Once the rain lets up, we should make out way back to the ship. Then we can try to find a place to land on the mountain to find this temple.”

You sighed. “All right. It’s super foggy up there all the time from what I’ve seen though, so we’ll likely have to use the Force to land.”

He nodded before his silence once again felt like the closing of a tomb door.

~***~

A gentle tug on your nightshirt—well, Luke’s nightshirt—woke you from your sleep. You blinked your eyes open to see R2 by your bedside, chirping urgently with one of his retractable arms attached to the black fabric.

“R2?” you grumbled. “What’s going on?” You reached out through the Force to inspect the ship, realizing Luke’s Force signature felt much too far to be onboard. “Where’s Luke?”

R2 beeped again before letting go of your shirt and rolling towards the door. When you didn’t immediately follow, he whizzed back to your side and whistled again, this time more insistent before returning to the door.

“All right, all right, let me put some shoes on at least.”

You stuffed your feet into your boots, not even bothering to tie the laces in your haste before scurrying after R2. You followed him through the maze-like trees, doing your best to avoid the mud, but knew you’d be heard from a mile away with how soft the ground was. As you followed the astromech through the forest, familiar voices became clear and you couldn’t withhold your groan as you heard Obi-wan for what felt like the hundredth time this week. What bad advice was he giving now?

“…secret marriage with your mother,” he was saying as you neared the stumps they were both sitting on. “He seemed to fear something horrible happening to her in childbirth—or maybe even you and your sister. He seemed to think the dark side was the only way to save all three of you and allow you to live as a family.”

Finally sick of what was, frankly, Obi-wan’s bullshit, you stormed towards their spot. You were sure you looked extremely menacing in your pajamas and unlaced boots, stomping through the mud, but you didn’t care. “Maybe that’s because he was tricked!”

Luke looked back at you in surprise. The Force ghost sitting with him didn’t seem at all surprised by your presence, but you could see the sudden apprehension all over his blue glowing face.

“Y/N?” Luke said. “What are you—um—”

His eyes fell to your legs, but you didn’t give yourself a second to pause and think as you turned your attention to Obi-wan. “You know and have said yourself—because Luke told me—that no one in the order realized how dangerous Palpatine was, or at least didn’t act on their concerns at all, and just let Anakin get close to him because, by your own admission, you thought having an ‘in’ with the chancellor would be a good idea. You didn’t think for a second that maybe Palpatine was grooming him? That he was looking at the lack of comfort, safety, and being allowed to just feel your feelings like any sentient being should be able to do and played on that? You don’t think he provided everything to Anakin that the order wouldn’t specifically so it would all play right into his hands? And you still want to go around saying the ‘only’ reason he fell to the dark side was because he fell in love and had kids?”

“Unchecked emotions are not an option for a jedi—” Obi-wan began.

“I never said they were. But I’m tired of you making Luke,” you gestured to your friend, who was still staring at you in shock, “feel like he’s potentially ruined his entire future as a jedi because of one mistake he almost made—which I would like to point out he pulled himself back at the last minute and didn’t actually use the dark side—and if he ever makes it again, he’s going to become just like Vader. That’s not how that works and you know it. A jedi shouldn’t let their emotions control them, no, but to say they’re never even allowed to have them in the first place? That’s just ridiculous and you know it! If the jedi are going to hold everyone to standards of unattainable perfection, no wonder your order was so easily corrupted from the inside. Your order’s own hubris is what kept them from seeing what was happening right under their noses the whole time. No sentient being should be expected to never have ‘bad’ emotions or never make a mistake, and maybe if Anakin had felt more supported and like he had someone to turn to about his fears without getting excommunicated, he wouldn’t have turned so easily.

“Plus, we’ve met a few jedi who survived the Purge who went on to have ‘attachments’ and never fell to the dark side. I bet there were more jedi that just Anakin who had secret lovers and even children. You can’t tell me in a temple with ten thousand or more jedi that only one ever broke this rule because it’s so ridiculous and unrealistic to expect—”

Luke stood and put himself between you and Obi-wan. “Y/N, that’s enough. Please calm down. These accusations and the lecture aren’t fair to throw at Obi-wan when he’s just trying to help.”

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline. “You call this help? Ever since you started your nightly sessions with him, you’ve just felt even more guilty and confused and it’s only gotten worse. You’re not even sleeping or eating, and all over some rule that was likely hurting the order more than helping—”

“Y/N, stop—”

“No!” You gestured to the Force ghost’s crestfallen face. “Look at him! He knows I’m making sense. I overheard you the other night, and I think teaching healthy connection versus unhealthy possession to padawans is a great idea. They’ll feel supported while learning that there can be an unhealthy side to things if they’re not careful, but that having those feelings at a base level doesn’t make them evil and they can have someone to talk to about it without being villainized. You were so adamant about there still being good in Vader and bringing him back to the good side, even after everything he did. You know deep down that banning any and all relationships or ‘attachments’ or whatever you want to call them is toxic.”

Luke’s expression had become more guilty as you spoke, but now shifted to annoyed. “Whatever your opinions on this matter, you need to show Obi-wan more respect—”

“No,” Obi-wan finally said. “Stop.” He stood and took a few steps closer to you. “…She’s right. About everything.”

Neither of you bothered to hide your surprise as Obi-wan glanced at his feet before awkwardly folding his hands behind his back. “When I was a young padawan…very young, foolish and inexperienced…I was put on a mission with my master, Qui-gon Jinn, to protect a young woman from dark side agents who sought to terminate her and all the work she was doing to help her homeworld. We became close, and it was often just myself and her, since someone needed to stay behind to protect her while my master was the one to hunt down clues or chase our assailants away. We…” he sighed, looking up at the stars peeking through the tree canopy, “were naïve…and thought we were being careful…”

You sighed and shook your head. For all his blustering about “no attachments,” here he was revealing that he himself had broken the rule. You glanced at Luke as a gentle breeze blew through, rustling the branches above you. The fleeting moonlight revealed the shocked look on your friend’s face as he stared at his old mentor, and you could feel anger and slight betrayal building in his signature.

Obi-wan cleared his throat. “Anyway…I never knew during my lifetime, but once I passed to the Netherworld of the Force, I found out she had a child—our child. She never told me or the boy a thing about it and neither of them sought me out as a result. Luke, your father’s ghost could tell you more himself, but it’s likely true…his relationship with your mother was likely not the entire reason he fell to the dark side. We did allow Anakin and Palpatine to get close…and that was likely a mistake on our part. Palpatine had many years to subtly manipulate your father. The nightmares your father claims about seeing her dying in childbirth were perhaps even planted by the emperor himself. Perhaps if he’d felt he could be more candid without risking everything, things would’ve been easier.

