#none of this counts my permas

[jelfish-aether]

the thing is. the thing about me is. i’m so normal about imperials. so normal.

[matthewtkachuk]

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last. 

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado. 

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’. 

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count. 

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way. 

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house. 

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid. 

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely. 

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you. 

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours. 

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes. 

-

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy. 

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level. 

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law. 

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it. 

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit. 

It warms your heart. 

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate. 

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway. 

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander. 

-

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena. 

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell. 

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility. 

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier. 

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass. 

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs. 

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy. 

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff. 

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.” 

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot. 

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces. 

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you. 

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16. 

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer. 

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move. 

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners. 

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy. 

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed. 

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire. 

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more. 

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper. 

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate. 

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.” 

And worth the wait it is. 

-

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices. 

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too. 

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you. 

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure. 

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other. 

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign. 

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan. 

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up. 

-

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed. 

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life. 

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie. 

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants. 

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is. 

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you. 

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed. 

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush. 

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again. 

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing. 

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body. 

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast. 

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs. 

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone. 

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises. 

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too. 

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths. 

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch. 

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him. 

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better. 

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips. 

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him. 

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm. 

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too. 

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up. 

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs. 

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery. 

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall. 

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake. 

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with. 

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying. 

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap. 

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless. 

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.” 

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing. 

The reality of the situation hits you. 

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life. 

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply. 

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

-

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time. 

“He loves you,” she says. 

You’re not so sure. 

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here. 

It’s not all bad though. 

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities. 

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school. 

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat. 

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be. 

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.” 

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away. 

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same. 

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red. 

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist. 

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded. 

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head. 

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit. 

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up. 

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled. 

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan. 

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone. 

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts. 

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked. 

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass. 

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours. 

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back. 

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again. 

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact. 

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head. 

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.” 

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist. 

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again. 

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.” 

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial. 

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug. 

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone,  it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother. 

[professorspork]

GLUTTONY or ILLUSION?

23. GLUTTONY - How many notebooks do you have?

I have several, and I use basically none of them. I always keep a small notebook in my purse in case Inspiration Strikes and then just write things in my Notes app instead; I find I'm overall a much better and more productive writer digitally, when I can bounce back and forth and move things around as I go.

That said, if AquaNotes counts as a notebook I will shill for them until the end of time THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT NOTEBOOK IN THE WORLD EVERYONE SHOULD BE ABLE TO WRITE IDEAS DOWN IN THE SHOWER

28. ILLUSION - What is the best line of description in your WIP?

Ooo. I am very not good at picking favorites like this, but I think there's one I have to share because it took me like two hours to craft to my satisfaction. It's better in context, but please enjoy:

It’s just… now that Blake has the full context for her own attraction, looking at Yang anew is like—like stargazing from the deck of the last ferry out to Menagerie. Like watching the night sky bloom and thicken with brilliance as the hazy perma-glow that blankets the mainland recedes, the brightest stars only getting brighter as, moment by moment, once-hidden galaxies reveal themselves and the constellations sharpen into crystalline clarity. It’s realizing that—despite how it may appear—the heavens haven’t changed. All that’s changed is your own appreciation, once you’ve understood the previous limitations on your perspective.

[jedi-hawkins]

Khaos then Havoc

Word count: 3.8k

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Bryn and the squad begin to get to know each other on their way to their first mission.

"So what's the mission?" Hunter asks.

Bryn smiles. "Simple recon and data retrieval. There's a separatist base on Kalevala in the Mandalore sector. The prime objective from GAR headquarters is to download all information from the base's data banks to help the Republic assess Separatists plans for that system. Our objective is simply to get out and get a feel for operating in the field. There should be minimal resistance so long as we're stealthy, but there will be clankers onsite. You boys packed and ready?"

The squad nods in agreement.

"Good, go ahead and load your stuff on board. Tech, how do you feel about co-piloting?" the clone's eyes light up at his general's invitation.

"I- It would be my pleasure, General." He stammers out.

She gives him a smile. "Well then, let's get moving.  Landing gear up in ten."

Bryn walks down the gangplank after the squad and grabs a crate to help loading up.

"I know none of you are certified MASH medics, but I assume you all received training in basic field medicine?" She asks.

Tech immediately answers. "We have received basic first aid training appropriate for application in the field. I have also done some more extensive research on my own."

"I suppose that's one disadvantage to not being with a Legion." Hunter adds, helping Bryn lift a second crate into the cargo hold. "No medics readily available."

Bryn shrugs. "Well I'm no GAR medic, but my mother was a healer and I've received extra training with the Jedi, so I'm sure Tech and I can patch us up when needed."

Wrecker wrings his hands in thought. "Well then... You should take the med bay as your room. So you don't have to use the foldouts."

Bryn's brow crinkles, "Are you sure? You know, I'm the only one here who's actually been on the frontlines. Out there a foldout is a luxury. I don't mind them, better than a dirt floor." She says jokingly.

Hunter shrugs. "I have no doubt in your ability to get dirty, General, but we shouldn't let a perma-bunk go to waste. It would also give you your own space while we're all on board."

"Well if you insist." Bryn concedes. "But as soon as someone needs it, I'm racking on the bunks with everyone else. Fair?"

The squad nods in agreement and Bryn turns to the lanky sniper loading an ammo crate into the hold. "Thoughts, Crosshair?"

He rolls a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "Whatever the General wants, the General gets." He says coolly, lifting up his weapons cleaning kit and striding up the gangplank.

Bryn rolls her eyes. "What is his deal? He got something against Jedi?" She huffs.

"He'll come around." Hunter says encouragingly.

Wrecker tosses another crate into the hold. "He's just mad he hasn't gotten under your skin yet."

Tech adjust his goggles. "Crosshair is very- particular about who is in his space. As Hunter said, he will come around with time."

A moment of silence falls as Bryn thinks over the predicament with the sniper. If he holds on to whatever issue he has with her, that could very well compromise a mission, as well as the lives of the squad.

"I will say," Hunter speaks up. "The tricks you pulled in the mess and the Beskar caught him off guard. He's a hard man to impress. You're already fairing better than most."

Bryn sighs. "I can tell he takes patience. Come on boys, wings up." She waves a hand to the rest of the squad and strides up the gangplank.

As she enters the ship, she notices Crosshair sitting in a jump seat, meticulously oiling his rifle, the toothpick still between his lips. She doesn't acknowledge him and simply turns to settle into the cockpit. Tech soon joins her as she's prepping the ship for departure.

"I'm surprised, General." Tech says plainly as he seamlessly joins the preflight check and begins assessing the hyperdrive systems.

"Hmm?" Bryn glances up from the controls. "How so?"

"You did not answer my question earlier. You are not the eldest of your family, are you? In your time there was another force-sensitive from Takodana listed in the Jedi archives. A Kaden Caro. I assume he is the eldest."

Bryn exhales sharply. "I'm sure I don't want to know how or why you got into those records, Tech, but I'd prefer we stay focused on the task at hand."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I was merely curious."

Bryn takes her hands off the Marauder's dashboard and spins her chair to look at Tech. "I know." She sighs. "Yes, Kaden was my older brother, and yes, he was force sensitive. He was Master Plo's padawan too."

Tech watches her intently. "Was? Past tense."

"He and Master Plo were on Zygerria leading the dissolution of the slaving empire." Bryn says, chewing on her bottom lip. "There was a group of sympathizers that barricaded themselves in a supply depot. Stray fire, is what the report said."

"That is a shame." Tech says plainly, his eyes falling to the floor. "I couldn't imaging losing one of my brothers, much less all of them."

Bryn shifts her foot and bumps her boot against Tech's. "It's okay." She says as his warm amber eyes meet her own. "I wasn't exactly close with any of them. Kaden was twelve years my senior and I was four when he died. I was taken to the Jedi Temple that same cycle and Orstold was barely a year old. Criss and Sembren hadn't even been born. Master Plo showed me the records of Kaden's life, that's how I know him. I didn't know my younger brothers until I was given the 43rd. Like I said, the Jedi, and now this squad, are who I consider my family."

With that, she spins back to the Marauder's dash and resumes her pre-fight check. Silence settles over the two, but after a couple minutes, Bryn speaks again. "It would mean a lot to me if you kept your research on me to yourself, Tech."

Tech glances over toward her and sees her starting intensely at him. He cocks his head to one side. "But why? My brothers and I are all eager to learn about you. Sharing my findings would be the most efficient way."

Bryn shakes her head. "I can understand your thought process, Tech. I'll gladly answer your questions as they come, but let the others search for answers on their own. It is important that this team trusts one another, and they only way they'll trust me is if I'm the one revealing my secrets." She gives him a smile and a wink before standing to flip a couple overhead switches and pressing a lever forward so the Marauder lifts off the ground and begins rising into the atmosphere.

Tech tries to think of a response, but it's clear Bryn has ended the conversation. Some might have seen it as abrupt or rude, but to Tech it all made sense. Bryn didn't have to answer his question, but she did and that was more than enough.

'She is an interesting one.' Tech thinks to himself, as he ticks the last few items off his pre-flight check and begins to warm the hyperdrives.

Two sets of footsteps give way to Hunter and Wrecker, who sit down in the spare cockpit seats.

"What's that?" Wrecker asks, jabbing a finger over Tech's shoulder.

"That would be the flux control for our deflector shields." His brother responds.

"What's that?"

"Our proximity alarm system."

"And that?"

Tech sighs. "Wrecker, please."

Hunter chuckles in the seat behind Bryn as his two brothers continue. "You get used to it. Wrecker has always tried to keep up with Tech in their studies, but the only thing he managed to get first was explosives and weaponry, everything else Tech takes the lead."

Bryn smiles over her shoulder at the Sergeant and presses a couple buttons on a panel in front of her. "Set for hyperspace." she announces.

Tech glances over a couple things on his dash. "Hyperspace ready."

Bryn nods and gently presses a lever forward with her right hand. Once the swirling blue light wraps itself around the ship, she presses a button on the dash and stretches her arms overhead. "Mhm, it'll take us about a day and a half to reach Kalevala, so get comfortable. I don't know about you, but I'm going to make some tea."

She stands from her seat, Hunter immediately rising as well. Bryn doesn't say anything at Hunter's sudden movement, instead she simply leads the way through the galley to the mess locker with a soft smile on her face. Upon entering the mess, Bryn immediately begins opening a few cupboards and sets a kettle on the counter. Hunter takes the kettle and begins filling it from the tap as Bryn grabs two mugs next.

"So tea, not caf?" Hunter asks.

Bryn chuckles, "I'll take caf in the morning to get started, but in the afternoons I prefer tea. I suppose that's a habit I owe to Obi-wan." She stands on her toes to reach onto a top shelf and pulls out two tins. She slides one across the counter to Hunter. "This one is from Gatalenta in the core, and that one you have there is a Moogan tea from the outer rim."

Hunter looks down at the tin in his hand. "Which would you recommend?"

"They're both good." Bryn says, taking a pouch out of the Gatalenta tin. "I tend to switch it up and alternate. This tea is more citrussy and light, that Moogan tea has a bit more of a warm spice to it. I'll make one of each and you can decide which you like."

Bryn puts a Moogan pouch into the second mug and takes the kettle from Hunter, who rapidly glances around, words hanging on his tongue. "I'm ah- I'll just step out for a second."

Bryn reaches out and snags Hunter's bracer before he has time to exit the mess. "No, it's okay. There's no induction top or electric heater. I had them removed. Sometimes I can hear their pitch so I couldn't imagine what they'd sound like to you. We have the gas camp stove and the ration warmer, neither of which give electric feedback. I also had the sonic shower replaced with a standard washer."

"General, I-" Hunter trails off, blinking in surprise. She actually thought about that? Quickly he gathers himself. "How are you going to heat the water?"

A warm smile spreads across her face. "Watch and see."

Bryn wraps her hands around the base of the kettle, and stills for a moment. Before long, Hunter can hear the water begin to bubble. He steps closer and leans on the counter, curiosity rolling off of him. "How are you..."

"Force kinesis. I'm focusing on moving the water particles past each other faster and faster to create heat." Bryn says, grinning.

"But your hands..."

Bryn moves one of her hands and rests it on top of Hunter's. He can feel the warmth of it through the back of his glove, but it's certainly not scalding hot as he expected. "It took me some practice, but I figured out how to keep the water at the outside of the kettle cooler while the center heats up." She explains.

Bryn removes her other hand from the kettle and pours water into each mug. She sets a saucer on top of them and turns around to lean against the counter. She looks Hunter up and down, but he feels comfortable under her gaze.

"Credit for your thoughts." She says, breaking the silence.

Hunter's brow wrinkles. "About what?"

"Whatever is on your mind." Bryn says with a shrug. "I know you've taken your squad on training missions, but this is your first true field assignment, how are you feeling? I think your team is ready, but do you? Is there anything I should know about them now before we land? What do you think of the ship, of me?"

