#shes definitely gonna take away presents which fair enough i understand that

[wormstacheangel]

For The Girl Who Has Everything

Masterpost link for Reelin’ In The Years: Here

AO3 Link: Here

wc: 2.4k Summary:  Claire is too mad to even look at Cas let alone talk to him. Dean knew he had to step up because two people with messed up childhoods and anger issues really need to spend more time together talking about their feelings.

When Chuck was defeated, a lot of people came to the bunker to celebrate. Those times were a big blur to Dean, his focus was on finding a way to save Cas, and it wasn’t until he saw Claire run down those steps that the world focused again. She smiled at him, a rare big grin, before her arms wrapped around his neck to bring him down for a hug with an intoxicating giggle.

‘She didn’t know,’ Dean thought as his arms hung loosely at his sides.

He hid his face in her curls, not knowing how to face another kid Cas left behind because of him. He was holding his breath when she pulled away to look at him. Her eyebrows were raised in a question that Dean didn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear.

She repeated it, “Dude, where’s Cas? Is the old man sleeping or something?”

‘Yes.’ Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat.

He didn’t look at the audience around them when he finally opened his mouth to say, “Claire, Ca—” He couldn’t say his name. He felt like it would tear the fragile wall that was keeping him on his feet if he did. “I’m sorry.”

Dean watched as her face twisted into confusion, understanding, and then settling into anger.

She was trying to fight the tears, but they fell as she yelled, “No! No, you were—Where were you? Why didn’t you protect him?”

“He protected me. He—he saved me.”

She looked at him with round eyes, shaking her head as if not wanting to believe it.

“Then it should’ve been you! You should’ve died! Not him!” Dean flinched at the words that have been echoing in his head since that night. “It’s not fair!”

Claire’s angry fist collided with his chest. He flinched at every hit but didn’t back away as her punches became sporadic but still filled with grief. Maybe even guilt.

“I’m sorry.” Dean knew those words did nothing to comfort, but he couldn’t help but say them. “I’m so sorry, Claire.”

She screamed in frustration until her punches weakened, and he was holding her. Then, finally, she fell against him, her face hidden in his chest as her grip tightened on his shirt.

She didn’t stay after that.

She walked back up the stairs with Jody and Kaia following behind her. Jack tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t even look at him. Dean couldn’t blame her.

It’s hard to look at the kid when he reminded them of the person they lost.

Of course, Dean never told Cas any of this.

Since coming back, Cas had been dealing with the silent treatment from the killer Barbie. She only replied with the thumbs-up emoji, and when Cas was too much, she responded with the middle finger emoji. A little warning advising Cas to back off.

She only visited him once, but that was when Cas was in the hospital. She freaked out, yelled at him for being stupid, and then passed out by his bed only to leave the next morning like nothing ever happened. Still, it made Cas feel a little better knowing she still cared, but she was dealing with it her way. Or, as Cas liked to say, she was dealing with feelings the Dean Winchester way. Of course, he’ll argue it wasn’t true, but he knows he won’t win that one.

Now he was sitting awkwardly in Jody’s living room watching Kaia and Patience play with Jack on the floor while Claire and Cas had a yelling match in the privacy of the backyard. Well, Claire was yelling while Cas was trying very hard to keep his tone even, which only made Claire angrier.

“I’m done talking to you!” Claire slid the glass door open and stormed through the living room.

“Then try listening to me!” Cas followed behind her, watching as she walked straight past the living room and towards the front door. “Claire. Claire, where are you going?”

She whipped around to glare daggers at Cas, eyes wide filled with tears, but she still looked at him with a pained grimace. “Did you even think of me? When you were out there being a damn hero. Did you-Did you think of me?” Her voice breaking on the last word made Dean flinch.

“Claire, of course-”

“No. No, of course, you didn’t. Cause if you did, then you wouldn’t have-” She bit her cheek as tears started to fall. She stood tall, presenting as strong, as her expression hardened. “You left me, Castiel. And now I-I don’t,” She looked around the room. It was quiet as everyone watched the interaction before her eyes landed on a little Jack in Kaia’s arms. She clicked her tongue before turning back to the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Claire.” Cas tried following her, but Dean quickly rushed up to stop him. “Dean. I may not have my strength, but I will-”

“Calm down, Rocky,” Dean had a hand on Cas’s shoulder to stop him. “I just wanted to stop you from making it worse.”

