#she was in the most beautiful sun spot and when i hit record she left
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nextheinsect · 6 months ago
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My cat just uses me to give her food and I still love her
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thisblogisaboutabook · 8 months ago
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When the Lightsinger Calls (I Hear a Symphony)
An Azriel Drabble
Azriel daydreams of his mate -Inspired by ‘I Hear a Symphony’ by Cody Fry
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I used to hear a simple song.
The warm winds of summer blew through the Illyrian mountains as Azriel sat sprawled on a thick branch fifty feet in the air, one leather covered leg dangling as the other stretched across the branch, his back resting against the trunk of an old Oak tree.
Cassian had been butting heads with Devlon for hours. Same shit, different day as they heatedly negotiated new terms for the training of Illyrian females. Devlon, of course, remained as stubborn as an ass. Even after decades of his bullshit, it never failed to chafe Azriel’s nerves that they were under the regime of the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history yet had to make nice with stuck-in-their-ways pricks like him. Today in particular had left Azriel feeling less than giving.
Cassian booted Azriel out of negotiations in record time, which admittedly, was likely for the best. Azriel’s dominant stance, deadly gaze, and violent whirling shadows were not best suited for these futile attempts of “sweet talking” Devlon out of his deeply rooted misogyny. If Azriel had his way Truth Teller would do all the talking, but diplomacy unfortunately took precedence.
He may have put up more of a fight when storming out of the Camp Lord’s office had Cassian’s weapon of choice today not had a unique way of toeing that line between diplomacy and force in a way that even Truth Teller could not. No blood spillage necessary, though, Azriel thought with a smirk, the weapon could do just that as well.
The warmth of the suns rays shining through the rustling leaves and the scratch of bark lightly grazing the sensitive membranes of his wings - hitting those spots he could never quite reach - had Azriel drifting off into a light dream state.
As he began to doze, shadows hummed around him, the whistling breeze mixing in with their whirring as they sensed for any incoming threats.
Blending in with their simple song, the creek nearby babbled with the sounds of trickling water, crickets chirped beneath rocks below.
His thoughts became more vivid as his conscience drifted deeper into sleep.
His jaw ticked, wings jerking slightly as he dreamed glimpses of deep red coating his marred skin from the countless souls he’d drawn blood from, lifeless bodies scattered across bloody battlefields, dark cells, the bright flare of roaring fire scalding a child’s hands, his shadows melody becoming broken as they attempted to soothe their master.
The melody became lighter as the flame in his dreams became flashes of light, blurred glimpses of a lovely face appearing in and out of his dreams. A soft laugh intertwined itself with his shadows, the solemn hymn becoming lighter, with vibrant bursts of energy leaving his heart fluttering. More images of the ethereal face flickered through his mind, soft blush dusted cheeks, a radiant white smile, supple fingers tracing the muscles of his chest, plush lips on bare skin, all appearing to the beat of the rising staccato. His lips quirked upward in his sleep as his guard dropped lower and lower and the melody continued growing louder, building into the crescendo of the loveliest symphony he’d heard yet, even in Prythian’s most renowned concert halls.
The music filled Azriel’s entire being, leaving him light as shadow, his flaws forging themselves from ugly into something beautiful, something worthy, as the melody carried his soul toward the light.
Just as his body began to slump out of the tree a sing-song voice brighter than day awoke him. “Careful, Shadowsinger. One might think you’re sleeping on the job.”
He looked down to his beautiful mate, the face his dream had called him to. “My little Lightsinger, did you give Devlon hell?”
She beamed. “Worked a little on him. The girls get seven more hours per week and Cass or I can do spot checks whenever we please. I’ll push for more when we meet again in a few months.”
“That’s my girl.” His eyes shone with the pride filling his chest as he launched out of the tree and swept her off her feet.
“Let’s go home.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to his nose. Azriel only blushed and did just as his lady said, the two falling into companionable silence as her light and his shadow mingled in harmony the entire flight back to Velaris.
And now I hear a symphony.
———————————————-
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eyrieofsynapses · 3 years ago
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I rewatched The Iceman Job last night on the way back from a trip, just under a week after watching the seventh Redemption episode. The sudden pivot from twelve years to two is whiplash at its finest. Most stunning of all, though, is how the ot3 has changed so much--yet where they came from is written into every line of the episode. Even a mere two years into knowing each other, they already get one another. 
It isn’t perfect by any means. They’re awkward newborn foals, stumbling over each other’s sore spots and struggling to maintain a pace together. Hardison makes the mistake of claiming Parker’s works as his own and hurts her pride. Parker struggles to express and deal with her emotions in response. Eliot can see and understand part of the problem but not necessarily help them figure it out yet. 
But Eliot and Parker exchange worried glances as Hardison overplays the con. Eliot shoots her a concerned look as she paces that not only speaks of he’s fucking it up but also dammit, this is hurting her. Parker sticks by his side and they have an unspoken agreement to put up with Hardison’s bullshit, all while leaning on each other in the meantime. Hardison figures out his offense by the end and apologizes to her in his own way. He knows how to improvise with them, how to read every clue Parker leaves and imitate her methods, bantering back and forth with Eliot even as they flawlessly fake a convincing fight. 
And more than that--more than that!--the love is so clear. They don’t know how to love each other yet but they do it fiercely. It’s written in Eliot coming back for Hardison without hesitation despite his threats. It’s Parker pulling Hardison close in the closet as they blow through the floor. It’s Hardison trying to hug Eliot at the end, and Eliot letting him, though it would have been so easy for him to throw Hardison to the floor or twist him around in an armbar. It’s Parker letting Eliot go when he calls Sophie and catching a ride with him later when she’s clearly frustrated. 
It’s the banter as they try their damnedest to pull off the heist together. It’s the concern wrapped up and hidden in annoyance and jabs. Even in the midst of a high-stakes heist they pull each other’s strings and mess with each other--in the middle of a deadly situation, Parker and Eliot do not once hesitate to rescue Hardison. 
Then it’s a decade later. 
It’s a decade later, and Parker and Eliot have the same unspoken language between them, tempered by the ardent fire of twelve long years together. Eliot and Hardison understand each other with an intimacy unmatched: Eliot looks back on the Iceman job and says you were a kid, you have grown and I will always support you as you keep growing, and Hardison looks back on the years and says he has saved hundreds of people who will never know his name and yet he gets up every morning saying “I still got more work to do.” Hardison and Parker’s love is the epitome of love is patient, love is kind. She holds him tight, flirts openly, then tenderly lets him go when he needs to leave so that he can grow and flourish.
They banter still. They laugh over the comms as they did ten years ago, Hardison teasing Eliot, Eliot grumbling back, Parker snickering at them both. But they do not distract one another. Hardison does not overplay his bit. Eliot rolls smoothly with things with unwavering consciousness of the others. Parker is open with her emotions and the other two don’t even need to ask most of the time: they understand her, and she understands them, and there is nothing more to it. 
Parker knows how to nerve strike a man, and Eliot knows how to crawl through vents, and Hardison knows each nook and cranny of any security system. Their skills slide seamlessly into one another’s toolboxes. 
Ten years ago, they were hesitant with each other, pieces of a puzzle with rough edges still learning how to fit into each other. Ten years ago, Eliot’s anger burned hot and bright as a furnace. Hardison’s youthful arrogance and anxiety blinded him with his own genius. Parker’s insecurity and instability left her falling off the highwire and hitting the unforgiving ground of emotion. 
Ten years later?
Ten years later, Eliot’s furnace burns with fires of love, and Hardison’s brilliance shines with the clarity of a supernova, and Parker needs no nets nor ropes or wires: she spreads her wings and flies high with the steady confidence of an eagle. 
Ten years later they are stars pivoting around one another, constellations dancing in the sky together, unfaltering as the turning of the earth and constant as the rise and fall of the tides. The three of them sway to a song only they can hear with a rhythm set in time to their heartbeats.
Heads turn at the sight of them even in commonplace settings. It takes but a glance at one another to communicate. Who could deny such fluency in one another’s language? Who could deny such deep knowledge of another? 
Should Hell be so unwise as to claim Eliot (no matter how he believes he deserves it), Hardison and Parker would be the Orpheus to his Eurydice. The song they spin would move even Hades and Persephone to tears, and all their subjects would fill the kingdom of death with the sound of their sorrow. Even the monsters in the depths of Tartarus would find their hearts pierced by such a lament of love. The gods would not have the will to stop them from stealing away the lost third of their souls: instead Hermes himself (guide of the dead, patron of thieves) would escort them to the surface. 
In another pantheon even Satan would tremble at such love. Were the angels at the gates of Heaven faced with the three of them, they could not bear to part them. Their laws would snap at the sight of three souls so deeply entwined with one another. Such a bond is sacred in a way nothing else truly is. No immortal power can match such mortal love. 
For in a span of hours of knowing each other, they were already devoted more to one another than they had been to anyone in ages. Within days they stumbled into a new home. In weeks, they bared their souls to each other after years of denying anyone--even themselves--that right. Less than a year in and they came back to one another within days despite promising to leave for months. 
This strange contradictory trio established an understanding of one another in record time. Within days of first meeting they trusted each other with their lives. Only a year in, they couldn’t bear to be apart for longer than a few months.  
They weren’t perfect. It took time. But despite cutting each other on their rough edges and struggling desperately to learn one another’s language, they saw themselves reflected in each other even from the beginning. They persisted and fought for the right to love one another. 
Thus twelve years later--twelve years of laughter and tears and anger and frustration and kindness and thoughtfulness and patience and love later--it is not Parker, Hardison, Eliot, but Parker and Hardison and Eliot, looking at each other like the others crafted the sky and all its beauty. For that is true: Parker stole and hung their diamond stars, and Hardison forged the silver moon, and Eliot raised the golden sun. 
They are hitter-hacker-thief, after all. What else would their heavens be made of?
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antivanruffles · 3 years ago
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Vaxleth. Wistful, pining fluff. lol what's canon? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
(I originally meant to post this for Fluffuary, but uh, that failed. Prompt was "wearing/stealing each other's clothes.")
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They hadn’t had the keep all that long, but it was interesting seeing how everyone fell into certain… habits, now that they had a place to call their own. Vax was reluctant to call it a “home”, he and Vex didn’t have a good track record with those, but something that wasn’t a random tavern or the most comfortable piece of ground they could find.
Something permanent.
So they settled in, fell into routines and carved out their own spaces. Pike had her chapel, a place for quiet reflection. And even Vax had found something serene about it, the few times he had ventured inside when it was otherwise unoccupied. Or maybe soothing might be the word for it. He supposed that was fitting for the Everlight, and for Pickle.
Percy had a space to himself in the basement, to tinker and build and do whatever it was in the nine hells he did with all those hours sequestered away in his makeshift smithy. Likely things Vax didn’t want to know about.
HIs sister and Trinket had taken to the woods nearby, not at all surprising. Four walls didn’t always suit her, or him for that matter, so she escaped to nature with her steadfast companion. Grog found his space in the training yard and the kitchen, again not surprising. A goliath could work up a mighty appetite hitting practice dummies so hard they practically disintegrated. Scanlan had taken over the laboratory for a myriad of things, and Vax didn’t want to begin to question what any one of those things might be.
Vax himself hadn’t claimed any space as his own, but he hadn’t really needed to. He spent time with his sister, and it was like they were kids again. Or he would train with Grog when the mood hit, and he was feeling particularly stupid. Sometimes he browsed through Scanlan’s spell scrolls, and Percy’s blueprints -- although most of the time he didn’t understand it. And he had plenty of time alone in the chapel, when it was needed.
Of course with their settling in, came the patterns. Vex had always been a morning person, damn her. Rising with the dawn and getting her day underway. Percival tended to burn the midnight oil, especially when a new idea hit. Scanlan started his day -- or night -- whenever he felt like it. Grog was out during the day, not too early, and not too late. Pike liked the early morning, when it was still quiet and the sun hit the windows in the chapel.
In all this, Keyleth had taken over the atrium above the chapel. Plants, plants, and more plants. Every time he passed by, there was some other exotic bloom and a soft fragrance in the air. She at times was a morning person that surpassed even his sister, flitting about her plants in the darkest hours of the night, right before dawn when the sun was barely lighting the far horizon.
Vax knew this… because he just did. He never sought her out. He simply paid attention to his surroundings and those around him. So he learned things. Perfectly normal.
That morning (or was it still the night?) he just so happened to be awake, unable to sleep and too restless to stay in bed, so he had shoved back his blankets and left his room. Eventually he found himself at the atrium. It was always calming to watch Keyleth, flitting from plant to plant as she spoke to them; encouraging them and telling them how beautiful they were, how special each bloom was. It always struck Vax how her praise for the flowers flowed so easily, and yet she held only doubt herself. Especially when her praise could so easily be applied to her own self.
Keyleth was usually very predictable, and very easy to spot. A shock of red hair and bright green that didn’t match the natural flora. A radiant presence that he was forever drawn to, just like her precious plants and flowers were drawn to the sun.
Despite her predictability, Vax couldn’t seem to spot her tonight. He squinted into the darkness, trying to discern a flash of red or preternatural green. Not finding it, he took a step further into the atrium, eyes scanning the darkness. It was his second pass over the room when he saw it; a bit of unnatural darkness that seemed to eat up the light. He took a step forward then another and another, until he got close enough to what he realized was one of the benches, the light stone just barely visible in the darkness.
“Oh! Hi, Vax!” Keyleth’s voice came from the darkness, and she unfolded from the shadows. First it was her green skirts, then her pale hands, and finally her shock of red hair and glowing green eyes.
A cloak, Vax realized belatedly. A cloak darker than the night, a black deeper than any shadow. There were only so many cloaks like that in Emon, and he owned at least three of them. It was a slow realization that left him trying to catch his breath. That was his cloak. He must have been staring dumbly, because she started to fidget. Anxious as always.
“I hope you don’t mind?” she blurted. Her thin, pale fingers bunched in the fabric as she stared at the cloak spread across her knee rather than him. “It was just a little chilly, and I think you left this earlier--?”
“It’s fine, Kiki,” he said when he found his voice -- and his breath-- again. Vax took a quick step forward, finally putting himself directly in front of her, and pulled the cloak a little tighter around her shoulders. “You can steal anything of mine.”
Besides, she had already stolen something far more important than a cloak months ago. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact time, nor did he care to. Only that it had crept up on him, and he had no choice but to admit it. If only to himself.
He sat down next to her, not close enough to touch, but close enough that his fingers brushed against the hem of the cloak. A simple enough gesture; a grounding gesture.
“You can too,” she said, breaking the quiet that had settled between them. “I mean you can borrow anything of mine. Assuming you’d want to. Not sure how you’d look in green though.” Keyleth eyed him closely for a moment, appraising, before she realized exactly what she’d said and giggled nervously.
Vax laughed, bumped her shoulder with his. “I think I’ll leave it to you. Green suits you better anyway.” Vivid and full of life, it definitely suited her.
“Oh, um. Thank you.” She tucked a bit of errant red hair behind her ear and focused on her feet.
The windows beyond were just starting to come to life, the dim rays of the sun beginning to brighten the sky from deep navy to bruised purple. Vax would have happily sat with her until the sun rose and cast everything in a gentle orange-pink glow. Actually, he would have sat with her from sun up to sun down if that was what she wanted. Today, however, it seemed nerves had gotten the best of her and the silence stretched into something awkward.
Keyleth shot to her feet after a short while, and spoke to the plants in front of her rather than him. “I should get to bed. What’s Scanlan say? Gotta get my beauty sleep?” She laughed, a little awkwardly and completely endearing.
She turned, barely sparing him a glance, and made her way to the door. But she stopped abruptly several feet away, and backpedaled quickly. With a flourish she took off his cloak and laid it beside him gently. If he hadn’t known better he might have said reverently.
“Night Vax!” Then she was hurrying out of the room.
Vax picked up the cloak and folded it carefully. It smelled like her: like crisp air and fresh flowers and a subtle, sharp tang like right before a lightning strike. He took a deep breath despite himself. Gods, if any of the others could see him now.
He looked after her, even though she was long gone. “Goodnight, Kiki,” he whispered and wondered if he had told her she was already beautiful if she would have stayed.
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marauderundercover · 3 years ago
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Taking Chances Ch. 28: Summer Changes (School)
AO3
Prev
A week after the Disney movie marathon, Marinette was finally back on patrol. No thanks to her dad though. If it was up to him, she’d probably never patrol again. Luckily for her, (unluckily for him) her brothers were adamant on her coming back to the field. Which led to her current problem. Hanging upside down from a gargoyle near Wayne Enterprises.
“Ukht, what have you done?” Damian asks, and though she can’t see his face, she can tell by his voice that he’s exasperated. Join the club, she thinks, at least you’re not upside down.
“Why do you automatically think I did something?” She asks, trying desperately to turn around so that she can talk to him. It was really awkward talking to someone when you couldn’t see them but you knew they were near you.
“Because you are the one hanging upside down,” Damian says flatly. She huffs.
“It’s not like I want to be, Robin. It just kind of happened,” She says.
“And how exactly did it happen? I have never seen your yoyo betray you like that before. Not even in the videos when you were still very new.” Damian says, and she swears he’s smirking. He’s definitely laughing at her on the inside, and as much as she wants to be frustrated, she can’t. It wasn’t easy amusing her little brother (unless you were an animal) so she wasn’t about to ruin it.
“Hood made a bet relating to this exact gargoyle and I’d never been this way before and I just, I don’t know. Somehow I misjudged where my yoyo was going and next thing I know, I’m tied up and Hood is gone.” She says, sighing.
“Where did he go?” Damian asks.
“Over here so I could record the dumbass trying to untie herself.” Jason says with a snort, she manages to turn just enough so she can see him and stick her tongue out at him. He chuckles. “You’re the one who somehow tied herself up with a magic string, I’m just getting the proof so I can show Wonder Woman.” He says and Marinette’s jaw drops.
“You wouldn’t dare!” She screams, struggling against her yoyo, finally able to get the string to loosen slightly.
“Oh, I’d dare.” Jason says and Marinette just knows he has a huge smirk underneath his stupid helmet.
“But Wonder Woman is the coolest person ever and she can’t see me like this!” Marinette complains, trying not to grin when she feels the string start to move the way she needs it to. She ignores Jason’s next remark, instead focusing on the string and- yes! She free falls for a moment, laughing at her brothers’ panic before she swoops up and jerks Jason’s phone away from him.
“You little shit!” He calls after her, starting to chase her.
“You’ll get it back once I delete the videos!” She calls back, laughing as she continues swinging through Gotham, a warm feeling in her chest as she looks over the city that has quickly become her second home.
---
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” A voice screams, making Marinette jump out of bed with a yelp. She clutches her hand over her heart, glaring at her oldest brother.
“Are you trying to make sure I don’t make it past my fifteenth birthday?” She asks with a huff. Dick just grins.
“Happy birthday kiddo! I can’t believe you’re already fifteen!” He exclaims, picking her up in a giant hug. She wants to complain, ask him to let her down, but it’s nice, so instead she returns the hug the best she can. Until she glances out the window.
“Richard Grayson.” She says in a tone she usually reserves for enemies. She feels him stiffen, the hug turning into more of a restraint than a cuddle.
“Yes?” He says.
“Did you honestly wake me up, before the sun, because it’s my birthday?” She asks.
“Yes?” He says, his voice cracking slightly. She purses her lips and lets out a long sigh.
“Dad has a no killing rule.” She says, and suddenly she’s back on the ground.
“Oh would you look at the time, Mar’i needs another bedtime story loveyousomuchgottagobye.” Dick rushes out, practically sprinting out of her room. She just smiles and shakes her head. She’d learned intimidation tactics from Jason and Damian, who both claimed her size made her an easy target against bad guys. They were right, of course, so she was fine with a few extra lessons. Seems they were working. Deciding to call her Maman and Papa since she’s already awake, she frowns as it goes straight to voicemail. It would be nearly eleven in Paris, so the bakery shouldn’t be too busy. She quickly checks the Akuma Alert App to make sure she hadn’t missed anything while she slept. Nothing. So why weren’t they answering? She had assumed they would be waiting for her call since it was the first birthday she’d spent without them. Sighing, she lays back down on her bed, closing her eyes and trying to fall back asleep.
As she lays there, she frowns as a realization hits her. This was the anniversary of her birth mother’s death. Her mood instantly sours and her stomach churns. It was the first year that she could do something about it, the first year she could visit her grave. Quickly making a decision, Marinette throws on a pair of black leggings and an oversized black hoodie. Hopefully no one would spot her.
“Kaalki.” Marinette calls out quietly, not wanting to wake Tikki (who had somehow slept through Dick’s intrusion).
“Oooo, Guardian, are we sneaking out?” They ask, an amused smile on their face. Marinette frowns.
“Yes, but it’s for a good reason.” She says, and Kaalki snorts.
“Whatever the reason, I’m happy to be of assistance.” They reassure her. Marinette smiles and calls the transformation, opening a portal in the cemetery where her birth mother is buried. Her Maman had taken her once, right after telling her she was adopted. It was extremely hard to avoid being akumatized that day, and Marinette steels herself before dropping Kaalki’s transformation. Today would probably be even harder. Pulling the hood over her head to try and hide her identity, she glances around the cemetery, unsurprised to see the small place empty. Despite its small size, it was well taken care of, with beautiful trees adding shade and creating a melancholy feeling. Taking a deep breath, she walks over to the tombstone in the far corner, underneath the Willow tree. Bridgette Le. Died July 9th. Marinette barely notices the tears that start to form as she sits down, tucking her knees into her chest.
“Hi Mama. I-I’m sorry I haven’t really been by to see you much. Did you know I’ve been spending the summer with Dad? Sometimes, I wonder if you would’ve been okay with that. None of us really know why you left, why you didn’t tell him. I’m not blaming you, I just wonder if you would’ve been okay with me knowing him.” She talks, though she knows she’ll never hear a response. And she tries to pretend that fact doesn’t hurt her. “I have brothers. Four of them. They’re all great in their own ways, but they all also make me want to rip my hair out. Three of them are older, Damian’s younger than me. He kinda acts like a big brother at times though. And I have a big sister, Cass. She doesn’t say much, but she’s awesome. She’s in Hong Kong right now, so most of our conversations have been video calls. I have a niece, too.” Marinette stops, wiping furiously at her eyes. She didn't want to cry. At all. But knowing her birth mother would never be able to be part of her life, would never know any of these people like she did- it was hard.
“Guardian, please breathe.” Kaalki says, floating up to sit in front of Marinette’s face. Marinette blinks at the Kwami before listening to them. If they were worried, then Marinette was more lost in her head than she originally thought.
“And today’s my birthday. I was excited at first, and then I remembered the other thing that this day was. Remembered that it’s also the day you-” Marinette pauses, and grits her teeth. “I am so sorry, Mama. I am so sorry that I caused your death.” She chokes out, dropping her head onto her knees, trying to suppress the sobs threatening to break out of her chest.
“We need to go. Marinette, we need to go.” Kaalki urges, patting her cheek urgently. Marinette calls the transformation and falls through a portal, closing it quickly to keep the butterfly that was surely after her from following. She definitely didn’t need to test how far the victim had to be to be akumatized. The second she lands, she lets the transformation drop and the sobs break out.
“Shit Pixie.” Jason curses, and suddenly she’s wrapped in a warm hug, sobs tearing through her as she continues to apologize.
---
Jason Todd had been through a lot of weird shit. Waking up in a pool of green water after being fucking murdered by the Joker, was weird. Emotional baby sister falling through a portal into the room and sobbing? Also weird. But also heartbreaking. He grabs onto her and just holds her, desperately trying to give her some type of comfort.
“Shhhh, it’s okay Pix. I got you.” He mumbles, holding her close. Damian rushes in, sword drawn, face scrunched up when he sees them. Jason shakes his head, this wasn’t something that they could fix with a sword. He wasn’t exactly sure why his baby sister was crying so hard, but he had caught a couple of muffled apologies, so whatever it was, he didn’t think it was something that he (or Damian) could kill. Or, rather, maim, since she was against murdering people that were against her for some reason.
“Has anyone seen Mars, she’s not in her room-” Replacement starts, freezing as he walks into the room.
“Excellent situational awareness, Drake.” Damian mutters, glaring at him. Jason shoots both of them a glare, now was not the time to be fighting. Especially since the kid’s other parents were on their way to celebrate her birthday. If they showed up and she was sobbing, they’d take her home and never let them see her again. And Jason was NOT going to let that happen.