“There’s one more thing I feel I should note while we’re all here…my son did continue the bloodline…and,” he took a deep breath, “his child—my grandchild—is…standing here with us.” He pointedly looked at you.

You stared back in open shock. You definitely hadn’t been expecting that. Luke turned to look at you, just as shocked. You couldn’t help but reach out to him for comfort, feeling the fabric of his jacket sleeve between your fingers as you gazed at a nearby tree, trying your best to process all the information.

Silence reigned for several minutes before Obi-wan interrupted with a hesitant, “Luke?”

Luke subtly slid his hand up so that his pinky finger wrapped around yours. The action nearly brought tears to your eyes, as it was the first return of physical affection you’d received in what felt like forever. “I just…” he started, then stopped, shaking his head. “You’ve been recommending that rule when you yourself couldn’t even hold to it…I feel a bit lied to, Obi-wan.”

“I’m sorry, Luke. Your friend here did give me her honest thoughts and it did give me a slightly new perspective. But you’re right, I should’ve been more forthcoming.”

“And to your own granddaughter,” Luke’s voice shook slightly on the last word as his finger tightened around yours.

“Yes…” Obi-wan turned to you. “I’m sorry. I was unsure how to reveal myself to you and didn’t want to confuse or upset either of you, so thought it would be best to keep some distance. But I see I have done that anyway and for that, I deeply apologize. But…yes, Y/N, you are a Kenobi. And Luke, I will support whatever you do or don’t decide to do with the new order. I trust your judgement and the two of you are both much wiser than I was at your ages. Whoever trains under either of you will be lucky to have you.” He sighed, turning back to his old pupil. “I sensed the turmoil in you, Luke, and just wanted to help, since I already lost your father to the dark side and didn’t want to risk losing you as well. But that is no excuse and I see I should’ve thought through my actions more beforehand. I am sorry.”

“I…I need some space to think,” Luke said before wrapping his whole hand around yours, giving you a gentle squeeze, and walking deeper into the forest. R2, who had been present and silently watching the entire conversation, began to follow him with a concerned beep. Luke placed a comforting hand on his dome. “It’s all right, R2, stay with Y/N.” You watched as the shadows of night swallowed him as he trekked deeper through the trees, leaving you and Obi-wan alone.

You sucked on your lip for a moment before turning your gaze to the man who was evidently your flesh and blood. “Well…um, hi, Grandpa.”

Obi-wan finally cracked a smile. “Hello there…I know I likely can’t say it enough, but I am sorry. Like I said, I was afraid of losing Luke to the dark side, but also afraid of watching you go through the same thing I did: the pain of losing someone you consider family and having to grieve them while they’re still alive.”

“I appreciate that…” You leaned against R2 as he whistled long and low. “But…I think the lessons from the past should be used to inform about the future—not cause fear that makes you run away from things and completely cut them off as options.”

“You truly are much wiser than I was at your age, and I am proud to call you my blood.” He paused, moving to clasp his hands in front of him so that the large flared sleeves hid them from view. “I think it might be best to give Luke some space until he feels comfortable summoning me again. If you are comfortable and feel you’re in need, however, please do not hesitate to summon me yourself if you feel the need.” He gazed at you for a moment before giving you another small smile. “I sense everything will be all right and as it should be with the two of you in time. Please, take good care of each other.” The ghost suddenly faded from view, his blue form scattering on the breeze like smoke before there was no trace of him left.

You sighed and buried your face in your hands. R2 gently bumped your leg as you groaned. “Maker, R2, that was…so much.”

The droid beeped sadly next to you.

“We should probably check on Luke, then head back to the ship.”

You followed the path your friend had taken to find yourself deep in the woods, only the scant slivers of moon through the canopy and the fireflies there to light your way. You sensed Luke’s Force signature getting closer and closer, until you heard soft voices floating over to you. Glancing between several trees, you saw Luke sitting with another Force ghost you recognized as Anakin Skywalker. They were deep in conversation and Anakin put his hand on his son’s shoulder as you heard the name Padmé float towards you several times. You quietly turned, motioning for R2 to do the same before leading him back to the Redeemer.

You barely dragged yourself up the boarding ramp before flopping down onto the couch in the main hold. The lights were dim, and you took an opportunity to let your head thunk against the back of the cushions. It was almost three in the morning and you were exhausted (but likely nothing compared to your counterpart), but determined to make sure Luke returned okay and headed to bed. You closed your eyes for a moment only to feel R2’s retractable arm poking your leg, surprised to feel metal against your bare skin.

You stared at the droid in surprise as he continued to poke your leg with questioning little beeps. You looked down and groaned as you realized. “Oh, for kriff’s sake.” No wonder you’d gotten some funny looks: before storming after Luke, you’d completely forgotten to put on pants and had lectured everyone in Luke’s shirt and your underwear. Sweet Maker.

~***~

You bit your lip as you gripped the Redeemer’s controls. “Okay, help me out a bit here, R2.”

The droid tittered nervously from where he was plugged into a socket near the pilot’s chair. You looked nervously at the thick fog that enveloped the ship. You…sort of knew how to fly? You doubted you’d be much help in a firefight the way Luke would, but you could at least get from Point A to Point B—at least when Point B wasn’t covered in mist so opaque, you couldn’t see an inch out the viewport.

“Stupid kriffing flying,” you mumbled, “and stupid kriffing mysterious Force temple aesthetic.”

Normally, you would’ve relied on Luke for this sort of thing, but after returning from his talk with Anakin’s ghost, he’d crashed so hard, he hadn’t even noticed you quietly come into his room to check on him this morning. He was still sound asleep when you’d gently pulled his blanket to cover his feet, soft snores pouring from his open mouth, his limbs every which way, and his hair in complete disarray. It was likely the first good night’s sleep he’d gotten in days and you wouldn’t rob him of that. It was now eleven in the morning and he still hadn’t emerged from his room, so you figured you’d just go ahead and get the ship settled by the temple so all he had to worry about was waking up and stepping outside. But now you realized that might not have been the best idea.

Relax, you suddenly heard Obi-wan’s voice in your mind. Breathe. Drop your shoulders. Now feel the Force.

You did as bade, leaning so your back was flat against the seat and closing your eyes. You sank into the comforting feeling of life around you, sensing all the animals on the mountaintop scattering to the trees and bushes at the sound of your engines. You sensed a line of statues on either side of you and let the ship slowly sink down to the nearby ground with a gentle thunk. You opened your eyes and sighed in relief as you felt the landing legs of the shuttle settle into safe, sturdy ground.

“What’s going on?”

You turned to see a bleary, pajama-clad Luke in the doorway rubbing one of his eyes with his fist. He hadn’t put his glove over his cybernetic, the hole exposing the wiring laid bare for you to see. The two of you had shared enough private (and sometimes embarrassing) moments that you were one of the few people he didn’t bother to hide it from.