“I don’t think I can. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t.” He assures his boyfriend with a little smile, but Cas simply rolled his eyes at him. “Okay, you stay here. Talk to your son, and I’ll go talk to the other kid.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to say to her?”

“I don’t know, but like you said before. Two fuck up’s just understand each other.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just let me handle this. You trust me, right?”

Cas made a face at that, not answering quickly enough before he said, “Just bring her home.”

“Gee. Thanks for the confidence, babe.”

Dean ran after Claire, forcing his way to her passenger side as she started to back up on the driveway.

“Thanks for waiting, kid. Where we going?” Dean buckled up just in time for Claire to slam the breaks. Unfortunately, he hit his head on the front dash because the damn seat was scooted forward, his knees were practically pressed against his chest, which made sense knowing a tiny Kaia would usually occupy the seat. “Ow.”

“You aren’t going anywhere. Get out.”

Dean ignored her scary and oddly familiar glare as he pushed the seat back so his legs could fit. “Oh, come on. My treat.”

She didn’t have time to argue because Cas walked out of the front door—his trust in him really was lacking—and Claire decided that dealing with Dean was much easier than having to talk to Cas again. But, of course, he would take that as a compliment.

Claire drove with loud rocker girl music vibrating the windows and didn’t stop until she finally parked outside some ice cream shop.

“I want a shake.” She sniffled, and Dean did his best to ignore her red blotchy eyes for her sake.

“Sure, kid.”

They drank their shakes and shared some fries while sitting on top of Claire’s ugly little red. Well, she sat, and he leaned, but either way, silence remained.

He didn’t want to pressure her to talk—she would probably lie if he did—but still, he wanted to ease the tension between Cas and her, salvage a relationship he knew was important to both of them, but he didn’t know where to start.

Maybe he could start with his own guilt.

“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat as he felt the smooth ice cream start to turn to gum down his throat. He looked down at his shake, lifting the straw up and down to hear the gloppy sound while trying to figure out what to say to her.

She hummed, “‘bout what?”

“Not telling you. About Cas. What happened to him.” He sighed and looked back at her. “Sorry. I should have called, but I wasn’t—I was a mess. I couldn’t be there for you. I couldn’t even be there for Jack. I should have-”

“It’s okay.” She waved her hand up to stop him. “I-I get it. I mean, it’s not, but whatever.”

“So, are you gonna tell me why you’re mad?”

She rolled her eyes, once again the gesture was familiar, before slamming the shake on the hood and sliding off the car. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking so small as she kicked a pebble on the floor.

“He replaced me.”

Her voice was quiet. Almost like she didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I know it’s stupid and-and I’m acting like a child, but…” She quickly sniffled again before running her hand through her hair nervously. Looking up to stare into the darkening sky, acting like everything was okay. “He’s not my Dad, but he’s the closest thing I have, and I just thought—I just thought that maybe he felt the same way.”

She shrugged, her lips pinching together as if trying to hold something back, before retaking control of her expression. A glare directed towards Dean replaced the lost child stare into the stars, but the lost child was still there.

“Kid…” Dean sighed, head scrambling for words.

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me.”

Claire teased with a little smirk. She definitely learned this from Dean or Jody. “Whatever you say, old man.”

“Old—Claire.” She let out a breath of a laugh before rolling her eyes away from Dean. “I’m trying to be serious. Cas… he loves you. He-he loves you like you were his own.” She didn’t look at him, but he could see her face scrunch up, ready to argue. “He worries about you constantly, and Jack knows all about you because he won’t shut up about how awesome you are.”

“He says that? He says I’m awesome?”

“Well, awesome is my word, but you get the gist.” He turns to face her even though she doesn’t meet his gaze. “Cas may not be your Dad, but he loves you like a daughter. Sometimes—yeah, a lot of the time actually—he makes stupid decisions, but it’s cause he is trying his best. And he cares. That dumbass cares way too much about the damn world, but he’s also someone who would give up the whole world if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Stop making excuses for him!”

“Claire, you gotta believe me. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She finally turned to look at him. “But he did. He hurt me! He left me!”

“He left me too!” Dean raised his voice; it sounded broken to admit such a thing out loud. And to Claire of all people. He slumped down against the car again and looked at the ground to ignore her big blue eyes throwing sympathy glares his way. “He left me—more times than you know. And—and don’t tell anyone I told you this—but I…I was scared. Each goddamn time I’m scared that this may be it! That this time…this time he won’t come back to me.”