“Anyone know if M’s decided to not kill me yet?” Dick asks, walking into the room with a huge grin that falls the second he sees what’s happening. Jason resists the urge to roll his eyes. Apparently none of his brothers could read a fucking room. Instead of staying at the edge of the room like Damian and Tim, Dick walks over.
“Hey kiddo, it’s okay. We’re here.” He says softly. The kid pulls away from him, though he can tell it’s a little reluctantly, before launching herself at Dick, her sobs starting to die down. Jason lets out a short huff, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to think of what could have set her off. There were no akuma alarms, but she fell out of a portal. Which means she was out of the manor when she got upset. He watches as Dick pats her hair gently and whispers to her. God, he’s such a dad. Then again, he’s been mother henning him and their other brothers for years, so it’s not really a surprise.
“I’m sorry guys.” Marinette says suddenly, her voice small as she stays hidden in Dick’s arms.
“No need to apologize, Pixie Pop.” Jason reassures her. She finally pulls away from Dick and Jason’s heart, honest to god breaks at the broken look on her face.
“She died in childbirth, you know.” She whispers, and suddenly it makes sense. Why she was sitting there sobbing on her birthday, why she’d fallen out of a portal.
“That is not your fault.” Damian says firmly, walking over and standing face to face with Marinette, something Jason knew annoyed the girl. Damian was two years younger, but a little taller than her. She didn’t seem to mind now, though.
“But it was. If I hadn’t been born-” She starts and Jason frowns at the thought.
“The world would be a much shittier place.” He says with finality, not leaving room for her to argue. “Pix, you’re amazing, and the world would really suck without you. Never be sorry you were born.” Jason says firmly, stumbling slightly when she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
“Thank you Jay.” She mumbles, and he can tell she’s crying again, but this time it’s not sobs, so he thinks it’s fine.
“Come on, let’s all watch a movie.” Repla- Tim suggests and Jason raises an eyebrow at the idea, briefly wondering what kind of movie he’d pick. They all pile on the giant sectional that Bruce had bought specifically for impromptu movie nights as Tim sticks the DVD in. Jason just snorts as the title card for “The Addams Family” comes on, settling back in the couch, ready to watch one of the greatest movies ever.
---
“Thank you again for flying us out here for her birthday.” Sabine says, smiling at him. Bruce returns the smile and nods.
“Of course, thank you for letting her spend the summer here. I know she’s appreciated the break from her classmates.” He says, his smile quickly fading at the confused look on both Sabine and Tom’s faces.
“What do you mean?” Tom asks.
“Marinette hasn’t told you?” Bruce asks, suddenly regretting bringing it up. Why hadn’t she said anything? They were her parents too. Sure, she’d made it clear they couldn’t know about Ladybug, but her class wasn’t a hero problem. They were a civilian problem.
“We knew that she wasn’t hanging out with them as often, and that she didn’t talk about her class as much as she used to. We just assumed that she was busy.” Sabine says, her face a mixture of sadness and anger.
“My apologies, I assumed she’d talked to you.” Bruce says, feeling as if he had crossed a line. Would they be mad at him, for her telling him something she hadn’t told them?
“She’s always looking out for others first,” Tom finally sighs, a tired smile on his face. “She probably thought she was saving us from being akumatized.” Bruce’ jaw clenches. Had Marinette really suffered in silence to avoid being forced to fight her parents?
“We can continue this conversation later, right now we should focus on her birthday.” Sabine says, placing a hand on Tom’s arm. He nods and Bruce makes a note to talk to the two about the possibility of her switching schools.
“She’s probably in her room.” Bruce says, leading the two towards the stairs.
“Actually, Master Bruce, the children are all in the informal sitting room. I believe they snuck down to have a movie night after Master Dick woke Miss Marinette to wish her a happy birthday.” Alfred says, Bruce watches his face and knows that’s not all, but doesn’t press. It had to be something that he couldn’t talk about in front of the Dupain Cheng’s.
“Of course they did. Thank you, Alfred. Alfred, this is Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, Marinette’s parents. Tom, Sabine, this is Alfred Pennyworth. He’s the man who raised me.” Bruce says, smiling at him. The three exchange pleasantries and soon Bruce is leading the two to the sitting room. He pushes the door open gently, careful not to let it slam. He spots a sword on the floor near Damian and quickly grabs it, moving it away. If he was woken up suddenly, he would still panic and attempt to fight his way out.
“She looks so peaceful.” Sabine whispers, and Bruce smiles, a genuine smile, he didn’t have to fake a smile when most of his children were together and safe and happy. Or, quiet, at least. It was rare.
“I’ve found them like this several times.” Bruce admits, pulling out his phone to show the two all of the pictures he’d taken of the kids piled together sleeping. Sabine and Tom smile widely at the pictures and Bruce quickly sends them their favorites.
“B, I swear to god, I can sense you in here. Let us sleep.” Jason mumbles grumpily.
“Sorry Jason, Marinette’s parents are here so it’s time to get up.” Bruce says, amused at the way his son’s hair was attempting to defy gravity. Jason looked around sleepily, waved lazily at Sabine and Tom, and then collapsed back on the couch. Bruce sighs. “Would the two of you like to have a cup of coffee while we give them a few more minutes to sleep?” He offers.
“That would be lovely.” Sabine says, and Bruce leads the two to the kitchen, hoping Tim (who had sat straight up after Jason flopped down) would take the hint and wake up the others.
---
Marinette sighs happily as everyone sits down at the table for dinner. The day had been amazing, despite the rough start. And her Dad had even flown her Maman and Papa out to spend the day with her. They couldn’t stay for long, they had the bakery to run after all, but it was still nice to see them. Marinette glances at the end of the table where a place was set, but no one sat.
“What’s with the extra plate?” Jason asks, turning to Alfred who was sitting in the chair next to it instead of his regular seat.
“It is for Miss Le.” He says, and she can almost feel everyone freeze. Her throat tightens, but she still smiles at him with watery eyes.
“Thank you, Alfred.” She says quietly. He nods.
“You are quite welcome, Miss.” He says. She clears her throat and looks back at her Maman, noticing that her smile was also a little sad. It had been all day, but Marinette was certain it wasn’t anything to worry about. Bridgette had been close with her Maman, surely she was just mourning her today, openly for the first time in a long time.
---
Marinette groans at whoever is trying to wake her up.
“Five more minutes.” She mutters, burrowing deeper under the covers. It was summer break, why wouldn’t anyone let her sleep?
“Come on sweetheart, your Papa and I want to talk to you and Bruce.” Her Maman says, and she immediately sits up. Was she in trouble? Had her Maman figured out the whole Batman thing? Had she figured out the Ladybug thing?
“Uh, okay.” She says, sliding out of bed and stepping into slippers. She wasn’t sure how serious the conversation was, but since her Maman didn’t stop her from walking out of the room in her pajamas, she relaxed slightly. It couldn’t be that serious, right? She follows her Maman into her Dad’s study, glancing wearily at the clock in the corner. Her Maman was often too observant. Hopefully she didn’t notice anything odd about the clock. They all sit in silence for an entire minute until Marinette can’t handle it anymore.
“Am I in trouble?” She asks hesitantly, looking between her parents’ faces.
“Of course not, we just- We noticed how different you are.” Her Maman says and Marientte frowns, furrowing her eyebrows. Different? She was different?
“How?” She asks.
“You’re happier than I’ve seen you in months honey. Your smile reaches your eyes, you talk freely, you seem peaceful.” Her Maman says softly, and Marinette blinks in surprise. Had she really been so easy to read in Paris? Had her parents really been able to tell? She’d wanted to hide it from them, not let them see how everything was piling on her, crushing her. She didn’t want to worry them.
“What do you- how-” She stumbles over her words, trying to figure out where she messed up.
“We didn’t know why until we talked to Bruce.” Her Papa says and she turns to glare at her Dad, feeling a little betrayed. He holds up his hands in surrender.
“Marinette, you didn’t tell me not to tell them about your class.” He reminds her, and she huffs.
“Guess we can cross mind reader off the list of things you can do.” She mumbles, making her Papa snort.
“It wasn’t just that though. We’d seen how restrained you had become, how you never went out with friends and you stopped talking about them.” Her Maman says softly. Marinette grits her teeth, hugging herself to try and hold herself together.
“I didn’t want to worry you.” She says, her voice barely audible. That wasn’t the main reason though. She didn’t want to fight her parents, and if they knew everything going on with Lila, they’d definitely be akumatized. She couldn’t fight them. Not if she could help it.
“What would you say about transferring schools?” Her Maman asks suddenly, and Marinette jerks her head up, looking at her with wide eyes. Transfer schools? It would be great, amazing, fantastic, but- but her classmates would still come to the bakery. Still give her the same odd looks they’d been giving her since they found out that she’s a Wayne.
“What school?” She asks, because yes, that makes a difference. Chloe had transferred schools not long ago, and Marinette did not want to trade Lila for Chloe. She’d rather not deal with either of them, if she was being honest.
“Gotham Academy.” Her Maman says, and Marinette feels lucky that she wasn’t drinking anything, because she would have definitely done a spit take. Gotham Academy? As in, live in Gotham year round? What-
“Are you giving me up?” She asks, suddenly hurt. Her Maman’s eyes widen and her Papa pulls her into a giant hug.
“Of course not honey.” He says, rubbing her back gently and squeezing her lightly.
“We asked Bruce if he thought Gotham Academy would be a good school for you. He offered to let you fly home some weekends, and any of the breaks you want. Or to fly us out here if you have time off school. You don’t have to say yes, and you don’t have to make a decision right now.” Her Maman reassures her as her Papa lets her go. Marinette turns to look at her Dad, his face unreadable.
“Would you really be okay with that?” She asks, and he nods.
“We all just want you to be happy, Marinette. Wherever that may be. And we’re all willing to work together to do that.” He says and she smiles, letting out a soft sigh.
“I- I’d need to think about it a little more,” She says, running through the idea in her head. It seemed perfect, besides the whole ‘bouncing back to Paris for attacks’ thing. But she’d been doing it all summer, it had been fine so far. And maybe, maybe, Hawkmoth would even be defeated by the end of summer. No matter what, things were changing and Marinette was trying her best to keep up.
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cacoetheswriting · 4 years ago
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champagne problems, ch.14
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Chapter Fourteen: Sunflower: Things are really looking up. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2k Warnings: maybe a swear word or two, but really just fluff
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A/N: i know i probably sound like a broken record, but thank you for your continuous love and support! i probably wouldn't have finished this fic series if it wasn't for y’all, and now we are almost at the end! after this chapter, there is only the epilogue left omg!!! also, shout out to @ellesgreenaway​ for the song suggestion that titled this chapter! 
-
Spencer’s arms were wrapped tightly around your frame, reminding you without the use of words that he will never let you go again. His hot breath hit the back of your neck. It sent a gentle shiver down your spine causing you to flutter your eyes open. As you adjusted to the bright morning hues, you could feel his heart beating against you and a sleepy smile circled your lips.
There was no better feeling than waking up next to Spencer.
With him by your side, greeting the day was easy. It came slow and relaxed, as if the universe was commanding you to bask in this comfort for just a little while longer.
This is what harmony really felt like.
The second you stirred in your comfortably warm spot, and turned so you could admire the sleeping man next to you, he also opened his eyes. A smile instantly graced his features.
“Good morning, doctor.” You whispered and leaned over to peck his soft lips.
“Hmm... Good morning, how did you sleep?” The handsome doctor asked, his hand travelling to your face and brushing away any signs of sleep. You swayed into his touch like a magnet before replying; “Would you believe me if I said it was the best sleep I’ve had in months?”.
Spencer chuckled airily, his hand still caressing along your cheek. “I don’t know if I believe you, but I definitely am flattered.”
“As you should be, doctor.”
In a split-second, his lips slanted over yours in one of those open-mouthed kisses, tender yet extremely passionate. His fingers tangled in your hair, as he pulled you in as close as it was humanely possible. It always amazed you how your lips fit so perfectly together like two puzzle pieces.
After what felt like a glorious eternity, the brunette doctor slowly drew away. He placed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before rolling onto his back, one arm draped beneath your neck and hand resting on your shoulder.
“What would you like to do today?” Spencer asked, looking up at the ceiling. You contemplated his question for a moment, but before you got a chance to answer, the sound of your phone ringtone caught your attention.
Sitting up, you reached over to the bedside table and quickly answered the incoming call, “Hello?”
“Oh thank god, you’re alive!” Penelope breathed a sigh of relief on the other line. “We were all worried sick! I even stayed with Tara last night just in case you came back here.”
“I’m okay, don't worry guys.” You replied, glancing briefly at Spencer who has since gotten out of bed. He leaned down to kiss your cheek and exited the bedroom to give you some privacy.
“Well, you’ll get a talking to about not calling or texting later. But for now, how did it go? Tell me everything!” She asked and you couldn't help but giggle, “It went well, Pen. Like really well.” You replied.
Garcia squealed. “AHH! I am so happy for you, sugar plum! You and our lovely resident genius are just meant for each other. A match made in heaven!”
The smile gracing your features grew wider by the second. “Yeah, I’m glad it worked out in the end.”
“Like I knew it would! Now, you get back to whatever it is you were doing and I’m going to update Tara with this wonderful news. Should I tell her she needs to start looking for a new roommate?” She teased, and you rolled your eyes.
“Firstly, nothing untoward is happening.” You began, but Garcia was quick to interrupt you,“Riiight... I’m gonna pretend like I believe you, honey. Love you, have a great day and we can catch up on Monday.”
“Love you too, Pen.” You giggled back before the call ended.
Gradually, you scrambled out of bed and with a light bounce to your step, you joined the hazel-eyed doctor in the kitchen - where the smell of freshly brewed coffee overpowered your senses.
“So, how much trouble did you get in?” Spencer teased, as you rested your body weight against the counter next to him.
“Surprisingly, none at all.” You replied with a shrug. “She’s happy for us.”
Spencer glanced at you briefly, a smile circling his lips. “That makes two of us.” He stated in a low tone and you blushed ever so faintly.
“I forgot just how charming you can be, doctor.” You reacted, earning yourself a kind-hearted laugh. The melodic sound caused your heart to flutter, and you proceeded to tilt your head up and attach your lips to his.
The kiss was short and sweet, reminiscent of many you’ve shared previously. When you pulled apart, Spencer handed you a cup of coffee, and the two of you made your way to his couch.
“Have you given any thought as to what you’d like to do today?” He asked before pressing the mug to his mouth and taking a sip.
“Well, we’ve a lot of catching up to do, doctor.” You replied, throwing your legs over his lap. “I honestly wouldn't know where to start.”
“Y/N, we’ve our whole lives to make up for lost time.” He retorted, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought of growing old with him. “Let’s just take today to enjoy each others company. The sun is out, maybe you want to go for a walk? Or we can stay in and watch a movie?” He suggested.
You took a quick sip of your coffee. “We could actually do both of those things today, doctor. And if you’re good, I can even cook us dinner later.”
Spencer smirked. “If I’m good?”
You nodded, a stupid grin plastered across your face.
Truth be told, you had forgotten just how effortless everything was with Spencer. Your mind was continuously flooded with memories of your time with him. Even when you were apart, you’d get bombarded with thoughts of how uncomplicated the most menial tasks were with him. Although those memories didn’t compare to the serenity you were experiencing right now. Nothing compared to living in the moment with him, again.
The day you spent with Spencer had an unsurprising natural flow to it.
The brunette doctor first drove you to Tara’s, so that you could shower and change out of the pyjamas he lent you. While he waited for you to get ready, he enjoyed a conversation with Tara and Penelope. A conversation about the diamond ring he still carried with him everywhere - but that wasn't for you to know.
The four of you enjoyed a nice breakfast before the girls waved you off for the day. Spencer took the liberty of choosing the park for your walk. Hand in hand, the two of you looped around the paths for hours. Hours of laughing, chatting, and reminiscing. Hours of pure unfiltered joy.
Next stop on the unspoken agenda was the grocery store. Arguably one of your favourite places to go to, especially with the handsome doctor. While you picked out what you needed, Spencer guessed the ingredients of each item you placed in the metal cart. It was no surprise he was always correct, but honestly, that almost made the game more fun.
Back at his apartment, he helped you unpack the bags and proclaimed himself your sous chef. You wanted to protest, tell him to sit down and to let you cook alone, but Spencer wasn't having any of it - “My kitchen, my rules.”. The statement earned him an eye roll because you were sure the last person to actually cook anything proper in his kitchen was you, years ago.
With his... assistance, it took about three hours to make a simple recipe. And once you were finished, the kitchen looked as if a tornado had passed through it.
“Looks like we’ve an evening activity lined up.” Spencer joked, analysing the mess around, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh.
“Can’t wait.” A detectable hint of sarcasm in your voice.
The two of you ate in congenial silence - the first one of that day. It didn’t bother either of you, however. If anything the moment proved just how comfortable and at home you felt around one another.
The move to the couch after dinner was effortless. Spencer picked a movie, one you’ve both seen before so you could cuddle up to one another and talk about random topics without worrying about missing the plot.
It wasn’t until Spencer’s phone rang that you realised how disconnected from the outside world you’ve both been all afternoon.
“I’ll grab it for you, doctor.” You quickly jumped up on your feet before Spencer could do anything. You briskly shuffled around the sofa until you reached the coat hanger by the front door. As you searched the pockets of his jacket for the phone, your fingers brushed against something else.
The ringing stopped when you retrieved the item.
“Spencer, what’s this?” You asked, brows furrowed together.
The brunette doctor turned around. His gaze travelled to the small box you were holding up and he swallowed his breath. Shit. He completely forgot that was inside his jacket, which was ironic considering his eidetic memory. Not to mention the fact he’d been carrying it everywhere he went.
Spencer immediately jumped up from his seat. He appeared in front of you in a flash, his hand wrapping around yours and the box.
“This is definitely not how I envisioned this moment. But then again, when it comes to us, nothing ever goes as planned.” Spencer began, looking into your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but ehm, I’ve known I wanted to be the man you marry since before we even started dating. You’re the most patient, caring, loving, and not to mention beautiful person I’ve ever met. I am extremely lucky to have you in my life.”
Your eyes glossed over with tears as Spencer continued, “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. The journey you and I have been on so far is more than your average couple goes on. Which proves that together we are extraordinary.”
He took a deep breath before retrieving the box from your grasp. He slowly got down on one knee and proceeded to open the small box, causing a gasp to escape your lips.
“You’ve been through a lot, Y/N. I understand that you may not be ready to take this next step with me yet, therefore this is more of a promise rather than a question.” He licked his lips, fighting back his own happy tears as yours trailed down your face.
“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me, one day?” Spencer asked and your heart soared at the question.
“Of course, yes. Yes, yes, yes! Yes!” You squealed, holding out your hand. The hazel-eyed doctor didn’t waste any time to put the ring on your finger, a goofy smile visible on his features. He then stood back up and kissed you with all his might, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and melted into his embrace.
“I would marry you in a heartbeat, doctor.” You mumbled against his lips.
Effortlessly lifting you off the ground, Spencer spun you around. The two of you laughing uncontrollably, basking in the love you were both experiencing. Your fingers tangled in his brown hair, as he trailed sloppy kisses across your jaw and down your neck.
“I love you.” Spencer whispered in your ear before pulling back to look at your face, his hazel gaze locking with yours. “I love you too.” You exclaimed in a hushed tone and pecked his lips.
Gently, he lifted your hand to admire how the ring looked on your finger. His lips twirling upwards even more, as if that was even possible. Both of you felt as if you were on cloud nine.
This is what the rest of your life felt like.
I promise I'm the one for you Just let me hold you in these arms tonight
-
A/N: ahhh we’re almost at the very end, i can’t believe it!! as always i’d love to hear your feedback! thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x
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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset, @ellesgreenaway, @chipot-lol​
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wandsandwheezes · 4 years ago
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Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH6
one // two // three // four // five
Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, masturbation, hate sex, heartbreak, blood
Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.
A/N // thank you to my angst goblin, Lanie @gcdric​ and my angel Zahra @starlightweasley​ for helping me get this one out bc otherwise id be STUCK
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One new message
The sound of the answer machine rang through Fred’s flat, he was staring out over London and her twinkling lights. His waistcoat was loose, hanging open at his chest - tie discarded the moment he stumbled through the door. He’d pretty much flung the sliding glass door to the balcony open, letting the biter breeze whip through his hair, blowing the once still curtain so that it flew in a way that mimicked the way a superhero’s cape flows. 
The night of partying had been a wild but well needed distraction. Fred couldn’t stop the image of your kiss from playing over and over in his head, his fingers ghosted over where the absent feeling of your lips lingered, wishing you were here. 
“Freddie…” You breathed down the phone, your words slurred still as the liquor clung to your senses. 
“About what happened tonight, I don’t think it was-” His heart began to race at the simple thought, the steamy kiss was crossing his mind once again, He heard you take a moment, a pause for thought and he held his breath with you. 
“I just - we need to talk. We- I have something to tell you.” You sighed, he was praying he could just call you back, checking his watch, he knew it was too late. What If he did call, would that be so bad? 
“I’m sorry, Fred.” the sound of you putting down the phone echoed in his brain. Sorry. What could you possibly be sorry for? It could possibly be one of the best kisses of his life. He couldn’t deny the electricity that he felt from tip to toe and he knew deep down that you felt it too. So why did he feel a pang of sadness hit his chest, winding him like a dementor was sucking the soul out of his body.
Fred fell asleep that night clutching his pillow as he imagined you in its place. He wasn’t sure what made the tears roll down his cheeks, but shrugged it off as the alcohol getting to him. He was snivelling, contemplating leaving you a text. He needed you to know how he felt, that he was aching for you to be with him. He didn’t want things to just be staged anymore, there was undeniable chemistry there between you, he felt it in the way you looked at him. Surely it would be better if you were his, he could kiss and hold you all he wanted without the need for press or cameras. You could have a beautiful, normal life together. You were one of the last thoughts on his brain as he drifted off, his grip against the plush pillow only growing tighter out of desperation. 
Waking to the midday sun shining directly into his eyes wasn’t making the pounding headache rattling around in his skull any better. Fred didn’t remember anything about how or when he got home, only recalling the mellow flow of your voice reverberating around his flat. He managed to drag himself from his bed, searching every unorganised cabinet for the sight of even one lonely ibuprofen, sighing as his head fell to rest on the counter with no luck. He realised the grave mistake he had made when his head started thumping, the room spinning and his sight going hazy. Water, he needed hydration.
Two pints of water later, Fred was still feeling the sour effects of last night’s burning liquor, feeling the burn in his chest with every breath, like all the liquid was ready to come right back up at any moment. He sat himself down at the island counter as he pressed the button to replay the voicemail from last night. 
I’m Sorry.
The words wouldn’t leave him, he replayed the voicemail over and over, internalising every single word as it played through the speakers. He sat for hours, sat too long until his feet had gone numb from dangling over the seat. The Great British weather had taken its turn for the worst, a clap of thunder distracting Fred from his thoughts, not knowing how deeply the words were hitting him, until he felt a tear drop against the back of his hand. It was too much for him, realising that he needed to see you, touch you, feel you. 
I’m Sorry
His feet dragged him towards your place, he didn’t care that he’d been walking for miles or that the rain was drenching him to his very core. It was desperation that drove him to find you. It was like a sign to him that one lonely red rose grew from a bush he passed, stopping dead in his tracks before turning around to look at it. He plucked it from the bush, holding it up to his nose, breathing in the scent. Rose petals mixed with the cold drizzle and muggy air sent him over the edge. He was walking quicker now so that he could get to you, pace kicking up into a small jog, his shoes slapping against the wet pavement with each step.
One light shone dimly from the confines of your apartment. Fred stood outside, debating how he was going to approach this conversation. He loved you, wanted you to be his and he struggled in that moment to find the appropriate words to express it. You were towel drying your hair, supposedly from the rain as you came into view by the window. You looked like an angel, a pure piece of heaven on earth and his heart beat faster, beginning to move closer to the flat’s entrance. That’s when he spotted another figure coming into view from the window, face covered by the towel as you dried their hair. Whoever it was, had at least a foot on you height wise, their hands snaking around your waist to pull you tight and close to them.
Fred’s heart sunk, like it had fully fallen out of his ass, seeing you in the arms of another man made his stomach churn, his grip on the rose growing tighter as the thorns pierced his skin. He didn’t even feel the pain, just the emptiness in his chest. He watched as you pulled the towel from the figure’s face.