“We’re at the temple.”

He frowned and you tried not to chuckle at how adorably confused he looked with his nightshirt, shorts, and bedhead. “You landed the ship in the fog?”

You half-jokingly pursed your lips at him. “Thanks.”

“No, I just meant—I didn’t—I mean, you’re definitely capable—”

You stood and gave Luke’s shoulder a gentle pat. “Why don’t you go get some breakfast so you can function while we’re in there?”

He nodded before turning and stumbling over to the small kitchenette he’d installed, giving R2 a friendly pat on the way and making tea for both of you like he always did. The past few days, you’d found your drink waiting on the counter with Luke nowhere in sight and couldn’t describe the relief that flooded through you when he did his usual routine of bringing it to where you sat at the table with a small smile and shoulder squeeze. You could still sense some confusion and worry in him and he was quieter than usual—but at least the little signs of affection were slowly starting to come back and he wasn’t avoiding you like the plague.

Once you were both ready (and more coherent), the two of you headed down the landing ramp with lightsabers ready at your hips and an astromech fast on your heels. Although neither of you had found a full-fledged temple in your travels, plenty of places that held Force artifacts also seemed to hold a large amount of ghosts, dangers, visions, and boobytraps. The mist was suddenly much easier to see through now that you had your feet on the ground, which could only be a result of the Force itself.

You followed an overgrown, cracked cobblestone path lined with statues that had been worn away by the weather. You could just make out shapes of what seemed to be different jedi of all races: some were so eroded, you couldn’t even tell what race they were anymore while others were missing limbs, heads, entire upper torsos, and the like. You glanced back at the ship to see you’d landed it perfectly in the middle of the path and couldn’t help feeling proud of yourself. You turned to see Luke glancing at you and chuckled as he sensed your thoughts through the Force.

“Don’t get too cocky now,” he said.

“I mean, I did a pretty good job.”

He gave you another soft laugh. “That you did.”

At the end of the path were some unstable concrete steps leading up into a dark, black pit of a doorway. Half of it’s old fashioned double doors hung crooked on its hinges while the other half lay flat on the floor. You could see the roof had holes in many places while some rooms had crumbling half walls with nothing to shield it from the outside, making you wonder whether the elements had wrecked this place or a battle had.

Luke held out a hand to help you up the steep, crumbling steps, keeping a tight grip on you until you stood at the mouth of the void. The two of you took a deep breath in unison before descending.

~***~

The relief flooding through you as Home One came into view was indescribable, and you could tell Luke felt the same way from the pilot seat next to you. You glanced at him as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting R2 take over. After several hours, you and Luke had managed to find the ancient jedi texts you were looking for inside the temple. Ironically, they had mentioned the no attachment rule themselves, but with a twist—categorizing them as a specific form of unhealthy possession instead of the encouraged healthy connection, just as Luke had described to Obi-wan. It seemed “no attachment” equating all potential relationships was added later. When you’d pointed this out to Luke as the two of you sat hunched over the old parchment, he’d merely nodded before moving on. But you could feel the conflict deep in him, as well as a bone-deep exhaustion that seemed it would take more than just a day or two off to undo.

Just as the Redeemer neared Home One’s hangar, Luke took the controls back over and expertly landed the ship in the bay. He kept his hands on the controls for a few moments and gazed out at the hustle and bustle in front of him, completely lost in thought.

After a few more minutes of this, you gently touched his arm. “Um…Luke? Are you all right?”

He startled before nodding. “Yes, sorry.” He unbuckled himself before standing with you and gesturing for you to go ahead of him. He hung back a few steps as you descended the boarding ramp and you felt your stomach twist as you sensed not all was right with him. Once your feet had hit the floor of the hangar, you turned to see your friend and his droid had stopped several steps up.

“Are you coming?” you asked, fearing the answer.

He hesitated, glancing behind you for a moment as Leia strode over to you from the other side of the bay. “I…think I need a few days to myself to work through everything. This was a lot to process, and I sense some important decisions about the new jedi order need to be made before moving forward.”

You sighed and let your shoulders sink, avoiding his gaze. You had hoped after everything that happened on Khofar, things would go back to the way they were before. Now, they were apparently in jeopardy all over again.

Sensing your turmoil, Luke descended the final few steps of the ramp to stand in front of you, putting gentle hands on your upper arms. “I will come back, I promise. I won’t just abandon you. I just want some time and space to myself to think and not be distracted by all the hustle and bustle of people through the Force.”

You fought the telltale burning of tears in your eyes. “But you’ve always taken me with you when you needed that before.”

“I know.” His own eyes reflected your sadness right back at you. “But you haven’t done anything wrong, and I promise this isn’t goodbye. I just need two or three days, then I’ll be right back. You have my word.”

“Luke!” Leia called with a smile as she got closer.

Luke raised his hand to wave before turning back to you. His eyes turned sad again as he gently wiped a tear away from your cheek you hadn’t realized escaped. “I’ll come back for you, I promise.” He hesitated, staring into your eyes for a moment with lips stretched thin, before taking your face between his hands and leaving a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead.

You tried not to cry even more as Leia finally caught up with you, wrapping her brother in a tight hug before looking at him in surprise. “You’re leaving again?” She glanced at you where you stood rigidly gripping your bag’s shoulder strap amidst the usual chaos of the hangar. “And Y/N isn’t going with you?”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Luke said, trying to morph his face into something reassuring, but you could sense his own anxiety pouring through your connection. “Just two to three days.”

Leia glanced at you again before turning an almost scolding look on Luke, crossing her arms over her chest. “Jedi business?”

“Yes,” Luke said, quickly turning to go. You knew from past experience he was rushing to leave before Leia’s commanding tone made his resolve crumble. “I’ll have my comm on if there’s an emergency.”

And just like that, he and R2 disappeared into the ship. As the boarding ramp slowly closed, you had half a mind to jump in anyway and insist he take you with—but that wouldn’t have helped anything. And to be honest, after the experience of the last three days, you were much too exhausted to fight anymore.

You and Leia took several steps back as the Redeemer slowly rose up, turned, then sped out the hangar’s opening towards the darkness. You bit your lip to avoid a show of emotion in front of the princess—you’d never had to watch the ship you had come to know as home leave without you and it was jarring sight. Would your room ever feel the same again? Or would Luke decide he would honor the no attachment rule anyway, and your relationship would turn into something permanently cold, distant, and formal? Just two jedi who work together instead of two good friends. It didn’t help that he hadn’t given you any indication which way he was leaning.

“Okay,” Leia turned to you, arms still crossed over her chest and her brow stern. “Now what’s really going on?”

You finally met her eyes, unable to hold back the tears anymore as you continued to suck on your lip.