"Ahuh, em. I don't really know, General." He crosses his arms. "Us clones, we were bred to withstand stressful environments, me and my squad even more so. I know we're ready, they're probably more excited than anything. The long necks coveted us, their precious enhanced units. While we had space to experiment in training, they kept us on short reins otherwise. Meant that we also got heat from the regs for the extra attention. At first we tried to get along with them, but after a while we just got sick of it. We're better on our own."

Bryn nods along to Hunter's story, some of the elements all too familiar to her. "That's a shame, I understand your experience more than you would think. I am very impressed with you and your squad, Sergeant Hunter."

He bows his head. "Thank you, General. We were uh- I mean we are impressed by you... too."

Bryn chuckles, turning around to remove the saucers from on top of the mugs. "In what way?"

Hunter rubs the back of his neck, a slight blush spreading across his nose. "There were quite a few stories that came back to Kamino about 'Caro and Kenobi' and your involvement with the first droid attack on Naboo. And your efforts with the start of the Separatist Crisis and the Battle of Geonosis. Then there's the stories of your involvement in the first months of the war. Sometimes Tech would pull up the debriefing holovids from your early assignments.  You're an impressive fighter and battle strategist. We didn't know which Jedi was being assigned to us. There last thing we expected was that you'd chose to take us on."

Bryn stirs each mug, smiling. "You'll see soon enough that I'm full of surprises, Sergeant." She gives him a wink before sliding the Gatalenta tea his way. "Let me know what you think. That one you generally drink it how it is, no cream or sugar."

Hunter takes a sip and makes a face, which he immediately tries to correct.

Bryn just laughs at his expression. "I'll take that as a no."

"Oh no, it's just uh- different." Hunter says hurriedly.

"It's okay," Bryn says with a smile. "I think this will be more to your liking. Here's the cream and sugar just in case." She slides the Moogan tea towards him, taking the Gatalenta tea for herself.

Hunter raises to second mug to his lips, savoring the flavor for a moment. It's like nothing he's ever tasted, warm, spicy like sinnamon. He sets the mug down and adds some cream and sugar before taking another sip. He hums with satisfaction.

"Seems like that's the one." Bryn says, turning to rest her hip against the counter. "So, Hunter. Crosshair."

Hunter takes another sip. "Hmm, what about him?"

"I understand it will take time and patience for him to trust me as a person, but I'm concerned if there is friction within this team, there will be consequences." Bryn lifts her mug again. "I've seen what that can look like. If, or more likely when it comes down to it, will he trust me as the General of this squad?"

The Sergeant sets down his mug and pulls a vibroblade from his bracer. Twirling it through his fingers, he considers Bryn's question. "It may not seem like it, but Crosshair gives trust until there is a reason not to. He'll still question your every move, but that's because he's searching for grounds to shut you out. So to answer your question, yes, he will trust you, but if he decides you've broken that trust, don't expect it to be easy to get a second chance."

"Mm, that is a philosophy I can respect. Duly noted, Sergeant." She raises her mug and Hunter slips the blade back into his bracer, lifting his own drink. Bryn clinks her mug against Hunters, "Here's to a prosperous partnership. I promise I will do everything in my power to get you and your brothers to the other side of this war."

Hunter smiles and drinks to Bryn's toast. "Thank you, General." He pauses for a moment. "If you don't mind me asking, when you were with the 43rd, what was your call sign?"

Bryn swirls her tea. "My legion was designated Khaos, my Elite Regiment was Erebus, and my Lead Squad's call sign was Nyx."

"Caro's Khaos?" Hunter says with a sly smile.

Bryn chuckles, "Caught onto that did you? The names come from ancient Grecoian mythology.  According to the legends, Khaos was the first being to come into existence, his son was Erebus- the darkness, and his daughter was Nyx- the night." She smiles at some invisible memories. "You know, we need to come up with a call sign for this squad, any ideas?"

"Hmm, well this ship is the Havoc Marauder." Hunter says, rubbing his chin. "What if our call sign was Havoc? It could also be for your men, you know, chaos comes before the havoc."

Bryn smiles, "You know what, I like it. Havoc it is."

Hunter straightens up and rests a hand on Bryn's shoulder. "Thanks for the tea, Havoc Prime."

"Prime?" Bryn repeats.

"You're the first, our leader, no?" Hunter replies striding out the door with a grin plastered across his face.

A warm feeling flutters in Bryn's chest at her Sergeant's exit. She steps back into the galley, but Crosshair is the only one present, Hunter must have disappeared into the cockpit or elsewhere on the ship. Bryn lowers herself into one of the databank seats opposite Crosshair in the jumpseats. She tucks a foot underneath her and takes a sip of her steaming mug. Silence falls over the two of them as Crosshair continues oiling a piece of his disassembled rifle.

Bryn cocks her head to the side, observing the various components neatly laid to in front of the sniper. "Overcharged capacitor, fine-tuned beam focuser, recoil compensating stock. You've made quite a few customizations. I'm impressed, you have good taste."

Crosshair raises his eyes to her, scowl already forming. "What do you know about firearms?"

Bryn smiles and sets her mug down on the databank behind her. "More than you'd expect. There have been quite a few stints in my life where I've had to depend on weapons other than a lightsaber."

"Hmph. We'll see what you know." Crosshair says. He picks up a component and holds it out to Bryn. "What's this."

Bryn's eyes narrow. "Very funny, that's your scope."

Crosshair picks up another component, "and this?"

Bryn just rolls her eyes. "That's your suppressor. If you're trying to test me, you're not doing a very good job." She teases.

The sniper puts down the suppressor and his hand hovers for a moment. He reaches to the far corner of the mat his components are on and picks up an inconspicuous metal tube, holding it up without saying a word.

"That's part of your venting system, which by the way is not optimal." Bryn says plainly, holding out a hand. "May I?"

Crosshair's eyes narrow even further, but he still hands over the piece of metal.

Bryn grabs a pair of pliers off the floor and begins fiddling. "Although the firepuncher is one of the best laser weapons issued through the GAR, there are still a few ways to get a little more out of them. I had one of my own for a while. I figured out that if you remove the metal mesh from inside here, your weapon vents faster. The mesh is supposed to protect against foreign bodies entering the system, but the risk is minimal without it especially with regular maintenance. The faster venting increases the rate of fire by about 5 shots a second." With one last tug, the little bit of mesh pulls free.

With a smile she tosses the vent component back to Crosshair, whose mouth is hanging slightly open. He blinks. "Uh, thanks. I never knew."

Bryn looks at him earnestly. "Give me a chance, Crosshair. I promise I am here for you and your brothers. I chose this, others may have treated you like a chore, an experiment, or a possession to be had, but that's not me. You are my men now, and I will protect this squad with my last breath."

His face softens slightly, if at all. The toothpick between his lips rolls from one corner of his mouth to the other, but before he says anything, the cockpit door slides open.

"General, where are the rations? I'm starving!" Wrecker's booming voice says.

Bryn laughs, standing from her chair. "Come on Wrecker, I have something better than rations."

She leads the way back into the mess locker and opens the cryobox. As Wrecker walks through the door, he sees the multiple containers Bryn has set on the counter.

"What's all this?" he asks.

"Just some food I cooked up for us." Bryn says, straightening up and placing a container in the ration warmer.

Wrecker's eyes widen. "You can cook?"

Bryn chuckles, "Yes, one of the perks to being a Jedi, I have access to records from all over the galaxy, including recipes. This, however is a dish native to Takodanna."

She pulls the first container from the warmer and swaps it with a second one. As soon as she takes the lid off, steam lifts into the air. Wrecker takes a deep inhale of the rich flavors rising from the food. "Ah, this smells amazing! What is it?"

"Funnily enough, it's stew." Bryn says, laughing. "Hopefully this is better than the stuff from the mess hall on Kamino. This has bantha roast, potatoes, carrots, onions, and a few other things. It's simple, but it's good comfort food, and it's filling. Go ahead, give it a try."

She hands Wrecker a spoon as she switches containers from the ration warmer again. The large clone takes a heaping spoonful and nearly groans in delight. "General, this... This is incredible."

"I'm glad you like it, luckily I made a bunch and have it frozen so we can have it to break up the ration packs." Bryn says, waving a hand to the cryobox. "It's simple to make too. Most of the recipes I use are. Though I love trying new intricate things, you can't always guarantee specific ingredients or supplies, so comfort camp food is my specialty."

There's silence as Wrecker continues eating. Even though his movements are vigorous, he eats neatly, refusing to spill a single speck. Bryn smiles as she swaps containers again and pulls out four more spoons.

Wrecker pauses for a moment, halfway through the container. "Uh General..."

"Hmm?"

"Do you- do you think you could teach me?" Wrecker asks, shifting his weight between his feet. "You know, how to cook?"

A grin spreads across Bryn's face, "Of course Wrecker. I would love to." She places a fifth container in the warmer. "You'll have to be patient with me though, I don't really measure my ingredients."

Wrecker's face lights up. "Really? You'll teach me?! All right!"

Bryn touches a hand to his arm as she squeezes past him to the mess locker door. She pokes her head out and calls to the ship. "Dinner's up, Boys! Come and get it!"

Taglist: if you want to be added please let me know!

[littlelostmabari]

9 people you want to know better tag

Thank you @alpydk for the tag! I don't know who has or hasn't done it yet so here are a few tags anyway... Seven because apparently I can't count.

@miradelletarot @tressymdelight @gale-force-storm @orangekittyenergy

Doubling up on @sorceresssundries @the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep @weaveandwood

(Dividers by cafekitsune)

Three ships:

Cullen x Saoirse [DA2/DAI] (yeah it's my OC, fight me)

Olivia Dunham x Peter Bishop [Fringe]

Shepard x Garrus [Mass Effect]

Honorable mentions to Gale x Wyll (Bladeweave) which is a new love for me. Another honorable mention to my friends' romance in our Curse of Strahd home game: Raenna x Veera tragedy OTP.

First ship: [I have scrubbed the wizard series from my brain because that author can do one]

Last song: "Don't Cry for your Daughters Eve" by Lydia the Bard has been bouncing around in my head for several weeks.

Last movie: The Super Mario Bros. Movie because it was on for the kids when I was on vacation and my ADHD ass can't ignore flashing colors and the voice of Jack Black.

Currently Reading: Tons of fanfic, AO3 is perma-open on my phone. Also some non-fiction related to my new job (learning best practices, culturally-informed techniques, etc.)

Currently Watching: Season 8 of Criminal Minds. This is my... third time through? I think? Might be fourth. It's one of my comfort shows.

Currently Eating: Iced coffee. Black. None of that creamer silliness. Breakfast of champions.

Currently Craving: A fucking break. 🙃Jk but actually crumpets sound great, Alpy.

[tveitertotwrites]

Girls Morning

Book: Red Carpet Diaries

Characters: Brooklyn Moore, Victoria Fontaine

Warnings: None

Rating: General

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 611

Summary: Brooklyn and Victoria have a little girls' morning together, doing a couple of fun activities.

A/N: Submission for CFWC You Go Girls! Event

.......................

Brooklyn was never normally up at around 5 am, but today was a different day. At the last monthly group lunch, Victoria had invited Brooklyn to spend the morning with her and do a bunch of activities. The first one involved a 5:30 gym session, which she was not looking forward to.

Brooklyn made it to the gym at around 5:28, with her workout drink and matching blue sports bra and leggings set, along with the same color bag. She looked around and saw Victoria stretching over by the treadmills before making her way over there. When Brooklyn was about 7 feet away, Victoria noticed her coming and stood up with a small smile on her face.

“There you are. Worried you weren’t going to come.” Victoria said.

“No, I wouldn’t do that. Even though sleeping in sounded so good.”

The two women shared a little laugh as Victoria made her way to the treadmill, to which Brooklyn followed suit. Both of them put the speed to make it a light jog, which made Brooklyn take a deep breath as she could tell that the gym session was going to feel longer than it was actually going to be.

“We’re going to start with 2-3 miles before doing something else.”

Brooklyn’s eyes widened a little as she sighed and continued her jog. A little over a half hour later, the two of them had finished their workout and were getting ready for the other activities Victoria had planned. They then walked next door to a small diner for breakfast.

“It smells really good here.” Brooklyn said.

“Wait until you have had a stack of Bailey’s blueberry pancakes. I always get them when I come here.”

“I didn’t know you knew the people who work here.”

“Actually, Bailey and his wife Mary are the owner’s and good family friends. Bailey just likes to come in and work for the community who he respects and respects him.”

The two women then ordered their food and drink before continuing to chat about work, family and other things. When their food arrived and the two of them dug into their food, Brooklyn realized how right Victoria was about the pancakes.

“Told you they’re great.”

“Yeah they are.”

The two women chuckled and they ate and talked. Once they were done, Victoria drove the two of them across town to a smaller building that looked like it could be a small apartment complex.

“Where are we?”

“At the only nail salon I trust to do my nails, minus my personal hair and makeup team or dresser.”

As soon as the two of them made it through the doorway, they were immediately sat down in chairs and were asked a bunch of questions about what they wanted for their nails and toes. Not long after everything was started, someone came up to each of them and started applying a face mask.

“How did I not know about this place?”

“Because it’s in a kind of hidden area and I wanted to keep this place to myself.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

It wasn’t long before the two women were done and paid for and were on their way back to Brooklyn’s apartment. They started having a good conversation in the kitchen before making their way over to the couch and watched a movie.