The messy ginger hair, round cheeks and adoring smile were obvious. Fred knew exactly who he was seeing, he was blinking so hard wishing that it was just a terrible nightmare. As George’s lips connected with yours, it was as if it rumbled Zeus himself, a bolt of lightning illuminating the dark sky. It was like watching his whole world come crashing down, watching you chase his brother’s lips desperately, the same way you had done with him last night. He couldn’t help but watch as the kiss deepened, George using his strength to pick you up, watching your legs wrap around his waist, walking out of sight. 
It was like watching a glimpse of a life he’d never have, the rose fell to the floor, petals breaking off of the stem. Blood was dripping from his hand to the floor, diluted by the rain as it splashed against the stone. Not a single car drove by your house, not one person was outside but Fred in that moment. Loneliness was the only bitter feeling left, it tasted like hell in his mouth, unable to shake the image of you and George together, only hearing two words in his head over and over like a broken record.
I’m Sorry. 
Raindrops danced along Fred’s skin, the soft pitter patter mocking him, everything reminded him of you, even in a moment of heartbreak, the glow of Christmas lights, the thunder or the distant sound of horns beeping at one another, it all reminded him of you in the most ridiculous way. His phone chimed, pulling up the messages he realised that his thoughts had overpowered the importance of the messages.
>> I miss your touch Freddie
>> I can come see you tonight
>> why aren’t you responding Fred?
>> don’t you love me?
‘Maybe this is what I need’ Fred thought, Perhaps he needed the out, the quick fuck to get the aggression out of his system. They say it’s wrong to sleep with your boss, but Cherry wasn’t his boss, she was just the publicist. The publicist you shared. If you could sleep with anyone you wanted, why should he feel guilty about it now? After all, if there was one woman who could help him forget, It would be Cheryl. 
<< sorry, doll
<< of course i love you
<< come see me x
>> I won’t be long, i’m so desperate for you, Freddie x 
It was wrong for him to say that, especially when he didn’t love cherry. Not one ounce of his body felt a connection deeper than just sex. That's all it was to him with Cherry; mindless, carefree sex. Why he kept going back to her like a lost puppy however, was still up for debate. 
Cheryl wasn't an unattractive woman, but she wasn't you. She was taller, accentuated by her constant need to wear heels, not that it mattered much to Fred when he towered above most people he met. She had long blonde hair that was always beach waved and perfectly sun-kissed skin like a Miami model. Fred didn't care too much about superficial looks, but it was undeniable that part of the reason he enjoyed Cherry so much was the way her tits, although obviously fake, would bounce in his face begging to be touched as she sank down onto him or the way her full lips looked as they wrapped around his throbbing cock. Fucking Cheryl from behind was as much fun, he had all the ass he could hold onto before him and a tight cunt that always struggled to take him. 
Reaching his home Cherry was already waiting for him. She spun around as soon as his presence behind her was felt, lips attaching to his immediately. The red lipstick she wore while unique to her, was now being transferred to the man's lips as they kissed. He wasn't disappointed to be kissing someone, it was disappointment that it wasn't you. Your kisses were heaven compared to what he was getting now, he found himself picturing you in his arms and that seemed to work. 
They wasted no time stripping each other's clothes off, Fred was aching to pound his cock into something, even if it had to be Cherry. When the girl tried to straddle him, he grabbed her hips, throwing her against the mattress, causing a giggle to erupt from her lips. "Hands and knees tonight, Doll." 
Being seethed inside Cherry felt amazing. He tried to stretch her out, push as much of himself inside as he could, but she was simply so tight. The pace he set was animalistic, fucking the girl raw against the sheets, he couldn't stand to look at her, closing his eyes and pretending it was the girl he’d been longing for. It wasn't enough, he needed more control. Fred's hand was pushing Cherry's face into the sheets, his thrusts more violent and possessive as he continued fucking her senseless. 
Back at your home, George was seethed all the way inside you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. The way you two fit together was like lock and key, a perfect size for each other. "I'm so deep inside of you princess, can you feel me in your belly?" You were nodding, grabbing his hand to press against your abdomen, his thrusts were slow and purposeful, he was trying to make you cum over and over and over again tonight and you were already waiting for number four. "Yes Georgie, right here, it feels so good when you fill me up." he hummed as he felt the tip of his cock hitting where his hand was pressed with every thrust. His precious girl. All for him. 
Fred was on the edge, skin slapping as he chased his orgasm, Not caring much for Cherry's desperate moans, no matter how good he was making her feel. He wanted her to shut up, it sounded so fake, but he was ready to release, pulling out to let his cum drip over the curve of her ass. He flopped on the bed next to her, immediately feeling her hand on his cock, stroking gently. "You're so good, Freddie, So big." 
She took him into her mouth with ease, it was the only time he could be fully inside of her. His head was back against the mattress as he pictures your soft lips replacing hers. His hand came up to stroke her hair as she continued sucking him off. Try as he might to cum again, he knew it wasn’t your hand on his cock, or your lips. It was another woman, the thought made him sick to his stomach, forcing him to sit bolt upright, pulling himself away from the naked girl on his bed.
“I can’t do this.” he grumbled, grabbing the boxers he had discarded on the floor, pulling them up. Cherry sighed, running a hand through her hair and pulling it over her shoulder, “Do you want me to stay Freddie?” she smiled, playing with the ends of hair as she watched him walk into his bathroom across the hall. “I don’t care.” he spoke plainly, the hurt in his chest hitting him once again as he slammed the door behind him. 
He could still hear the hums and moans you made against his lips. As he leant against the shut door, his hand reached down to start palming himself, feeling himself grow hard again at the thought of you. He was picturing you sprawled out on his bed, begging for him, using your mouth to get him off - He was getting close again as he imagined slamming his hips into you. Just as he reached his peak again, one thought plagued his mind, you moaning his twins name. His heart broke again as he came, sighing as he realised that he was too late. You weren’t his to have.
/// TO BE CONTINUED ///  >>>>>> Chapter Seven
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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago
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Title: The Confession {8}
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Chris Evans x Best Friend Reader
Warning: Cursing, Angst, Plot, PLENTY WORDS
Words: 9.6k
Summary: Not this time.
Note: Thank you for reading lovelies! 😘😘
Thank you guys so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.  ❤️❤️
***Loosely Edited/Proofread***
***Mildly Interactive***
***Picture Heavy***
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
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At four in the morning, you found yourself wide awake sitting in front of your vanity, staring at yourself, not moving a muscle.
 At five in the morning, you hadn’t budged, and honestly, you didn’t know if it was a good idea to go anywhere.
You heard your phone notifications firing off every ten or so minutes. Each and every one of them, you ignored. Ten hours ago, you’d had a plan. That plan consisted of you waking up at four to get yourself together to ensure you left the latest five o’clock to make it to the camping trail parking lot. You’d planned everything so well that you’d done the majority of everything that would take forever the night before.
 After ending your conversations with Chris and Jaxon, you made yourself some dinner, drank a bottle of wine as you did some work that you’d planned for the weekend that you wouldn’t get to. Then you moved on to pacing your closet while second-guessing your decisions for the weekend’s plans. That second-guessing led you to your second bottle of wine, which you drank rather quickly. By the time you reached the bottom, you were back on the train of it being acceptable and not a big deal to go. So you packed your bags with everything you’d need.
 You knew Chris would take care of all the logistic items such as the tent, firewood, ponchos, security needs, safety needs, and so forth. The man’s brain worked so analytically it was a wonder he’d become a real boy at some point in his life to make human relationships work. It was that way throughout your childhood. He would have the analytical part covered, and you’d pick up the slack with intuitive thinking. He’d always tease you about it by saying you’d never survive an apocalypse cause you’d feel and use your heart way too much. Ironic, you thought.
 “I just need to be more analytical. That’s all,” you professed out of nowhere as you stood.
 “Think with your head, not with your heart. I can do that. If he can do it, I can too.”
 Though you were trying to hype yourself up, it was barely working. Still, you pushed yourself to believe you could do this. So what if you hadn’t accomplished being analytical in all your years of living. You’d never mastered it as he had. This weekend you’d be the pro.
 Seeing that it was near half-past five, you quickly changed and did a once over of your home to ensure you had everything you’d need, then hauled your bags to the trunk of your car to begin the twenty-minute drive to the outskirts of town. The whole drive there, you played music that wouldn’t allow you to contemplate things any further. You didn’t need time to think any more. You knew if you had the twenty-minute drive to contemplate your options more, you’d turn around and chicken out.
 Your phone rang and loudly announced the caller on the speakers in the car.
 “Risa, the sun hasn’t even come up yet.
 “I made an effort to be awake to give you a call to check on you. I’m sure you’ve talked yourself up and down the ledge. Where are you?”
 “On my way.”
 “Oh, so you’re still going. Wow. Impressive,” Irisa bellowed.
 “Impressive? Didn’t you say it was a good idea?”
 “It is, but you always end up doing what you want to do. I just didn’t fully believe you’d go through with it.”
 Your mouth hung open. That said, a lot.
 “How are you doing?”
 Debating in your head, if you should play the nonchalant card or the brutal honesty card, you tapped onto the steering wheel as you came upon the exit to the grounds.
 “Uh----well, you know. cool.”
 It was a half-lie, but you fully turned onto the exit. There were no more outs unless you pulled a whole U and illegally reentered the highway while possibly causing an accident. It sounded terrible, but you wouldn’t rule it out.
 “You, my friend, are the opposite of cool. My god,” Irisa said, laughing at you.
 “I just don’t want things to get—worse. Ya know?”
 “I get it. you want things to stay the same.”
 “No. That’s not what I mean,” you began.
 “So, you want them to change.”
 “No. Jesus, I don’t know,” you grunted out.
 “Maybe use the weekend to figure it out and come to a decision that best suits you and no one else. Figure out what you can’t live without, not what you can live with,” Irisa counseled.
 You could see the entrance to the trail steadily approaching. It was relatively empty except for maybe a handful of cars. You weren’t worried. The destination you and Chris had in mind was off the beaten path, a piece of heaven carved out just for the two of you.
 “Thanks, Risa. I guess I’ll talk to you Monday. Once we head out, you know cell reception is nonexistent.”
 “I know the drill. Have fun. I know how you love camping out there. This might be one of if nor the last time you can.”
 She was right. Jaxon didn’t like camping, and you doubted you’d ever feel right bringing him to that spot. This was yet another thing you and Jaxon didn’t have in common. You enjoyed nature and relished any chance to be in it, but Jaxon preferred pampering. You thought it came from your opposite upbringings, him the only child of a career political force. He’d always had the proverbial golden spoon in his mouth. Maybe you could live without camping trips like this, you thought, as you rolled past an unexpected blast from the past.
 Slamming onto your breaks, you looked back in the rearview mirror to see Chris leaning against the monstrosity from your teenage years. You loudly snorted as the laughter bubbled up within you only to fill the car. He didn’t, you thought as you rolled into the nearest parking spot on the other side. When you got out and walked around to the back to get a better look, you let out a howl of laughter again.
 “Aaah, oh my god! I am not going anywhere in that hideous thing.”
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Chris’s jaw dropped. “What!?”
 “You heard me. Which nineteen seventies hell did you crawl into to drag that thing out of?”
 “Shut up. You love it. Don’t listen to her girl; you’re gorgeous,” Chris said as he soothed the car by rubbing gentle strokes along its hood.
 “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous. I have not seen this thing in ten years.”
 “That’s an exaggeration, six the most.”
 “I thought this was gone.”
 “Never, I’m hanging on to this baby for the rest of my life. I couldn’t part with her—too many memories,” Chris said.
 The two of you stood in silence for a few moments. You ran through all the memories of this decades-old wagon and all the things it had seen, the adventures you’d been on. It still looked in mint condition, which was another nod to Chris’s mind. He always did take care of the things he valued.
 “Wow. So many memories,” you said, lost in your thoughts.
 “So many.”
 Your eyes met and rested for several long moments before you cleared your throat loudly, beginning to walk back to your car.
 “How many bags you got for me this time?”
 “Shut up. If it’s such a hassle, I can carry my own bags. This princess doesn’t need a prince charming.”
 As the trunk opened to reveal your four black and white matching camp duffle bags and one black weekender bag, you attempted to grab them, but Chris beat you to it, effortlessly grabbing the five bags in total.
 “That’s the beauty of the princess and her prince charming. He knew she was more than capable of saving herself, and he loved that about her, but he was so deeply in love that he vowed never to let it come to that—princess,” he said, ending on a whisper at your ear before walking away.
 A shiver ran through you, and just like that, the nerves that had faded when you pulled up returned tenfold. After straightening your back, you closed the trunk and went to the backseat to get the remaining three bags that you’d packed. Again as you moved to grab them, Chris opened the other side and took them before your hand ever touched them.
 “Is this it, or are you setting a record with nine bags?”
 “Christopher!”
 He walked again, laughing to himself. He thought he was so damn funny. You gathered your things from the front seat, excluding your phone, then locked up your vehicle. Before you crossed the parking lot, you took several breaths.
 “Conceal, don’t feel,” you whispered to yourself.
 Though Elsa was horrible and annoying, that was some excellent advice. You hoped it would work out better for you than it had for her with it.  When you got to Chris’s wagon, you slide your fingertips along the smooth paint and smiled as you walked to the passenger side. When you climbed in, Chris looked at you.
 “Ready?”
 It was a straightforward question, but it was asking so much. Were you ready for this weekend? Were you ready to do this? Were you ready to figure your shit out once and for all? Were you ready to possibly walk into the unknown leaving everything you’d ever known for sure behind? Were you ready to be unapologetically happy no matter where it took you? Were you ready to let go? All good questions. Were you ready? Who the hell knew, but it was too late to turn back now.
 You slide your sunglasses in place though the sun had barely begun to rise. “Hit it.”
 Without asking again, Chris did as he was told. Within minutes you’d exited the parking lot and were on the driving path that would lead you deeper and deeper into the Massachusetts wilderness. Well, the wilderness that had been carved out for humans who wanted to be close to nature without the threat of being eaten by bears. Though Chris was always analytical, he knew how to read a room. Either it was natural or a Hollywood trick that he’d picked up.
 For the first thirty minutes, the drive was relatively quiet except for the music that played. He’d had the good sense to allow you complete control over that. You were sure the way you switched songs that your nerves were in the air. Just as one of you was getting into the song, you would change it after a minute. It was one of your nervous ticks, fidgeting. You fiddled with the switch to change songs, you fiddled with your fingers, your bracelets, and even fiddled with your engagement ring.
 Though your body was in the car, your head was miles away, everywhere but nowhere all at the same time. You were going over the endless possibilities and probabilities of the weekend. It was a probability that things would get very transparent, and it was a possibility that transparency would blur lines. You didn’t know what gave you more anxiety, the possibility of being laid bare or the possibility of blurry lines. They were both terrifying.
 “It’s so loud in here.”
 Your head snapped to Chris, who turned to look at you. There was a small smirk on his lips.
 “What? The music isn’t even that loud.”
 “I didn’t say it was the music that was loud,” Chris countered.
 Crinkling your brows and scrunched your face showing your confusion.
 “Your thoughts. They’re loud. Stop.”
 Kissing your teeth, you exaggeratedly rolled your eyes the way you only did when he really annoyed you, and you had to show him just how much. Chris snorted and laughed loudly, clapping his hand across his chest.
 “Whatever, Christopher!”
 “You act as if we’ve never gone camping before, like this is the first time we’ve gone anywhere together. Relax.”
 “I am relaxed, shut up. I am fine,” you argued.
 “Prove it, stop fidgeting.”
 Kissing your teeth again, you straightened your back and rested your hands on your thighs as if you were some android awaiting instructions. With your eyes straight ahead, you watched the winding path the car traveled. After ten seconds, you were dying to move. By the time thirty seconds passed, it was such a strong urge. You had to look over to Chris to see if he was watching. Sure enough, his ass was watching you with the look on his face that said he expected you to fail. Asshole, you thought before you rolled your eyes again and began to bounce your legs again.
 Like clockwork, Chris laughed again.
 “Stop laughing at me,” you whined.
 “I’m sorry. Okay.” Chris straightened his face and focused on the road again for a few minutes before he spoke again. “You don’t have to be nervous around me, Y/N. It’s just me—just us.”
 You knew he was right, and when you thought about it for longer than a few seconds, you wanted to kick yourself. He was still Chris, you were still you, and at the end of the day, he was still your best friend. All the other stuff didn’t matter.
 “Did you bring your humidifier?”
 “Of course.”
 “Good, don’t want your truck horn sneezing to attract bears,” Chris teased.
 Your jaw dropped, which had him laughing again and drastically lowering the tension in the car, and that tension remained lowered for the remainder of the drive.
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About an hour after driving, Chris finally pulled up to your piece of the forest, the piece that you’d accidentally found, and was now your go-to spot. While you were busy looking around and stretching your legs, Chris got to work with the bags that were in the trunk. When you went back to help him, he tried to deter you, saying he could handle it. Any protest ended when you added it would go quicker with your help.
 Ten minutes found all the bags on the ground where you chose. Twenty minutes from there, Chris had the tent pitted and had moved on to the grounds area, which housed a separate tent that you used to keep the food items secure. While he set up that tent, you began to bring bags into the sleeping tent and arranging them around the tent, leaving the middle open for the blow-up mattress.
 When you realized it was the one mattress, you froze sitting on the floor of the tent. You hadn’t thought about it because this is how it usually happened. It was always a queen-sized mattress that you brought. There was never a problem. However, in light of the confession of Chris’s feelings, you felt this might have been too much.
 “What’re you doing?”
 “Uh—nothing. I was uh—the mattress.”
 “Okay, then why are you just sitting here? Forgot how to do it?”
When he stooped down beside you, he saw you ferociously chewing your bottom lip, another nervous tick.
 “What’s up, princess?”
 A shiver ran down your spine again. Forcing yourself to shake off the unexpected feeling you debated on if you should tell him. as if reading your mind, Chris took a deep breath.
 “If you think it’s not a good idea to share the bed, that’s fine. I can take the ground, or I can even take the tent with the food. I don’t mind.”
 Your chewing speed picked up, as did the pressure from your teeth.
 “Y/N.”
 Looking at him, you studied his face and gazed into his eyes, trying to make a decision. It was Chris, you thought to yourself. You’re making it weird. You’re making this worse than it is. Your internal monologue went back and forth before finally going in on you prompting you to relax. After several minutes of your silence, Chris began to stand.
 “Okay. I’ll make the decision.”
 You shot your hand out to grab his. Chris stopped then sank back down.
 “It's fine.”
 “Are you sure? I want you to be comfortable. I don’t want this to be a thing in your head that it’s inappropriate or even that I’m going to try something on you. I’m not. I may be an asshole, but I’m never an asshole to you,” Chris explained.
 Sighing, you closed your eyes and gave yourself a mental kick. “It’s fine. It’s always been fine. I trust you, Chris. I’m just--.” You waved your hands around, hoping that was enough of an ending for him because you couldn’t find the right words to finish your thought.
 “Insane, I know,” Chris finished making you give him the evil eye. His smile was playful, which was the only reason you didn’t hit him. Instead, you pushed him back, forcing him to lose his balance to fall back on his ass.
 “Since you love to talk so much, you can blow this up yourself,” you said, standing and walking out of the tent.
 “You act like I don’t like working with my hands. I can do this all day!”
 You didn’t doubt it. While Chris finished up there, you brought the food bags into the tent and situated them. What was supposed to be a five-minute task turned into almost fifteen minutes of you organizing things according to food category because once again, your anxiety had gotten to you. Halfway through, it was clear to you that both of you had brought more than enough food for two days.  After taking some time to get your head right, you returned to the sleeping tent to find Chris arranging the bags around the tent while the blown-up bed remained bare. From the looks of the bags, you knew his analytical brain had gotten the better of him. Your bags were on the right while his were on the left. He’d managed to put them all perfectly spaced from the other, but he left your overnight bag on its own toward the upper side of the bed.
 “Perfect spacing,” you teased as you walked to the foot of the bed. “What happened here?”
 “I forgot sheets,” Chris admitted.
 Snorting, you shook your head. “Of course you did. Such a man,” you joked as you walked to your bags. You looked through each of them, unsure which one you’d packed the sheets into. Once you found them, you turned and held them up.
 “Ta-da.”
 “Of course, you’d pack a set of sets.”
 “Let’s get it straight. I packed two sets of sheets,” you said as you tossed him the pillowcases.
 “Shit, I forgot my pillow.”
 Chris smirked and walked to the large garbage bag that was on the ground and pulled out a replica of your pillow.
 “I already knew you would. It’s like a given with you.”
 Smiling, you nodded. “Okay, thank you.”
 For the next few minutes, the two of you made lite work of making up the blow-up mattress. Your bodies passed each other working together to make sure it was done correctly. When you were putting on one of the pillowcases on the left side of the bed, you glanced at him. This all felt so domestic, so—natural. Jaxon always hated helping with the sheets because you had a particular way you liked them and that particular way got on his nerves because he could never get it right.
 Chris folded down the shimmery cream silk fitted sheet over the lite faux fur blanket that was a complementary hue so that it was neatly resting at the top of the mattress right underneath the pillow. Once he was finished with that, he folded the end, so it created a perfect inward triangle. You continued to watch as he smoothed his palm across it brushing away any creases, then his eyes landed on you. It was perfect.
 “What?”
 Smiling, you shook your head. “Nothing. You did good,” you answered, placing the pillow down, completing the look. “It’s perfect.”
 “I know. You and your OCD ass,” Chris joked before walking out of the tent, leaving you to admire his handiwork and fold your side into the triangle.
 When you got outside, Chris was setting up the location for the cooking setup. That was your queue to gather some wood so he would be able to light a fire in a few hours. After letting him know your intention, he warned you to keep close but returned to preparing the area. Before you turned away, you saw him take off his plaid long sleeve shirt to show his tank top underneath. His muscular arms stopped you for a few seconds before you continued with the mission.
 As you walked around the perimeter of the camp, you quickly got lost in your surroundings. The trees' beautiful green matched the grass's vibrant green and complimented the wildflowers that littered the ground about you. Bending, you picked up a branch that would do nicely for the pit and picked one of the flowers nearby. Tucking it behind your ear, you carried on with your search for branches.
 Ten or so minutes later, you returned with an arm full of branches to find Chris with his tank top off. He was setting up a safety perimeter. From behind, you could see the lite layer of sweat that decorated his body, giving it a look as if he’d been rubbed down with baby oil. The sheen glistened with the light and almost had your jaw-dropping. When did he get all that? Before your thoughts could stray any further, Chris turned.
 “There you are. I was going to send out the search party.”
 You cleared your throat and approached where Chris has set up the fire pit location and dropped the branches.
 “About done here?”
 “Uh—after I arrange these, yeah. Why?
 “Let’s go for a walk, you know, get the blood pumping in other directions.”
 Chris looked at you, quizzically. “Other directions? Like where and from where?”
 Avoiding his eyes, you spun around, trying to decide on a direction. “How about that direction?”
 Without waiting for him to answer, you walked ahead.
 “You wanna give me a little time?”
 “Catch up, and put a shirt on. Your pale ass burns easily,” you shouted behind you while continuing your walk.
 Using the free minutes of alone time you had left, you tried to screw your head back on right. In all your years of friendship, you’d never looked at him like that. You barely noticed if he had muscles or was skinny and scrawny like he was when he was a teenager. You never saw it.
 “What the hell was that, Y/N?”
 “What was what?”
 Looking beside you, Chris fell into step with you as if your rapid pace was comfortable.
 “Nothing. Why didn’t you bring Dodger?”
 “Uh—I was tempted. I just thought it was a good idea to leave him.”
 “I miss him. Jaxon doesn’t like dogs. He doesn’t like pets actually,” you absentmindedly said without thinking.
 “Huh.”
 Looking at him, you realized what you’d said. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just brought him up.”
 “It’s fine,” Chris professed.
 “Is it?”
 He took a deep breath, shrugged, and looked ahead. “Look, it’s no secret I don’t like the guy.”
 “You sure acted like it.”
 “What was I supposed to do, Y/N? Tell you I don’t like your boyfriend?”
 “Why not. Maybe we could have found a way for you to like him,” you replied.
 “I was never going to like him. I will never like him or anyone else you’re with,” Chris said, his tone pointed but also soft.
 Studying him, you realized again what you’d said. The two of you walked in silence for a few moments; both lost in your own thoughts.
 “This is so crazy,” you huffed out.
 “Did you like all my girlfriends?”
 As soon as he asked, you snorted out and laughed. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”
 “No, we should. That’s what this weekend is for. Honesty,” Chris finalized.