Leia’s fiery resolve crumbled and she immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, what’s going on?” Some annoyance reentered her gaze. “What did my brother do?”

“Um,” you warbled, wiping some tears away with your sleeve as they fell down your face, “it’s a long story.”

Leia gently rubbed your back. “Well, it’s time for dinner.” She started gently leading you towards the back doors. “Why don’t we both order some food to my quarters and you can tell me all about it? See if I can help?”

You merely nodded, desperate for comfort as you leaned into Leia’s embrace. Once at her quarters sat in front of a healthy smattering of food, you tearfully told her everything. When you got to the part about Obi-wan’s bad advice, she groaned with a sweet Maker, staring at you in shock when you revealed he’d told you that you were also a Kenobi. She sighed and face palmed again at some of her brother’s actions and ended the story with a look on her face that was so annoyed, you knew that look alone would’ve shut the entire problem building over the last several days down in seconds. She tried to reassure you that Luke didn’t have it in him to leave you as the two of you ate, but you could sense her own frustration and worry through the Force.

After eating, you used her attached refresher to wash up, cry for a few minutes in private, and splash some water on your face so you weren’t a spectacle walking back to your own quarters—which hadn’t been used in months with how often you’d been out and about with Luke on the Redeemer. You realized you’d come to think of that set of quarters as your room much more than the one here on Home One and the thought almost made you cry again. You sniffled before sighing and doing your best to keep it together long enough to say goodbye to Leia and walk towards your own bed.

As you reentered the main area of the princess’s apartments, you found them empty, but could hear her voice floating from a side room. You quietly made your way forward to see her in a small den, sitting agitated, straight backed on the edge of a chair with a comm close to her mouth. You couldn’t make out the words, but heard Luke’s voice float through the comm back to her and it felt like your heart twisted and dropped into your stomach at the sound.

“Luke, you know I love you and I understand the immense pressure you’re under,” Leia replied, her voice quiet but still filled with a firm sharpness that brooked no room for argument, “but you need to get it together—”