“I think this morning was really fun.” Brooklyn said.

“It was. I underestimated how fun it is to have someone with you doing fun activities.”

Once the movie was over, the two women said their goodbyes and went on with their day, texting each other about the idea of doing it again soon.

Perma Tags: @bendriversolo @crazy-loca-blog @rookiemartin @zahrachoices

@choicesficwriterscreations

[lucy-268]

I posted 566 times in 2022

95 posts created (17%)

471 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jerzwriter

@jamespotterthefirst

@liaromancewriter

@genevievemd

@choicesficwriterscreations

I tagged 92 of my posts in 2022

#open heart - 48 posts

#choices fic writers creations - 43 posts

#choices fanfiction - 39 posts

#playchoices fanfic - 37 posts

#ethan ramsey x f!mc - 24 posts

#cfwc sunday six - 23 posts

#tobias carrick x f!mc - 16 posts

#ethan ramsey - 12 posts

#cfwc throwback fics - 10 posts

#cfwc fics of the week - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 48 characters

#in the end it's just going to be a manip with dg

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Never Sorry

36 notes - Posted April 2, 2022

#4

Hi,

38 notes - Posted June 2, 2022

#3

Not Meant to Be

39 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

#2

Happy Birthday Charley

48 notes - Posted May 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Coffee Break

Series/Pairing: Open Heart - Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Charley Valentine)

Disclaimer: Most characters belong to PB, Charley is sort of mine

Rating / Warnings: T / none

Summary: It’s such a simple thing for Ethan’s birthday. This is set on Ethan’s birthday, February 19 in my universe, during Charley’s intern year.

Comments/Notes: Written for the @choicesmonthlychallenge​ Valentine’s Challenge prompts To Be ❤️ holding hands (it’s a bit of a stretch) and for the @choicesfebruary2022challenge​ Day 2 prompt “Starbucks.”

Word count: 418

Charley had left her apartment earlier than normal. Yesterday when she was sitting with Naveen in his hospital room and he mentioned that today was Ethan’s birthday. As she was trying to fall asleep she tried to think of what to do for his birthday. Maybe it was a bad idea; he had been distant since they returned from Miami.

She dug through her box of cards and found a birthday card with a stethoscope on it. She smiled as she scrawled her name inside it. She decided she would skip her normal Starbucks and would go to that coffee shop Ethan had taken her to a few months back. A card and a cup of coffee would be reasonable to give your boss for a birthday, right? Even Ethan couldn’t’ object to that, could he?

She pushed the door open and joined the line. She bit her lip and glanced at her watch. She still had twenty minutes. That should give her enough time to get to the hospital.

“Charley?” She froze at the voice over her left shoulder.

She turned and found clear blue eyes watching her. “Good morning, Eth- Dr. Ramsey.”

“What are you doing here? Don’t you usually stop at,” he practically shuddered, “Starbucks?”

“I was actually stopping here to bring you a coffee.”

His eyebrows raised. “For me?”

She nodded. “When I was sitting with Naveen yesterday, he mentioned that it was your birthday.”

“Of course he did.”

“I figured a coffee wouldn’t be out of line.”

“You really don’t need-”

“Next!” The barista looked at Charley.

“Could I get two Viennas, please?” Charley ordered.

The barista rang up the order. “For here or to go?”

Charley began, “To-”

“For here,” Ethan stated. When Charley looked at him, he smiled. “We can enjoy our coffee before we need to get to work. Why don’t you grab a table and I’ll bring over the coffee when it’s ready.”

The barista handed Charley back her credit card and she selected a table near the cozy fireplace. Ethan soon joined her. As he set the mugs on the table he slid hers towards her as she reached over pull it towards her and their fingers met around the cup. Charley stared at their fingers, touching, and glanced at Ethan. He was also looking at their hands.

He blinked and moved his eyes to meet hers. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand back, picking up his own mug. He smiled. “Thank you for the coffee.”

@openheartfanfics​ @choicesficwriterscreations​

Perma  - @a-crepusculo​ @bex-la-get​ @danijimenezv​ @genevievemd​ @jamespotterthefirst​ @jerzwriter​ @liaromancewriter​ @potionsprefect​ @writer-ish​ @crazy-loca-blog​ @forallthatitsworth​ @quixoticdreamer16​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @txemrn​

All Open Heart  - @coffeeheartaddict2​ @utterlyinevitable​

Open Heart  - Ethan & Charley only  - @gryffindordaughterofathena​ @monsoonblooms12​ @ohchoices​ @queencarb​ @headoverheelsforramsey​

50 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[dollwritesarchive]

" i'll walk you home. " shang chi

this screams protective bff who caught feelings!shang chi and no i am not taking criticism 🥰

𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓉𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝓉

fandom marvel

featuring shang-chi x BFF!reader (f)

rating sfw, but heed warnings

content warning reader is very drunk (practically incoherent), her date is a creep and tries to gaslight/take advantage of her, some swearing, confrontation, unrequited pining (him)

summary shang-chi makes sure you get home safely.

word count 1.4k / mini musing

attention don’t ever, ever, ever go out with a stranger without letting someone (friend or family) know where you’re going and how long you’re supposed to be there! also, please please be wary and careful when drinking alcohol with strangers AND REMEMBER that if some asshole ever tries anything like this on you: shang chi said YOU’RE A TEN, YOU DONT OWE HIM SHIT. do not repost or translate. reblog & give feedback 💗 every reblog is a kiss for shang-chi on his pretty little face.

the two of you had an agreement, made upon the creation of your tinder account. you would text with a code, a simple one, if you were ever in trouble while out on a date, and you would always keep your location on for him.

for a while, the agreement seemed silly. sure, the guys you’d meet online either wanted anonymous hookups or had a bad habit of ghosting or a plethora of issues with a crazy ex, but they were never… predatory. Shang-Chi was simply being the over-protective best friend, you thought, and while you were grateful he cared so much, you didn’t believe you’d actually need to use the code.

until tonight.

⚠️⚠️⚠️

thankfully, it was just emojis, because you were having a difficult time seeing past the haze as you wobble atop cumbersome and expensive stiletto pumps. the strobe lights were making you feel sick, and you couldn’t tell if you had one or three cellphones in your palm.

“Come on, pretty girl, let’s get outta here.”

“No,” you mumble, but the man whose name currently escapes you has already grabbed your bicep and is guiding you towards the door, none too gently. “No, I want to stay and wai—t on my friend. I just texted him!” you didn’t want to go, but your feet were trying to walk, at the very least, so this man wouldn’t drag you. “I want to wait on Shang-Chi—“

“Why’d you go and do that, huh?” he asks, turning to look down at you. he might’ve been trying to look hurt, or maybe it was his intent to look as angry as he did, but either way it made a knot tie itself in your gut. “We were having fun, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Weren’t you having fun with me? You told me you were having a blast, remember? You said you wanted me to take you home with me.”

you scrunch your nose. you were almost sure you didn’t say that… did you? “I… did?”

“Yeah,” he insists, pulling you outside. the neons from the signs on the windows hurts your eyes and one hand flees to shield your face from them, “that’s why I got us an uber, silly.”

“Oh.” confused, with your head swimming, it’s the only response you can give. you don’t remember telling him to get an uber, and you definitely don’t remember wanting to go home with him, but you were so wasted that you couldn’t be sure if you really did. your date walks ahead to grab the door to the backseat for you to get in.

staring at the ground with a perma-pout upon your countenance, you stumble on to the gritty concrete and misstep. the pin-like heel on your shoe snaps against the ill-distribution of your weight and the unfortunate, awkward footing. you crumble to the ground with your palms outstretched in an attempt to break your fall with a low huff. “Owie.” you mumble beneath your breath, just as another car, this one red in hue, pulls into the parking space beside your uber, and someone familiar steps out of the backseat.

“Shang-Chi!” your pronunciation of his name is slurred heavily by the numbing of booze-saturated tiers, but you feel a wave of relief as he hurries over and takes both of your hands to pull you to your feet. hardly aware of the red uber backing out of the space and driving off, you stare at your friend in disbelief. “You got here fast!” or did you text him a long time before? time seemed to move differently the more inebriated you became.

“Of course I did,” he exhales, holding your hands closer to examine them, “are you okay?” glancing down at them, too, you realize they’re covered in tiny scrapes from when you fell, with microscopic rock-shaped dents in your skin. his brows furrowed, and he uses his digits to sweep any minuscule debris off of them.

“She’s fine.” your date speaks up as he staggers towards you, but you take note of the way Shang-Chi angles his body in front of yours, creating a human wedge between you and he. the date holds out his hand, “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll take you home—“

you shake your head, sheepish, but it’s your friend who speaks. “Nah, she’s good, man. I got her. You have yourself a good night.”

“Hey, man,” your date grinds his teeth, taking a step closer and glares at Shang-Chi, “I paid for her drinks and her ride. What, I’m supposed to get nothing? Don’t be a cockblock.”

Shang-Chi’s eyes are usually the warmest you’ve ever seen, like soft moonstones. however, when that final sentence filled the atmosphere between them, you could swear his eyes went black with anger. “Hey man,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket and grabbing his wallet, “let me cover that for you.” there’s an acidic bite to his tone as he stuffs two twenty dollar bills against the man’s chest with a flat palm and a smack that resonates in the night air around you, “And just, while I’m in a giving mood, have some advice to go with that. You take a lady out, pay for her drinks, and expect to get something in return, you deserve someone like me to knock your dick in the dirt. This girl right here?” waving his hand in gesture to you, he glares at the fuming man before him, “she’s a ten, and she doesn’t owe you shit. Remember that, playboy.”

whether he wanted to or not, your creepshow date backed off. grumbling to himself, he slams the door of the uber and the car takes off. Shang-Chi has already turned his attention back to you, grabbing your hand. “Come on,” he says, the softness returning to his velvety voice, “I’ll walk you home.”

“I can’t,” you whine, stumbling forward with your bottom lip sticking out. pointing down at your feet, you add like a child that is sad that her favorite toy is broken, “my shoe…”

he takes a moment to look at the shoe, kneeling down, and pats both of his shoulders. “Hands here.” you do as instructed, steadying yourself against the sturdiness of the broad expanse. “Right foot,” you lift your right foot, the one with the mangled stiletto, and he slides it off. to describe the relief your foot felt after the killer accessory had been subtracted would’ve been impossible. “Left.” you lift your left foot, and he takes that one off, too. when he’s finished, he clutches them together in one hand and whirls around, offering his back to you. “All right, now hop on.”

normally, you would’ve been excited; piggyback rides were always a staple in your friendship, but you felt a strange, sinking guilt as you latch on to him, and he begins to trek the crosswalk. why did he have to come and save you from some creep? why was it his responsibility to make sure you weren’t coaxed into doing something you’d regret? it didn’t seem fair to you— and so, you nuzzle your face into the nape of his neck, arms hanging loosely around his shoulders. “Sorry,” you mumble, half coherent with your cheek smushed into his skin. you can smell the scent of his shampoo, feel the dampness in his short tendrils, and you wonder if he had been just out of the shower, about to lie down and sleep for the night. the thought makes the guilt in you flare.

“C’mon now, don’t say that.” he insists, chortling softly. “You don’t have to be sorry. None of that was your fault, you know that, right? You did the right thing. I’m proud of you.”

your lids are heavy, so you close them, your mind beginning to numb with impending exhaustion. “I’m sorry that you have to take care of me… it shouldn’t be up to you.”

Shang-Chi takes a while to respond, because every response upon his tongue would’ve been a confession. his heart was beating wildly out of tempo at the prospect of telling you how he felt, but finally he settles for a, “I’ll always take care of you. You know that, don’t you?”

you don’t answer him. at first, he’s unsure if he’s said something wrong. then, he feels steady breath against the nape of his neck, and he realizes you’d fallen asleep.

maybe next time, he thinks, holding your legs close to his ribs.

[harleybeaumont]

Cordonian Ghost Hunters

Episode 1 - The Decuir Hotel: New Orleans, LA

Book - TRR AU

Pairings - none so far

Synopsis - Three lifelong friends have a terrifying encounter with the paranormal that changes the course of their lives. Determined to find answers, they travel the world, investigating unexplained phenomena and documenting their findings. Drake, the unapologetic skeptic, Max the true believer, and Liam the analytical linchpin that holds the team together become the worldwide sensation known as.. The Cordonian Ghost Hunters. 

A/N - This fic started with me and @angelasscribbles​ discussing how we wanted to write something with a ‘horror feel’ to it, and we both came up with different ideas. Go read hers, if you haven't! Thanks to Angela and @txemrn​ for brainstorming with me and helping me come up with ideas to get this started! And thank you Angela for literally writing the synopsis for me when I finished this fic and couldn’t get my brain to form another coherent thought. Lol

A/N 2-  I plan on having several more chapters as the guys go to different haunted locations across the world. I’m open to location suggestions if you have them. I’m tagging those who are on my perma tag list and a couple others who have asked, but if anyone wants on or off the list let me know! <3

Chapter Warnings - supernatural creepiness, hauntings, language, mentions of death

Word Count - 7,300 (Sorry! This first chapter is long because it explains the backstory of how everything came to be. The next chapters won't be this long!)