 Glancing at him, you found his eyes already on you. “You’re sure?”
 “Yeah. I’m sure as hell not going to hold anything else back.”
 Taking a few moments to gather your thoughts, you changed directions getting closer to the river bank.
 “I love this spot so much.”
 You stood there staring out at the majestic sight before you. The beauty of the green trees and mountains in the distance was breathtaking. Your favorite part was how the backdrop mirrored in the lake, making it seem as if another replica world was right underneath the water's surface. It was easy to feel small here and easy for you to get back to the simplicity of things.
 “If by girlfriends you mean the ones that stuck around past five months, then I liked them all except two,” you confessed.
 “Which two?”
 Smirking, you pinched your lips and looked at him. “The one with the nose, and the one with that hideous back tattoo. What the fuck was that?”
 Chris busted out laughing. It was a contagious laugh because you had to join in seconds later. The two of you laughed uncontrollably for a full minute until it slowly died down.
 “You know what, I guessed one, but the other—I’m shocked. She was nice.”
 You rolled your eyes and kept walking, already tired of the lies. Soon Chris was beside you again.
 “She wasn’t nice?”
 “She was fake. She wanted two things from you, and she got them.”
 “What are those two things?”
 “It’s not important,” you countered.
 “Of course, it is. I wanna know. what two things?”
 Bouncing you with his bulky shoulder, you staggered sideways before you turned to him, stopping for a moment.
 “Tell me.”
 “Fine. She wanted a good dick down and clout,” you replied, then continued walking.
 “Woah, woah, woah. A good dick down? What do you mean? How do you know my dick down is good?”
 “Shut up, Chris. You’re the biggest hoe, and you always thought that no one talks when you hoe around. Everyone talks. There have been some stories that I’ve heard that are just—nuts. I’ve heard of twosomes, threesomes, hell foursomes, and even the one time you found yourself at some Hollywood sex orgy party. I had to give Scott a double take from that one. Honestly, how many women have you slept with? Then you turn around and tell me you’ve been in love with me since high school. Come on!”
 You’d rambled like a manic, letting your frantic thoughts get the better of you. When you realized he wasn’t walking beside you, that was when you took a breath. Looking back, Chris had stopped and had his head hung as if he’d lost his most prized possession.
 “Chris--,” you remorsefully began.
 “I know how my actions seem Y/N. I know what the rumors say. I know everyone calls me a whore and thinks that all I care about is ass. I know.” He walked closer, then stopped in front of you. “You’re my best friend; I just wish you didn’t think that about me too.” With that, he walked ahead of you, leaving you standing there.
 Sighing, you dropped your head back to roll your eyes. “Great.”
 The walk was quiet after that. Chris either kept his head down or eyes straight ahead. He also remained in front of you and didn’t return beside you after that. You knew he was sensitive about the whole whore thing. It wouldn’t have usually been something you would have brought up, but it was on your mind. It had remained on your mind since he confessed his feelings. It was something you couldn’t wrap your head around. If you knew how you felt about someone, you couldn’t just sleep around with others as if you felt nothing, especially when you came home and saw them for holidays and even family functions. It was something you needed answers to, but seeing Chris’s disposition, you decided against it.
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By the time the sun was highest in the sky, and you’d made it to the top of a cliff that gave you a bird's eye view of the forest, you’d reached your level of avoidance. You had to know.
 “I--,” both of you began at the same time.
 You pinched your lips together and waited for him to go just as he did the same.
 You spoke again, “I--.” Again Chris began the same time you did.
 “You go,” Chris offered.
 “Do you know how many women you’d introduced me to?”
 He sighed but didn’t do what you expected. Instead, he turned to you and gave you his undivided attention.
 “Tell me.”
 “Six. Including your latest even though that was over FaceTime. Six women, Chris. Six women during the entirety of when you said you were in love with me. Six women. Six women, you paraded around, fell in love with, had sex with, six.”
 “I’ve never been in love with any of them.”
 That was when your jaw dropped, and you gaped at him.
 “It’s a dick thing to say, especially now, but it’s also the truth. I loved three of them but was never in love with any of them.”
 You didn’t need him to tell you that there was a difference between being in love with someone and loving them. You knew there was a difference.
 “Jennifer? Danika? Your mom thought you’d marry one of them.”
 “I loved things about them. Was I ever in love? No. I tried, I just—couldn’t.”
 You couldn’t believe your ears.
 “It’s something to you never being in love with any of your old boyfriends.”
 Your head swiveled to him. He didn’t look cocky, though. He just looked sure.
 “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
 “I’m the only person who knows what I’m talking about when it comes to that, apart from Irisa.”
 That cornered feeling you hated was creeping up onto you.
 “That also includes this one you’ve convinced yourself you want to spend the rest of your life with.”
 “I love Jaxon,” you quickly defended.
 “Maybe, and that’s a huge maybe. You’re not in love with him.”
 “How the hell do you know that, Chris?”
 Chris studied you for several long moments. Every second of silence only made your anxiety rise higher and higher. When you were sure he knew you were about to lose your shit, he spoke.
 “I’ve known you since I was a kid. I know everything about you. I know every tick, every sign, signal, nerve ending. The only thing I can’t figure out is why you’d move up a wedding you don’t want to have in the first place. So tell me, Y/N. Why?”
 Gulping down the water in the bottle, you focused on the scenery. “And I can’t figure out why you’d break your lifetime of silence this many months after my initial engagement. You’ve done this at the worst possible time, and now you just expect me to what—leave Jaxon and throw all this time and the plans away. What’s to say next year this time you’re not changing your mind?”
 “I’ve never not been in love with you, Y/N. Never. I loved you close in high school. I loved you from afar when you went off to college and me LA. I loved you through the good, the easy, the complicated. I’ve been in love with you through it all. I never thought I had a chance so I held my peace until I couldn’t. then---I was afraid not only of the rejection but also the love that I felt.”
 Chris quickly looked at you then scoffed. “You don’t get it,” he began. “Have you ever felt something so powerful that it—supersedes anything you’ve ever felt and makes it impossible to feel anything else for anyone else? Nothing I ever felt for anyone came close to what I feel for you. Nothing I thought of anyone was anything like what I thought of you. I compared every woman to you on every single level.”
 You took a deep breath, and though you wanted to look away because the intensity of his stare was making your skin tingle and your heart race, you didn’t. You kept your eyes on his.
 “I can see the fear in your eyes. I’ve always been able to see it,” Chris began as he slid closer to you, so there were just a few inches between you.
 His long spider-like legs were open and bent over yours that were crossed. His hands rested on your thighs, and it was an action he’d done hundreds of times. It shouldn’t have made you look to them or even made your heart flutter, but it did.
 “What’re you afraid of?”
 Meeting his eyes, you got so nervous that you had no idea what to say.
 “I’ve planned my life.”
 “So what? Plans are meant to change, be adjusted, reevaluated—upgraded,” Chris said.
 “And you’re the upgrade?”
 He slowly licked his lips before he bit into his bottom lip. You could feel his fingertips gently sinking into your thighs. It felt surprisingly good.
 “I’d be cocky as fuck if I said yes. I’m just going to say when it comes to you—yes. We’re comfortable with each other. We know everything about each other. I know how to handle your neurosis, your OCD, your ticks, and all the nuances that make you who you are. I know what you like. I know what makes you happy and angry. We’re similar where it matters. I’d never change you or expect you to change or try to fit into my life or my world.”
 When you looked down, he lifted your chin to face him again. “I’m not trying to shame you or anything, Y/N. You asked.”
 “Yeah, I know.”
 For a few minutes, the two of you just stared at each other, neither of you speaking or moving. His hands remained on your thigh, and the longer they stayed there, the more used to it you got. The more used to it you became, the more his warmth seeped into your skin and began speaking to you, making you not mind if this one move could be disrespectful. Five minutes turned to ten and ten to fifteen, and that was when you moved to suggest you began making your way back to camp.
 As the hours waned, you and Chris enjoyed nature doing the competitive things you’d done since you were kids whenever you came here. Usually, you’d compete for jobs and roles such as cooking and producing the day’s meals or clean up duty this time, Chris decided to switch things up. You had a scavenger hunt for pinecones, which he won. His reward was one IOU. You went down to the lake, skipped stones, an event you always rocked, so you got the IOU. After that, you took turns seeing who could take better nature pictures based on category. Again, you rocked at anything creative, so you took the win though it wasn’t an easy one.
 By the time got the fifth activity, making a craft from four things you found in the vicinity, the sun was beginning to make its descent behind the mountains and trees. As you sat on your side of the forest with your back leaned against a tree focusing hard on the twig, flower, and feather dreamcatcher, you found yourself glancing up and around the tree that was supposed to be serving as a wall between you so your creations would be a surprise.  He was sitting once again in his tank, brows knitted and head focused down on what he was doing. You could tell his jaw was clenched from the way his mouth was set. Every few seconds, he’d bit onto his bottom lip in a way that piqued more than your attention. When he looked up, you always played it off as if you were looking somewhere else into the distance.
 “Five minutes left,” Chris shouted.
 “Don’t rush me, Evans.”
 “I’m not, Y/L/N, just following the timer.”
 “Worry about yourself. You have five minutes left,” you shot back. Chris’s snickering echoed in the forest, making you smile.
 You hurried to put the finishing touches on your craft because Chris was a stickler for being on time. It was a pet peeve of his, one you enjoyed messing with on a regular. You were able to squeeze ten minutes extra out of him to his annoyance. When you shouted out that you were ready, you peeped behind the tree to see his smiling face.
 “Don’t be shy, princess.”
 You walked toward him with your craft hidden behind your back while smiling like a thief. Once you got close enough, you turned around at the same time he did to press your back to his.
 “I can’t believe we’re still doing this,” Chris scoffed out.
 “I know. It’s great. I love this.”
 “That’s because you always get the point. Your crafts are incredible,” Chris whined.
 “Aww. Your crafts are great too. I still have everything you've ever made me.”
 “Really?” He sounded shocked, and you understood why. None of the things he made you were out in plain sight. You had them tucked away in a decorated box from when you were fifteen. It was embarrassing.
 “Yeah. I’ve never thrown anything away. I would never.”
 You could see his eyes lingering on yours for a few moments before he looked away. “I didn’t know that.”
 “Yeah. Anyway, ready to give me this win?”
 “So damn cocky. I don’t wanna hear anything about me.”
 Giggling, you shimmied against his back, accentuating the height difference between you.
 “Okay, on three.”
 As he counted to three, you got more and more excited to reveal your craft. Once you both turned, both of your jaws dropped.
 “Oh my god, Chris.”
 “Me? Woah, how’d you make that?”
 He marveled at the dreamcatcher in your hand while you stood there astonished by the three wooden cravings in his. As Chris reached for yours, you reached for his. He’d somehow managed to hand carve three figures, and he’d managed to put so much detail into them.
 “How did you—are there two me?”
 “What gave it away?”
 You inspected the figurines closer. One looked to have very curly like hair that was done with swirls in the wood. The clothes he’d somehow designed were adorable; it was a crop top of some form and a pair of jeans with hearts on the pockets.
 “Oh my god, Chris is this—are these the jeans I always wore in high school? The ones with the hearts?”
 He was smiling widely as he rubbed the back of his neck.
 “Oh my god, this is amazing, and this one.”
 You studied it and took note of the difference between the hair and the clothes. This one looked like your dress from that first Hollywood event he took you to. It was the one that you’d spent nearly a fortune on because you wanted to make sure you didn’t embarrass him. That was the night he assured you that nothing you could ever do would embarrass him, and he didn’t care what the press thought. You remembered then the words he said when you turned the carving to the back to see the same words.
 -I love every single thing about you and wouldn’t change one thing. You’re my perfect.-
 Slapping your hand across your mouth, you looked at him, completely unsure how you could have forgotten.
 “The two most significant times, I’ve fallen in love with you. I told you, I’ve said it tens of times.”
 What the hell did you say to that? You wondered how many times he’s plainly said it, but you just never registered it the way he meant it. Was your entire life and friendship a lie?
 Thanks to the eight activities, you managed to get three IOUs, but Chris was the one who came away with the overall win with five IOUs. He took pity on you and volunteered to handle dinner, which allowed you to get yourself to the one place you were too excited to get to. When you walked a little further past the lake in the middle of the forest, there was a beautiful pond like enclosure with a picturesque waterfall and cave. If anyone saw you, they might say you looked like an idiot walking through the woods wrapped in a towel wearing your rain boots carrying a bath caddy. No wonder he always made fun of you, you thought, as you laid your towel across a boulder.
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The water was just right. Taking your time, you swam around, being careful not to get your hair wet. You knew it was inevitable your hair would get ruined by the end of this weekend, but that didn’t mean you should help it along its way. It was easy to get lost in the sereneness of your surroundings. The only sounds around you were that of birds chirping, the breeze through the trees, and the soft rustling of bushes as harmless animals scampered around. It all sounded like one of the sleep mixes you used when your mind refused to shut down at night.
 By the time you actually began soaping your skin, the sun was disappearing, giving the sky the most beautiful glow. It wasn’t a glow that could be wholly appreciated in the city. It was its best here. As you watched the sky change colors from pink and purple to orange and every variation of it until it became near navy. Something about being here made you feel freer, more like yourself, or who you were at your core. For some reason, you always felt like you had to be a neater, more restrained version of yourself in the city. It was exhausting. You never felt that way with Chris, but you didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing or not.
 Something made you look back, and that was where you saw Chris at the bank just staring at you with his mouth wide. Though it was dark, you could perfectly make out his features. The way he looked ar you made your stomach flutter. When your breathing became short and more strained, you noticed your heart's racing and the way it made you slightly dizzy. This was a first. Part of you said you should be appalled or close to it, but it was such a small part it was easy to ignore. Still, you found yourself sinking lower into the water until it reached your shoulders.
 “I’m sorry,” Chris began as he turned to the side, dipping his head low. “I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—I should have—I didn’t see anything,” He finished.
 Not knowing what to say, you kept quiet.
 “I came to tell you dinner was ready not—perv out while you’re,” he trailed off.
 “You’re only perving it you jerk off while you’re being a creeper.”
 “I might tonight,” he said under his breath, but thanks to the way water carried sound, you heard him loud and clear. The thought was the first of its kind ever to have entered your mind.  Had he thought about while he jerked off before?
 When you didn’t speak for a while, Chris spoke instead. “So uh—see you back at camp.”
 With that, he walked off, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
 By the time you got back to camp, you saw that Chris had set up a blanket in front of a roaring fire as he waited for you to join him. You quickly dipped into the tent to change into something comfortable. It wasn’t longer than five minutes before you’d reemerged in a pair of grey shorts and a white cropped tank that you covered with an oversized cable knit sweater.
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“I’m here. I’m sorry.”
 “It’s fine. I know your ritual, shower before eat or else you don’t enjoy your meal,” Chris lectured.
 A soft smile spread across your lips. It was comforting having someone who knew you so well. There was safety in regularity.
 “This looks great. I didn’t know you brought steak.”
 “When don’t I bring meat.”
 The two of you giggled because it was true. Chris was a steak and potatoes man through and through. The fuss and muss was not for him, and you loved that. There were nights he’d be completely happy with a burger and fries as opposed to some frilly meal. Another thing he and Jaxon didn’t share, especially looking at Jaxon’s two gourmet restaurants. He loved frill. You didn’t care either way.
 “It looks and smells amazing,” you said as you dug into the meal before you. as you chewed the tender steak, the flavorful juices had you moaning. “God, you always knew how to make a steak be the best I ever had.”
 “That says a lot especially thinking--,” Chris began before you cut him off.
 “—I know.”
 That was that. He didn’t push to know more or discuss it any further. You ate for some time in silence. It wasn't because you had nothing to say; you were just once again lost in your thoughts. By the time you’d moved on to the shrimp, you’d found your voice.
 “Thank you for the carvings.”
 “Thank you for the dream catcher. Maybe it’ll help bring the good ones to life.”
 Your eyes lingered for a while before he brought his beer bottle to his mouth. Looking away, you finished yours and reached for your third.
 “The liquor store didn’t have your wine,” Chris began.
 “I’m not nearly as bougie as you think I am. Beer is perfect.”
 Chris snorted and shook his head as he took another swig.
 “Says the woman who wore a full face of makeup to a pool party.”
 “Look, it was waterproof. I needed it. Why wouldn’t I want to look good in the water?”
 He laughed so loudly you knew he’d scared some animals away that were inching toward the glow of the fire.
 “Stop laughing at me,” you whined.
 “Fine. Sorry.” He tried to stop laughing, but it took a while for his face to go back to straight. The whole time you glared at him unamused. Once he was straight-faced again, he raised his hand before he reached for his third beer.
 “Are you wearing makeup now?”
 “No,” you replied.
 “Guess you don’t need it. You looked plenty good in the water,” he murmured before he brought his beer to his mouth.
 Was that an innuendo? Was he flirting? You’d never experienced it before, so you had no idea.
 “Was that inappropriate? It probably was. I’m sorry.”
 “No—it’s—it’s fine,” you said, utterly unsure if it was or not.
 “Is it?”
 You stared, silently sizing each other and the moment up. This was completely unchartered territory. Was it inappropriate? Did it bother you?
 Slowly, you responded with the first thing that came to your mind. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
 Chris stared at you as he rubbed the spout of the bottle against his plump bottom lip, drawing your eyes right to it. He looked as if he were trying to either come up with a game plan on how to move forward or if he was doubling back on an already established plan. He looked like he was just as confused as you. When he looked away and into the fire, you did the same.
 “Were you just—did you just flirt with me?”
 Chris snorted and shook his head. “See, this game you say I have is nonexistent.”
 “So you were?”
 When he nodded, your eyes bugged. “Wow. I completely didn’t—I feel like our entire life and friendship has been a lie.”
 “I get that,” Chris assured.
 “How could I have been so blind? So—I didn’t even think that the things you said, or the way you said them meant anything beyond you being my best friend. I didn’t know how you felt. How do I know that the times we were just laying together on your couch or mine didn’t--,” you trailed off, gulping down the remainder of your beer before reaching for another.
 “I’m sorry,” Chris started.
 “Stop saying you’re sorry!” It was unfair. You knew it but hearing him saying sorry so much got to you especially thinking that he’d been saying the same thing for years. You just hadn’t been listening.
 The silence between you stretched for several minutes, and it gave you time to finish your fourth beer. You sure hoped he’d brought more than this one twelve pack. Once it was finished, you took a deep breath and tried to be an adult and use your words.
 “You’ve been saying the same thing for years. You’ve said it so many times, so many ways. I never listened. I never heard you.”
 “Y/N, I took the coward’s way. Yeah, I said it, but I knew there was one way to say it that you couldn’t ignore, but I didn’t. I was too afraid to. This is my fault. I don’t want you blaming yourself for this. I was a coward. I deserved for you to live your life and meet other people and all of this pain I’ve been in. I deserve it.”
 In seconds you’d moved over to him and grabbed his hands. “Stop it. You didn’t deserve this. God. Sometimes you piss me off so bad.”
 Chris snorted and shook his head. “I should have said something sooner.”
 “You should have. So much could have been different.”
 He angled his head and gave you a look that had you realizing what you’d said. “What could have been different?”
 Dropping your head, you toyed with his fingers. “I don’t know.”
 “You don’t say something like that unless you know. Tell me.” His fingers laced with yours, and though it wasn’t something new, it felt new.
 “I don’t know. I mean—who knows, tons of things could have been different. We don’t know how things would have played out.”
 “You think we’d be together now?”
 You stared at him and contemplated his question. Was it possible?
 “You don’t think we know too much to work?”
 “No, I think because we know so much we would work. You’ve seen me at my absolute worst,” Chris mentioned.
 It was true, and you thought that was one of the reasons you wouldn’t work. Could you be with him knowing his history? It was more questions to put on top of all the others you already had. You doubted anything would be worked out by the end of the weekend.
 Once the two of you’d finished eating, you were on clean up duty while Chris went to get a bath. You spent ten minutes cleaning up and securing the tent with the food before you wandered down to the lake to stare out at the moon. The glint of your engagement ring caught your eye, and it was there your eyes remained. Though you’d brought Jaxon up before, this was the first time you thought about him. Even now, it wasn’t an intimate thought. It was more the concept of him.  
 You twirled the ring around your finger, something you realized you did quite a lot. You remembered Irisa telling you an old wives tale about if a woman spins her engagement or wedding band, it meant she wanted to get out of the relationship. It was never a thought to you before now. Within the last week, you’d never been more confused in your whole life. One minute your head was in one place, and the next, you were backtracking. Things were so confusing that you saw things differently than you ever had, and that second sight had you questioning your actions that you were so sure about before.
 Holding up your hand, the ring on your finger looked as if it was competing with the full moon in the sky. The moon was just barely larger than the diamond you wore. Jaxon’s whole concern was making sure it was big enough. Groaning, you rolled your eyes and dropped your hand, slightly annoyed that your mind kept jumping to anything Jaxon related. One of the points for this weekend was to get away from everything.
 Thinking there was no plausible way for you to get through the weekend with a constant reminder of everything you were supposed to be getting away from, you made your decision. Slipping your ring off of your finger, you held it in your free hand beside your outstretched one. You’d taken it off before, of course, but this time was not to shower or anything technically related. This time was different. This time was the first possibility you wouldn’t put it back on. You were afraid of it—terrified.
 By the time you returned to camp, you were sure it had to have been an hour later. The only lights on were the twinkle lights Chris had strung around the camp to allow some form of light in the middle of the dark forest. The fire was on its last legs; you knew it would be outed before morning. Reaching the tent, you unzipped the flap to go inside. Once you did, you stopped in your tracks, seeing Chris’s bare ass. He spun around completely as bare as the day he was born, showing you all his glory.
 Your jaw dropped, but you didn’t turn. You couldn’t. Your eyes were glued to his groin. Good lord, you thought as your mouth actually watered. You don’t know how long Chris stood there in all his glory, but when he grabbed the discarded towel to hold before his crotch, you finally averted your eyes.
 “Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you rushed out as you turned your back.
 “I’m sorry, I should have,” Chris began.
 “No, I should have knocked, or made a sound, or wiggled something. Shit, oh god.”
 You quickly rushed out of the tent, and paced around the campfire, lost in your thoughts. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Chris naked, but it was the first time you’d seen him naked since you’d gotten out of teenage years. Good lord, had things changed. What the fuck was that? Did your mouth actually water? You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Chris come up behind you until you bumped into him.
 “I’m sorry.”
 “It’s fine. It’s just nudity.”
 “Just nudity? Oh my god, I haven’t seen you naked since we were teens, no twenty,” you ranted.
 “No big deal.”
 “No, Chris, that was a big deal, that--,” you motioned toward his junk.
 The amusement on his face was so obvious.
 “Don’t make me laugh. This isn’t funny.”
 “It is when you think about it. It’s insane we’ve never gone through something like this before,” Chris eluded.
 “I’m so sorry.”
 “It’s okay. I forgive you. I’ll consider it even seeing I walked in on you earlier. Let’s go to bed. You know the sun rises early out here.”
 Groaning, you walked ahead and into the tent with Chris on your heels. Once you’d climbed in, you laid on your side with your back to him and just stared out. No matter how much you tried to think of something else, you couldn’t. All you could see was his dick, his impressively girthy dick. You flipped onto your back and stared up at the night sky, and took a deep breath. You’d forgotten about this view and forgotten how breathtaking it was. The stars in the sky shimmered like tiny specks of silver and white glitter.
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“Wow.”
 “I know. The best thing about nights out here,” Chris countered.
 You glanced at him and saw him lying on his back with his arms behind his head. He looked calm and at home, like he wasn’t ashamed in the least. The two of you remained quiet, staring at the sky, soaking it all up.
 “Chris,” you began.
 “Yeah, princess.”
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Biting your bottom lip, you swallowed any angst you had about asking this question.
 “Have you thought about me?”
 He didn’t speak right away, and you didn’t have the guts to look at him, so you waited for him to speak.
 “Do you think I’ve thought about you?”
 “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before tonight.”
 “And now that you have?”
 You turned your head to him just as he turned to look at you. Your eyes lingered before you watched his eyes drop to your mouth. You knew he knew what you were asking.
 “Yeah—I’ve thought of you, more times than I’d like to admit,” Chris confessed.
 You’d gotten into this mess with his confessions, and there was another one. Your belly fluttered, and your heart raced. Biting your bottom lip, you looked to his and wanted more than anything to know what they felt like. He must have read your mind because that was when he turned to you. After a few seconds, you turned to him the same way and rested your hand on your pillow. Chris moved his hand and engulfed yours, lacing his fingers with yours.