You quickly escorted yourself out, your speed walking just a step down from running towards your room as you kept your head trained on your feet. The burning in your eyes was building again and you felt your chest constrict the closer you got to the familiar, but lately unused bedroom door, and couldn’t help reliving that feeling of a tomb door booming closed between you and Luke, sealing your fates.

~~~~

Taglist (please let me know via comment or DM if you'd like to be added): @kaleidoscope1967eyes @masterlukessaber @coffeeorsomething-irl @lxstfathier @rogue-kenobi @sonofthedunes @pomplalamoose @lex-the-flex @myevilmouse @ilovemarkhamill @goddessesofeverything @acupnoodle

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

Engaging Encounter - Chapter 2 - Panic and Plans

HEY! I finally have something to post for Fiddleford Friday!

Overall Summary:

Let's fucking goooo!

This was going to be some fairly straightforward old/post canon Fiddauthor smut but apparently I fell into a hyperfocus state resulting in 22,000-ish words of fluff, musings, and smut and now I am absolutely going to make that everyone else's problem:

In the months following Weirdmageddon, Ford reconciled with Stan while helping him with his lost memories but struggled to really reconnect with Fiddleford until Dipper and Mabel visited for their winter break. When Mabel found out they were once more than friends, she couldn’t help recruiting Stan and Dipper to help her play matchmaker again.

Chapter Summary:

Mabel recruits Dipper and Stan to help her in her matchmaking mission but their plan goes sideways almost immediately.

Chapter Notes:

This chapter is mostly Ford and Fidds dealing with their baggage and multiple little snippets of characters bonding. This one only has a few suggestive lines so it's Smut: Extra Lite. Stay tuned for Smut Ultra next week. Warnings for panic attacks and PTSD

Overall Notes:

*More feelings and characterization-heavy smut to follow Embarrassing Encounter

*It references events from the Pleasant Encounters series but it isn't necessary to read those to understand this.)

*The entirety of this is already written and new chapters will be posted on Friday evenings (EST).

*Chapters one and two are Smut Lite (mostly feelings, bonding, and fluff)

*Chapters three and four are Smutty Smut Smut.

*Ford and Fiddleford do not know what labels they fall under but Stan mentions it might be sex-positive and on the aroace spectrum.

*Dipper and Mabel understand sexual topics in this fic. They’re not involved in any but they’re not ignorant to them. It’s mentioned that their parents have already talked to them about it all in an appropriate way. Just sticking that warning here in case it bothers anyone if they understand what’s happening behind closed doors and joke about it in the way that 13-year-olds sometimes do.

(Going to reblog with the link and a link to some art so check the notes for this or just search for Snarkyhermit on AO3.)

[oleander-nin]

Writing advice(hopefully)

I TAKE EVERYTHING BACK I SAID I DO HAVE A METHOD TO WRITING. I JUST DIDN'T REALIZE IT WAS A METHOD BECAUSE I'VE DONE IT FOR SO LONG.

advice under cut

Before you write something, flesh the ENTIRE thing out. I don't mean like kinda do a couple word summary, I mean write the basics before you write how the basics go together. You want to write about a picnic? Flesh out things they might say during it, what their bringing, who's making the food, etc etc.

Examples from my own writing doc for my most recent posted fic->

As you can see, it's long, and tells me most of what I need. It's also not organized, and many things are misspelled or grammatically incorrect. This is because my main goal was to get a basic plan out, not to make it look pretty. I also had three slightly different ideas I could go with before deciding on which I wanted. The more you have down, the easier it will be. I also color code mine, but that's not necessary, it's just ease of use. I can explain my color coding if needed, but I won't until asked.

2. Write in chunks. Do you have that really specific scenario already planned out? Write it first. You can make the rest around it, but once you get at least that small bit out, the rest can come naturally.

3. Keep yourself occupied. I get bored easily if I'm just writing, so I have to be doing other things at the same time. Just make sure it's something simple so you don't get distracted. I personally use my cat as to keep my stimulated(?) enough to continue. You could mimic something like this by putting on music/shows in the background, or writing multiple fics at once.

4. Don't force yourself if you can. I know I said I do earlier, but that was mostly a joke. I write to deal with stress, so writing in itself calms me down. It's difficult to do something if I'm not perfectly in tune with it. If a request is proving to be difficult, or an idea isn't doin what you want, change it up a bit until it fits into the puzzle better. You'd rather have a changed fic than no fic.

5. Use prompt generators for ideas if you're stuck. I personally have a big tin of cookie fortunes and verbs/nouns so I pick two up and create a story around that. It helps get your brain going. And you can keep doing this until something sparks.

6. Stay as focused as you can. Close other tabs, keep your eyes on your writing, stuff like that. I know this may seem to conflict with the 'keeping yourself occupied' one, but you really have to find the right balance for you. For example, I can't have music playing, but I CAN talk to other people while I write. Play around until you find your zone.

7. Try not to edit as you go. It's okay to fix a word or two as needed, but once something takes over 5 minutes to fix, you should skip it and move on. Your main goal should be able to get it all down so you have something to edit eventually.

8. If you forget a word, don't dwell on it too much. Just put something as a safeholder(ie: Elephant, Jumanji, etc), highlight it, and move on. You can shoot a friend a text to help find the word, but don't stress if nothing matches what you're thinking of. You can figure it out after, or find a new word.

9. If you get stuck while writing, go back about three to five sentences and read it over. See if you can continue going, or find what you need to change. It doesn't have to be a huge change, it just has to be enough to get you going again. And if you can't figure it out? Skip it and write the rest and figure out the transition later.

10. Use references throughout you're writing. Whether it's on the world, injuries, dialogue, emotion portrayal, or anything in between, do research and find references. It can help make connections in your brain as well as make it easier to write. For many fanfics, if you look up the fandom's wiki, their personalities will be included in their character's article.

I think that's it for now, I might add more later. I really hope this make an inkling of sense, I got frustrated after Tumblr deleted half of what I wrote the first time around. Apologies for the rambles, I am neither good with words, neither with explaining myself in a coherent manner. If anyone needs/wants extra clarification, don't be shy to ask. And my sincerest apologies for not saying this in a reblog @itsyagurlchip, but it was starting to get long and I hate how you can't collapse reblogs so I put it here. If you need me to, I can copypaste and put it as a reblog.

[gege-wondering-around]

so, i'm posting a chapter of the fic per weekend and i just posted a oneshot

given my horrible schedule of getting home late and having tons of work from school, the next oneshot (or less-than-5-chapter work) i'll work on while managing school and the multi-chapter work will start from today/tomorrow and no one will ever when it'll be due for posting

anyway

i have a few options and i need to know which one you'd like the most (cause i cannot decide for the life of me)

option 1 (oneshot or max -5 chapters) : Prison Break fanfic, Power Bottom Micheal x Top Alex, set in season 3 in Sona (summary in very shot senteces: following the canon events, alex saves micheal from the fight and kills the guy, then he gets protective of him and as he feel the withdrawl from the drugs, micheal notices both his protective attutide (borderline obsessive) and frantic manners due to the absense of drugs) - Tags: explicit, violence, drugs use, possible fun time + ref

option 2 (from 2 to 4 chapters max): Teen wolf, Power Bottom Stiles x Top Derek, alternative universe werewolf are known (summary: derek is a sort of mafia boss and stiles his 'doll'; in reality, stiles is the mastermind behind everything derek plans and besides getting more money in derek's pockets, he also wants to avenge his father's dead, but to do so he has to kill derek's 'beloved' ex - jennifer - while doing so under his nose and maybe even with his help and without losing him in the process) - Tags: explicit, violence, death, gore etc, possible sexual tension + fun time

option 3 (oneshot up to 2 chapters max) : Teen wolf, Bottom Stiles x Top Derek, alternative universe fox!Stiles (summary: after the ghost riders, stiles is forgetten by everyone when derek finds a fox in the forest, which he takes care of and as times goes on, something interesting starts to happen as stiles can see everyone not remebering him in his new fox-shaped appearence) - Tags: Teens/Mature, fox!Stiles, ghost riders, love confessions