Episode 1 - The Decuir Hotel: New Orleans, LA

The air was thick and damp with humidity as they stepped out of the car. The sounds of cicadas and crickets played a melody that filled the warm night air around them. South Louisiana. This was stop number three on their tour of historical locations around America. 

Liam was given permission to take a break from his royal duties after he convinced his father that he needed to travel the world and “find himself.” His older brother Leo had already gone through his social season and was engaged to a gorgeous woman from Monterisso named Katalina. Liam actually liked her, and it was nice seeing his brother happy. He knew they would make a great king and queen for Cordonia someday. 

Liam convinced Drake and Maxwell to travel with him, telling them they could choose the first two stops on their tour of America. 

Their first stop was chosen by Maxwell- Las Vegas. The ‘entertainment capital of the world’ had proven to be just that. During their stay the guys visited several clubs, bars, casinos, shows, and even went skydiving. 

The second stop was chosen by Drake - Tennessee. First they went to Nashville, so Drake could visit where his mother was born. The next stop was the Jack Daniels whiskey tasting tour, which the guys figured was the real reason Drake wanted to go to Tennessee in the first place. 

Liam’s choice surprised everyone - New Orleans, Louisiana. When Maxwell and Drake asked why, he said he always wanted to visit during Mardi Gras. Fortunately for him, the guys had no idea that Mardi Gras was months away, so they didn’t suspect the real reason he wanted to go. Growing up, Liam was always interested in ghost stories and haunted houses, and the rich history in Southern Louisiana intrigued him. He loved watching documentaries about voodoo, haunted old buildings, creepy tombs and graveyards, ghosts and witchcraft. Louisiana had it all. 

Liam grinned as he stepped onto the enormous wrap around porch of the three hundred year old building. “The Decuir Hotel.” He looked up at the imposing structure in awe. “This place is gorgeous, right?”

“It’s something.” Drake said, peering into a window. “I can’t believe they let you rent out this entire hotel for the night. They must think you’re a pompous ass, needing a whole hotel for yourself!” Drake chuckled, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

Liam laughed. “Well, they were more than happy to accommodate my request after I gave the staff compensation for missing a night of work. Not to mention paying to rent out every room.”

“Wait..” Max looked at him incredulously. “You sent all the staff home? So.. it’s just us staying here? Not another single person inside?!”

“Nope. We’re just waiting for Bastien’s guys to finish doing a sweep of the building, so we can head inside.”  Liam smirked, turning back to the door. 

“Why did you send all the employees home?” Drake arched an eyebrow.

Liam grinned and shrugged. “To see if it’s really haunted.”

Max and Drake both turned to Liam in surprise. “Li, you can’t be serious.”

Liam ignored Drake, running his hand across the wooden banister. “Wouldn’t that be fascinating though? This hotel is three hundred years old! Can you imagine how many people stayed here over the years?”

“I think it’s creepy.” Max couldn’t help but shiver as he stepped close behind Drake and Liam in front of the old hotel. He wasn’t sure why, but something about this place sent a chill down his spine. He couldn’t help but be curious about the amount of people who probably died here, hell, who were probably killed here. After all, certain parts of the south held a dark history of contemptible injustice and mistreatment. If there were any malevolent spirits, this is probably the place they would hang out at.

Drake clapped Maxwell on the back with a chuckle. “Dude, you don't really believe in ghosts, do you?”

Max glared at him. “Of course I believe in ghosts! And if you knew what was good for you, you would too! Haven’t you seen Poltergeist?!”

Liam gestured behind them toward the two palace guards who had ridden with them in the car. “Max, there is a guard stationed at every door, and-” he checked the text he just got from Bastien. “-they are done with their sweep and it’s completely empty. It’s safe.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Oh ya, I’m sure the fucking undead give a shit about ‘palace guards.’ Dammit Liam, get with the program! They can walk through walls! What makes you think they are going to be intimidated by our meager, mortal forms! We’re just pathetic sacks of flesh to them!”

The loud laugh that burst out of Drake made Maxwell jump in surprise. “What the actual fuck are you talking about, Beaumont?”

“I don’t know!” Max shuddered as he stepped closer to Liam. “I just want to get through this night as quickly as possible.”

Liam paused before opening the door. “You can always sleep in the car if you want.”

“Oh ya, so the Rougarou can bust out the windows and drag me into the night before devouring the flesh from my bones? No thank you.”

Liam shook his head with a smile and pushed open the heavy, ornate door.

The first thing he noticed when stepping into the grand entryway was the smell. It wasn’t a bad smell, just.. old. Slightly musty. Liam was used to being in old places. After all, he lived in a palace with literally hundreds of years of history in it, but something about this place was just different. It was like you were breathing in the life and memories of the building. 

The next thing he noticed was how dark it was. Being that this hotel was built in the 1700’s, of course it originally had no electricity, but renovators had put in lights, plumbing, and (thankfully) air conditioning. Noting that they wanted to keep the historic feel of the building, each room was usually only lit by artificial candles and lanterns. 

The third thing Liam noticed when they entered the foyer was the overall feeling of the building. Something that warmed and chilled him at the same time. It was quiet and empty, yet somehow it felt like the hotel was full of life. Liam couldn’t help but feel a thrill go through him, as this was the exact reason he wanted to come here in the first place. He knew the history here, although he didn’t dare mention it to Maxwell. He couldn’t wait to explore each room further. 

“Your Highness.” Bastien nodded to Liam as he made his way over. “A guard will be stationed outside of your room and at each entrance throughout the night to ensure your safety.”

Liam smiled. “You know what.. That won’t be necessary.”

“But, your father insisted-” 

“You can set up a perimeter outside if you want, but tonight I just want the three of us to be inside.”

Bastien opened and closed his mouth a couple times, trying to decide whether to obey Constantine or Liam in this situation. “Are you sure, sir?”

Liam clapped Bastien on the back. “It’s ok, Bas. I trust that your guys checked this place out thoroughly. It’ll be fine.”

Basien gave the orders for the guards to go outside and once the place was empty, Maxwell looked at him wide eyed. “Liam! What the hell? You said the guards were here and we were gonna be safe from ghosts!”

Drake laughed. “And you said that the guards wouldn’t help anyway. Something about them hating our fleshy sacks or something..” Drake couldn’t help but laugh harder at Maxwell’s indignant expression.

“You know how much I want to laugh at the fact that you just said ‘fleshy sacks’? But I can't! That’s how fucking creeped out I am by this place.”

“If you’re gonna bitch all night, then I’ll lock your ass in a closet.” Drake said as he tossed his bag into a corner of the foyer and plopped down in an antique chair.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Maxwell glared at Drake. “Liam, do you hear what this asshole is-” Max stopped as he realized Liam was removing several different items from his backpack and placing them on the front desk. “What's all that?”

Liam shot a quick glance to Maxwell, then continued unloading his bag. “Just some stuff I thought we could use to maximize our experience here.”

Drake made his way over and picked up what looked like a small camera. “What’s this for?”

“It’s a thermal camera.” Liam grinned. “It can detect the presence of heat energy and can measure thermal changes wherever you point it.”

Drake groaned. “Oh Li, not you too. You really believe in all this haunted shit?”

“Of course I do!” Liam pulled out three walkie talkies and digital recorders. “Get ready boys. Tonight we’re going ghost hunting.”

________________________________________________________

“You can't be serious!” Maxwell backed away, heading toward the front door. “You know what.. I think I’ll take my chances outside with the Rougarou.”

“Go ahead.” Drake gestured to the door. “I know you’re a coward. Go sleep in the car.”

“Coward?” Maxwell glared at Drake with his hands on his hips.

Drake shrugged. “It’s ok, man. I won’t tell anyone that you practically pissed your pants as soon as we got inside.”

“I didn’t! No.. you know what? I’m not sleeping in the car while you post a pic on insta of you and Liam living it up in this hotel with the hashtag ‘max is a pussy.’ Nope. Sorry Drake, I'm staying here.”

Drake shared an amused look with Liam, who turned away to hide his laughter. They knew Max too well and that trick always worked on him. Liam handed Maxwell a walkie talkie and winked. “Ok then. Welcome to the team.”

“Right.” Maxwell took it nervously. “Well, I hardly doubt there will be any ghosts anyway with the Mardi Gras parade coming by. When does it start anyway? I thought there’d be more people outside by now.”

“Errr.. about that..”

_________________________________________________

Liam decided to set up their ghost hunting headquarters in the grand ballroom since it was in the center of the hotel. It had been remodeled slightly, but the ornate artwork, decorations, and sparkling crystal chandelier were authentic to the original design.

“Why is it so dark in here?” Drake asked as he looked around the room. “Did you tell them to keep the lights off to make it extra creepy?”

Liam chuckled as he handed each of them a flashlight. “Something like that.”

Drake picked up several pieces of expensive looking equipment from the table. “How’d you get your old man to let you buy all this stuff? I know he’s not the type to condone ‘ghost hunting’.”

Liam smirked. “Travel expenses.”

“Right.” Drake couldn’t help but chuckle. If Liam was going to waste his fathers money on this, he was all for it. Constantine spent enough of Cordonia’s money on balls and parades and other useless bullshit to promote his image. 

Maxwell sighed defeatedly, only slightly resolved to the fact that he was not going to get to party during Mardi Gras. “What does this do?” Max hesitantly held up something that looked like a walkie talkie with several small buttons on it.

“That’s what they call a ‘spirit box’. It continuously sweeps through different radio frequencies, and entities can manipulate it to talk to us. In real time!” Liam giggled with glee as he turned it on, holding it out so they could hear the radio static and white noise. “It kind of.. Gives them the energy they need to communicate. Hopefully someone will talk to us tonight! Wouldn’t that be awesome!?”

“No, it would not be awesome.” Maxwell shuddered at the thought, and picked up another device from the table. “Don’t tell me ghosts can use a digital recorder to talk to us. Bertrand uses these all the time, then gives them to me to upload to his computer. I told him he could use an app that translates voice to text, but you know he likes the sound of his own voice.”

“Oh ya.” Liam grinned. “We’re each gonna have one of these tonight. We can ask questions, and once we play back the digital recorder, we’ll see if they answered! Might need to upload them to the computer and use a program to sharpen them up or enhance the sound. Think you could do that, Max?”

“Me?” Maxwell’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Ya. You said you do it for Bert all the time.” Liam grinned broadly and clapped Maxwell on the back. “Hey, you can be our tech guy tonight!”

Despite the fear of possibly hearing a voice from ‘the beyond’, Maxwell felt a swell of pride inside that he could actually be useful for once. “O-okay. Ya. Ya, I can do that!” Maxwell grinned, nodding his head enthusiastically. 

“Who’s ready to get started?!” Liam clapped his hands together in excitement and Max jumped back, startled. 

“Shit, Liam.” Maxwell ran his shaking hands through his hair and sat in a chair. “If we’re doing this.. At least tell us what to expect. Like.. What kind of paranormal stuff goes on here?”

Liam sat across from Drake and Maxwell with his hands steepled, trying to look as dramatic as possible. “Let me tell you about Sally. You see, she was the daughter of the former owners of this hotel back in the 1800’s. She was very mischievous, constantly playing tricks on the other guests in the hotel. Well.. unfortunately that led to her untimely demise. She, uh-”

“Don’t.” Maxwell shook his head. “Nope, nope, nope. Don’t wanna hear about the creepy child ghost anymore. Next, please.”

Liam thumbed through some of the papers he had printed out. “Well, there have been various sightings believed to be former guests who perished in the hotel over the years. People have seen a lady in a Victorian dress pass through the halls. Um.. a man in a top hat seems to hang out around the front desk occasionally. But room 413 is the one with the most activity. A woman is said to have died in that very room, and often makes her presence known to the guests who dare to sleep there. Many have even reported finding mysterious scratch marks on their body when they awoke the next morning. It’s where we’re staying tonight.”

“Of course it is.” Maxwell stood up and made his way across the ballroom, flashlight in hand. “Can we at least get a snack in the kitchen first? I’d like to have something sweet for my last meal.”

Drake rolled his eyes and followed Max across the room, heading toward the kitchen. 

“Alright, we can eat first.” Liam chuckled and grabbed his own flashlight, preparing to follow them. The horrific sound of a man’s scream coming from their direction caused his blood to run cold.

“What the hell?” Liam took off after them, sprinting across the ballroom and down the hall toward the kitchen. He froze when he saw Maxwell standing a few feet away from a small girl wearing a white dress. 

“Oh my god, it’s Sally!!” Maxwell shrieked before scrambling back across the room behind Drake.

Just then, the kitchen lights flicked on and Bastien and a man entered. “I apologize if we frightened you all.” The man said with a smile. “I’m the head chef here, Maurice, and this is my daughter Amelia. When she heard there was a real prince staying here, she insisted I bring her along to meet you.”