 Staring at him, you felt as if this was a do or die moment, and depending on what decision either of you made, your lives would turn. Chris leaned forward and kissed your forehead.
 “Good night, princess.”
 With that, he laid back down, keeping your hand in his.
 Oh fuck, you thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!
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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.
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izzielizzie · 3 years ago
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life’s uncertain and sometimes it’s strange chapter one
okay this is the fastest i’ve written the first chapter of a fic like... ever but here’s the crossover i considered writing here!! i actually had a lot of fun, and it jumps around so feel free to ask me questions about anything that doesn’t make sense
song title from The Sun Will Come Up, the Seasons Will Change by Nina Nesbitt
Maeve
Wednesday, December 15
“Okay so remind me what the problem is again?” Luis asks me as he sits on my bed, watching me pack my bags.
“The island, Luis."
Luis stares at me and I sigh, crossing my room to curl up in his lap. His arms go around me instantly. “And, what, my love, is wrong with an island?”
I sigh again, stretching out so my head is on my pillow. “It’s cold. There’s nothing fun about an island when it’s covered in ice!”
“Can you even get to an island in December?” Luis asks, absentmindedly drawing patterns on my stomach. When my mother had told our family over dinner last week that she had been invited to a mansion unveiling by her former best friend - some vaguely famous guy named Archer Story who basked in the glory of being young and rich in New England along with my mother - Bronwyn and I had no say in whether we were going or not. Our father got out of it easily with an arsenal of work excuses, but no trips to New York City with friends will stop our mother when she’s deep in her planning mode. Especially if it means she gets to go back to being rich on an island off the coast of Boston.
“That’s what I asked and Bronwyn laughed at me.”
Luis snorts. He and my sister have never gotten along as well as Nate and I do, but it’s stopped bothering me at this point. “Well, Maevey,” Luis hooks an arm under me and lifts me up so I’m sitting. “It’s just one week on the weird ass island and then you get to go to New York City with the rest of us. What could go wrong?”
I grin, my bad mood ebbing away at the thought of spending a week with my boyfriend and friends in one of my favorite cities. “Ugh fine.”
“Good. Now are you really going to bring all of my sweaters?”
I laugh as Luis lifts me up so we can sort out the sweater ownership debate that’s lasted for nearly a year now. 
Aubrey
Saturday, December 18 
“No plans of swimming in that water I hope?” Uncle Archer asks as I look at the ocean from the balcony of Catmint House. Yes. The same one that burnt down over the summer. Gull Cove Island is essentially the same as it was when I moved back to Oregon in July, with the exception of the large manor. 
When the media asked Aunt Allison and Uncle Archer what they wanted to do with the remains of their childhood home, they hadn’t said anything, but in secret they both agreed that burning the ashes might be overdramatic, but most certainly warranted. Almost as if they had overheard, the Gull Cove Island Historical Society swept in and restored the mansion to its former glory, ultimately gifting the new building to Milly and I. Since Jonah North isn’t really part of the family, it’s not his.
“Who the hell would want that place?” he’d asked when we told him about the exclusion. Fair point.
“Hey, hey, don’t look so sullen,” Uncle Archer says, bringing me back to myself as he slips an arm around me. I hug him back with all my might. When I think about how close we came to losing him, I want to cry.
“Sorry,” I mumble into his shoulder. 
“Don’t be. Now I hear we’ve got a family of three coming from California today. The kids are around your age.”
“Fun,” I say, making a face. Uncle Archer tugs on my sweater sleeve. 
“Hey, their mom was my best friend. They’re probably good kids.”
Almost on cue, the doorbell rings. 
“That’s them?” I ask as I look down at the black car that - presumably - houses the family in question. Archer nods. “You go. I’ll find Milly and Jonah.”
My uncle fakes a punch to my nose as he saunters off. I giggle. Rehab has done him well. I watch him walk away, and then exit the balcony into the hallway. I turn left towards my and Milly’s room, staying close to the middle of the hall. It’s strange being in here after what happened over the summer, especially since it feels almost unrealistic that everything could be restored so quickly. But I guess the fire Paula started didn’t really burn down the entire house. Just like, half of the inside. If I pause for long enough, I can still smell the smoke. Or maybe that’s just my imagination. Sometimes I’m fine, and other times I feel like I’m back with the gun pressed to my neck. I felt so helpless then, and I never want to feel that way again. 
I knock on the door to our room, and I hear Milly and Jonah’s voices floating towards me, half giggly, half teasing. Whatever is going on in there, I do not want to see. “I’m coming in!” I call, pushing the door open with my eyes shut. “There is a person. Entering this room!”
I hear a crash, and I open my eyes to see Jonah perched awkwardly on the corner of my bed. Oh fun. At least they’re separated. 
“What’s up Aubrey?” Milly asks, smoothing down her hair. After spending months angsting about cutting it or not, Milly decided on a respectable bob. She looks gorgeous, especially now that it’s grown enough to be just touching her shoulders. She’s more dressed up for the occasion than I am in a red knitted pullover tucked into a pair of black jeans. I glance down at my faded grey crew neck and my blue jeans.
“Should I change?” I ask in response. 
“No way! You look beautiful,” Milly says, standing and pulling me to stand in front of the mirror. I look at my long blonde hair. 
“Maybe I should just braid my hair or something?”
Milly huffs. “Jonah!”
“You look adorable Aubrey,” Jonah says dutifully from his spot behind us. I glance over at him. 
“Easy for you to say! You look like a J.Crew model.”
Jonah grins. “Wow you just described my life’s ambition Aubrey,” he says dryly.
I grin and shake my head. I’ve missed this: being back with my cousin and friend. Even if they do spend a lot of time kissing each other. “Come on you two, the first guests are here,” I say, throwing my arm around my cousin.
Ezra
Sunday, December 19
“Ellery please stop bouncing,” I say to my sister. We’re on a train to New York City from Boston and Ellery is way too excited.
“Ez! I can’t! Do you know how many unsolved murders there are in Manhattan alone?”
“No. I do not.”
“And no one should!” Mia adds from the seats behind us. Ellery turns to see if Malcolm will back her up, but he’s asleep. Probably exhausted from dealing with her. 
Ellery is still looking super excited so I turn to her. “Okay, I’ll bite. How many?”
“More than 480. And those are just recorded homicides.”
“Shhh,” I say, shushing Ellery as I catch sight of a red haired girl looking at us strangely from across the aisle. “Sorry, my sister’s really weird,” I say to her. She looks around our age. She’s wearing a fashionable beige coat and a black cap, but something about the way she’s burrowing into the jacket tells me she’s not used to the cold.  There’s a boy sleeping in the seat next to her, whose hand she hasn’t let go of.
The girl smiles. “It’s alright! My best friend solved two murders once.” She pauses and makes a face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.” She shakes her head. “This is really odd, I'm sorry. I’m Phoebe Lawton.”
I grin. “I’m Ezra Corcoran, and this is my twin Ellery.”
Phoebe grins back. “Twins! That’s so cool. I don’t really know any twins.”
“Wait, can we go back to the part where you said your best friend solved two murders?” Ellery asks, leaning across me to look at Phoebe, who smiles a little. Mia groans from behind us. I turn to see her pull her headphones up over her ears. We exchange a look. Leave it to my sister to ask the awkward questions. 
“Yeah well, we’re from Bayview, California, and I don’t know if you’ve ever heard about the-”
“Oh. My. God.” 
I look down at Ellery, who looks as if she’s hit a goldmine. Phoebe looks startled but resigned. 
“We’re from California too, before we moved to Vermont,” I offer, surprised despite myself. The story of Simon Kelleher was all over California before we left, and if I’m not mistaken, I think I know who this girl is talking about.
“Wait so your best friend is Maeve Rojas?” Ellery asks. 
“Did someone say Maeve?” a new voice asks from the seat behind Phoebe. A boy who looks vaguely familiar with tan skin and wavy dark hair pokes his head into the aisle to look at Phoebe.
Ellery gasps. “You’re the boyfriend!”
The boy blinks slowly. “I… what?”
“Okay so in mysteries there’s always this boyfriend that is part of the drama but not really? And he like jumps around but he’s got a heart of gold and-”
“Ellery,” I hiss. “Let’s not reduce strangers to stereotypes please.”
“Murder?” yet another voice asks. This time it’s attached to a person the entire country knows well. Cooper Clay, pitcher for the Padres. Ellery takes a strangled breath. She looks up at me and I sigh. 
“Switch seats with me,” she says in her “don’t mess with me” voice. I happily oblige, pulling out my own headphones. Maybe Mia was right. Just leave this crazy girl to her own devices. 
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vintagedolan · 4 years ago
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hiraeth: initial concept
*this is a concept train!! in short, that means you all send in asks and tell me what you wanna see! so feel free to send me in whatever you want to see happen (it would be awesome if you guys send them kinda in order of plot like not jumping way ahead or anything if you know what I mean hehe. anyways, hope you enjoy, and here is my askbox for concepts!! love yah!*
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1: The Valley Isle
“What makes Hawaiian shaved ice Hawaiian? Isn’t it just ice and syrup?”
“Well, every morning we go out and collect water from the waterfall in our backyard, and then we freeze it into ice cubes shaped like the islands, and then we shave each one special into our various menu sizes.”
“Really?!”
“No. Your total is $5.47.”
Koa looked up from the syrup station, reaching over and smacking Kahua’s arm.
“Dude. Do you want to get fired?” She kept her voice low so it didn’t travel past the window.
He just laughed and grabbed the banana syrup, finishing off the mound of ice and sticking a spoon in the side before passing it out the window to the woman who’d asked the question. 
“Yes. My master plan is to get in trouble, blame it on you, get it put on your permanent record so you lose all your future jobs and have to stay here with me forever.” 
“You act like you aren’t going to also be in LA in literally three months.”
“And you act like you aren’t leaving me here on this rock, alone, for three months,” Kahua countered, turning to switch out the withering ice block from the machine. 
Koa looked out over the rainbow of syrups, taking in the view.
Her and Kahua had been calling Maui a rock for years - since third grade, to be precise. She didn’t say it often, and especially not to any tourists who were coming to visit. To them, Maui was paradise. Tropical, perfect weather, perfect beaches. Koa could see it. She understood the allure. But when she thought of her paradise, it came in the shape of a bustling city, of opportunities and new faces and places. 
LA.
Kahua called it the haole’s dream. The white girl’s dream. Didn’t matter how many times he complained about being on the same island his whole life, he never really wanted to leave it. The fact that Koa wanted to was seen as borderline criminal by half her ohana, but she pushed their comments and insults aside.
There were only two opinions that she really cared about anyways. 
First was Nahele; her older brother. She didn’t have to ask him what he thought - he’d moved to Texas as soon as he could, started up a food truck in Austin, named it 808 GRINDZ and brought every hawaiian cooking method he knew along with him. He’d been making a life for himself ever since then, and he was ecstatic when Koa told him she was moving. The thought of having family on the mainland, even halfway across the country, was comforting enough.
But the most important one? That was Amosa. 
Amosa, who called her when he knew she’d be walking to her car after she clocked out.
“Hi Dad.”
“Kaikamahine, my girl. How was your shift?”
“Busy, but it was fine. They gave me a card for a free small everyday that you can have, but you gotta get the sugar free syrup when you use it.”
“Yeah yeah,” he laughed. Even over the phone, Koa could hear the waves in the background, and she knew where he was before he said it. “Come to the dock.”
“Did you book another tour?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.
“Come to the dock,” he said, his quiet way of saying no. “I’ll see you soon. Aloha wau iā 'oe.”
“Love you too.”
The drive to the boat dock was short, and the parking lot was busy as ever. Koa passed the bigger boats, with their names in fancy script screen printed on the side. Their buoys and extra snorkel gear, the bars nestled in the middle of the deck, an extra incentive for the tourists to book with them. Everyone loves a mai tai after all.
The Honu Nai sat at her spot on the dock, the farthest to the left. She had three years on any other snorkel boat out there. Her bow was worn, paint sanded off by the salt and sun over time and travel through the waves. But the little drawing of the smiling turtle still shone through on the side, despite the fact that Koa had painted it almost 10 years ago. 
Over the edge, Koa could see her father. He was cleaning, like usual, organizing all of the extra gear that he had on the boat. The kids section was scarce again, all the smaller sized wetsuits, snorkels and fins barely taking up a rack. Koa knew why - if there was ever a kid on his snorkel tour who couldn’t afford their own gear, he’d ‘lend’ it to them. Every kid deserves to see the underwater world, he would say. It changes you, shows you what life is really about.
Koa had been in the ocean since before she could walk. If she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, she was one of two places; either diving under a wave somewhere, or writing in her notebook. Or, one of her notebooks at least. 
“No book today?” He asked when she jumped aboard.
“Already packed them up.”
Amosa couldn’t think about the suitcases in her room without the tears starting to form. He blinked them away and looked out to the sea of blue. 
“Did you pack your snorkel gear?”
“Dad. You know I’m not going to see shit in the ocean in California,” she sighed, moving over to him and putting an arm around him. 
“I know, I know. They have sea lions I’ve heard. Maybe they’ll be friendly.”
“I’ve heard they stink.” She laid her head on his shoulder gently, closing her eyes when he kissed her head.
“Well. We have 5 hours until you have to get to the airport, and I say that’s just enough time for one more run, hmmm?”
Koa didn’t want to. She couldn’t think of many things worse than having salt all over her skin for a 6 hour plane ride. But the excitement in his eyes was irresistible, so she simply nodded and offered him a smile, letting go so he could get them on their way out to the reef. 
She sat on the bow as they headed out to sea, closed her eyes and soaked in the spray off the waves. Her dad laughed when they hit a particularly big one, cutting through the crest so much that it splashed up onto the deck. He used to do it on purpose when she was a little girl just to hear her giggle and have her running back to him. 
They made it to their favorite place quickly, and Koa didn’t hesitate to put her mask on and get to work. She took the line and dove over the side, tying it to the anchor hook under the water before coming back up. Amosa dropped the ladder for her on the back, but she didn’t need it. She was watching the reef. 
Moorish Idols. That’s what she wanted to see. They were second only to green sea turtles - honu in Hawaiian. But they were the most beautiful fish, with their delicate top fin that tapered off to a tail. She was always excited to find one and show the kids on tours. All she had to say was look for Gill from Finding Nemo and they were able to spot them. She floated for a while, watching the fish dart around, even spotting a small reef shark about 15 yards to the right before she decided to climb back in to see her dad. 
He passed her a towel and smiled at her as she sat down. All he could do was look at her for a moment, taking her in. His baby girl, on the boat she’d practically grown up in for the last time in a while.
He put on his brave face, and forced his biggest smile. “You ready to go out there?”
Koa sighed. 
“I don’t know how to tell.” 
“You’ll do great. You’re capable, and it won’t be long until you’re writing your own books instead of writing for these… whatever boys.”
“Dolan. Their names are Ethan and Grayson Dolan.” 
“Well, like I said. Soon it’ll be your stories out there instead of someone else’s, with your name instead of theirs.” He said it with such certainty that she couldn’t help but believe him. Maybe it was the salt water left over in her eyes, or the glare of the sun off the ocean, but she began to tear up. 
“Thanks for always supporting me dad. It means the world. I’m sorry I have to go so far away, I wish I could stay.” It was true - she just needed the money from the Dolan’s to get herself started, and then she’d come back, help her father.
Amosa smiled. 
“Kaikamahine, it’s just an ocean between us.” He reached out for her cheek. “And we know the ocean, don’t we.”
“She’s an old friend,” Koa said, her heart tight in her chest. 
“Exactly. Now c’mon, let’s get you home and on your way.”
Across the ocean and 3 hour time change, Grayson Dolan was pacing. 
“It’s gonna be fine.” Ethan said.
“Shut the fuck up Ethan,” Grayson said. 
That was the extent of most of their conversations over the last three days. Actually, that’s how all of them had been since Ethan had signed a deal with their agent for a ghostwritten book about their lives.
“It’ll get more people connected to us, the right people-”
“Has it ever fucking occurred to you that I’m tired of that shit? That I’m tired of people prying into my fucking life? What if I don’t wanna connect with anyone else, what if I just wanna be left the fuck alone? But no, now we’re gonna have some fucking stranger asking us a million fucking questions and digging for information in my own fucking house where I just wanna exist.”
Ethan didn’t have an answer for that. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. But he also knew that he signed a contract, and there was no backing out of it now. Grayson rubbed his hand over his eyes.
“When does the writer get here?”
“She flies in tonight.”
“Fucking fantasic. Can’t wait.” 
With that, Grayson walked back to his room, leaving his twin alone in the living room with his hands in his pockets.
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cl-01-kestis · 4 years ago
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The Fall of Atollon
Dismay - Grand Admiral Thrawn x Rebel!Reader | Part 1
Summary: a decade and a half flies by and Omani is growing into an adult. It’s your responsibility to protect her from the dark truths of the Empire.
Warnings: very long, violence, angst
(Omani looks like this, using Ar’alani for reference)
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“It’s too hot out here” You puffed out, lying on the ground beside Omani who was gulping down her water bottle at a rapid pace, wiping the sweat of her forehead as she hummed in agreement.
“That’s Atollon for you, Tiscen’i, but I agree... I don’t think it’s ever been this hot before” Omani panted as she removed her top, her black sports bra covering her chest as she dumped her T-shirt next to yours. She lay in the other direction from you, her head beside yours as the two of you bathed in the suns light.
As mother and daughter, shockingly, no one would ever guess either of you were related. She was mistaken to be a full blooded Chiss most of the time she met someone new. But when you say you’re her mother, that makes things twice as shocking. One, you’re a human, and two, you look stunning for your age, barely looking a few years older than Omani. Since Omani was now considered a grown up, your attitude started to change with her. Instead of treating her like a little girl, you treated her like your best friend. The two of you shared everything to each other, embarrassing stories, who you thought was attractive, countless inside jokes, but never your past. You’d lost count of how many times your daughter asked you who her father was, she was practically his double and you felt like you were cheating her out of her own heritage, but it was for her own safety.
She had sprouted into such a beautiful young woman, she had been promoted to general recently due to how much effort she had contributed to the rebellion. You used to be a general yourself, however you switched to a Senator after Omani was born with the guidance of Bail Organa, your mentor. You only attended the senate a handful of because of your betrayal to the Empire, you couldn’t risk being identified by a once known ally and trialed for treason. You couldn’t do that, not to Omani.
“Any more news about Thrawn?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek as your daughter scoffed and let out an almost disgusted sigh.
“Unfortunately yes, that bircisb’s close to discovering the base... I’m doing all I can to keep everyone safe here, including you” Omani turned her head to look at you and noticed the frown stuck on your face. She was going to ask but thought it would be best if she kept her mouth shut since all you ever did was ignore her concern whenever she asked.
Thrawn, her father, was a man she wanted nothing more than to shoot. She was aware of his Chiss origins and even saw him once on a holo recording with you beside her, nearly on the verge of fainting. It took you all your strength not to tell her the truth, but thankfully she didn’t suspect anything about her possibly being related to him and digging into it.
“You work too hard visahot, but you remind me of myself when I used to work for the Empire” You joked dryly, earning a soft chuckle from Omani who leaned her head against yours whilst blocking her bright red eyes from the sun.
“Did you ever meet him whilst you were in the academy? Maybe Tarkin or Vader?” Omani asked curiously, shifting her body at an angle so the back of her head was resting on your shoulder.
“You’d never be lucky enough to see Tarkin or Vader... they were far too superior to be in an imperial academy,” You started.
“But Thrawn? He was the meanest and most serious man I’d ever met” Your voice was oddly calm as you spoke to Omani. She was surprised when the words left your mouth, this was the most open you’d ever been with her and of all the things it was about the man causing terror to their rebellion?
“So you did meet him?” Your daughter smirked, rolling onto her stomach so she was looking at you, her face upside down from where you were lying. You smiled at her expression and shrugged.
“Comrades, but I only spoke to him once” You lied through clenched teeth, sitting up and avoiding bashing Omanis head as she leaned back and sat up with you. The two of you looked at one another and for a moment, all you could see was Thrawn. She was so like him, mannerisms and even accent. The only difference was what side they fought on, a father and daughter on opposite sides and neither of them even knew of their connection, only you did.
“You never really open up about your time at the academy, was it really that bad?” Your blue skinned daughter raised a brow, her beautiful red eyes looking straight into yours as if she was searching for the truth.
“It’s an experience I’m not willing to fully share yet, visahot, but one day you’ll know” You reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder, patting it in an assuring manner which seemed to put her curiosity to the side for the time being.
A flock of loud shouting had brought the two of you out of your thoughts and you stood up immediately, throwing on your shirt and waiting for Omani who ushered you forward whilst putting on her own shirt, tugging it over her head clumsily whilst running to the holo table which all of the rebels surrounded. You spotted Hera Syndulla, her face melting into a frustrated frown. You noticed there were multiple star destroyers that popped up on the hologram, a flock of them right above Atollon.
“Oh no...” You mumbled, heart dropping to your feet when you realised what this meant for you and the rebels.
“Thrawn’s planning an orbital strike on Atollon” Hera said, trapping her chin between her index finger and thumb. You looked at her with wide, terrified eyes, wishing this was all some kind of nightmare. Omani reached out and held your hand out of fear, staying close to you as you both looked at the hologram.
Zeb and Rex had installed a protective barrier around the base, but you weren’t sure how long it was going to hold up for. Omani had left to get dressed and get her things packed, her blaster in her hand when she returned and was called to plan out what was going to happen by other rebels. You stayed with Hera, practically on the verge of hyperventilating as you knotted your hair with your fingers, trying to control your breathing.
“Hey, don’t get all scared on me now, you’re the bravest woman I know on this damn planet” Hera walked up to you, taking your hands away from your hand and holding them tight. You sniffed, nodding your head as a few tears left your glassy eyes.
“Death isn’t what I’m worried about” You whimpered, Thrawn’s face coming into mind when you looked back at the star destroyers. You were afraid to look at the sky, too petrified to even think of anything else apart from the fact that Thrawn was here.
“Then what is it?” Hera asked with confusion, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and taking you away from the table since the image wasn’t making you feel any better. You rubbed your eyes, swallowing down the lump in your throat and trying your best to stay strong for the rebels.
“I can’t say, but promise me if anything goes wrong, you’ll get Omani away from here?” You looked up at the Twi’lek, pleading with your eyes as your hands trembled by your side. Hera nodded sternly, pulling you into a brief hug before excusing herself to prepare for the upcoming orbital strike, leaving you alone in a flurry of anxiety.
You rushed to your room, which had once belonged to you and Ahsoka but now her side of the room was taken up by Omani. You grabbed your jacket and pulled it over your arms and back, grabbing two blasters and a locket which you had since your Imperial days, a locker Thrawn gave to you.
When you got back outside, the orbital strike was taking place. Panicking, you screamed out Omanis name over and over again, looking in all directions before you saw her far away watching the strike with her friends by her side. You let out a sigh of relief but you ran to Hera who was staring up at the herd of incoming green lasers slamming against the barrier. You could see the barrier starting to weaken, you trembled beside Hera who looked away just as the shield was about to break, when all of a sudden the firing stopped.
Everything was dead silent for a while, the sound of burning surrounding the outside of the shield and clouds of black smoke rising from the ground.
“It held! It held!” You heard Zeb yell in the distance, a relieved smile making its way onto your face after some time. You turned to Omani, noticing she was laughing with her friends and rubbing her eyes as if she’d been crying.
Looking over to see you, she bolted in your direction and slammed her body against yours in a tight embrace, her arms wrapped tight around your neck as she held back a sob in your shoulder. You stroked her navy coloured hair, pressing a firm kiss on her temple before pulling back and cupping her face with your hands. No words were exchanged as the two of you smiled at one another before hearing the voices of Zeb and Rex requesting your help.
-
This wasn’t exactly the situation you were planning to be in. You, Zeb and Rex all hid behind a large plant on the outskirts of the rebel base where most of the air strike had hit. The smell of burning and dirt filled your senses but now was not the time to complain, now was the time to hopefully take down the Empire’s ambush.
“I hope this plan of yours works” Zeb said to Rex, the three of you looking ahead at the desolate patch of land ahead and waiting for any sign of movement.