��But he did.” Her voice sounded so far away.

“Yeah. Had to work a little bit harder on my end, but I got him.” He reached over and patted her shoulder. “We got him back.”

Something in the way her eyes went cold and far away made his fight drain out. He didn’t know what else he could do or say, but he opened his arms just in time to have her fall against him. His face mushed into her curls while he hugged her tight into his chest.

“Were you mad at Cas?”

Dean thought about it for a second. “No. I mean, I was at first. That asshole got himself killed over and over again. Leaving me alone.”

“But you had Sam. Jack.”

“Yeah,” Dean pulled back and looked down at her. “Well, you had Jody. Kaia. Alex. Patience and even Donna. Made it any easier for you?”

“No.”

“No.” He chuckled while she hid her face from him, asking him to continue. “But I was mad at him. Real fucking pissed, actually. At him. At…at everyone. Sam and Jack didn’t even wanna be near me.” He tries to shake off those dark memories of screaming and feeling nothing but agonizing loneliness. “I just shut down and gave up on…a lot of things because he was gone. Couldn’t really see a point, you know?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I get why you’re mad, Claire. Trust me, I do, but he’s back now.”

“And I’m just supposed to forgive him? Did you just forgive him?”

Dean shrugged, looking back down at her sad baby blues. Hoping she would understand and that she won’t tease him about it later on. “I didn’t want to waste any time being mad at him. I love him too much.”

“Gross.” She pushed him away this time, tucking her hair behind her ear before smiling at him. It reminded him of Jack’s little shy smile. “But I-I think you’re right. Maybe I’m done wasting time.”

They drove back with the music luckily a little lower but Dean just watched Claire drive with a growing smile on his face. He’s gonna have to admit that Cas was right, two messed up people can really relate and help each other out.

When they walked into the house, Dean took Jody from marching over to Claire to lecture her. “Just wait,” he whispered to her, and luckily she listened to him. They both held their breath as Claire walked over to Cas—who looked like he had been sitting in that seat freaking out since they left—and asked if they could try talking outside again. He blinked up at her a few times before nodding, following her to the backyard again.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief when the glass door closed behind them.

“Dean.” He looked up towards his kid, who reached for him from Kaia’s arms on the couch. Dean quickly walked over to pick him up, pressing a kiss to his head while trying not to let guilt eat at him. “Is Dad okay?”

“Don’t worry, bud.” Dean watched Jack’s eyes that showed how much he has experienced, how much he understood. “He’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

On the drive back, Cas had a smile plastered across his face. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened, considering Cas walked in, ready to introduce Jack to Claire. Then Cas spent the rest of the night watching his kids getting along, looking the happiest Dean had seen him in a really long time.

“So, what did you and Claire talk about?”

Cas hummed before looking up at Dean as if just remembering that he was there. “Oh. Um, she just made me promise her something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Same thing I promised you. Don’t get dead anymore.”

“Oh. Good. Keep that promise.”

“I’ll do my best.” Cas looked back at Jack before he leaned over and pressed a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I have a lot to live for now. A family.”

A family. Yeah.

Dean took a peek at Jack with the mirror and then watched as Cas changed his phone background pic to one of Claire spinning Jack around in the living room.

They were a real family.

[blush-and-books]

i’m sorry, but i fell in love tonight

short fic based off of this gifset by @juliesmolinas and the song is there somewhere by halsey. in fact it is mandatory that you listen to the song/read the lyrics/both before/during reading this. yes i said mandatory.

angst with a sappy ending, julie goes through a lifetime of emotions in less than 3k, was originally gonna write when i was in a more emotionally raw state but writing this made me emotionally raw so... enjoy <3

warnings: swearing

Julie made the promise at some point -- she just doesn’t know exactly when.

It may have been when he appeared at her school, all shy smiles and soft glances, professing that she made him a better writer. Or, more definitively, it could have been when she forlornly pulled him into her arms a moment before she was positive that she was to lose him forever. 

All that she knew was her time with Luke was fleeting. So she swore that her butterfly-wing crush was not allowed to fill her chest or dizzy her thoughts; that his lyrics would mean nothing more next to hers than words on a page and his touches would bring her little to no comfort.

Luke Patterson could not complete her. 

The universe wouldn’t allow it -- and neither would Julie Molina. 