“Holy shit.” Maxwell whispered in relief, holding his hand over his pounding heart. Drake laughed hysterically and Liam gave Maurice an apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry Maurice.” Liam nodded politely to the man and crouched down to the little girl's level. “I hope my friends didn’t scare you.” Liam stage whispered to Amelia. “The one wearing the squid shirt is a bit of a chicken.” Amelia put her hand over her mouth and giggled as she looked at Maxwell. 

“It’s quite alright.” Maurice smiled. “I just wanted to let you know that the kitchen is yours for the night. In the refrigerator, I have several Louisiana dishes prepared that you may not be familiar with. But anything you want is yours - Gumbo, etouffee, jambalaya, red beans and rice. Truly, help yourself.”

“Oh my god, yes.” Drake grinned, already helping himself to the contents of the large refrigerator. 

“Thank you so much, Maurice. That’s very kind of you.” Liam chuckled. “We will definitely take you up on that offer.”

Maurice bowed. “Well, we’ll get out of your hair and let you enjoy your night, Your Highness.”

“Wait.” Liam stopped the man, who was following Bastien out of the room. “How long have you been working here?”

“Hmm. I’d say over twenty years.”

Liam nodded. “And have you ever seen anything.. Uh, paranormal here?”

Maurice’s face sobered as he shared a look with his daughter. “I should say so. Just.. don’t provoke them.”

Liam felt a chill run through his body. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” Maurice chuckled. “You must think I’m talking crazy.”

Maxwell and Drake were both listening intently now as well. “No, I don’t think that at all.” Liam said. “Please tell me what you mean.”

“There are several residual spirits here. They’re basically just stuck in time.. Going through the motions day after day, unaware of life carrying on around them.” Maurice lowered his voice, leaning closer to Liam. “And there are some.. Who are very much aware. Some who.. Play tricks, or make their presence known in other ways.”

“Like S-sally?” Maxwell’s voice trembled and he clung to Drake’s bicep tightly.

“Yes. However, she is one of the friendly ones.”

“And some are..” Maxwell gulped. “Unfriendly?”

Maurice forced a smile. “Like I said.. Just.. don’t provoke them and you’ll be fine.” With that, he took his daughter’s hand and followed Bastien out of the room and into the dark hallway. Liam, Drake, and Max stood unmoving in the empty kitchen, as they heard the men's footsteps grow fainter, then the sound of the main doors opening, closing, and locking once again.

“Ok, I changed my mind.” Max wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing them vigorously as if trying to get warm. “I’m not hungry. Definitely lost my appetite.”

“Well I’m not letting this go to waste.” Drake continued piling food onto a plate and put it in the microwave. “You know they’re just telling you what you want to hear. Trying to play into the whole ‘haunted hotel’ thing.”

Liam was still standing in place, while Maurice’s words echoed in his head. ‘Don't provoke them.’ When he bought all the ghost hunting equipment, he had just planned on talking to them.. That wasn’t provoking was it? Nah, he thought. “Drake, you can't seriously think that all the people who have had ghost encounters here and seen the same things are lying. And Maurice has been here for over twenty years! I think he’s telling the truth.”

Drake blew on a spoonful of steaming hot jambalaya. “Naw, man. That’s because you always wanna see the best in everyone. I’m telling you.. It’s all a bit.” Drake took a bite and closed his eyes, savoring the spicy dish. “Oh my god, you have to try this.”

Liam and Max fixed themselves a plate and the three friends sat at a small table in the kitchen discussing the food. Maxwell even seemed to start relaxing as they laughed and joked together. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long, and a loud clang echoing from the direction of the ballroom halted their conversation.

The guys looked toward the direction of the sound and then back at each other. Liam wiped his mouth and stood up, making his way toward the door.

“Liam!” Max grabbed his arm to stop his friend. “Don’t! It’s the ghosts! They want us gone!” Max looked frantically around the room, suddenly feeling like there was someone watching him that he couldn’t see.

Drake sighed. “No. It’s probably Bastien again. You gotta tell him to stop letting people in here or Beaumont is gonna shit himself.”

Drake clicked on his flashlight and pushed past Liam, heading down the hall toward the ballroom. There were only a few dim candelabras on the wall lighting his way, and Drake couldn’t help but feel a little creeped out by how dark it was. Not that he thought there were ghosts. No, Drake Walker did not believe in ghosts.. However, the darkness had him feeling like he was not in control of the situation. “Huh.” Drake stopped and furrowed his brow once he reached the table with their equipment. “Li, you must have left the spirit box thingy on the edge of the table.” He stooped down to pick it up.

“No.” Liam shook his head softly. “It was in the middle of the table, Drake.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “Or so you think.”

Liam felt chills go down his spine. He knew he put the spirit box directly in the center of the table. He took it from Drake and clicked it on. The static and random radio noise rang out, echoing through the ballroom. They saw a flashlight streaming into the room as Maxwell entered hurriedly.

Suddenly the spirit box let out a noise that sounded like different syllables being sounded out. Liam quickly gave Max a camera to start filming, while he held the spirit box out in front of him. “Um.. is, uh.. Anyone in here with us?”

The radio crackling stopped for a moment and the three of them heard a distinct “yes.”

Liam’s entire body erupted in goosebumps and he nearly dropped the spirit box in shock. Max was trembling and Drake was looking around wide eyed. Liam summoned all his courage and spoke again. “Um.. do you want to tell us your name?”

Again, static and crackling with just barely a hint of different syllables.

Liam waited with bated breath, but there was nothing. After five more minutes, he sat the spirit box back on the table. “Can you believe that?!” He grinned at Max and Drake.

Drake rolled his eyes. “That thing probably just picked up some trucker’s radio frequency or something.”

Liam and Max both started talking animatedly. 

“No way!

 It was definitely someone trying to contact us!” 

Max shivered. “Or someone trying to tell us to get out!”

“There is a logical explanation for everything!” Drake raised his voice to talk over them.

“John.”

The men halted their conversation and spun back around to the noise that had come from the spirit box. Liam gulped and spoke to the dark, empty room in front of him, “W-what did you say?” 

Once again the static crackled until a distorted, faint, male voice said, “John.”

______________________________________

After another hour of Liam trying to speak to ‘John’ and Maxwell trying not to cry, they decided to move on to a different room. Liam gave Drake the thermal camera, and he and Maxwell each took a night vision camera of their own. 

Liam flipped the camera around to show his face and started talking into it. “Ok, so far we have footage of an EVP from a man named ‘John’-”

Drake cut him off with a smirk. “Unless Max forgot to hit record, or his hands shook so much the camera broke.”

“Hush.” Liam shot Drake a warning look before speaking to the camera again. “Now we're making our way to the front desk where people often see a man with a top hat.”

“I fucking hate this.” Max whispered as they made their way down a long hallway, and Liam turned the camera to focus on Maxwell.

“You’re on camera, Max.” Liam grinned. “Say hi!”

“Ya, hi everyone. Look, if you find my body in the morning, I need to make sure my conscience is clear so that I can move on to the afterlife. Tell Bertrand that a few years ago, I borrowed his toothbrush to get the gunk out of his watch.”

“What?” Drake’s face wrinkled in disgust. “Why would you do that?”

“I had to borrow Bert’s watch one time to impress a date, and by the end of the night we ended up wrestling in the mud. I took off my clothes but forgot about the watch, so of course it got dirty!”

“Mud wrestling? Who the hell did you go mud wrestling with? Surely not a noble!” 

“Oh you’d be surprised.” 

“Who was it!? Oh my god, don’t tell me it was-” Drake stopped himself. “You know what, I don’t wanna know.”

Maxwell sighed. “So anyway, I had to clean the dried dirt and whatever else out of the watch and I wasn't about to use my own toothbrush, because eww!”

Drake rubbed a hand down his face in exasperation. “Why didn’t you just get a new toothbrush to clean it? Surely there were extras in your house? Or why didn’t you use literally anything else to clean it besides your brother’s fucking toothbrush!?”

“Drake, if I knew the answer to that question, I wouldn’t have done it in the first place!”

“Shut up, both of you.” Liam scolded them quietly, once they reached the lobby where the front desk was located. “Drake, turn on the thermal camera and look around.”

“Yes sir.” Drake mocked and fiddled with the camera until it was turned on.

“Let me know if you see anything.” Liam whispered.

Drake sighed and scanned the room, turning in a slow circle. He paused for a moment, and looked up from the camera, then back at it again. “Liam, what’s this purplish blue spot?” He asked in confusion. 

Liam ran over to Drake and looked down at the camera where a tall form, resembling a human, appeared unmoving across the room. “That means there's something cold over there.” Liam whispered while chills once again ran down his spine.

Drake spoke quietly, desperately trying to keep a level head. “That must be like.. From the AC or something, right?”

Max scurried behind the two of them, glancing down at the thermal camera and wishing he hadn’t. “Oh shit. It’s gotta be the top hat guy. Oh shit, oh shit.”

Liam aimed his camera down at the thermal camera screen, then back up to the empty spot across the room. When he looked back down at the thermal camera, the image was gone. “Oh my god.” He whispered.

“Maybe.. Uh.” Drake stammered. “Maybe the AC shut off and that’s why it’s gone.”

Liam and Max both gave him a deadpan stare, and Drake looked away uncomfortably. 

Liam grinned as a thrill ran through his body, then turned the camera to face himself once again. “So that’s TWO different paranormal encounters we’ve had so far in just a matter of hours! Agh, I can't wait to get to our room and communicate with the spirits in there!”

“Wait, what?!” Max whirled around to face his friend. “Maurice said don’t provoke them!”

“I'm not going to provoke them! Just.. talk to them a little. And see if they want to talk back.”

Drake remained silent as he followed the two of them up the stairs, still holding the thermal camera out in front of him, scanning as he walked. Once they reached the fourth floor, they made their way down the hallway, pausing at door number 413.

Liam entered first with his camera on night vision, scanning the room slowly. “Drake, you got anything on the thermal?”

Drake checked the room and shook his head. Liam flipped on the lights and saw that their bags had already been brought up for them. He dropped down on the bed. “Well it’s 2 am, we can go around the hotel with the spirit box and digital recorders, or stay in here and see if we get anything. What do you guys wanna do?”

“Sleep.” Drake said with a yawn.

“You can’t be serious!” Liam looked at him in dismay. “We’re not going to sleep yet! We have a whole haunted hotel to ourselves for the night, we have to make the most out of it!”

“Look, I’m tired as shit from all the traveling we’ve done lately. And I don’t want to stay up all night trying to talk to or video things that aren't there!”

“Fine! Go!” Liam waved him away. “But you can stay in another room. I have work to do.”

Drake rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag off the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. “I didn’t want to sleep in that little bed with the two of you anyway!”

Liam gave Drake the master keycard and he made his way a few doors down, opening a room for himself.

Liam lay back on the bed and sighed in exasperation. Why was Drake always so difficult? “Well Max, I guess it’s just the two of us.”

“I never thought I'd say this but.. I’m kinda with Drake.”

Liam bolted upright. “What?!”

“Not that I don’t believe in ghosts.. I’ve just kinda had my fill. I’d rather stay in a room that’s not haunted and get some sleep.”

“Max, not you too!”

“Sorry..” Maxwell gave him an apologetic glance before heading out and down the hallway to get the keycard from Drake. “I’ll take the room next to yours, ok Liam? Well.. maybe not right next to yours in case the ghost forgets which room is theirs and accidentally go into mine. I’ll be a couple doors down and across the hall.”

“Fine.” Liam waved him away with a sigh. He set up a camera on a tripod in the corner of the room and turned on the digital recorder. “Guess I’m doing this on my own.”

That night, Maxwell and Drake both lay in bed in different rooms of the Decuir Hotel preparing for a good night's sleep. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards.

_____________________________________________

Drake

After a long shower, Drake pulled on a tshirt and sweatpants, brushed his teeth, and climbed into the plush, queen sized bed. It was already 3 am, and he was exhausted. Tonight had been a ridiculous waste of time. Liam seemed to enjoy it, and Drake enjoyed laughing at Maxwell, but all this ghost and haunted business was just absurd. There was a logical explanation for everything. Everything! Sure the voice in the ballroom was.. weird. And the cold ‘figure’ across the room in the lobby was.. unusual, but that didn’t mean it was anything that couldn’t be explained. Drake pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes.

He lay in bed trying to relax, hoping that he could fall asleep, when a rush of cold air blew across his cheek. He opened his eyes and touched his face. Must be the air conditioner. Yep, that’s all. He rolled over on his side in the pitch black room, facing the door to the hallway. A faint but firm pressure on his leg caused him to bolt upright and kick off the blankets, certain that a rat or something was crawling on the bed. He threw on the lights and searched the entire room, but found nothing. Drake couldn’t help but feel a chill down his spine, but he reprimanded himself. He was just being stupid. Maxwell and Liam must have gotten to him. The room was quiet, the only sound coming from the occasional car driving past from the street below. A soft buzz filled his ears and the bedroom lights flickered slightly.

“What the fuck..” Drake reached up and tapped the lightbulb a few times and it stopped. He chuckled to himself. “See, theres a reasonable explanation for everything.”

“Drake.” 

A blast of cold air against the back of his neck and the sound of his name uttered in an echoing whisper, caused him to dash across the room. He fumbled for the thermal camera that was on the dresser and clicked it on, pointing it to where he had just been standing. His breathing was erratic as he watched a cold figure move across the room and disappear completely. 