option 4 (from 3 to 5 chapters max) : Teen wolf, Top Stiles x Power Bottom Derek, canon divergence (summary: stiles got bit and for a multitude of reasons he cannot explains, he becomes an alpha and is helped by derek (also alpha) to managed it. little does he know what their change in hierarchy actually means since two alpha might want to bite each other's throats off) - Tags: explicit, werewolf!Stiles, alphaxalpha, stiles has to learn how to be a werewolf, rough fun time probably

SO!

thank you for helping me out a bit with his little poll and please reblog to expand the votes around, it would help a lot!

Once more, thank you and stay tuned for what will happen next!

[uselesssomebody]

𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤 - joel miller x reader

complete masterlist | joel miller masterlist

words || 𝟚.𝟜𝕜

summary || in which the reader and ellie try to make joek the perfect christmas

a/n || i got the christmas fic out kinda on time?? i'm so shocked

➵ i will find it in myself to be consistent at some point. not yet tho. anyways this week has been hell so i'm happy i wrote something. this is not a 100% practical apocalypse christmas, but we work with what we have

➵ if you don't celebrate christmas or this fic is not for you, i'm working on a moon knight winter themed work to be posted before/at new years (with hopefully some hanukkah mentions!!) so if that interests you stay tuned!

➵ merry christmas if you celebrate! i hope you guys have had a nice ass extended weekend or are holidaying somewhere fun

➵ not edited (yet)

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff

joel had been everywhere since the outbreak started. quarantine zones in boston, traveling across the midwest, once being carted off all the way to montana. 

that didn’t change the fact that home was 2003 austin, texas. the last time his heart didn’t always race, the last place he didn’t have to sleep with one eye open. the last place he called home.

but dammit, if jackson wasn’t coming close. and why wouldn’t it? tommy was here, and ellie was - too. his heart didn’t beat like he’d just run a marathon - or from a group of raiders or stalkers. his sleep came naturally here - the bags under his eyes had began reducing. the restless nights didn’t come from flashbacks, or nightmares anymore, but rather, the woman sleeping next to him.

she always knocked out like a light after they were done, curling into the human furnace he essentially was, head finding its familiar place on the left side of his chest, his broad palm wrapped around her shoulder - pulling her closer. he didn’t mind - he got his nightly eyeful of her beauty: the peaceful expression on her face, the way her lips slightly parted as she puffed out air, the way a loose strand of hair might reach down to tickle her nose or her cheek, causing her to twitch in discomfort until he would push the offending strand back into place. 

he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head - a softness he never exhibited to anyone but his two girls - much to tommy’s chagrin. he smiles softly, lips curling as he remembers the events of the day. breakfast at the cantina, helping her help with some of the crops that the settlement was growing for self-sustenance, the both of them taking ellie to a friend’s house, enjoying lunch with her - a moment alone from the excitable teenager - before he left for his nightly patrolling duty, only to return to her and ellie a few hours later. 

a peaceful day. with the both of them.

he glances over at the large window shining the moon’s dim light into the room. it’s snowing, the white flakes reflecting the moonlight to create a glittery night sky, having already stacked onto the outdoor windowsill. 

that was one of the things that reminded him that this wasn’t austin. the *snow*. piling high on the roofs, a bitch to clear in the front of the little house the three of them shared - a chore she always managed to convince him to do. it wasn’t exactly a tough bargain: a small kiss to his lips, and a ‘pretty please?’, and - much to the amusement of ellie - he’d be out of the door with the shovel in an instant. joel liked the snow - it was, in many ways, aesthetically pleasing, if not a little inconvenient. 

and - well, a white christmas, right? who would he be to deny that beauty, especially for his favorite holiday of the year - back when things were normal. while tommy and him traveled together, though, he’d still offer an extra ration of food, reciprocated by a medkit or a bandage on tommy’s end. when he and tess were still together, they’d exchange guns. joel always got the short end of the stick - sometimes literally, once earning a pistol is exchange for a rifle. didn’t matter, though. tess was ecstatic, and it’s not like the two didn’t share.

that was one thing he was real excited for since bringing ellie here - getting her something she’d really want for christmas. and the same for her, laying next to him. using an elaborate network of spies (see: tommy and maria), he had discreetly collected the information as to what would interest them both. 

for ellie, 3 new editions of savage starlight, the joel had managed to find when he’d been assigned on runs away from the perimeter of the settlement. and for her, a cassette player, that he had tinkered with to get to work again. it had some of her favorite songs - the ones she’d heard from others after the outbreak, or the ones she’d remembered from before, and it had taken hours of looking around abandoned cars for the cassette tapes. he hoped to add to her collection for the new year, and to catch her able to actually listen to the songs she likes to hum to much in the shower, or around the house.

the only problem was… well, the atmosphere. it was a white christmas, sure, but the distinct reds and greens were missing from the town. there was a christmas tree up in the hall, but little else specifically regarding christmas, to his disappointment. maria’s explanation was to allow space for every winter celebration to breath. there was hanukkah candles around the settlement’s common areas, adding a distinct beauty in the flickering lights of the flames. similarly, kwanzaa candles were up anywhere that diwali’s clay lamps had been previously. the settlement had so many groups, that joel was sure that he missed other decorating items. and he didn’t mind a bit of it.

but he’d been so busy with everything, that he hadn’t had time to nurture the spirit of christmas that he enjoyed so much, even privately. he would have liked to wake up to a decorated tree, a flurry of red and green around the living room, but it was already christmas eve. and after the excitable day he’d had - now in the company of his love, and ellie just down the corridor, he figured he didn’t mind all too much.

he was home.

he was asleep. finally.

she sighs in relief, finally squeezing out of his snuggle. regardless of his years on the road, he was always a heavy sleeper - even more nowadays, with less apparent threats. thank god for her.

she’d had to pretend to be asleep a lot longer than she thought she’d have to, him obviously having a contemplative night before deciding to fall asleep, but she’s grateful it’s finally happened. sneaking out of the room, avoiding the floorboards she’d memorized as the creaky ones, she shuts the door with the smallest clack - but even that makes her wince. stilling for a moment to ensure joel hasn’t woken, she looks down the hall at ellie, who is similarly traversing the floor with caution. 

“he asleep?” ellie asks, and she affirms with a grin.

“out like a light.” ellie gives her a thumbs up, before they both make their way to the back door - which was perfectly larger than the front door. outside, tommy stands, looking bored out of his mind.

“jesus. what the hell took you guys so long?” he grumbles, which makes ellie giggle, muffling it behind her palm.

“he kept thinking, oh, you know how he is, tommy.” she brushes off his annoyance with a little smile, and he shrugs.

“yes, ma’am.” he salutes playfully.

“did you get it?” ellie asks excitably, and he nods, reaching around to the side of the house to procure the spruce tree - a net tied around it to ensure the branches wouldn’t hit anything. it’s about a foot taller than tommy, and it’s just perfect for the house. “c’mon, c’mon!” ellie insists in a hushed whisper, and the two of them help him with bringing the tree discreetly inside.

once it’s neatly in, tommy drops off his wrapped gift for joel, having already dropped off in the evening his and maria’s gift of the best christmas cookies - well, any cookies - ellie and her had ever eaten, and bids the two girls farewell. when the house is silent again, she looks at ellie.

“wanna do the tree, or the other stuff?” to no surprise to her, ellie’s response is immediate.

“tree."

after a half-hour of decorating and filling the living room with some semblance of christmas joy, she hoists ellie up as much as she can so the teen can place a makeshift, glittering star on the top of the tree. adorned in reds and greens, the living room looked perhaps more woodsy than like a shop display - due to the lack of a perfect tinsel replica - but the glitter and foil would have to as viable substitutes.