“Yeah...me too” Rex replied in a not so confident tone, causing you to look up at him with a frown but you let it slide for the time being. Rex looked through his binoculars, inspecting what was in the distance as you and Zeb as well as lots more other rebels awaited for the order. The familiar sound of metal creaking caught your attention and made your hearing perk up. You listened in, recognising the sound that belonged to an AT-ST.
“Here they come” Zeb nervously informed you and Rex. You held your breath when Rex pulled out the small detonator in his hand and not wasting a moment as his thumb pressed down eagerly on the red button at the top.
Three explosions erupted ahead of you and half of the AT-ST’s were taken down in seconds. Pressing the button once more, two more ST’s were taken down but one of them managed to get through the barrier. Zeb stood up behind you and Rex, holding a massive rocket launcher with a big grin on his purple face.
“Left one for you” Rex smirked, his grin matching Zeb’s as he ignited the rocket launcher which flew right into the middle of the ST, exploding as it touched the surface. You cheered, patting Zeb on the shoulder as you stood up to inspect the damage from a distance. Your coms link went off on your wrist and you brough it up to your face to see that Omani was contacting you.
“Hey Mom! Was the mission a success?” Her voice was eager but also full of concern.
“Yes Princess, Rex and Zeb took down 6 ST’s! Safe to say we’ll be okay” You assured her with a smile, speaking clearly into the mic of the coms.
“That’s a relief” She chuckled.
“I hope you’re safe back at the base? Don’t sneak out and join in the action, as tempting as it is” You warned her, frowning slightly when it went silent briefly.
“You know I don’t sneak around, Tiscen’i, when have I ever denied you?” Omani spoke in an almost sarcastic tone but it still managed to make you laugh. Just as you were about to reply, a loud noise came from the distance and you and Rex snapped your heads towards it.
“I know that sound...” Rex murmured.
“Yeah... and I hate that sound” Zeb snarled.
“I need to go, somethings happening- I love you visahot” you said quickly before cutting off the line, giving no time for Omani to reply and give her more reason to worry for your safety.
“Lousy four leggers” Rex growled, drawing your attention to the four AT-AT’s making their way towards you.
“Hit ‘em with the detonators” Zeb urged with a scowl, still holding the large and now empty rocket launcher. Rex pressed down on the small button in his hand once more, causing more bombs to go off, only this time none of them effected the AT’s and they still continued moving forward and eventually passing through the barrier.
“We need Sabine to create a shield you can’t walk through” Zeb spoke in a frustrated tone, his eyes flashing with anger but also concern.
“Let’s hope we get a chance to tell her” Rex agreed before turning on his heel and making a run for it. Wasting no time, you followed the clone and the Lasat deeper into the Atollon forest and further away from the AT’s. A loud explosion erupted behind the three of you and you realised the AT was targeting you all as well as the other rebels who stayed behind you, Zeb and Rex. You didn’t bother looking back as the sound of X-wings and tie fighters roared through the sky above you, shooting at each other and some eventually zooming down to crash near you.
You got behind one of the massive leafs behind Zeb and Rex and started shooting at the AT closest to you, only for it to angle its head down and start shooting at you once again. You ran forward and the three of you hid behind a lead individually, exchanging glances of reassurance before a loud buzzing noise echoed behind you. You turned and peeked around the leaf, only to witness the magnificent sight of Kanan Jarrus cutting through the AT’s legs, the large machine eventually stumbling to its knees until its head crashed down on a few stormtroopers.
“Kanan, glad you could join us!” Zeb shouted in delight as the Jedi ran up to the three of you with a smile.
“Hera said you’re bringing help?” The lasat asked with a hint of curiosity, turning on his foot and resuming his running with the three of you behind him.
“Maybe, maybe not!” The Jedi responded, earning a frown from you as you kept your pace up so you didn’t trail behind.
The four of you ran right into a small tunnel, following the rest of the rebels as a loud storm rumbled above you. Your pace didn’t falter as you heard the distant whistling of a ship landing and if anything it only made you run faster. Kanan directed you through the tunnel with his lightsaber, coming up to two tunnels.
“This way!” As he pointed which direction you should go to next, a death trooper emerged from the corner and started shooting at the four of you.
“The other way, the other way!” He panicked, running into the other tunnel with you trailing behind him. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you felt like you were going to pass out at any moment, but you held onto that tiny bit of energy you had left and brewed it into the determination to survive and be able to see Omani again.
After escaping the endless nightmare called the tunnels, you made it back to the base and scampered to the holo table hiding in between crates as the noise of the AT’s guns shot up at the shield.
“Kanan! You made it, what happened with your friend?” Hera asked in a stern tone. You, Zeb and Rex put your bodies against the crates and guarded the entrance, making sure no stormtroopers were coming in as Hera negotiated with Kanan.
“Oh don’t worry, I think he’s coming” Kanan replied.
After a few seconds, the team was moving and you had your blaster wrapped tightly in your hand, your finger hovering over the trigger. The generator behind you broke and the shield was taken down, resulting in incoming ties and imperial reinforcements.
A transport left the bay but was unfortunately shot down which made you stop dead in your tracks. Zeb stopped beside you and his ears drooped when he realised what might’ve happened.
“Omani!!” You cried, immediately dialling into your coms but only for a blaster to be pressed against your skull as a death trooper shoved you forward towards the rest of the group. You sobbed, sniffing and trying your hardest not to cry when all you could think about was the fact that your daughter might’ve been on that ship. Zeb held you close as you continued to cry whilst a blaster was pointed dangerously close to your face, the death trooper muttering something you couldn’t quite understand due to the audio of their helmet.
“And now, Captain Syndulla,” A voice spoke from the clouds of smoke, causing you to stop your crying and lean back with wide, shocked eyes. It couldn’t be.
“I will accept your formal surrender,” You stood frozen in your spot as Zeb shielded you protectively from the man who had just made his grand appearance.
“I don’t believe it” You whispered, but the death trooper noticed and bashed the edge of his blaster harshly against your skull.
“Or you will watch your friends perish, one by one, beginning with the Jedi” You backed away, reaching for your blaster as Kanan ignited his lightsaber and everyone else sheathed their weapon of choice. Painfully, you turned around and looked at the trooper standing behind you, pointing your blaster at his helmet and staring at him with a teary scowl.
“You already know my answer” Hera hissed with disgust glaring strongly at the Imperial dressed in white that you absolutely refused to look at no matter how much he threatened your friends. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be.
Just as you were about to shoot the trooper, a loud thunder strike boomed in the sky and only then did you remember the storm from earlier. You turned to look up at the storm and so did the death trooper, your blasters lowering slightly as you set eyes on the large black clouds hovering above all of you.
“Do you fear the storm, Master Jedi?” Thrawn smirked, his hands clasped behind his back as he approached Kanan who blindly stared at the sky with a worried face.
“Yeah. And you sgould too” The Jedi replied, right before a dangerously close lightning strike hit the ground and missed Thrawn by at least a meter.
“Hang onto something!” Kanan warned before unsheathing his lightsaber.
“What kind of Jedi devilry is this?” Thrawn glared up at the sky, his forearm shielding his gaze as the wind picked up and the thunder grew louder.
Barely seconds later, a blaring, deep voice exclaimed from the sky. “I am the Bendu”.
Two glowing orange eyes opened in the cloud and you found yourself dumbfounded by it. Never in your life had you set eyes on something as magnificently terrifying as this!
“What is that?” Zeb asked next to you as you took subtle steps away from the Chiss and his men. You looked to Hera as she looked to her partner. “Uh, Kanan?”.
“I told you my friend was coming” He exclaimed in a tone you couldn’t quite identify, it was a mixture of confidence but also fear.
“I bring death!” The thing called Bendu proclaimed.
“He’s nice!” You yelled sarcastically, frowning at Kanan who smiled very awkwardly. You looked over to see that two colossal lightning bolts had hit two of the AT’s, immediately destroying them and causing them to fall to the ground. Unlucky for the group, more lightning bolts started crashing their way towards you and without thinking twice, you bolted in the opposite direction with everyone following you. You skidded behind a crate, peeking behind it to look up at the gigantic monsterous being that was less than happy.
“Leave this place” don’t have to tell me twice, you thought with a frown, looking to your left to see a few death troopers hiding behind their own crates.
“I am the light, I am the dark” You found yourself watching Bendu with fascination but you were still fearing for your life, looking to Hera and Kanan who were looking just as surprised as you were.
“I am the Bendu!” The cloud bellowed before sending more lightning down to strike the death troopers who had been obliviously out in the open.
“You heard him! Make for the ship!” Kanan turned to all of you, his lips in a thin like as he gripped his lightsaber tightly. You all nodded, but just as you were about to run, you stopped as everyone else left for the ship. The thunder was so loud but you looked around despite the fact you might be killed right here and then. You watched the remaining death troopers yell to one another as they tried shooting at the cloud.
You stood in the middle of the platform, looking at the man dressed in white who was looking at the cloud as if he had no fear. You couldn’t tear your eyes away and eventually ended up being spotted by one of the death troopers. Aiming your blaster, You shot him down but drew the attention of Thrawn whilst you were at it.
You heard the voices of Kanan and Hera call out to you as they watched in horror when Thrawn turned around and finally spotted you. Your hands trembled violently as they gripped onto the blaster that was aimed right at Thrawn, your face a mask of fright as Thrawn’s eyes widened and his face morphed into a frown, a very angry frown.
The lightning didn’t distract either of you as your blaster kept its aim, level with your face but it was low enough for Thrawn to see all of it from a distance. He knew who you were, he didn’t see you in the group because you were hidden and his attention was mostly on Kanan but now, now he had a whole new mission, a whole new ambition for upcoming missions.
“(Y/N), hurry up we gotta go!” Zeb screamed your name but you didn’t move, you were frozen as Thrawn drew out his blaster and pointed it right at you. There was a fire in his eyes, a fire you had never seen when you used to know him. It alarmed you greatly.
“Leave without me! Omani’s gone, I’ve got nothing left to live for!” You yelled back through tears, looking back to the crew who were all staring at you with wide, agonising stares.
“No, I won’t leave you!” Kanan exclaimed, jumping off the ramp and running up to you whilst igniting his lightsaber, ready to deflect Thrawn’s blaster as he grabbed your arm and started dragging you to the ship. You started shooting aimlessly at Thrawn, screaming and crying as you pictured Omani in your mind. Thrawn didn’t shoot back and he didn’t move either, all your shots missed him and you chucked your blaster on the ground after giving up.
You ran with Kanan to the ship in tears, the ramp closing behind you as you collapsed onto the floor on your hands and knees. Your arms bent and you leaned your head onto your hands, your cries echoing around the ship as it flew into hyperspace.
Hera wrapped an arm around you and pulled you back, sitting with you on the ground and resting your head on her chest as you continued to let out your tears of pain and anger. The crew watched with sadness, wishing they could comfort you but they were ushered into their rooms by Kanan who stayed with you and Hera once everyone was away.
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swtorpadawan · 4 years ago
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Backup
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Author’s Notes: The following story takes place a few weeks after the Rise of the Emperor expansion.
Jonas Balkar’s eyes scanned the south balcony of the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa.
From the nearby Strategic Information Service observation post, the senior agent had multiple angles to choose from on his monitor displays, both inside and outside the venue. Years before, Jonas and the Republic SIS – with the assistance of Havoc Squad – had remotely sliced the establishment’s nigh-impregnable security system ever since, giving them a backdoor to the casino’s entire network. Say what you will about the Hutts, but they weren’t stingy on surveillance. They wanted every credit and every gaming chip accounted for, and they were committed to keeping (unsanctioned) violence away from their lucrative hotels and casinos. There were literally hundreds of security holo-recorders and sensors throughout the Star Cluster, and Jonas had access to all of it. What’s more, he could adjust what the Hutts and their goons saw at their end, meaning they wouldn’t get wise to what Jonas was up to.
This had all made the Star Cluster the ideal location for a discreet handoff between their contact – a rather gullible Rodian information broker named Rox, who had a nervous demeanor – and a Nikto working for a Black Sun arms dealer who was (allegedly) supplying off-the-books weaponry for the new Sith Intelligence and their covert operations on the Smuggler’s Moon and other Hutt-controlled worlds. (Why waste time smuggling in ordinance that can be traced back to your government when you can just as easily buy large quantities of untraceable weapons after you arrive, and all at a reasonable price?) The plan was for the Rodian to pass a large bribe to the Nikto for a data-disk on these (alleged) shipments to Imperial safehouses. In one swoop, the SIS would pick up the drop-off points of the network.
But the plan got even better. If things went well, then two days from now, Jonas – through a proxy –would approach the Nikto – the fellow was named Fhentar – with all the information the man had illicitly provided to the Rodian, along with a recording of the hand-off. Using that evidence as leverage, he would turn Fhentar into an SIS informant by threatening to share what the Nikto had done with his boss. The Nikto would then realize that his future lifespan could be measured in minutes if that happened. With Fhentar in Jonas’ pocket, the arms shipments could be disrupted at the Republic’s leisure, forcing the Imps to resort to smuggling their own weapons to the planet. That would further antagonize the Hutt Cartel, causing the Empire even more problems.
Within a few weeks, the Empire’s entire Nar Shaddaa network – so carefully reconstructed by Lana Beniko, the new Minister of Sith Intelligence – would be compromised.
A beautiful plan. All it relied on was this handoff going well over the next few minutes. Just in case, Jonas had an SIS security team – disguised of course – standing by just a few minutes away.
The balcony hadn’t been the obvious choice for the hand-off, but Jonas was convinced it would work. When the action was going hot inside, most of the people tended to ignore the balconies; everyone liked a party, after all. He’d spent weeks surveying the surrounding buildings. A sniper from a nearby high point – should the Exchange or Black Sun or even Sith Intelligence choose to intervene – would find no clear shot of the south balcony. Surveillance – aside from that of the SIS, of course – would be problematic with these acoustics. Rox was wired, but any other audio monitoring would be suppressed.
It worked.
To ensure relative quiet on the balcony, a simple ruse had been arranged to distract any potential witnesses. At the appointed moment, a million-credit jackpot would miraculously (and conveniently) hit on one of the Star Cluster’s Kingpin machines to get the crowd’s attention. An undercover SIS operative would then create a diversion on the floor of casino, feigning drunkenness and staging a fight with the gambler who’d won the jackpot. The altercation would draw the remaining bystanders, all but clearing the balcony of potential witnesses and making it an ideal exchange spot. In Jonas’s experience, nothing drew eyes like a fight on the floor of a casino.  
Still, the SIS agent found himself nervous about this operation for some reason he couldn’t quite place. That’s why he’d called in backup to help him observe everything from his post.  
“You know, of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the one with the anxious reputation.” said the voice from behind him.
Jonas turned, giving Theron Shan a rather haughty smile. One of the top agents in the SIS and (technically) still a division head, Theron handed Jonas a steaming cup of caff, which he accepted with genuine gratitude.
“Well, maybe you’ve been rubbing off on me.” Jonas quipped. “I’ve seen you fret on these things more than a few times. Besides, you were the one who needed to get off Coruscant, remember?”
“I know, I know.” Theron held up a free hand. “Everyone’s still upset with me over that mess I made on Ziost.” He sipped his own cup of caff with a shake of his head as he let out a sigh. For a moment, his normally care-free demeanor slipped away, and Jonas could see the guilt weighing heavily on him.  
“I tell you, Jonas, I honestly don’t blame anyone for being angry with me. I should have called in the cavalry the moment I heard from my contact that the Emperor was back. Instead, I got most of my team killed, and that was before Saresh even called in the invasion out from under me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What a mess.”
Jonas felt an upswell of sympathy for Theron and his troubles. He knew the SIS agent had only ever done what he thought was right, even if that was exactly what got him into trouble most of the time.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much.” Jonas patted Theron on the shoulder of his trademark red jacket, giving him a smirk. “At least I still like you.”
Theron wrinkled his nose affectionately at his fellow agent, then rolled his eyes.
“Flatterer.”
“It’s true.” Jonas shrugged, still grinning. “And anyway. I did owe you one from that one incident at the Dealer’s Den back on Coruscant.” Jonas attempted to imitate Theron’s reproachful tone. “‘Jonas’ you said to me, ‘Casino jobs are always tricky. You need to plan to the last detail.’ And hey – you were right.”
“Well, at least this time you actually told me what the operation was. That should make it a little easier.” Theron gave him a scrutinizing look. “So you had a funny feeling about this exchange, and decided to call me in for backup?”
“You are here to add ambiance to an otherwise dreary observation post. Even if it is in an unofficial capacity.” Jonas found himself smirking again. “And hopefully, to start the process of rehabilitating your image with the top brass, even if you aren’t actually here officially.”
Theron nodded in gratitude.
“I appreciate that. I know you didn’t have to do this for me.”
“Don’t mention it. Just help me make sure tonight goes down alright.” Seeing that Rox was in position, Jonas turned back to the bank of monitors, noting the chrono indicator.
It was almost time.
Theron silently gave Jonas a thumb’s up signal as the slice command went through the system. From inside the casino came a blast of celebratory music as the jackpot hit, followed by a series of cheers from the crowd. Most of the handful people still on the balcony started making their way inside. The casino was known to offer a round of complimentary drinks for such rare events. Mere seconds later, shouting could be heard, indicating the scuffle had begun. On one of the peripheral screens, Jonas could see Dionne – a junior agent who showed promise and could play the ‘drunken bruiser’ well – shoving the beleaguered and confused Mon Calamari who’d won the rigged jackpot. The Zabrak’s antics drew even more interest from the casino’s guests than the jackpot had, both inside and out on the balcony. Four or five stragglers made their way inside, eager to watch. Jonas smirked at their reaction as he checked the chrono once again. Perfect timing. Within seconds, Rox, their contact, was one of only three people left still standing on the balcony.
Jonas’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the remaining two individuals; a young human couple who were standing in the far corner, holding each other in an intimate embrace. Jonas watched the man and woman carefully; you couldn’t be too cautious in this business. Both were wearing the revealing attire that had become so popular among socialites on Corellia since the battle there had ended three years before; the ‘Euphoric Corellian’, this look was called. Their arms and shoulders were laid bare, though their hands were gloved. The cut of the tunic was provocative, leaving their flanks bared and showing plenty of skin. This duo wore the outfits well, the woman’s was a deep green while the man wore a royal blue.  
He focused on the woman first; a beautiful brunette with shoulder-length hair, fair skin and green eyes that seemed to match her dress. Jonas would place her in her twenties. The Corellian outfit hugged her impressive feminine curves, but Jonas noted the equally impressive lean, athletic muscle of her arms as well. She wore no jewelry; her only accessory was a green purse she wore over her shoulder, and like her outfit, it matched her eyes perfectly. She was beaming adoringly up at her lover, with a dazzling smile that could have made even a Trandoshan’s heart flutter.    
Damn. Lucky boy. Jonas marveled, turning his attention to her companion.
The man was tall and broad-chested; from what he could see, Jonas would normally assume that he worked out extensively. The scarring, however, across his arms suggested otherwise, telling the tale of injuries suffered over the years; this man – like his companion, only in his twenties by Jonas’s eye – was no doubt a veteran soldier. Probably he’d seen action on Corellia during the war. Based on his attire, maybe he hadn’t been regular Republic military but part of the planetary militia or maybe CorSec. His hair was as raven black as Jonas’s, though the SIS agent suspected the man’s might have been dyed. Regardless, he was a good looking fellow, Jonas couldn’t help but notice. He could easily imagine him on a recruitment poster for the military or for some holo-ad campaign, and his hazel eyes were completely enraptured with the beautiful woman in his arms.  
Huh. Lucky girl. Jonas reflected, chuckling to himself.
His initial anxiety about the couple quickly faded; these two were clearly in love and hardly looked like they could be carrying any concealed weapons. They both clearly enjoyed an active lifestyle. He couldn’t pick up any audio from here – the device Rox was wearing was designed for conversations near him – but they were obviously whispering ‘sweet nothings’ in each other’s ears, holding each other and occasionally leaning in for a teasing kiss. They certainly weren’t paying attention to anyone or anything else but to each other and probably hadn’t even heard the jackpot or the fight from inside. They were plainly just enjoying each other’s company until it was time to withdraw back to their room in the hotel for the evening.
Jonas sighed inwardly, trying to remember how long it had been since he had withdrawn to his room with someone special. Almost on reflex, he glanced over at Theron, who seemed distracted scrutinizing another monitor.
No. Jonas thought to himself. Theron Shan had been fun enough on that late night years ago after a mission when they’d each had far too much to drink, but they’d both agreed afterward that it was better that they remain friends. And honestly, Theron was a good friend, one of the best he had in the galaxy. He shook his head to clear it and then turned back to his own screens.  
Regardless of anything else, that young couple shouldn’t be a problem during a simple handoff.
Confirming once more that Rox was otherwise alone, and naturally that he was looking nervous, Jonas turned to the entry door to the balcony. The time was one minute past the agreed time for the exchange; not enough to call it off just yet. This was always a concern for intelligence agents, but it was the price of working with criminals.
There he is.
The Nikto finally walked in, eyes glancing around the balcony, briefly noting the intimate couple in the corner before dismissing them just as quickly, finally focusing on Rox and approaching the Rodian. A quick holo-scan confirmed that he was unarmed; Jonas was confident the Casino’s security was up to that task of keeping lowlifes like Fhentar from carrying weapons, as they’d had far too many incidents of violence here over the past few years. Fhentar himself was a strange story; supposedly he’d been part of a cult on Taris that had worshipped a fallen Jedi years ago. The SIS file on that situation was still sealed tightly, even from someone of Jonas’s rank. How Fhentar had wound up working for Black Sun after his ‘religion’ had collapsed was anyone’s guess.  
Rox folded his arms, trying to give the Nikto a hard look, but to Balkar, it merely came off as petulant.
“You’re late.” The Rodian said in Huttese.
“And you’re impatient.” Fhentar retorted. “Give me a break. Didn’t you hear the commotion? The casino is going crazy right now.”
Jonas couldn’t deny the validity of the excuse, even if he didn’t trust it. It came with the territory of being a spy.
“Whatever.” Rox shrugged dismissively. “You have the disk?”
“Depends. You got my credits?” the larger Nikto wasn’t giving up any ground. It was the normal underworld posturing, practically clichéd at this point.
“Of course.” The Rodian pulled out the high-denomination credit stick from his belt. Jonas hoped the credits would prove to be money well-spent. The SIS budget was not unlimited.  
The Nikto knew the game, producing a data disk from his jacket.
“So who’re you selling this to, anyway?”
As Rox’s ‘tough’ demeanor – such as it was – started to falter, Jonas could almost smell the Rodian’s nervousness from here.
“Come on. I’m an information broker. You know I can’t talk about that. Not when my clients are paying for discretion, anyway.”
Jonas suddenly noticed some distortion on his monitors. He checked the sensors, but they all seemed to be coming up blank… wait.
There. A series of vibrations against the side of the Star Cluster that weren’t accounted for anywhere else; four distinct series in fact. Rapidly heading down towards the balcony.
Theron Shan noticed it, too. Jonas watched as he urgently plugged into the sensor grid through his cybernetic implants. Jonas hit the ‘standby’ button for his backup team.  
Meanwhile, the conversation was still ongoing.
“Ah, well.” Fhentar shrugged, with a degree of smugness. He tapped the button on his chrono-wristband. “If you’d actually told me now, it would have saved us all some time.”
Jonas was hitting the alert button before the Nikto even finished speaking.
“Team two! Move in! Move in!”
He watched helplessly as the four series of vibrations converged on the balcony. A moment later, he saw the tell-tale shimmer of stealth field generators shutting down as four armed figures in sneak-suits had suddenly surrounded Rox and Fhentar, each one attached at their belt to a rope running up the wall. The SIS agent realized immediately that they had rappelled down the side of the building. The Star Cluster’s sensors should have normally picked up the anomaly well before this. Something had gone wrong.
Many somethings were obviously going wrong.  
“My bosses want to know who’s got their eyes on their business, Rox.” Fhentar chuckled. “So my friends here are gonna take you up to the shuttle pad on the roof. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights.”
Jonas’s communicator beeped as the Rodian started to look around, panicking.
“Chief!” Wynnefred’s voice came through. “The kriffing catering trucks have blocked us off! We have to go around!”  
“Dammit!” Jonas’s hand slammed against the table, checking the layout and realizing he’d been outplayed. “My backup team is more than a minute away!”  
Theron just looked up at the array of screens and smirked.
“Mine’s not.” He reached up and tapped the relay on his earpiece.
Even afterwards, even with the benefit of re-watching the recordings at reduced speed, Jonas could still barely comprehend what took place over the next two seconds.