_________________________________________________

Maxwell

The first thing Maxwell did when he entered his room was flip on every light: the bedroom, all the lamps, bathroom, and even the closet. Next was the television. He turned on a rerun of SNL so that he could lighten his mood and fill the room with some kind of happiness to cover the fact that everywhere in this hotel felt dark and creepy. He realized he still had the camera Liam had given him, and he turned the screen toward him and pushed record. “So, it is now exactly 3 am, aka the witching hour. I am officially resigning from this ghost hunting stuff that Liam was so kind to spring on me under the pretense of being able to party my ass off at Mardi Gras!” He shook his head in mock offense, speaking to the camera with a grin. “Thanks a lot, Liam! I could have tons of plastic beads around my neck right now, but noooo! I’m in the fucking Stanley hotel, feeling like any minute, someone is going to yell ‘REDRUM’ from out in the hallway! Like seriously-” 

A noise from the hallway stopped him, and Max turned toward the door with a jerk. 

He crawled to the edge of the bed slowly, trying not to make a sound as he listened intently. A distant childlike laugh from the other side of his door left his body frozen in terror. “What the-” Maxwell whispered and remembering he still had the camera in his hands, aimed it toward the door to the hallway. He muted the tv and climbed out of bed, nervously making his way across the room toward the door. Suddenly, he heard the heavy thumping of someone running down the hallway, and the jovial childlike laughter filled his ears once again.

Maxwell’s body was flooded with adrenaline and before he realized what he was doing, he threw open the door and stuck his head out into the hallway. Instead of seeing a child, he caught a quick glimpse of a man in the distance with brown hair turning the corner at the far end of the hallway. “Damn it, Drake! Fuck you, that’s not funny!”

Max went back inside his room and slammed the door closed in frustration. He tossed the camera onto the bed and stalked into the bathroom to wash his face. As he looked in the mirror, he heard the laughter once again outside of his door. He shook his head and yelled out, “I never knew you could make your voice that high pitched, Walker. Fuck off!”

Instead of another laugh, this time there was a knock at the door. Followed by another, louder series of knocks, that became more insistent. Max sighed and threw the door open. “Yes, Dra-”

No one.

Max peeked his head out but once again the long hallway was empty and completely silent. Then the heavy thumping of feet running across the floor echoed through the hallway, growing louder and louder as they seemed to get closer to his room. Max dashed back inside and slammed the door behind him, locking it and crawling under the blankets trembling as he pulled out his phone to call Liam. No signal. Of course.

_____________________________________________

Liam

With his friends abandoning him, Liam was determined to get more hard evidence by himself. He sat on the bed with a camera on a tripod across the room facing him, and the spirit box on the dresser beside him. “Ok.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s see how haunted this room really is.”

Liam turned off the lights and closed his eyes. “Is there anyone here with me?”

Silence.

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought. “I know you’re here. Come talk to me.”

Silence.

Liam sighed. He wanted more evidence. No, he needed more evidence. He needed to show Drake and Max what they missed out on by not staying. Don’t provoke them. Nah, he wasn’t going to provoke them.. Just tease them a little to get them to respond. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and grabbed the digital recorder, pressing record. If the spirit box wasn’t picking anything up, maybe the digital recorder would show something when they reviewed it later. He checked the clock on the bedside table. 2:59 am. 

 “Come on, talk to me. Show yourself! I want to show my friends that you’re real.” Liam knew Max would hate him for saying this, but he needed results. “If you won’t talk to me, go talk to them! They’re just a few doors away. They’d love to meet you.”

Silence.

The spirit box still only crackled with the same old static, and not a single blip. “What, are you afraid of me?!” Liam raised his voice, trying to bait someone into responding. He decided to channel his inner Olivia.. If that didn’t work, he didn’t know what would. “Wow.. I thought the spirits here would be more impressive, but you are pathetic! This has really been a waste of my time.”

Liam waited for what seemed like an eternity, listening intently.

The spirit box made a few incoherent noises that sent shivers down his spine. Someone took the bait.

A robotic sounding female voice manifested over the static. “No.”

Liam’s breath quickened and his heart was beating a mile a minute. “No? What do you mean no? No, you don’t want to talk to me?”

The spirit box crackled again. “Go.”

Liam had goosebumps on top of his goosebumps. He tried to speak, but his voice cracked and his throat was dry. “A-are you telling me to go, or to not go?”

Silence.

Liam furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of this. Maybe Drake was right. Maybe this was just picking up someone's radio frequency or something. He turned on the lights and searched through his backpack for the thermal camera, then remembered Drake had it. Liam reached out for the doorknob when suddenly a stinging pain radiated down his forearms and the spirit box crackled with the same distorted female voice.

“Stay.”

_________________________________________________

“Never again!” Maxwell shook his head as he made his way out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk, where the sun shone brightly. “God, I can’t wait to get out of here and get back to my normal, boring, unhaunted home!”

Drake hadn’t spoken a word all morning, but followed behind Max. “Ya, I’m ready to get home too.”

Maxwell quirked an eyebrow. “Oh really?! Mr. I-don't-believe-in-ghosts! Something happened to you too last night, didn’t it?”

“Nah. I slept like a baby.” Drake looked away, trying to seem nonchalant. There was no way in hell he was going to speak a word about what happened in his room last night. He wasn’t even sure what had happened. “I just miss my whiskey cellar.”

“Of course.” Max chuckled as he sat his bag down on a bench on the street. The city was alive again and people hurried past on their way to work or wherever their busy lives took them. Faint jazz music poured out of a nearby cafe where patrons enjoyed coffee and beignets. A souvenir shop across the street with a display window full of alligator heads and tie dye t-shirts, flipped their sign to ‘open’. A man and woman busking outside of a nearby library sang zydeco music while playing the accordion.

Liam shook the hotel manager’s hand, thanking him, before following his friends out to the street. “Well, that was an experience we’ll never forget.”

Maxwell shuddered. “But my therapist will be working overtime to try and remedy that.”

They climbed into the back of the limo and Max checked his Instagram account. “Guys, oh my god.”

“What’s up?” Liam leaned over to view Maxwell’s phone.

“I put some of the footage on Instagram early this morning, because God knows I wasn’t sleeping. Hell, I may never sleep again.” Maxwell shook his head to clear the memories from the night before. “But anyway.. I uploaded some of the footage, and people are loving it!”

Drake scoffed. “Yes I’m sure dozens of people around Cordonia have liked it.”

“Try 3.3 million people around the world in the last 2 hours.” Max smirked, holding it out for Drake to see. “They’re calling us the Cordonian ghost hunters.”

Liam chuckled. “That’s cute.”

Maxwell scrolled through thousands of comments, in awe. “Guys.. we’re famous!”

Drake rolled his eyes, taking a bite of a croissant that Bastien had picked up for them that morning. “You know Liam is literally a prince. He doesn’t need this to make him famous.”

Maxwell grinned as he read. “Oh my god, Drake, you're famous! Listen to this. ‘Drake Walker is so hot! Like, can I die and come back as a ghost so I can haunt him?’”

Drake blushed and snatched the phone. “It doesn’t say that!”

“Does too!” Max grabbed the phone back, and soon they were all laughing and smiling at the comments.

“This was fun.” Liam grinned at his friends as they made their way down the road toward the airport, preparing to return to Cordonia.

“I mean..” Drake shrugged. 

Max smiled. “If you overlook the paralyzing terror and traumatizing memories that will haunt me for the rest of my life.. Then ya, it was fun!”

Liam couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face as an idea brewed in his head. “What if.. We became the Cordonian ghost hunters? Like, for real.”

Drake and Max looked at Liam and back at each other. Liam spoke up again. “We could travel all around the world. People could send us recommendations for different haunted places and we could stay there and film it.”

“Seriously?” Drake arched an eyebrow and smirked. “This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you don’t want to go back home and start training for a spot on the council, would it?”

Liam feigned offense. “Of course not!”

Max continued to scroll through his phone in awe. “We could make our own insta page for it! Ahh! Guys, let’s do it!”

“Really?!” Drake asked in disbelief. “You were scared shitless back there! You want to go to more ‘haunted’ places and do that all over again?”

“Not really!” Max shrugged. “But come on, we’re badass ghost hunters! How fucking cool is that?”

Liam laughed and the two of them stared at Drake hopefully. After a moment he threw his hands up and sighed. “Fine. Fine, let’s do it.”

“Yes!” Max began shimmying in his seat excitedly.

Liam knocked on the privacy window between the front and back seats, and Bastien rolled it down. “Bastien, change of plans. We’re not going back to Cordonia. We’re going to hunt more ghosts.”

“Sir?” Bastien looked at Liam incredulously.

Drake chuckled. “Ya, Bas, just don’t let any more random people into the hotel in the middle of the night and scare Max to death again.”

“I'm confused.” Bastien furrowed his brow as he looked between the three friends curiously. “Let random people into the hotel?”

“He means the chef and his daughter.” Max said as he chewed a croissant. “Which by the way, did he make these? They're freaking delicious!”

Bastien still looked utterly lost. “I didn’t let anyone into the hotel last night. Liam, you told me that no one was to enter, so not a soul passed through those doors until morning. Not even me.”

The three friends stared at each other in horror, as they made their way through the busy streets in South Louisiana. The air was thick and damp with humidity and the cicadas and crickets played a melody that filled the warm air.

 Max took a deep breath and added a comment to the page. “Where should we go next?”

[utilitycaster]

May I ask why you are not too upset about the idea that Orym, Fearne, and maybe Laudna have perma died? To me, it feels like such an uninteresting and jagged pill to swallow, but I’m interested in your perspective.

So, actually, I am upset, notably about Fearne who I really like and whose story interests me. I both like Orym as a character within the game, and also have a lot of issues with his character concept, and therefore I find myself feeling really conflicted here in that like...Liam can do so much better, and this feels like at least a somewhat more apt ending for him than for Fearne, but it still does not feel great. I'm not counting my chickens before they...die, so I'm not really counting Laudna here in my considerations even though her death is possible and I'd find it...complicated in the way Orym's is re: character concept, and more unsatisfying. With that said, I agree that none of the deaths feel well done or satisfying.

But more generally: my throughline for a while has been that I've felt the pacing and character prep has felt off, and I've been very open about this, and so this is to an extent a "maybe if you burn enough down, something more interesting will arise from the ashes". This is something of a tangent that I won't get into because it's getting late but I've been talking a lot, but I am more interested in the plots that aren't related to the whole moon/assassin stuff, even though I genuinely love moon and deity lore and want to see Ludinus, because the moon stuff has just been lore dropped and shoved down our throats unendingly, whereas the Gorgynei and Hishari and Aeormaton stuff have all been enticingly vague. It's at a point where I'm like "maybe if we kill off/Dark Phoenix control the people with moon connections, and Treshi, and hell, Eshteross, we can have a story that it actually feels the characters are running instead of being run through." It is absolutely not ideal. I will not like it. But it feels like one of the better options.

[genevievemd]

6 for E and G and 19 and 30 for B and N (combined or separate you choose 😘)

A Kiss of Relief

Book: Open Heart (Bk 2, Ch 11) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 339 Rating: T Category: Angsty Fluff Trope(s):

Summary: Ethan gives in to his desires once Gen is free from the toxin. 

Warnings: none

A/N: Not me writing another thing for ch 11... but like this prompt was meant for it. 

(tags under readmore)

Sweet Affectionate Moments Prompts

His arms wrap around her, holding Genevieve against him as tightly as he dares. Feeling her tears mingle with his own in the somewhat empty hallway. 

The last twenty-four hours have been the most agonizing of his life. Proving to Ethan once and for all that Gen had become so much more than his resident, his friend. She was the love of his life, even if it was too soon to admit it to anyone but himself. 

The reset, the distance, his dimwitted convictions, none of it mattered anymore. 

The only thing that mattered now was finding a way to be with her, completely. 

Ethan pulls back, feeling eternally grateful when his rookie looks up at him with hopeful, joyful, green eyes. Their shared smiles saying more than words ever could. 

Taking a breath, he looks up and down the hallway, cataloguing the few nurses still moving about the floor. Taking down hazmat signs and restriction tape. Without giving himself a moment to overthink, Ethan moves his hands to her arms, gently walking then back into the room and away from prying eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Gen looks up at him again, whispering in confusion.

“I need to make sure we don’t have an audience.” 

“For what?” 

Slowly, Ethan cradles her face in his hands, the cool touch of her skin so soothing it brings tears to his eyes. He dips down, delicately pressing his lips to hers. Both sighing in relief at the sensation of kissing again. 

Something he hasn’t done since the asinine softball game against Mass Kenmore weeks ago. And something he hasn’t stopped thinking about since. 

Before they get carried away, Ethan pulls back. Eyes closing and resting his forehead against her own. 

“Let’s get you to a new room.” 

“Okay.” Her voice still stays at a whisper, as if she’s afraid to break whatever spell he’s been cast under.

But it would never be broken, and Ethan fully intends of losing himself completely to her enchantment the moment she’s released from the hospital.