exhausted, the both of them sneak another one of tommy and maria’s cookies, before ellie places three gifts for joel under the tree - from the two girls and tommy - while she looks in joel’s not-so-hidden hiding spot, for all his goods he didn’t want her or ellie finding. she’d found it almost immediately after its creating though, and knew joel was hiding their gifts in there. though, as they were wrapped, they still remained a mystery to her as she placed them under the tree. 

the fruitful effort ends with a hug goodnight, before ellie wanders into her room to pass out, and she sneaks back into her and joel’s room, seeing him still in deep sleep - even snoring a little. 

with a big, fat beam on her face, she curls back up next to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and whispering,

“merry christmas, joel.”

the next morning, joel awakens to an agitated ellie tapping her foot on the floor, sitting at the foot of the bed, reading a book as she waited for him to awaken.

“oh, finally.” she sighs in relief, helping him sit up, as he wiped his eyes groggily, “c’mon, she’s making pancakes!” pancakes for breakfast was reserved for special days, and today was very special. with a half-smile, joel gets to his feet, grabbing and pulling ellie into his side my her shoulders, and hugging her tightly, ruffling her hair.

“merry christmas, ellie.”

“merry christmas, joel!” she chirps back, very animatedly. 

too animatedly.

joel’s eyes nearly bug out when they reach the living room, where this morning’s chef is standing, a big grin on her face.

“surprise!” she and ellie say in unison, as his eyes dart around to take in the christmas colors, the stockings, the - oh, the tree!

the little kid inside him was practically jumping for joy at the ornate tree that rose above a smattering of presents on the ground. 

she joins him and ellie, taking his other hand.

“like it?”

“like it? baby, i love it.” he kisses her cheek, holding the kiss, trying to convey how meaningful this was to him, and ellie playfully prods his side, pretending to cringe. in response, he lets out a big, hearty laugh - one of few - and ruffles her hair, squeezing her tighter. both, his silent thank you’s.

after a big breakfast of pancakes, they settle into the couch, gifts surrounding them. 

ellie goes first. she unwraps joel’s present to her - the new editions of the comic. she blows her lid in excitement, hugging him tightly, before beginning to wander off as she examines the comic, making the two adults laugh as they playfully beg her to come back.

then she goes. the bulky gift makes her curious, but, as the unwraps it, seeing the cassette tape, her eyes widen in shock, “baby, how on earth…?” her brows furrow as she internalizes the effort it must have taken him to collect all those songs. the looks she gives joel is nothing short of adoration, and that made every minute of the hunt worth it.

finally, it’s joel. tommy’s gift first, and it sloshes when he jiggles it. unwrapped, it’s a familiar label and liquid: a jack daniel’s old number 7, his go-to before the outbreak. surprised his little brother remembered, he grins lightly as he places the bottle beside him, looking forward to enjoying it. from her, he opens the gift to find a meticulously crafted, sewn and polished knife holster, “because i mentioned how old mine was?” he asks her softly, and she nods, with a sheepish smile, “i love it.” he affirms, tracing the edges, “my baby’s good at everything then?” he teases, and she giggles - much to ellie’s distaste.

“open mine, joel!” she insists, placing her smaller box in his arms. 

“hold on, ellie.” he laughs, taking the wrapping off meticulously. it’s an unassuming box, and, looking inside, his face sobers a little. 

it’s a watch. with a brown band, and a white dial - more importantly it works. immediately, ellie’s face falls.

“you don’t like it? i thought… you know, your watch doesn’t work, so-”

joel sighs, shaking his head as he pulls ellie to him to calm her.

“no, no - it’s not that.” he assures, throat constricting as he experiences a heartbreaking deja vu. 

they don’t know.

after a moment of silence, joel smiles.

“i think it’s great, ellie. i really like it, damn well needed a watch too - tommy always keeps me an hour and a half instead of an hour on our patrols, and i can never prove it. now i can.” he tried to diffuse the tension with a small joke, but ellie still looks a little concerned. she does too. 

joel immediately puts the watch on, but on his other wrist, leaving sarah’s watch untouched. “there.” he hums, examining the watch on his wrists.

“matches your boots,” she comments, and ellie lights up a bit.

“i did that on purpose.” joel smiles up at her.

“well thank you, ms. fashionista.” he teases, “now i don’t got an excuse to be late for dinner, huh?”

the two other finally crack, giggling a little.

“so you always know you’re late for dinner?” ellie teases, and he laughs.

“gotta give you two time to scheme alone, hmm?” he counters, “where would all these decorations have come from if y’all didn’t have a couple minutes alone at the table.” he teases.

“well, now, since you won’t be late, all three of us will scheme.”

“against tommy.” joel adds, and ellie laughs.

after a few more jokes, ellie goes to wear out her new comics, and the other two remain on the couch. lazily wrapping an arm around his neck, she hums.

“happy?”

“ecstatic.” he assures, with a content smile. she traces the new watch on his wrist - ellie’s.

“makes you look cool. like you’re a very busy man.”

“you say it like i’m not.” he jokes back, and she smiles.

“you’ve got enough time for us.” she counters, and he leans back, pulling her flush to him as he kisses her lips softly.

“you two are the only things i got time for.” he corrects. her cheeks heat.

“merry christmas, joel.”

“merry christmas.”

[charlotterhea]

"Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass it on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Thank you for the rec, @cissykenway! I love babbling about my fics and now I can even do it by invitation. 😁 (Although, ngl, choosing five stories will be hard! I've just written too much...)

1. "About Magic" The story isn't translated yet but it's the last long fic I completed and it's just so different from everything else I've written. It's detailed, new, and reads more like an actual novel than my other stories. There are so many OCs in this one that grew on me and although some readers were disappointed by the second half, I love this story to bits. It's peak slow burn, like ... you have to be really patient here! *lol* But I love it for the immense plot and the way I managed to keep it completely canon-compliant - yes, including the epilogue. 😏 I'm looking forward to translating it one day.

2. "Medicus"-Series Another not yet translated story but at least this will be my next translation project so stay tuned if you're interested! It's easily one of, if not the hardest story I've ever written, especially Part III. I've written that one coming out of a mentally very challenging time and I needed a place to put everything I've seen, learned, and experienced during the preceding years of my life. So this story ended up being full of trauma, a lot of it about things I never experienced myself, making me extremely nervous about whether I depicted it halfway decently. But ever since I posted the story, so many readers told me that it really hit home for them and that it was healing to read the story so I think I did enough things right. 😅 Anyway, this story is not just full of trauma, it's also a story full of love and there is a lot of healing happening as well although it takes some time to get there. But the end of this series is the end I'm most proud of all my stories. It's just perfect in my eyes, even today.

3. "Our Souls at Full Moon" This story was a pain in the ass! But only because I made it so. 😅 I couldn't get this plot out of my mind but didn't have the time to write such a long project either so I decided to make it a drabble story. And when I was finished with that, I spontaneously decided to try something new with my writing style, so I revised, almost rewrote the whole thing. 🙈 Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of what became of the story, but looking back it might have taken me a similar amount of time to write the long version. ^^ Still, I love it. It has some sentences in it that are unusually poetic for me, is reduced to the bare minimum, and yet brimming with emotions. I made myself cry writing this story and although I'm not entirely sure if I succeeded in translating it adequately, this has earned a place on this list.

4. "Red Passion and Pavlov's Dogs" This is my most successful one-shot, both in German and in English, so of course, this has to be on the list. 😂 Tbh, I didn't expect this story to receive so much love. I wrote it in one sitting, in a tense I wasn't used to and kept agonising over for several days until I decided to just let it go, and half of the ideas aren't mine - but the vibe, the emotions, the rawness... A lot of readers asked for a second part but I'm sure I'd only ruin it. The magic of this story is in its open end and I would never dare touch it again. I couldn't replicate this kind of vibe for a second part anyway. So this plot became the Schroedinger's Cat of my nightly musings as well. Do they get a happy end or will they screw it up? Nobody knows, least of all me, and I won't open that damn box to find out. It's perfect as it is. ^^