One second, the Nikto and the Rodian were surrounded by four armed assailants, ready to restrain Rox and take him away the same way they had come, all while the young couple in the corner of the balcony continued to bask in each other’s company, completely oblivious to the abduction taking place behind them.
The next second, there was a veritable explosion of movement. The young couple were gone and Fhentar and all four of his accomplices had been knocked to the ground. As for Rox, the panicked Rodian had fallen to his knees and found himself flanked by a pair of bodyguards… each of them brandishing lightsabers.
Jedi. Jonas marveled to himself.
Other things registered to Jonas. The long dark wig had fallen from the brunette’s head - he now observed her short red hair - and was lying on the floor of the balcony, an obvious consequence of coming out of a Force leap. Her purse had likewise been discarded, and he realized that was likely where they had been hiding their weapons. He noted that the woman’s lightsaber was of the fluorescent green double-bladed variety, while the man brandished a pair of radiant blue sabers.
But these were all secondary observations to Jonas, as he watched all four assailants – apparently oblivious to the fact that they were completely outmatched – attempt to rise to their feet and to press the attack, only to be cut down in a flurry of brutally efficient lightsaber strikes.  
Apparently wiser than his fellows, Fhentar remained prone on the ground. Jonas could hear his lamentations through Rox’s audio device.  
“No! Not Jedi again!” he groaned, raising his hands in the air and plainly giving himself up.
Jonas was right about to turn to Theron in for an explanation when recognition dawned on him.
Wait.
Jonas’s eyes refocused on the man. The shade of his hair and eyes were off, and he was missing that distinctive scar going down his left cheek, but his physical build, the twin blue lightsabers and his red-headed companion…
Jonas’s jaw dropped in realization and he gaped.
“That’s the Hero of Tython!” he whirled on Theron.
Theron Shan was doing absolutely nothing to suppress his amusement.
“Yup. Colored contact lenses, some hair dye, and cosmetics. Plus a wig on Kira – his partner – obviously. No one in their right mind would ever expect to see a Jedi dressed like that.” Theron smiled. “I put a scan-blocker in Kira’s bag. Hutt security trains to look for blasters, knives and explosives, not for lightsabers.”
Jonas finally let out an exhale, realizing only then that he’d been holding his breath.
“I’d heard you’d been working with him.” He offered, turning back to his screens as the gears of his mind started to turn. “Not a perfect night, but its salvageable. Rox is still breathing and we took Fhentar alive. It shouldn’t be too hard to flip him, even without the recordings. Not ideal, but he should at least be able to give up some Imperial drop points.”
He nodded, turning back to Theron with a grateful smile.
“Well. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Theron chuckled. “Like you said, something about this exchange felt off. I might have waited too long to ‘call in the cavalry’ on Ziost, but I wasn’t going to make the same mistake here.”
“After all, everyone needs backup sometimes.”
“That we do. Please make sure to pass on my appreciation.” Jonas smiled back, then turned back to the monitoring station.
“So you had Halcyon and Carsen pose as a couple?”
Theron smirked boyishly, obviously pleased with himself at the deception.
“Clever, huh? I was worried they wouldn’t be able to pull it off, being Jedi and everything. But they were great out there. Hell, they could have fooled me.”
Jonas turned away from his fellow SIS agent, regarding the screens as Wynnefred and his team finally arrived to take Fhentar into custody and to deal with the bodies of the four fallen assailants. Despite the Nikto’s importance going forward, Jonas’s focus again zeroed in on the pair of young Jedi.
Halcyon was cautiously turning Fhentar over to the security team. Clearly, the Jedi Battlemaster wasn’t taking chances. Carsen was standing beside him, positioned protectively over Rox. But their postures were aligned towards each other; Halcyon turned just so his wide stance was open to Carsen, who likewise was turned towards him, her eyes gazing up at him affectionately as he conferred with Jonas’s backup team leader.
Theron Shan was one of the cleverest intelligence operatives Jonas knew, and he was nearly as good an analyst. But sometimes, he couldn’t see the forest from the trees.
For once though, Jonas decided to keep his observations to himself.
Well. At least somebody’s going to bed happy tonight. He suspected, with an envious look back at the couple.
 Author’s Notes: I just take it as a given that Theron and Jonas once had a brief thing.
Fhentar shows up on Taris during the Imperial Agent story, serving the memorable Ki Sazen. Obviously, in my legacy, he survived his encounter with Cipher Nine. Unfortunately for him, his new employers don’t appear to be much better than the old ones. Rox and Balkar’s subordinates are my own creation.
The mention of Havoc Squad’s trip to the Star Cluster Casino for the SIS is obviously a reference to the Trooper’s class mission to Nar Shaddaa.
The Euphoric Corellian armor set is a real thing. It’s probably illegal on some planets.
Rodians get shafted in this game and in the greater Star Wars universe in general. So I feel bad for piling on.
Tagging people who expressed interests - @swtorshipping​ , @swtor-writers-guild​ , @raven-of-domain-kwaad​ , @ask-an-andalite​ , @a-muirehen​ , @taraum​ , @theravenassassin95​ , @sleepswithvillains​ , @blueburds​ , @sunnysayshello​
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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago
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Callisto (Arrival - Bit 1)
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Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Arrival - Bit 1
And here we are back on our way out to Callisto with a bunch of grumpy Tracys, their Dad, their Uncle and a former enemy. It’s all sunshine and lollipops...not. :D But there is some great scenery :D
As always, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ and @onereyofstarlight​ You guys are absolutely amazing and so patient with my crazy. Bri, you are a great teacher for a dunderhead like me :D
Anyways, here we are back on board the Excel. I hope you enjoy. :D
-o-o-o-
Part Three
Virgil ended up dosing Gordon as the aquanaut turned positively green after the second jump.
He dragged his brother to the infirmary and made him lie down for the rest of the ion pause. Gordon protested the anti-nausea injection, but Virgil wasn’t willing to risk airborne innards. He was barely holding it together himself.
John, surprisingly wasn’t much better. Not that the casual observer would be able to tell. His space brother was the master of self-control. But Virgil could see the tightness around his mouth, the slightly pale cast to his skin…he kept an eye on him.
By the third jump, Virgil was dosing himself with anti-nausea meds.
It was the oddest feeling. His body wanted to register it as a g-force, but it wasn’t quite the same. It hit his stomach and his head and it was like spinning in both directions at once.
Ergh, even thinking about it was nauseating.
John didn’t need any medication. Or so he claimed. As far as Virgil was concerned, it came damned close. He kept an eagle eye on his space brother anyway.
As for the rest of the crew...Scott and Alan didn’t appear to even notice the issue, their Dad grunted a little and Uncle Lee made several salty comments.
Michael just arched an eyebrow when Virgil queried him.
Before the fourth jump he forcibly dragged them all through the tiny sickbay, just in case.
The whining was extensive.
But this was new technology. A threat to call back to Grandma was all it took to shift both his father and Uncle Lee. Who could have known their uncle was mildly terrified of their grandmother.
His father was rather amused. The story behind that one was not fully divulged, but it lightened the atmosphere a little.
Michael worshipped Mrs Tracy, as he called her, and was out of his seat so fast, he created eddies in the artificial atmosphere.
Virgil was not going to question that one at all.
Ultimately, Virgil didn’t find anything wrong with any of his brothers or the others, but he did record all observations. Perhaps the reason could be found and negated sometime down the track.
In the meantime, Gordon and himself were suitably drugged up and Alan’s smart-ass comment on the matter stamped on by Scott.
Finally, thank god, they emerged from the fifth jump and Alan was able to shift to more familiar spaceflight permanently.
Beside Virgil, Gordon let out a relieved sigh.
The ship shuddered as the ion engines were once again engaged. Alan’s skill was ever so prominent and Virgil felt nothing but pride for his little brother. He must remember to mention it to the squirt later on.
John, still looking a little green, ran his fingers over his board and brought up their forward view on the main ‘projector.
“Well, I have to say that is quite a sight.” Dad’s voice was suitably awed.
Virgil’s jaw dropped.
Jupiter.
It was massive.
And far more impressive in person than through a telescope.
The huge gas giant was still distant, but the sun behind them lit it up in all its glory. Its brilliant swirls of colour were in such contrast to the black around it, it was like a hole in the fabric of space-time, a window to another dimension.
Its iconic red spot glared at them like an eye.
Virgil knew the planet well from both photographs and Five’s telescopes. Its colours were fascinating and inspirational. He’d done a few pours in acrylic to emulate the gaseous agitation with mixed results. One hung in John’s room, even. But nothing compared to this.
“That is one honkin’ great big ball o’ gas.”
Virgil flattened his gaze and glared at the back of Uncle Lee’s head. Beside him, Gordon snorted.
Typical.
On the hologram, labels suddenly appeared identifying each of the features in the space-scape. Ganymede coasted slowly on the left, Io was a tiny dot casting a shadow on Jupiter’s surface and an arrow pointed out where Europa was obscured by the giant planet.
Jupiter’s ring was located, along with several of its seventy-odd asteroid moon hoard.
A glance at John had Virgil smiling. The expression on his space brother’s face was a sight to behold. It was as if he had discovered the holy grail…which, considering the importance of the Jovian system, was a good analogy.
This was John paradise.
“Receiving recognition signal from Callisto.” His space brother’s expression shifted to one of quiet amusement as his fingers poked his console.
“How the hell did you get here so quick?!” The hologram that suddenly appeared in the middle of the cockpit was energetic to say the least. Graeme Walters was a bald, heavy-set man in his fifties. Fiery eyes set deeply below steel grey eyebrows were striking by themselves, but it was the extravagant moko that was the dominant feature of his expression. The black etched design on the entirety of the right side of his face spoke of his mother’s Maori ancestry.
Those dark eyes didn’t wait for an answer as they glanced around, only to fixate on Virgil’s father. “Jeff?”
“Hey, Gray. Long time, no see.”
The man stared for a long moment, lips pressing together. A drawn in breath. “Good to see you, Space Jockey.” The relieved smile that infused his face was a big one.
But it didn’t last long.
Scott spoke up. “Mr Walters, we are responding to your distress call. What is your situation?”
Dark eyes flickered to the commander, a frown forming between them. “Ju and Kate were exploring the caves beneath the Base. They extend for hundreds of kilometres in all directions. They took three staff and one of our spelunking crawlers towards the north. Kate is fascinated by the Asgard impact zone and in particular Burr crater. They had planned to be gone a week. We lost contact yesterday, only two days in.” A map appeared in the hologram. “We think they made it to Burr, but we are unsure as our sensors are swamped with interference.”
“Interference?” John sat up straighter. “Send me a radiological profile of the area.”
Walters blinked and gestured at something out of range. “It’s yours. Though I’m hoping that big fancy rocket you’re riding has more bang for its buck than our orbital.”
John’s voice was calm. “I can assure you, Mr Walters, we have plenty of bang.” His brother was intent on his console, frowning at whatever the Base commander had sent him.
“Good.” He turned back to Jeff. “Looking forward to a beer in your honour, Jeff. Park your rocket in orbit and I’ll see you down here asap.” A curl of his lips. “Watch the Jefferson. I’ve just had her waxed.” The hologram blinked out.
“The Jefferson?”
Nobody answered him and the cockpit was suddenly quiet.
Virgil wondered if it was pure accident his father didn’t know or if Scott and John had left the name out of the briefing on purpose. Hell, why hadn’t Uncle Lee told him? Perhaps they had meant to approach Dad later in private. Perhaps Virgil should have done that himself, but the rush to leave…
Damn.
The massive space hauler that had brought the Callisto mission to the moon had left Earth in 2056 a year after their father had gone missing.
Virgil sighed internally. ‘Gone missing’ was a euphemism for ‘died’ that they all used. They didn’t name spaceships after people they thought might be coming back.
“On approach.” Alan’s words snapped him out of his thoughts.
His little brother tweaked the view on the main projector.
Dad was tight-lipped as he stared up at the scene.
Jupiter still hung in the distance like a massive Christmas ornament, but its second largest moon was swelling in the foreground.
Callisto was a moon of rock and ice. Unlike her sister, Europa, the surface was not one continuous blanket of white. More a cratered wasteland, the moon’s ancient crust sparkled like it was dusted with glitter. As the Excel powered into orbit, that glittery surface turned its eye towards them.
And it was an eye. Not like the red spot that continued to stare at them from Jupiter, but a single massive crater outshining the millions of smaller ones, glaring up at them from the surface.
Words appeared on the display yet again. Valhalla.
“Wow. Something hit hard.” Gordon’s voice beside him was little more than a whisper.
The Excel swooped past and around the moon, turning away from Jupiter as she caught the curve of a new orbit. Virgil’s attention was focussed on Callisto, so he didn’t see the approach of the other ship at first.
“There she is.” Alan’s voice was awe itself. “The Jefferson Tracy.”
“You let them name a ship after me?”
Again that silence enveloped the cockpit.
Scott sighed. “It was a sign of respect, Dad.” His eyes were sad as he looked up at the display.
Jeff stared at the commander for a long moment. Scott simply stared back, the expression on his face enough to clench Virgil’s heart.
Uncle Lee was either oblivious or strategic in his words. “Jeff, she is a beauty. Just look at those engines. She hauled the entire base all the way out here and didn’t blink.” He grinned at the ship as she slowly floated past. There were enough similarities in design between the Jefferson and Thunderbird Two in the way the hauler carried chained ‘modules’ and sported a massive rocket on her backend for Virgil to admire. But she was many times the size of his ‘bird, had never seen planetfall and never would, having been built in space.
Zero X technology had been the next step in space exploration.
The Zero X had failed.
The Jefferson was the result. Alternate technology named after the man the original technology had taken.
Most of her modules were missing and no doubt deployed on the moon, but the hauler was still massive, her giant hull decked out in blue and silver.
A splash of red on her bow completed the illusion. While she was built more like a giant Thunderbird Two, she drew her paint job from a much smaller craft.
“Well, that looks familiar.” Gordon murmured beside Virgil.
He had to agree. Even the white lettering down the side of the huge craft that spelt out their father’s name was an echo of the Thunderbird lettering down One’s flank.
“Why?” Their father didn’t specify who he was addressing, but it wasn’t necessary.
Scott sat straighter in his seat. “As I said, they wanted to show their respect. I couldn’t see the harm. Tracy Industries was a major sponsor, after all.” And they had been hurting.
Bad.
Virgil remembered far too well. Scott had received the request after a long and hard day. He had been vulnerable and had sought out Virgil’s counsel.
It had been like declaring Dad dead and it had hurt so much. But the opportunity to see their father so recognised, so esteemed by the planet he had sacrificed himself for…in the end there had been no question of giving permission.
It was what their father would have wanted.
They hadn’t expected him to actually see the Jefferson Tracy.
Again Uncle Lee spoke up, this time his voice was unusually quiet. “Berry and Ju just wanted you to keep them safe, Jeff. You were our lucky charm, after all.”
Virgil’s father frowned at the engineer.
Jeff opened his mouth, but Alan cut him off. “Orbital stability achieved and locked in.”
The Jefferson passed them at a respectable distance on its own orbital trajectory and sailed off towards the moon’s curved horizon. Below them, another very large impact crater slowly rotated into view.
The word ‘Asgard’ appeared on the display.
Scott’s voice was sharp as he unstrapped himself. “That’s our target. John, what are the specifics?”
The astronaut turned his seat around to face them all. “The Base is contained within Doh crater, part of the Asgard complex.” An arrow appeared on the display pointing at a tiny shadow at the centre of the massive crater. “The docking facilities are large enough to support Thunderbird Three. Alan, I recommend a rear landing. Let’s not drill a hole in their hangar.”
“Well, yeah, derrr.”
Gordon piped up. “No, it’s D’oh, little bro.” The aquanaut grinned.
John did not roll his eyes. Not quite.
Virgil had no such control and just groaned.
“What? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Gordon.” Scott’s voice was firm, but Virgil could see the slight crinkle around Scott’s eyes and appreciated Gordon’s effort to break up the atmosphere a little.
John ignored both of them. “Gravity is only 0.126g, even less than Earth’s Moon, so no stupid stunts.” Virgil wasn’t going to argue with the glare John sent in Scott’s direction, but when Uncle Lee picked up on it, the snort was a big one.
“It will be like being home on Alfie again.” The whack Lee planted on their father’s back was a solid one. “Hey, Space Jockey.”
The glare Dad shot at Uncle Lee was scathing. “Don’t you start.”
“Oh, it’s all coming back to me now.”
Virgil’s father grunted in disgust.
Uncle Lee only grinned more.
“We have a mission here, people.” Scott glared at all of them.
That shut up everyone and Virgil felt like throttling his brother. They were on pace. The break in tension was worth the moment.
Virgil straightened. “We have a number of pods available. I recommend a combination of all-terrain. We have the Dragonfly geared for low gravity environment, but it will depend on the size of these caves. John?”
“I’ve only just begun analysis, but as the Commander Walters said, Base sensors are badly compromised. I’ve tapped into the Jefferson with similar results. Using Thunderbird Five I hope to locate and negate the issue. Eos is working on it as we speak. My focus once the last communications buoy is connected, will be finding lifesigns and assistance with mapping the reported caves.”
“Thank you, John. Alan, you’re in Thunderbird Three. Virgil and Gordon, you’re with me. Dad-“
“I’m going down with you, Scott.”
“Me, too.” Uncle Lee was virtually bouncing in his seat.
Scott’s lips pressed together. “As I was saying, gear up and I’ll see you in Thunderbird Three.” The commander’s eyes flitted to Virgil ever so briefly, but the medic got the meaning immediately.
Medical supplies would be fully stocked.
Scott pushed off from his chair.
“Thunderbirds are go.”
-o-o-o-
Next
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dawnwriterimagines · 4 years ago
Text
"Scars are Beautiful": Huck Finnigan X f!Reader
Summary: When a new nurse comes into the hospital, Huck wants more than anything to get her attention, but with scars like his...he has his doubts.
Warning(s): Slight angst, fluff, self-doubt, love, etc.
- - -
"Here ya go, Ms.Wells," he placed the small paper cup in the elderly woman's hand, her dainty fingers shook as she took it, her head turning from a peculiar conversation she was having with the woman beside her. He smiled warmly as Ms.Wells nodded, her lips curving up in acknowledgement.
"Thank you, sweetheart," her voice was small, a result of the vocal therapy for her treatment, but it was as sweet as it always was.
He hummed, pleased, preparing to distribute the rest of the daily pills for the other patients, Ms.Wells quickly putting a hand on his wrist, tapping him.
She puckered her lips, flaunting the vibrant shade of red lipstick she wore, "Huck, sweetheart, tell me, don't you find this color fetching on me?" The woman beside her, Mrs.Jones, scoffed at her friend, expecting the shameless question from the woman, crossing her arms as she took the paper cup that was offered to her. "I think I am quite a catch."
"There's no doubt about it, Ms.Wells," he smiles at the older woman, she puts a hand to her cheek, feigning an embarrassed blush. "Beautiful as ever."
"Oh, you are too much," she waves a hand at him, he chuckles, giving another cup to a patient at his side. "Always the sweetheart, the wonder you don't have a sweetheart of you own." Ms.Wells, the kind old woman was a gossip mogul in her day, always eager for a new scoop in her catalog of news to at least bring up in a local conversation, just to say 'I know this, and you didn't'. He imagined she was reporter in her day, or wanted to be, or she was just a normal housewife with nothing else going for her but the door to door gossip.
Huck chuckled awkwardly, before shrugging. "Haven't found the right one yet, I guess." He breathed a light sigh that was low enough to just be to himself, he fought the urge to being his fingers up to the left side of his face, where the scarred half stood out and he wondered to himself if she were making fun of him. But, he pushed the thought out of his head, Ms.Wells was blunt at times but she was never cold-hearted.
The woman hummed thoughtfully, before getting an idea, tapping Mrs.Jones on the arm, "Oh! Oh, wait just a minute, honey," she raised a hand to point at Huck as he moved along to give out the rest of the cups. He snickered as one patient sighed heavily, throwing his hands up as Huck was forced to paused his delivery once again for the woman's call to attention. "I've heard from one of the staff that there's a new little dame coming to the hospital, replacing old Nurse Quincy. Supposed to be checking in this afternoon," the woman gives him a look like she knows something he doesn't, "a pretty little thing to," he raises a brow before catching her drift, his cheeks going pink and he sputters, embarrassed.
"Oh quit buggin' the boy, Mancha," Mrs.Jones nudges the old woman, before nodding her head at a flustered Huck, "Go on, honey, don't mind her."
"You ladies have a fine evening," he says, tucking his head between his shoulders, a sudden self-consciousness overwhelming him as he continues his rounds.
Huck, later, found himself anxiously waiting for afternoon to arrive, unfortunately it had only been 9 a.m. upon hearing the news. He couldn't help being alittle excited, although he wasn't entirely sure why.
Most of the nurses his age tended to ignore him around here, even beyond the hospital, either that or avoided looking him in the eye altogether given that their immediate reaction was to linger on the scarred half of his face for far too long. Their interest in him would peak from there and from then on he'd usual get a simple greeting or a chaste smile, a required habit of the nursing staff. Most of the time it made him feel like a patient him self.
He wasn't quite sure where the odd feeling of hope came from when he began his walk through the hospital corridor when the announcement came for the nursing staff to come meet the new nurse. Maybe it was how highly Ms.Wells spoke of the new nurse, although she had yet to meet said nurse, she was so sure of the future, it certainly gave huck a hopeful outlook on things.
Huck was only an orderly so he wouldn't be standing near the nurses, but helping Ms.Wells into her wheelchair upon her request at the lobby, she pointed to the side as he emerged from behind the line of nurses to peak a look at the woman standing before them. "There she is. That's her!" Ms.Wells harshly whispered, urging Huck to notice her. But, how could he not.
You were...holy, you were breathtaking. He paused mid-step, nearly stumbling as he caught the sight of you standing in front of the nursing staff, your hands clasped together in front of you and a warm smile on your face. The afternoon sun flooding into the lobby hits your skin just right and you seem to glow, he can't move for a solid few seconds, catching himself as his eye's burn from his lack of blinking. "O-oh," he breathes.
"Right," Ms.Wells agrees. "She's a looker. 'Fine wine, just sublime' what Mr.Wells used to say."
She says that alittle too loud, Huck nearly freezes over as a few of the nursing staff look over their shoulders to stare at Huck, you included, although you peer over their shoulders to look. Huck doesn't say anything, too embarrassed by the transition of attention, he can't find the words either, Ms.Wells dares to wave your way, to which you beam with one of your own. "Uuhh...uhm, I-I, I didn't..." he stutters over the silence, his eyes grazing over the staff, even Nurse Bucket's look of disapproval. His reddening face comes up to look at you, you're fighting back a laugh, biting down on your bottom lip, "W-Welcome to Lucia State Hospital, mam," your smile widens, and he relaxes alittle.
"Thank you," your voice is like silk, smooth and lovely, he tries not to visibly swoon. "And thank you all for welcoming me to this fine institution, I promise I won't disappoint." With a direct, light grin to the rest of the nursing staff, you deliver a finishing statement that starts your first shift at Lucia State.
For the next few days, Huck is sneaking looks your way, everytime you pass by in the hallway, your nose buried in this mornings patient records, everytime you clock in and he's delivering the morning pills to the patient residents. He even finds himself changing his afternoon lunch spot from the open grassland to the oak tree where he had a perfect glimpse of you sitting by the window in the lounge. (Y/n). He learned your name was.
Days turns into a few weeks.
He was alittle ashamed that he had stuck to watching you from afar, wondering what you would think of him if you knew, he imagined not pleased. But, he couldn't possibly approach you, what would he look like? He had already made a fool of himself, he wasn't looking forwards to doing the same thing twice.
He leaned against the trunk of his favorite oak tree, a long time ago, he found that many of the other staff weren't as used to his company, to make it easier he ate lunch outside, or in the lobby when the weather was bad. But, he had always enjoyed the sun and the brisk wind against his skin, so he never dwelled on it, but lately he wished he could go inside and sit next to you, share an orange maybe. Maybe even talk for a while.
"Is this spot taken?"
Huck's fingers grew stiff around the brown paper bag in surprise, tearing a hole into the side, his lunch falling through before he could grab it. A freshly sliced apple, the two halves breaking apart and landing atop the uprooted soil, he quickly bent down to pick it up, pouting with a sigh.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" A woman kneels down beside him, bringing the gown of her nursing dress to her thighs as her knees scrape the dirt. "I didn't mean to startle you. Oh no," she berates herself, Huck absently picks up the two slices chuckling softly, waving waving a hand in the air.