But -- either Luke was blissfully unaware of their impending doom or he genuinely didn’t care -- he forced himself through every barrier she attempted to erect. And it was driving her nearly insane, because she made a promise to protect herself. 

Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to do it. Or maybe the universe, despite refusing to give Julie Luke in his entirety, did not want her to be protected. 

It was all in the little things-

When she stayed up with him in the garage, playing him all of the songs he’s missed in 25 years, and he danced around on the slippery floor in his socks and grinned at her with wide green eyes. The neon emerald in the dim light was reminiscent of driving on the highway and passing sign after sign leading to the exits she could have taken, but couldn’t bring herself to.

How New Years Eve arrived and the Molina family gathered in the driveway to light sparklers; Luke’s hand brushing hers as he passed off one of the two in his hands. 

In his head lulling onto her shoulder while she was trying to finish some homework with his help on the torn couch and his lips moving against her bare skin  as he mumbled that she needed to take a break before driving herself insane; followed by her braiding her hair to get it out of her face.

She already had driven herself insane -- but not over her homework. 

(His mouth on her shoulder was the answer to a prayer she never dared to murmur aloud.)

Luke never failed to be present when he was needed. If she was sick or stressed or depressed, he knew when to fuse to her side and when to offer some space. Through careful observation rather than conversation, he knew which of her many sweatshirts were reserved for illness or emotional support. 

In most of those situations, she needed him, too. Her fingernails would curl into his biceps through a cramp or wave of tears and he would wrap her in his embrace and swarm her with warm words that dried her eyes.

She hated it.

When they wrote music, it felt as though they were already reading each other's minds before either of them had spoken a word about their plans. Their journals contained inky black waterfalls spilled from an intimacy that Julie did not want to dissect. 

Again, she hated it. She loved it more than anything and hated that she loved it all -- because it could never be real. 

She would always play second fiddle to death. 

Julie made the promise to herself to not let Luke complete her because, while she had him for now, the night of the Orpheum was a reminder that the universe would not hesitate to snap it’s fingers and eliminate him from existence. 

The universe, being the confusing, stubborn bitch it is, just didn’t get the memo on that promise. 

Because Luke filled every crack and restored every gap in her being, and he shouldn’t.

The hopeless, pining romantic in her that constantly argued with her realist side said they were meant to meet. Even if it was brief and heartbreaking and had the power to hurt her in a way she didn’t understand, it had to happen. If it wasn’t supposed to happen, then how and why did he cross space and time only to fall at her feet?

(Soulmates, a taunting voice whispered. Soulmates.)

((The voice was locked in a closet as punishment.))

She didn’t want to entertain the word. It had too much of a forlorn, wistfully romantic sound to it that Julie didn’t need to associate with Luke when she spent most moments with him at this point convincing herself that she wasn’t in love.

Until tonight.

It is past midnight, which is when anyone’s mental state starts to alter. Things that would be labelled as bad ideas in the daylight could very possibly become fair game when shrouded in a darkness that made everything private. The two of them, Luke and Julie, Julie and Luke, are nestled together on the piano bench as her fingers tiredly press each cut of ivory in a working melody.

“I have an idea,” Luke says, gently shifting his left hand to cover hers on the keys. “Why don’t we press pause on this song for a minute?”

Then, she finally looks up at him. Her eyes probably have crescents like the dark side of the moon crossing her skin, and her hair is all over the place, but he’s staring at her in one of the rare ways that she hates.

She hates it because the look convinces her that she completes him.

This time, however, there’s a hope. A hope, and a hesitance, and she’s simultaneously extremely nervous and beyond curious as to what his plans are. 

“Did- Didn’t you want to finish this tonight?” 

Regret strikes across his face, but he recovers. The softness is back. “Yeah, I just think we need a change of pace.” Right hand on the back of his neck: A telltale sign of a confession of some kind. She’s seen it more times than is healthy. “There was another song I wanted to show you, actually.”

“Oh.” She blinks, he waits. “Yeah, uh, I mean, yeah. Show me. What do you have so far?” He clears his throat as he thrums through the pages to find his target. “The whole thing.”

Julie doesn’t have time to react -- although she’s already in a panic -- before the leather-bound book is being awkwardly shoved into her hands, and the first thing she sees at the top is Luke’s nearly illegible scribble of Dark Room (song for Julie).