5. "Otherside" There are other stories of mine that are more in character, more elaborate, more profound than this for sure - but oh boy, did I have fun writing this! 😂 Putting two Severus ... Severi ... Severussi ...? Well, two of them into one story was just peak-comedy for my brain and I don't care a bit that the younger one is probably more a 21-year-old version than the 39-year-old version he's supposed to be. I had an absolute field day writing them and their banter was worth the action part I whined my way through. I'm actually rather proud of said action part; I normally avoid writing action, it's just not for me, but I'm happy with how I managed this. It was nice to see that I can write action if I have to, even if I don't particularly enjoy it. So this deserved to be on this list as well. ^^

Softly tagging @frenchpresswriter, @dragoon811, @naomijameston, @janacariad and @echoofawind. 💚

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: A light at the end of the tunnel

Ezra x ofc , ft Cee

Words: 3,140

December entry for Artes’s Year of Whump ( and fluff) @yearofcreation2023

Summary: As Ezra struggles post recovery, Cee plays cupid and finds his lost love.

Warnings: recovery, depression, loss of a limb

An: This is the official end of Arte’s Year of Whump. It was so fun, thank you yearofcreation! I know I missed some months, but glad I could close out December. I love this story so much, it’s open for later expansion. More notes at the end…

Preview below, read in full on A03 (account holders)

Sunlight peeked through the curtains, sending rays of light across the bedroom. This might be the first time he’s woken up before sunset in weeks.

His eyes settled on his new arm. It was still a strange feeling, having a robotic limb. But it did provide a small comfort as the loss of his arm, on top of everything else, sent him into the darkest place he’d been in years. Ezra told himself, he didn’t need a replacement, he would learn his way with one arm, and be just fine. He’s a man who weathered many storms. But he found his phantom arm haunted him. His mood, his self-esteem, and his sense of purpose all plummeted.

Ezra sat up with a groan and followed the scar on his torso with his eyes. Sometimes he could still feel that jab, sometimes he woke up in a sweat thinking it was happening all over again. He’s endured worse, he’s gone toe to toe with no hesitation with some of the meanest, more dangerous men and beasts one could face. Still, the events on the Green haunted him the most. Sometimes he could still hear that disturbing music in his ears.

Ezra died twice on that noxious moon; when he lost his arm, and when he was stabbed. But he was revived too. Cee, bless her heart, dragged back some version of him to civilization, a shell of him he didn’t recognize. The price of that job was the highest he’s ever paid; one he was still paying for now.

Ezra coughed as he rummaged the surface of the nearby table, then he found it, the recent letter from Cee.

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More Ezra

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About this year long challenge:

Works from this challenge that have more to come:

1. Is this how it ends? Turned into a full fic, we are on chapter 4 or 5 now and it's ongoing.(TF, dark Santi, ofc)

2. Dial up the Jack, Dim the Whiskey will have a part two. (Agent Whiskey, ofc)

3. The thing about second chances will have a part two.

Stay tuned by subscribing to those fics.

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@eddiemonth Day 8: Rockstar, Confident

Word Count: 952 Rating: T | cw: No Happy Ending, Break-Up Fic, No Resolution, Hurt No Comfort My first post for Eddie Month! With this event's prompts, I reallyyy want to challenge myself and write things I typically wouldn't/haven't so far. I'm sorry for starting out a week late with a no-happy-ending fic, I didn't mean for it to work out this way 😭😅 Thanks to both Lex and Lex for creating and hosting this event 💖💖💖

Since he was a boy, listening to a healthy combination of his mother's records and any and every radio station his dad could tune into, Eddie dreamed of being a rockstar.

When he was six, his grandma gifted him a battery-operated plastic microphone with sound effects. Later when he first moved in with his uncle and the Munson family had dwindled down to just the two of them, Wayne brought home an acoustic guitar from Goodwill.

Eddie practised and played away, sometimes for hours too long until underdeveloped callouses stung and bled. Wayne helped him paint 'This Machine Slays Dragons' on it so he could be just like Woody Guthrie, one of his mom's favourites.

He soon found his fellow bandmates in Jeff, Gareth and George. Gareth offered up his garage and Jeff came up with the name Corroded Coffin. Eddie and George made merch and drew up posters.

They practised and played until Gareth's mother kicked them out of the garage, complaining about what the neighbours might think of their noisy metal thrashing. They entered the Battle of the Bands contest in middle school, then started playing at The Hideout perhaps a few years too early for a handful of drunks who probably weren't listening anyway.

Then they spent the next few years scrimping and saving between jobs, travelling to other towns in his shitty van until they found an even shittier (but bigger) van and a studio that was willing to give them a booking to record a demo.

They shopped it around for a good long while as Eddie turned on his charm.

And one day they got a chance.

George called Eddie, frantically talking about a producer who wanted to re-record the demo with an expert on hand, all the while promising more music and a meeting with a potential manager.

And if all that wasn't enough, Eddie found himself with none other than Steve Harrington by his side.

After a good few years of pining and failed dates and the temporary comfort of other people, they finally got their act together. It was Christmas, just a few months after the demo got picked up. They kissed out on Claudia Henderson's front porch with snow falling around them as they promised each other more.

Then Corroded Coffin made it.

The perks came fast. Money – oh-so-much fucking money! Private cars and drivers to take them anywhere they wanted. Touring around the world and sightseeing between gigs. Adoring fans. Photoshoots. Magazine covers, interviews and TV spots.

Eddie always maintained it was about the music, though. The rush, the confidence and power it gave him to be performing on stage. Whether it be The Hideout or a goddamn stadium. It filled his soul from the moment he stepped on stage until the band finished their encore.

But most of all, he had Steve by his side. Always.

Until he didn't.

Until the night he got back to their hotel room, a swanky penthouse overlooking New York City that they always stayed in. They were barely a night out from returning back to the States from a quick promo tour in Europe for the new album.

Steve had left a note scrawled in his messy handwriting on the hotel's branded notepad.

'Going to Robin's' is all it said.

Eddie was angry at the time. He balled the note up in his fist and hurled it across the room.

At the time he was pissed because Steve was acting all bitchy pouty at the airport after barely speaking a word to him the whole flight. Then he was tapping away incessantly on the limo's middle armrest the whole car ride, looking at the window with his stupid Tom Cruise sunglasses on.

At the time he guessed it had something to do with the last night in Amsterdam. The band had a gig, the last one and Eddie just wanted some quiet so he skipped out on dinner, telling their security to pass the message on to Steve.

But it was just a tiff, right? Steve knew what it was like – how exhausting being on the road could get sometimes.

He thought Steve knew what the deal was, that he didn't mean anything by not going to dinner. Hell, Steve was used to a last-minute change of plans after years of this, right?

At least that's what Eddie told himself until Steve didn't call.

Or come back.

So, Eddie called Robin's number. No answer.

Then he asked Jeff to call, even their manager. Still nothing.

A call to Wayne made it real though.

"Eddie," his uncle had sighed, voice low and impossibly disappointed.

And then everything he had gained came to mean nothing.

As Eddie now stands at the door to Robin's apartment in Chicago, he knows he fucked up. Knows that it won't be easily forgiven.

Knows that Robin will probably cut his dick off if she arrives home from... Which gallery had she moved to, again? Steve told him. Weeks ago... months? He thinks...

He should have asked his publicist to look up the name of the gallery along with Buckley's address.

His stomach drops and tears begin to fall as Steve opens the door.

"Oh," his boyfr – Steve – mutters as his brows quickly knit together.

Eddie slaps his hand onto the doorframe, chancing the guy slamming the door shut and thus smooshing his guitar-wielding digits.

But then Steve rips off his wire-framed glasses and presses the heels of his palms into his reddening eyes.

"How could you just forget about me?" he sobs, his whole body shaking.

And Eddie is confident the sound of Steve choking on his own breath as he cries will haunt him for the rest of his life.