"Really, it's fine. Your didn't mean to doll, no harm done," he snickers lightly before turning his head to look at the woman beside him, finding himself recognizing the lovely voice next to him. He pauses in surprise seeing you, his jaw dropping visibly, but you're too upset to notice, tearing into your own lunch bag. "Oh, you're--oh my..." you were stunning up close. "Ms. (L/n)..." your eye's flicker up to his, bright and beautiful, he smiles as his heart beats frantically in his chest.
Your lips curve upwards, "What happened to doll, sweetface?" You openly flirted, before catching yourself, Huck chuckles with surprise as you shake your head. "Sorry, uhm," you trip over your words, snickering lightly. "Your lunch. I didn't mean to..."
"It was just an apple," he waves it off, but you're not having it. He finds your persistence an even more comforting personality.
"Well, I'm not gonna let you starve now," you placed your bag down a paper plate settling atop it. You place a peeled orange in front of him, he stares at it for a while, "I know it's not a whole lot but you wanna split with me?"
Huck looks back at you, you reach down and split the orange in half, a satisfying tear erupts in the air and he shakes his head, "I couldn't possibly--," you interrupt him.
"Oh hush now, I won't be taking no for an answer," you take his hand in yours, placing the half in his open palm, his fingers are warm from your touch. "I hope you like oranges."
"I love them," he grin's, you hum, pleased and tear a slice with your fingers and plop it into your mouth.
He cradles his half shortly in his palms, before doing the same. "I'm--" he starts, after a few seconds.
"I'm disappointed we haven't met prior to this, Mr.Finnigan," you said, his brows lifting in wonder as you teasingly pronounce the Mister with a mockingly suspicious hum. "You haven't been avoiding me by any chance?" His cheeks are aflame as you question him. "Have you?"
"Well, I--uhm, I don't know what you mean, mam," he answers, feigning innocence.
You bite down on another slice, "Sure." Obviously unconvinced as you turn back to watch the farm keepers visiting haul a handful of pigs into the newly built barn.
"How'd you know my name?" He can't help the wonder.
"I asked around."
Now, he's confused. "Why?"
"Because."
"Because what?"
You give him an amused look, his cheeks grow warm once again. "You're suddenly so talkative, hun, you weren't like that before, ya know?"
You noticed him? You even wanted to meet him? He couldn't help his own curiosity, why would you want to talk to him of all people?
"I didn't think you'd want to talk to me," he admitted, his voice lowering considerably as his eyes flickered to the side away from you.
You tilted your head to the side, trying to the catch his gaze as he hid the side of his scarred face as subtly as he could. "I would want to meet the man who thought I was 'fine wine, just sublime'," you giggled at the end as Huck's face flushed with color.
"In fairness, those aren't my words," he explains, clearing his throat.
"Oh, yes, Ms.Wells has tood me all about it," you kept a close eye on him as he tensed before glancing at you.
"Er, um," he shook his head at his stuttering. "And what else--what else did she tell you?"
Hopefully the old woman hadn't embarrassed him too much...
"Enough," you hummed, smiling.
"Oh..." he was beginning to think Ms.Wells had even shown you his baby photos and she didn't even have them. "Hopefully it was a good impression of me."
"The best," you whispered with a wink.
Huck's lips curled up a bit, "That's good..." he breathed.
It was silent for a few more moments, he finally began to eat at the orange slices in his hands out of sheer anxiety. With a slice halfway in his mouth, you spoke, "Do you wanna go out to lunch sometime? I mean, Dinner?" You corrected with a nervous clear of your throat.
He sucked in his last slice in shock before feeling it lodge in his throat, choking. You gasped, "oh my god!" Patting on his back, harshly before going behind him, your arms encircle him just as he coughs up the slice with a sigh of relief.
"Oh, I got i--iitttt!" He starts before jerking up in shock at the force of your heimlich to his chest. You only get through two when you register he was talking, you slump against his chest as he laughs to himself, groaning lightly.
"Forget it, let's get a drink first. Right after this shift," you snickered, rubbing his back as he continued to chuckle, sitting up with a sheepish smile.
"O-ok, sure," he rocked slightly in child-like splendor.
You grinned before getting up, pushing off of him lightly to stand. "Good, I'll see at 8."
Huck turned as you walked down the hill with a subtle skip in your step, you turned with a smile on your face and waved gleefully. He watched with an absent mind and a fuzzy feeling in his chest, he smiled to himself.
He couldn't wait till the end of the day.
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imnotusedtobeingloved · 4 years ago
Text
THAT’S ROUGH, BUDDY.
(PLEASE DON’T REPOST/REBLOG)
Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.
Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader
Characters: Zuko, Katara, Aang, Toph, Sokka, Uncle Iroh (mentioned).
Requested: I guess?
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.
Summary: Part seven of “destiny is a funny thing”.
previous part
A/N: Hey guys! It’s part seven already! Let’s see how long i can keep this up lol. Have fun reading!
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The steaming hot liquid in the pot reminded you of a long time ago. Of a small tea shop in the Earth Kingdom to be more specific. And so did the boy that poured it.
“No one can make tea like Uncle, but hopefully I learned a thing or two. Would you like to hear Uncle’s favorite tea joke?” He balanced a tray full of cups as well as a kettle. “Sure,” Katara said. “I like jokes,” Aang agreed and Toph didn’t seem unenthusiastic either. “Bring it!”
“Okay,” Zuko nodded, serving tea to the Duke and Haru before standing up, holding the tray. “Well, I can’t remember how it starts, but the punch line is “Leaf me alone, I’m bushed!”
The group stared at him. Silently.
“Well, it’s funnier when Uncle tells it,”
“Right ...” Katara dragged out the word. “Maybe that’s because he remembers the whole thing,” And as the rest of the group started laughing, Zuko gave a small smile. “It’s nice to get a chance to relax a little. It hardly ever happens,” Toph said, grabbing the cup Zuko handed her, before he approached Sokka. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" Your eyes followed the Water Tribe boy as he walked out, shortly followed by the prince. “What was that about?” You furrowed your brows, turning to Katara. “I don’t know,” She shrugged, sipping on her tea. “Hopefully my brother isn’t plotting anything stupid,”
The Team stayed gathered together around the fire until the sun left the sky and the night broke in.
Soon you were cuddled into your warm sleeping bag, the fire long since diminished. Your brows furrowed unconsciously upon a distant rustle, mind still foggy from your dreams. Drifting away once more, your features relaxed, only to be interrupted again seconds later. Sleepily you blinked your eyes open, trying to see through the dark with a cloudy vision.
It was probably nothing, you thought, turning around onto your other side, and the last thing you saw was the empty bedroll next to you...
Wait.
Empty?
You shot up, getting tangled in the sheets and tumbling over before you caught yourself. Careful not to wake the others, you stood up, looking around.
Where could he have gone? Had he left and betrayed you again? But how would he even get away?
You shook your head at the thought before it occurred to you. Appa! He wouldn’t, would he? You ran towards the bisons sleeping spot, heart beating rapidly, as if you didn’t know what to fear more: Finding Appa gone, or the prince.
Your lungs ached as you rounded the last corner, where you found the bison, fast asleep. A breath of relief passed your lips, walking up to him and crawling the soft furr next to his snout, to which he purred quietly. Suddenly a head appeared above the saddle, prompting a startled gasp from you. “(Y/N)?”
“Zuko!” You hissed, a hand over your chest. “What are you doing here?” The shadow questioned looming over you. “I’m the one that should be asking that question!” You pulled yourself up to the saddle, sick of him staring down at you. He grabbed your arm, pulling you up and finally explained when you landed next to him. “I have the feeling that Sokka might be up to something,” He drew his hood back and furrowed his brows. “Up to what exactly?” You searched his appearance for any indications, but he didn’t give anything away. “He asked me about the war-prisoners today. Where they would be put away,” Your eyes widened. “The Boiling Rock,” He nodded. “Exactly. I have the suspicion that he might try to-”
Your whispers where interrupted by silent steps in the distance and a quiet “Shhh,” from below. You and Zuko shared a look as someone climbed up, and eventually peaked over the rim of the saddle. “Not up to anything, huh?” The prince asked, arms crossed. Sokka fell, with a stiffled scream, his bags content spilling out on the floor. He gave you a resigned look. “Fine, you caught me. I’m gonna rescue my dad. You happy now?”
“No!” You exclaimed, while Zuko took an entirely different approach. “I’m never happy,”
"Look, I have to do this. The invasion plan was my idea, it was my decision to stay when things were going wrong,” The prince raised a brow at his words and jumped down from the saddle. “It’s my mistake, and it’s my job to fix it. I have to regain my honor. You can’t stop me, Zuko. And neither can you (Y/N),” He pushed Zuko aside, beginning to climb up to you. ”You need to regain your honor?” The prince questioned. “Believe me, I get it. I’m going with you,”
“No. I have to do this alone,”
You put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly. “No, you don’t, Sokka. We’re all in this together. We’re here for you,” Zuko nodded, motioning to the bison. “And besides, how are you going to get there? On Appa? Last time I checked, prisons don’t have bison daycares,” The boy looked between the two of you, before he sighed, shoulders slumping. "We’ll take my war balloon,” Zuko gestured for you to follow him, before leading the way.
The travel to the Boiling Rock remained silent for the most part.
Sokka had sat down on stack of boxes, while you leaned against the railing. Zuko blasted fire into the tank from time to time, making sure it kept moving. But eventually even the silence got deafening. “Pretty clouds,” Sokka spoke up. “Yeah ... fluffy,” You resisted the urge to slap a hand against your forehead, while Sokka whistled. "What?” Zuko said, giving him a look. “What? Oh, I didn’t say anything. You know, a friend of mine actually designed these war balloons,”
“No kidding,” The prince raised his brows. “Yep, a balloon ... but for war,” Zuko blasted more fire into the tank. “If there’s one thing my dad’s good at, it’s war,”
“Yeah, it seems to run in the family,” The firebender gave him a defensive look. “Hey, hold on. Not everyone in my family is like that,” Sokka held his hands up. “I know, I know, you’ve changed,” The prince lowered his gaze, shacking his head slightly. “I meant my uncle. He was more of a father to me. And I really let him down,” He gave you an indefinable look, but he redirected his attention so quick that you wondered wheter you’d just imagined it.
“I think your uncle would be proud of you. Leaving your home to come help us? That’s hard,” The boy argued, fumbling with his boomerang. “It wasn’t that hard,” Sokka’s head shot up. “Really? You didn’t leave behind anyone you cared about?”
“Well, I did have a girlfriend. Mai,” You bit your lip to keep quiet, waiting for his next words. “We tried for some time but it didn’t work out. It wasn’t what I wanted,” He seemed to have more to say, but Sokka interrupted with a sly smile. “That gloomy girl who sighs a lot?”
"Yeah,” Zuko confirmed, giving you a quick glance that went unnoticed. “My first girlfriend turned into the moon,” Zuko’s brows shot up before he briefly looked into the sky. “That’s rough, buddy,” He said, eyes landing back on Sokka. “What about you, (Y/N)?” You grew stiff, staring at Sokka’s face. “Me?”
“Yes, what about you? Any lovers in sight?” You crossed your arms, taking a moment to think. Zuko’s burning eyes roamed over your silhouette, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes. “No,” You answered eventually, lowering your head. “No one,”
By nightfall Sokka had fallen asleep, preventing you to do so with his loud snores.
Zuko was busying himself with keeping the tank full, while you took a look out in the distance.
“There it is!” You alerted the others, pointing towards the large construction. The Water Tribe boy awakened from his slumber, staggering over to see it. ”There’s plenty of steam to keep us covered. As long as we’re quiet, we should be able to navigate through it without being caught,” Zuko plotted. But as you entered the volcano’s steam, the balloon began to lose altitude quickly. “We’re going down! The balloon’s not working anymore!” Zuko blasted fire up into the balloon, but with no avail. “The air outside is just as hot as the air inside so we can’t fly!” You said, grabbing his arm to stop him. “So what are we supposed to do?” His gaze flew from you to Sokka. “I don’t know!” He said. “Crash-landing?”
The balloon skidded along the boiling water, splashing Sokka’s hand, which he shook while you put a hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming. Your aircraft hit the base of the rock, throwing you out in the process. You moaned, getting up and rubbed your sore hip. “How are we gonna get off the island if the balloon won’t work?” Zuko groaned, looking at the destroyed object. Sokka seemed to be more optimistic. “We’ll figure something out! I suspected it might be a one-way ticket,” The fire bender furrowed his brows. “You knew this would happen and you wanted to come anyway?”
“My dad might be here! I had to come and see!” Sokka walked towards the destroyed remains of the balloon. “Uncle always said I never thought things through. But this ... this is just crazy!”
“Hey, I never wanted you to come along in the first place! And for the record, I always think things through! But my plans haven’t exactly worked, so this time, I’m playing it by ear. So there,” He said gathering the balloon and throwing it into the water. ”What are you doing?”
“It doesn’t work anyway,” He shrugged. “And we don’t want anyone to find it,” You sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” You turned towards the prison. “There’s no turning back now,”
By the time the sun came up, the three of you had found a supply room, stacked with reserve guard uniforms.
“I hope these disguises work,” Zuko said, voice muffled by the mask. “We just need to lay low and find my dad as soon as possible,” Sokka said, blue orbs peaking out of the slit. They were just as beautiful as Katara’s. Your head whipped around whe a series of guards ran by, one coming back to look at your team. “Guards! There’s a scuffle in the yard. Come on,” He gestured wildly. Prisoners were gathered in the yard, forming a circle as the guards moved through to the inside.
“I didn’t do anything! I’m going back to my cell,” A tall man called, as a guard whipped fire in his direction. “Stop right there, Chit Sang,” Zuko tried to approach, but your hand shot forward to stop him. “We can’t blow our cover,” You whispered.
“I’ve had it with your unruly behavior!” The guard yelled, getting more riled up by the second. “What did I do?” Chit Sang asked. “He wants to know what he did,” The guard gloated, looking at you. ”Isn’t that cute?" His face grew sour when none of you answered and your tongue felt tied, prompting you to nudge Zuko in the side. “Uh, very cute, sir,”
“Super cute,” Sokka added. The guard walked up to Chit Sang, getting into his face. “You didn’t bow down when I walked by, Chit Sang!” The man looked confused. “What? That’s not a prison rule,”
“Do it!”
“Make me,” The guard growled walking away, but not without whipping fire at the male. Chit Sang blocked it, redirecting the flame to its owner, who broke it with a kick. “Tsk, tsk. Firebending is prohibited. You’re going in the cooler,” He ordered. “You! Help me take him in,”
“Meet back here in an hour,” Sokka whispered to you and Zuko before following the command.
But you didn’t meet in an hour.
In fact, not even you and Zuko managed to stay together, soon being pulled into two different directions due to commands. While you ended up in the weaponry, you had no idea were the others went. “Not your first time doing this, huh?” A guard leaned against the wall next to you, arms crossed. You gave him a brief look, before you resumed sharpening the swords and knifes. “Not really,” He took his helmet off, raising a brow. “How come?” You shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “I’m a non-bender. You need to know your weapons if you want to defend yourself,”
“True,” he inclined his head, taking a knife of his own and starting to prepare it. “I’m impressed. Not many non-benders manage to get employed at the Boiling Rock. Normally they prefer fire benders,” You hummed, grabbing fire the next weapon. “Guess I must be special then,” The guard gave you an amused grin. “You don’t have to wear the mask in here by the way. It’s more of a representative part,” You choose to ignore his comment, instead trying to redirect the conversation. “Hey, can I ask you something? It’s all pretty new to me and I didn’t get to explore everything yet,”
The thought didn’t seem to bother him, featured remaining relaxed. “Sure, rookie. Ask away,” You subtily cleared your throat, attempting not to sound suspicious. “I know the Boiling Rock holds the Fire Nations most dangerous criminals. But what about war prisoners? Do they end up here as well?”
The man shrugged. “If they make it this far... probably,”
“So...” You swallowed. “Any Water Tribe inmates here?” He huffed a short laugh. “You’re pretty interested in those prisoners for a guard,”
“Am I? Shouldn’t I know who I’m watching over?” He shrugged. “I guess so. You’re just very specific about it,” It was time to shut up, you concluded, grabbing a knife. “Well, anyways, thank you for the-” The words god stuck in your throat when you saw Zuko passing by through the window in the door. If you hadn’t been convinced by his amber eyes, then for sure by the time you saw his scar.
“I have to go.” You muttered, subtly slipping the weapon into your pocket. “Hey! Wait up!” The guard yelled rushing after you. You’d just managed to slip through the door, when he grabbed your upper arm. A few seconds later and you would’ve managed to blend in with the others in the lounge. “You can’t just leave. Your work isn’t done yet,”
“Sorry,” you retorted, desperate to reunite with your group. “but I can’t stay.” You rammed your elbow into his ribs, knocking the air out if his lungs. The halls were empty, thanks to the midday meal everyone joined. If you’d manage to lock him into the weaponry you could leave undetected.
You grabbed him, shoving him back into the room and slamming the door shut, before sticking the knife through the handle and using your fire to heat up the metal, sealing it shut. You breathed a relieved sigh as he banged his fists against the door and turned around, colliding with a large chest.
“What do we have here?” The man grinned, locking you in a tight grip that made you squeeze your eyes shut. "I arrive late to the break one time, and there's already trouble," He produced a flame, melting the blockade. The guard you’d locked in opened the door, his face distorted in anger. “She locked me into the weaponry, asked a lot of questions and lied about being a non bender,” He spat, glaring at you.
“Well,” the male behind you said. “What do you want do with this imposter?” The guard snarled.
“Throw her into the cooler!”
tags:  @zvkonation​ @viva-la-millennia​ @randomness501​ @drheinzd​ @kaylove12​ @duh-dobrik​ @yeetscreetiwannaeat​ @ ashnkamfeun    @hailkyoshi​ @shortmexicangirl​ @animexholic​ @sorrythatspussynal​
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atruththatyoudeny · 4 years ago
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Monthly Reads | December 2020
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I haven’t had much time to read much this month but I really enjoyed all these fics. As always, all the love for all the authors. Thank you for making this time brighter ♥
❅ Like a Picture Print by Currier & Ives | armadillosunset | Christmas - fluff - humor - established relationship - 10k “What thrift store clearance bin did you pull that atrocity out of?” Niall wheezes, doubling over from laughing so hard. They all stand there, holding their collective breaths in that moment. Everyone except Niall, whose laughter is the only sound in the entire flat — the entire building, the entire universe at this moment. “Didn’t know we were doing an ugly sweater party this year! Why didn’t anyone tell me?” — Every year, for as long as they’ve been dating, Harry knits his boyfriend, Louis, a sweater. And every year, Harry hopes for a ring on his finger in return. Maybe this is the year Harry finally gets what he wants.
❅ Baby, You're On My List | lovelarry10 | Christmas - fluff - meet cute - pining - kid fic - 17k Harry takes his niece to see Father Christmas, but he doesn't count on meeting the cutest Christmas elf. Taken by the handsome stranger, Harry decides to recruit as many children as he can so he can see him again, and again, and again...
❅ The Ideal Flatmate | Larry_you_know | Christmas - roommates - hate to love - musunderstandings - no smut - 12k Louis shares his flat with the ideal flatmate (or I-F as he often nicknames him). Harry is a bit younger and a bit taller than him. He’s polite and there is nothing to complain about. Harry rarely brings someone over, he isn’t loud, he eats at the table and when he uses the shared area for his crafting projects he always tidies after himself. Harry doesn’t bother Louis and he pays his share in time. The ideal flatmate. The only problem is: Harry hates Louis. This will be very lovely Christmas.
❅ room for your love underneath this tree | we_are_the_same | Christmas - famous/famous - strangers to lovers - fluff - no smut- first meetings - 11k “IwannameetHarryStyles,” Daisy mumbles, and Louis blinks. “What?” “She says she wants to meet Harry Styles.” Phoebe pipes up, and Louis blinks again, absently switches the camera to himself because he knows that his followers will want to catch his baffled expression. “You-” he starts, and then stops himself, because he did tell her she could ask for anything she wanted, and how can he go back on his word and tell her that he doesn’t actually have the power to make that happen? Because Harry Styles is -- he’s next level kind of famous. Louis has two million subscribers on his YouTube, but Harry has eighteen times as many followers on his Twitter alone. He’s had three number one hits in the last year, and his last album had charted at the top spot for a record breaking 27 weeks. He’s a singer, actor and philanthropist, and there is no way in hell that Louis can get him to come meet Daisy for Christmas. So of course he laughs, even if it’s a little bit breathless, and nods at her. “One Harry Styles for Christmas, coming right up.”
❅ Something Carries On | blue_marauder | Christmas- angst - fluff - minor character death - anxiety - strangers to lovers - 18k Louis would do anything to escape the prison of his emotions around the holidays. He would even go so far as to abandon his remaining family members and go on a trip to Greece, seeing as they're better off without his holiday angst anyway. While on his trip, Louis meets a kind and vulnerable stranger who manages to break through his defenses.
❅ blinded by the sparks | wallstracktwo | angst - fluff - smut - 22k "You can’t even keep your lies straight. Mike has the memory of an elephant and can remember every single detail about every single person he’s ever met, so don’t stand there and tell me that he mixed you up with someone else.” He took back Harry’s cigarette. “I saw you exchanging lower chips for higher ones. I saw you counting the cards. There is no fucking way you won seven thousand dollars tonight honestly. And so I will repeat myself — I want in. Fifty-fifty.” Harry was completely taken aback by the stunningly attractive man standing in front of him. He made several attempts to say something — opening and closing his mouth at least twice before he was finally able to string a few words together. “What? No. No way. No. Sorry, but I work alone.” That was the truth too — he had never trusted anyone enough to let them get close, especially when it came to his scamming, so having a partner was completely, utterly out of the question. “Don’t you think you need someone on the…” Louis’ tongue darted out, licking his lips as his eyes flickered to Harry’s mouth, one eyebrow cocking up. “...inside.” Or - Harry is a scammer who drifts from casino to casino. Louis is the new waiter who wants in on the scam.
❅ The Golden Prince | behappyhl | royalty - mistaken identity - strangers to lovers - grief/mourning -19k When He arrives in London, he’s speechless. It’s so different from his little hometown, he can’t help the feeling that it is an unknown planet. Everything is bigger; The streets, the buildings, the stores. The people are always running somewhere, always in a hurry. Harry instantly feels out of place. Or, Harry lives a perfectly normal life until he gets a life changing job opportunity.
❅ somewhere in between | soldouthaz | dom/sub - strangers to lovers - 43k Louis wakes up early. He brushes his teeth and can only stomach a piece of toast for breakfast, dressing quickly and heading for the car. He pulls into the parking lot of the Department of Dominance and Submission just as they’re unlocking the doors. It takes him all of an hour in the uncomfortable chairs to fill out the paperwork to the best and most accurate of his ability, handing it over to the receptionist as soon as he’s finished and wiping his sweaty palms on his business trousers. There’s a high chance that within ten to fifteen business days, Louis will be matched with a dominant. Shit.
❅ tastes like summer, smiles like may | outropeace | a/b/o - historical - hate to love - royalty - arranged marriage - slow burn - unrequited love - angst - 47k “Is this true?” Harry grabbed the beta by the shoulders. “Bryce, where did you hear that?” “There’s rumors going around the castle,” he smirked. “stories about his beauty and his cold attitude. They know he is an omega only because of his scent, but he has never had a heat.” “Do you know what this means?” Bryce smirk grew into a big smile. “He can’t give you an heir.” A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.
❅ sweet like honey | falsegoodnight | college/university - roommates - friends to lovers - friends with benefits - amateur porn - minor angst - 33k Weeks of flat shopping with their limited budget with Louis as a librarian aid and Harry as a barista and arguments about whether a balcony or extended bathroom suite were more important (Harry wanted to be able to feel the crisp night’s air and watch the sun set and Louis just wanted to take long bubble baths) led to them stumbling across the perfect fit. A small flat only ten minutes from campus with a cramped but lovely balcony and an included bath. It’s affordable too… well, sort of. But they always manage. Louis picks up more shifts as an aid, adapting a habit of bringing his Psych textbooks and homework with him to finish in between duties, and later his script so he can quietly practice lines with little distraction. Harry also increases his number of shifts at the cafe and valiantly endures the nasty customers who for some reason flock to their establishment like moths to a flame. For a while, it’s enough. - Or, Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal.
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