A/N: Short and Sweet

Tag Lists:

Perma: @terrm9 @potionsprefect @iemcpbchoices @lacroixrookie @coffeeheartaddict2 @queencarb @lucy-268 @custaroonie @maurine07 @gryffindordaughterofathena @ohchoices @choicesaddict5 @fireycookie @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @oldminniemcg @kalinahonore @taniasethi @mrs-ramsey @shanzay44 @stygianflood @uneravine @openheartfan @fayeswiftie @stateofgracious @sophxwithers @estellaelysian @mm2305 @withbeautyandrage-archive @udishaman @mercury84choices @silma-words @headoverheelsforramsey @iloveethanramsey @choiceskatie @mainstreetreader @bizarrestarrysky @starryeyedrookie @itsjustwinter @rebekah-trader @dorisz @quixoticdreamer16 @lady-calypso @writer-ish @perriewinklenerdie @sophiexx34 @lsvdw-blog @toadfrog26 @ilikeyellingatmyscreen @somersetmummy  @tsrookie @caroldxnvxrs @lilaccatholic @mia143 @wanderingamongthewildflowers @liaromancewriter @pixelnutrookie @chemist-ana @crazy-loca-blog @rookiemartin @natureblooms24 @dr-addieramsey @rosebudde @anonymousrookie @peonierose @jerzwriter

Fic: @overwhelminglyaquarius @me-and-my-choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @a-crepusculo @drakewalkerfantasy @adrex04 @drariellevalentine @openheartthot  @aworldoffandoms  @elwetritsche75 @emotionalswift2 @thegreentwin @starrystarrytrouble @utterlyinevitable @jooous  @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @alexabeta @nikki-2406 @jamespotterthefirst @vi-writes-stuff @audburn 

[liberty-barnes]

The Braid

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Request: Hi! I saw your comeback sleepover post! If you’re up for it and want to, could you do prompt #3 “stop moving and let me braid your hair” with Kaz Brekker from Shadow and Bone? Thank you!!!

Warnings: mentions of Kaz’s touch aversion, fluffy shit

Word Count: 630 words

Estimated Reading Time: 2.5 minutes

A/N: Kaz deserves all the good in the world and anyone that says otherwise will meet my fists with their face.

Masterlist | Miah’s Comeback Sleepover

You took your hair out of its ponytail for what felt like the hundredth time in the last five minutes. Your last hair tie has reached that point. You know the one. The point where three loops are too tight and give you unforgiving headaches, but two loops aren’t tight enough, and it comes apart every thirty seconds.

Still, it was better to have to constantly redo it than to spend the rest of your night with your head pounding.

“What about here?”

You pointed at the southeast entrance, expertly retying your hair while Kaz looked over your proposition.

“That could work, but guards pass by every thirty seconds so we’d have a very small window of opportunity.”

You nodded and leaned on your elbows, hair already starting to droop.

“That does sound a bit tight. Let’s try to find a better option and keep this as a plan B.”

You went back to analysing the blueprints, feeling your hair falling further and further. When you went to fix up your hair, Kaz’s voice rang out.

“Why don’t you just braid it so it doesn’t keep falling?”

You looked at him and shrugged.

“Takes too long. Don’t have the patience. Makes my arms hurt to have them up for so long.”

He rolled his eyes harder than anyone should be able to.

“Well, it’s distracting to have you fix up your hair every five minutes.”

You huffed, and kept it down, putting the hair tie around your wrist. The next few minutes were spent looking for more possible entrances, shutting down every single one of them, and blowing your hair out of your face.

“Okay, that’s it.”

Kaz brought one of the padded benches closer to his chair and motioned for you to sit down.

“What are you doing?”

“Ending this madness, now sit.”

You did as told. Despite being your… something… Kaz was still one of the deadliest men you’ve ever met. It’s best not to test your luck.

You felt his gloved hands running through your hair, undoing the knots as best he could without a brush before a medium-sized chunk of your hair from near your forehead was being separated into the three.

“Wha-”

You tried to turn towards the mirror on your left, trying to see what he was doing, but a quick pull of your hair stopped you.

“Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

You stilled right away, feeling him take strands of hair periodically to add to the growing braid running down the middle of your head.

“So, where’d you learn to french braid?”

You could feel him tensing behind you, probably ready to say that it’s none of your business. Fortunately for your curiosity, Kaz had been making an effort to be more open with you.

“I used to have long hair when I was younger. I learned how to braid so I’d keep the hair out of my face during heists before I got tired of it and decided to cut it off.”

Two whole sentences’ worth of information about his past. You smiled and closed your eyes, simply enjoying his fingers running through your head. A year ago, it would have been impossible for you to even sit this close to him, and yet, here you were, with his hands in your hair and feeling his body heat closer than you ever had before.

You took the hair tie from your wrist and raised it towards him with two fingers so he wouldn’t have to touch yours if he didn’t want to. Braiding your hair was already a huge step.

You felt the very tip of his gloved fingers brush yours and stay for a couple of seconds before he tied off the braid.

“There. Now I can focus.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

PERMA TAG

@adriannajackson123 @evermoreholland @inlovewithmobtom @andycanbeemotional @officiallyunofficialperson @lost-in-the-stars03 @jeezkiddo @a-singleboat @parkersbliss @highlydisfunctional1 @inthecornerchair @harishaanne @anjalika03 @peterspideyy @lozzypoz321 @mendes-marvel @sovereignparker @sofyluv17 @dracoswhore007

SHADOW AND BONE

@thegirlwiththeimpala @olkathechaoticfox

[hopelessromantic1352]

New Beginnings - Chapter 9

The next couple/few chapters may be short, but I’m loving where this series is headed. This chapter is more jealous Thomas and shows how this couple is battling their own issues separately.

Word Count: 1,625

Warnings: None

Perma tags: @drstrange46ers

Thomas tags: @alleksa16 @alj4890 @choicesmakemychoices @marycarrillo21 @lxaah11 @kuladekiwi @ajayismybae @choices-dan @miss-indecisive-says @mfackenthal @ethanplaysfavorites @amillionmoonsred @usuallyamazinglyaverage @thethots-plicken @hhiggs @jlpplays1 @lilyoffandoms

“Alex, I can’t take it anymore.” Samuel motions between the two of them, “I can’t stop myself anymore.”

Alexandria grins up at him with a warm smile, nearing him slowly, “So you feel the same?”

Nearly growling, he sweeps her up in his arms, “I have since I first met you.”

The two embrace a passionate kiss, on screen their lust will be palpable, but between Ryan and Natalia it’s a bit awkward. Anyone watching couldn’t tell the difference, but that meant trouble for a certain someone in charge.

Thomas’ jaw clenches so tightly a sharp pain shoots through his teeth, his hands grip the armrests of his director’s chair and his knuckles turn white from the force. He is trying to stay quiet, he knows it’s just for the movie, he knows there are no feelings there and he knows it’s not real. But, lord, it feels real.

When the actors break away, an adoring look is on Natalia’s pretty face. Her hand slips up to Samuel’s jaw, caressing it softly. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

“Cut!”

His voice, more like a roar, carried so much frustration, anger, and pure loathing than he intended. It rang out so loud the entire studio was silent afterwards.

When all eyes settle on him, including Natalia’s worried orbs, he stares at Ryan with a deep scowl.

“Prepare for the next scene.” He stands, walking to the craft services table and getting himself a cup of coffee.

He immediately takes a drink, ignoring the burn of his mouth. When Natalia sidles up to him, pouring herself a cup of hot water and adding an earl grey tea bag, she quietly clears her throat.

“What did I do wrong?”

Thomas bristles at the question, “What did you do wrong?”

Surprised by the elevated tone in his voice, she widens her eyes and snaps her focus to him. Her hand stills on the spoon stirring her tea.

“Surprisingly, you did nothing wrong. You have been nothing but perfect. I am not certain if this was a good idea.” He angrily motions to the entire set.

“What do you—“

Thomas cuts her off quickly.

“Nothing. Continue on, I know you are enjoying this.”

He stalks off, leaving his nearly full cup of black coffee steaming on the table.

Her eyebrows furrow together in confusion and her bottom lip trembles as she begins backing away from the table.

Overhearing everything, Ryan had come up behind them.

“Natalia, wait.” Ryan reaches for her, but she shakes her head and turns away, going to the empty film room.

She slams the door, the sound echoing through the silent studio. Thomas sags in his chair, running hand over his face while whispers carry out over the room.

“What is going on between those two?”

“Haven't you heard? She’s staying at his house.”

“So she slept her way into this deal?”

Thomas turns his menacing voice on the crew gossiping. “If I were you three, I would shut my mouth before one, or all of you lose your jobs. Ms. York has exuded talent that not only sent her book to the New York Times bestseller list, but also caught my eye and my agent’s eye. Not only is she a talented author, as you can clearly see with your own deplorable eyes, she is quite talented at acting.”

The three crew members nod in agreement and scurry away as quickly as they can. Thomas lets out a deep breath through his teeth, running a hand through his hair and groaning quietly.

“Hunt, we need to talk.” Ryan’s usually charming voice is clipped and he wears an irritated look on his face.

Thomas turns, raising an eyebrow, “About?”

“Natalia turned me down because of you, right?” He watches as his old friend tenses, but his face shows no emotion. “You could have just come to me. We’ve been friends for how long? If I had known, I never would’ve jeopardized anything between you two.”

The director feels his body sag with… relief and embarrassment. Although his face is devoid of emotion, he nods, showing the gratefulness in his eyes.

“I should have acted with more maturity than I did. This was not something I was certain about until recently.” After clearly his throat, Thomas continues, “You always have been the heartthrob in Hollywood. I am just the old… grouch, as Holly refers to me.”

Ryan smirks goodnaturedly, “Well, obviously you got something she likes more than what I’ve got. And that’s saying something.” He winks and grips his friend’s shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about me. I want the best for you.”

After a tight nod and thank you, Thomas goes to inform Holly that they are finished for the day.

“I agree that we had a good day going and got a lot done, but what in the heck happened back there?” The screenwriter’s baffled and exasperated look earns her a frown from the director.

“A mistake. Now, if you do not mind, send everyone home. I have something that requires my immediate attention.”

Buttoning his blazer, Thomas stalks towards the film room, ignoring the dispersing crew. When he arrives outside the door, he knocks softly. After no response, he knocks louder.

“Natalia? It’s Thomas. I have something I want… no, I need to say.”

He hears a muffled sniffle and then footsteps, followed by the door unlocking. Although it remains closed, he takes that as an invitation. Slowly, carefully, he opens the door and sees the beautiful woman who he’s taken with sitting on the floor against the wall. Tears stain her cheeks and her eyes are red, her arms are wrapped around herself. When her eyes finally look up at him, he sees the brokenness clouding them.

Thomas shakes his head, mumbling obscenities at himself, as he reaches her, he kneels down in front of her. “Natalia, I came to apologize.”

She doesn’t look up at him again, urging him to continue, “Jealousy… is not something I am familiar with. Not to this extent. What I feel for you is more intense than anything I have ever felt for any person. Seeing you and Summers locked in a… passionate embrace, albeit fake, was still difficult for myself to watch. I know you do not see anything in him, but when I cannot openly express the fondness my heart feels for you, it…”

“Hurts?” She finally looks up at him, eyes dried but still red rimmed and her voice is hoarse. “Because believe me, I understand.”

Watching him wince was satisfying for Natalia, but she allows him to continue.

“I am beyond sorry, Natalia. I am angry at myself for hurting you and not putting your emotions first. I understand if you stay angry at me for some time, I just wanted to ensure I made you know that I regret my actions entirely.”

Thomas stands, brushing his knees off and turns, heading for the door. Hearing her clear her throat makes him stop. He slowly turns and she walks quickly to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“We have both seen sides of people who betrayed us, I understand where you are coming from, but after last time… I just assumed you got over whatever got under your skin. We talked, I reassured you, we made up.” Natalia’s cheek presses against his chest and he presses his hand against the back of her head, the other on her waist.

“I know. I am truly sorry.”

They both enjoy a moment of silence, basking in each other’s comfort. When Thomas steps back, he places a gentle hand under her chin, lifting it softly so he can kiss her. It’s the sweetest kiss they’ve shared. He tries to convey his regrets into it, showing her how much he cares for her. As they break apart, her eyes may still be red, but they hold the care and comfort he was accustomed to.

“I also had something else weighing on my mind.” He runs a hand through his hair, clearing his throat. “I want to fly to New York soon so we can film scenes there as well.”

Natalia’s eyes snap to his, her shoulders tensing visibly. “When?”

His cheeks burn slightly under her scrutinizing gaze, “As soon as possible. I spoke with the mayor, he will allow us to film in Central Park and if there is a street that we need to use, he will assist in any way possible.”

“Thomas, if it is something that must absolutely happen, I will not put up a fight. It will be lovely to go back to New York, I just… I have no doubt my family will find out as well.”

He sees her chewing on her bottom lip, her forehead creased with worry and her fingers tremble slightly as she tucks her hair behind her ear. Knowing this is causing an undeniable amount of stress, he goes to her and holds her in a tight embrace.

“No matter the circumstances, I will be beside you every step of the way.” Closing his eyes, he presses a lingering kiss to the top of her head. “I must say, although I have been to New York multiple times, going with you is something I very much look forward to.”

Feeling him and hearing his reassurances allow her to melt. It reminds her of why she fell for the man and why she trusts him completely. While her trust and comfort in him is absolute, the wretched memories of her father and that lifestyle still linger in the forefront of her mind.

There was a reason she left and that reason will find her as soon as she steps foot onto their soil.

[gryffindordaughterofathena]

TWIN FLAMES

Book : Open Heart

Pairing : Jackie Varma x Aurora Emery

Word Count : 132 words

Rating : General

Category : Fluff

Trope : None

Warning : None

Summary : They are twin flames, burning together in an endless flame.

A/N : @headoverheelsforramsey sent me the prompt "how dare (you)" for A and J, hope you like it Sruti 💜

<<send me a prompt for a microfic>>

Swirling brown meets steadfast black.

And neither looks away. Challenging the other to fold.

Neither does.

Endless emotions float in the air surrounding them, teasing, taunting, daring, accusing.

Testing the boundary of friendship and romance.

Accusing each other, holding each other accountable.

Brown eyes say, how dare you make me feel?

Black eyes reply, how dare you twist my heart?

Black counters, how dare you hold my beating heart in the palm of your hand?

Brown screams, how dare you tear me apart?

And they leap together. Friendship. Attraction. Love. Two beating hearts. Two fluttering souls. Two slender hands. Four closed eyes. Intertwined together twisting turning weaving together.

And in the moment of greatest weakness (or strength?) their lips come together.

Eyes do the speaking, hearts beat, moments swirl in the depths of emotions....

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@choicesficwriterscreations | @openheartfanfics

[monsoonblooms12]

Belamour (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Set after Book 3, Pooja finally gets Ethan to dance in the rain.

A/N: A silly something born out of my love for rains and my binge listening to 80s Bollywood classics (I have no idea what kinda mess this is tbh). Also, my first song based fic🤎

A/N 2: The song lyrics are indented (Translation in parenthesis)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Rating: General

Word Count: around 1.5K

Category: Total fluff

Warnings: None that I noticed

Song Inspiration: Aaj Kal Yaad Kuch by Mohammed Aziz

READ ON AO3

A pair of summery blue orbs insistently stare at the world beyond the glass windows.

A world that was now being washed by the consistent droplets that came down from the adobe of clouds to meet their origin.

Their drum was usually henotic, tranquil for him.

But at the moment, it only added to his irritation and deepened the void of disappointment that had formed in his chest.

In another room of the same house, a pair of amber orbs watched the magic of nature with a child-like wonder.

The pleasant, dewy petrichor spread around her, and the mellifluous tunes of Earth's own orchestra made her forget the fast turns her life went through in the past day.

In the faint light, she picked up her hand and let the jewel, the stone that was nothing less than a promise of forever, shine like the billion stars that dot the sky at nights that are devoid of clouds.

As the iridescent lights make her eyes sparkle, a vague idea forms in her brain.

Her thoughts float to reach the person who gifted her happiness, and a smile lit up on her face.

There was a mix of challenge and love in the quest she was about to partake and she was determined to succeed.

In slow, soundless steps, she made her way out of the room and out of the house.

A blur went past and his trained eyes were quick enough to catch the motion.

Shaking his head with realization, he followed behind.

As the steps took him down, and he stood under the shade of the multi-floored skyrise, she stayed yards away from it.

Her hair was wet, her skirt twirling, her face bright and beautiful.

He felt his heart race, whispering an urge to join with hers.

He restrained himself, but the scene in front of him was so spectacular that he doubted just how long his restraint would last.

After what felt like an eternity, she turned to him, half of her face golden under the street lights, the other half bearing the monotones of black and white.

She looked like the personification of their love.

Her life the golden, and his the black and white.

He could write sonnets to describe the picture-perfect scene that played before him like a film, but all he did was stand still, unable to tear his eyes away, unable to speak the words that hadn't already been spoken, his well-thumbed thesaurus gathering dust in the labyrinths of his mind.

She looked at him with a longing, a spoken call for him to join her as the rains continued to fall and purify the earth.

All he did was shake his head in silence.

She took it as a challenge, and he already knew how it was going to end.

For a minute he got lost in her memories, reminiscences from a time, from a moment that passed too quick, yet slow enough for him to remember every moment of it.

And suddenly, the faint tunes of a song brought him back to the present.

Every word of the foreign seeming language lucid clear, setting in a cascade of emotions and bringing pictures etched in past pages of the novel of life, making him go on a trip down the memory lane.

Aajkal Yad Kuch Aur Rehta Nahi

(Nowadays I don't seem to remember anything else)

Ek Bas Aapki Yad Aane Ke Bad

(Once your memories enchant me)

Yaad Aane Se Pehle Chale Aaiye

(Please come to me before the memories reach me)

Aur Phir Jaiye Jan Jane Ke Bad

(And then leave only after my breath leaves me)

The truth of the words came with an epiphany.

Every day of knowing her had been a way of painting the monotones of his life in colours he thought didn't belong to him.

Every moment she had ever spent away from him had made him yearn for her more than ever.

And yet he was foolish enough to think that miles of distance and hundreds of hours could make him forget her.

All the distress he felt could have been so easily ended if she had been with him then.

And now, as he dreams of an aeon with her, he promises to only let her go when his breath leaves him alone.

Apni Aankhon Me Mujhko Basa Lijiye

(Allow me to settle in the world of your eyes)

Apne Dil Me Mera Ghar Bana Dijiye

(Make a home for me in your heart)

Kya Karu Dil Kahi Aur Lagta Nahi

Pyar Me Aapse Dil Lagane Ke Bad

(What's the fault of mine if I can't concentrate on anything other than you, since our hearts connected by the string of love)

As the minutes pass by, melting into each other to form an hour, he loses all tracks of time.

And amidst the sweven he was living in right now, at a moment he could not pinpoint, she had taken his hand into hers and now he stood, lost in the amber of her eyes, forgetting all about the shower that now fell upon him.

As she continued to mutter the tunes in a harmony that went on in rhythm with the rain, he wished he could live in the world of her orbs.

To see the world as she saw it, to live the life from her perspective.

All he wanted was home in her heart, a tiny place on the lands of her soul.

Ishq Ke Maine Kitne Fasane Sune

(I have heard many tales of epic romances)

Husb Ke Kitne Kisse Purane Sune

(And stories about beautiful people from bygone eras)

Aisa Lagta Hai Phir Is Tarah Tut Kar

Pyar Hamne Kiya Ek Zamane Ke Bad

(But I feel I have been broken and got mended by love after centuries)

In muted harmonies, the two of them twirled, forgetting the world around them.

The way their eyes held onto each other, as if holding onto their lives, reminded him of the tales of love the folklores talk about.

The romances of princesses and maidens, and of beauties who earned their fairytale.

But as her palm stroked his cheek in a feather-light motion, he concluded that all those tales faint in front of the story of theirs.

There were no royals, no cruel witches setting up spells and no poisoned apples.

There were just two people, broken by the storms life made them navigate through, fitting perfectly as if parts of a whole.

He tried to remember if he had ever experienced anything as he did now, his lip tracing her ear as his hands wrapped around her waist.

It didn't even take him a second to know the answer.

He hadn't.

Aapka Naam Dil Se Nikalta Nahi

(Your name never leaves my heart)

Dillagi Me Koi Zor Chalta Nahi

Dillagi Me Koi Zor Chalta Nahi

(No force is strong enough to stop the meet of two hearts)

Aapko Bhul Jane Ki Koshish Bhi Ki

(I tried a hundred times to forget you)

Aur Tadpa Hun Main Bhool Jaane Ke Baad

(And suffered a suffering of pain and agony once I forgot you)

The rains accelerate and become a downpour. The mist envelops them but there was no care for the changing environment.

The distance between them ceases to exist as their hearts finally get the pleasure of beating in unison.

In the next moments, she whispers close to his ear, the last of the melody, and it's his story.

The story of how he couldn't get rid of the five-lettered name since the first time he ever came to know about it.

Of how no force in the world could stop two hearts from meeting if that's what destiny had in plan for them.

Who one loves and who loves them back determines so much in one life.

And for him, it was a chance, a risk he was scared to take, dreading the destruction it may cause.

After all when had anything ever-blossoming flowers in the city of his soul?

But this time not only did spring finally arrived with its flowery footsteps but also led to a discovery of himself, a part of him that was buried under layers of snow from the winter that reigned in his life for years.

She taps twice on his heart, indicating how he had tried to forget her, all those years ago. And how he broke himself in the process.

As she hummed the last lines, he bowed down in front of the forces that brought the two of them together.

He thanked the stars which aligned the way did to let him fall for her and agreed to hide, to let the rains fall, to let him have this night with her.

And looked in awe at the woman who brought about the sweetest catastrophe mankind has ever known.

And without uttering a word, he picks her and kisses her, saying all that was left unsaid with it.

PS: I actually have another version of the song, that I sung specifically to go with this, but Tumblr is giving me troubles to upload it. Do let me know if you would like to hear it someday.

Anyways, If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

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@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[jamespotterthefirst]

Most Beautiful (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC  (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 600 Summary: Their first morning together. Set after the events of Ch. 15, Book 1 Warning: Alluded adult content 

Prompt: #48. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”   50 Ways to Say “I Love You” prompts

Ethan tore his eyes away from his bedroom ceiling as she stirred next to him. Halfway between sleep and consciousness, she mumbled something against his chest and he grinned, grateful she was still half asleep and unable to see. Her warm hand settled on his chest, right above his beating heart. It was a wonder that its fierce rhythm, pounding against his skin like a drum, was not enough to jolt her awake.

 It was the first time they awoke together, after a long night (and morning) of getting lost in one another. The blissful hours spent worshiping every inch of her body would remain embossed in his mind for the rest of his days, he was sure of it. Now, in the pale gray light of the dawn, the reality of their situation started to slowly settle into place like a thick, suffocating fog. 

Despite how lost to the world they had been only hours prior, there would still be a trial. The fate of the career she had worked so hard to attain would be decided soon. And regardless of her loving reassurances, Ethan still felt responsible. If he hadn't failed her… If he hadn't fallen in love with her… None of this would have happened. 

Yet, his stomach swooped when her bare body scooped closer to his, seeking the comfort that was hers and always would be. Feeling selfish, his eyes hungrily fell on her peaceful, sleeping face. He traced every detail from the graceful slope of her nose, to the rosy pout of her lips—lips that were currently curling into a sleepy smile. 

“I can feel you staring, you know.” Her voice was thick with sleep. 

Ethan laughed softly, unabashed at being caught. She opened her eyes to peer up at him, only to beam and join in on his amusement. 

“Good morning,” she said, sitting up on the bed. Ethan missed the warmth of her body at once. 

“Good morning,” he replied, still admiring how lovely she looked by morning light. This had become his favorite way of seeing her. 

Lilac, on the other hand, must've guessed where his thoughts were because she blushed and jumped out of bed in a haste, pulling the sheets to cover her body. She stopped in front of the mirror mounted above his dresser and groaned when she took in her reflection. 

“Oh God, I look like a mess.” 

Her fingers moved to comb out the messy knots of her hair. It was a shame because it was the sexiest part about her current appearance. Ethan was behind her in seconds, his arms embracing her from behind, his fingers skimming the exposed skin of her thigh. 

“Why didn't you tell me I looked like this?” 

“Like what? Like you spent the whole night in my bed?” 

Lilac had no reply. Probably because he was currently distracting her by kissing the column of her neck. 

“Besides,” Ethan said in a low, husky murmur against her throat. “I was too distracted by what your mouth was doing the first time you woke me up.”

Now that he mentioned it, that occurrence was probably how her hair got into its current state. Ethan's fingers had gotten lost in the silky tendrils as she worked, slightly pulling when she had added her tongue to her movements. The mere memory had his body ready for her again. 

In the reflection, Lilac looked hazed by his kisses but still unconvinced. His hands settled on her hips as he gently spun her around to face him. 

“You,” he started, kissing her forehead, “are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her blush deepened as she searched his eyes. When she found only unshakeable honesty there, she smiled and kissed his cheek. 

“You don't have to say that to get lucky,” she teased. 

“That's not why I'm saying it. And I'm already lucky.” To prove it, he held her tighter. 

It was her turn to kiss his neck. She made a deliberate movement to let the sheets covering her fall to the floor. “You're about to get luckier.”

****

50 Ways to Say “I Love You” prompts | Prompts Masterlist

A/N: Because in my vision, these two had multiple rounds that night (but more on that later).

This one was requested months ago. I wrote it then and never published it. I’m sorry whoever requested it. Sometimes anxiety and self-doubt are a bitch.

To be published soon:

Ethan babysitting (request)

Setting up Naveen (old request)

“Don’t move - I’ll get it for you” (request)

“You don’t have to pretend with me” (request)

WIP:

Admission (Pictagram ch 13)

By Morning Light (Part 3 of As Long as You Love Me So)

various 50 Ways to Say ILY requests

Untitled Ethan x MC sm*t 

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Open Heart- Ethan x f!MC Only

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