“Luke-”

“Just read it.” His voice is significantly raspier than it was a minute ago. “Please.”

She can’t. If he feels the same way and the confession is undeniably in front of her, then what is she supposed to do? Would she rather break Luke’s heart now to save them both down the line, or delay the misery a little longer?

It’s not that she doesn’t want it -- she does. But she doesn’t know if she’s emotionally equipped for any of the options that are offered to her. The destination of any path she chooses leads to a world of heartache.

So, she does the only thing she can think in the moment: She reads the song.

Instantly, the lyrics are blurred from the tears in her eyes because she sees the words “love” and “together” and her greatest fears and grandest wishes are coming true. The sonnet proclaims that she’s his light that illuminated his once-dark forever, and that he was hers when they didn’t even know each other, and that he will be hers wherever he ends up next.

He just wanted her to know that he would have waited another lifetime in the blank, limitless limbo he was in for 25 years if he knew she would be there when he was set free.

And, in the moment, Julie allows herself to acknowledge that her promise is broken.

She’s fallen in love. 

And, apparently, he has too.

(Maybe they can claim just one night. The universe owes them that much, doesn’t it?)

“Julie?” God, he sounds so worried. A shaking finger trails up her jaw to catch falling tears, and his contact makes her gasp. He pulls away and shoves his hands together to fidget in his lap. “Julie, are you- Fuck, I’m sorry, I just fucked this up, didn’t I? I fucked it all up. Fuck, I-”

When she chances a look up at him for the first time in the couple of minutes that she’s been staring, hopelessly, at the song in her lap -- he’s got his face covered by his hands pressing roughly into his eyes, and he’s turned to face the piano instead of her.

He takes a deep breath, and it sounds… 

Stuffy. 

Three more tears leak from Julie’s eyes. More build up every minute as her right hand runs along his shoulder, “Luke…”

“No, Julie, please just drop it.”

“Luke.”

“I clearly misread a lot of stuff, and I’m tired, so maybe you can just go to bed and forget-”

Her hand wraps tightly around his upper arm like it’s done so many times when she has been in distress. “Luke.”

There’s a crack in her voice from sheer desperation. She needs him to look at her, so that she can wipe his tears and smile through the sobs and tell him he didn’t misread a single thing. She would wait a lifetime for him to come out of the dark room, she loves him too, and she’s going to forget all about it. 

And ask him to do the same.

At least the scratch of his name catches his attention long enough, because he angles back towards her, and swallows thickly before meeting her eyes. Salty teardrops linger against his eyelids and eyelashes; the red rimming illuminating the oceanic green to look like a gemstone. Her grip relaxes.

“Yeah, Julie?”

She attempts a smile. “The song is beautiful, Luke. I love it.”

I love you.

“That’s it? It’s beautiful, and you love it, but you don’t… I’m not in your dreambox, huh?”

He clearly hasn’t dug through it in awhile. He’s everywhere. Discarded guitar picks and notes he’s left in her school journals and plenty, plenty of songs.

It’s funny, because she told him her dreambox was for things that didn’t make her sad. Luke was a double-edged sword -- making her happy every day in a new way, and making her cry into her pillow at night.

How does she explain this? There’s a whirlwind of responses running through her brain and she can barely coherently comprehend any of them. 

“No,” she finds herself sighing as she raises her hand to his cheek, followed by her other hand so that he can’t try and turn away. “No, Luke, no… You’re wrong.”

“What do you mean ‘I’m wrong?’”

Her bottom lip starts to shake. “You think I don’t love you back.”  Both of them feel their breath catch at her use of the word out loud. It feels like a secret that shouldn’t be repeated. “And you’re wrong.”

“... I’m wrong.”

“Of course you’re wrong! You really think I don’t love you back?”

“Why are you crying if you love me?”

“Because we can’t do this!”

He scoffs, and Julie’s heart is racing in her chest as he pushes himself off of the piano bench and her hands fall from his face. What has she done?

“That’s bull, Julie.” His fingertips tug at his hair. “You don’t need to make a big dramatic show to convince me it’s wrong just to let me down easy. You aren’t going to talk me out of this.” Dead-on, he stops pacing back and forth, and looks her in the eye. “I love you.”

Listening to him say it, the way his mouth moves and his voice ticks with conviction at each syllable, is what makes her break. 

“And I love you too.” 

He reels back. He probably wasn’t expecting her voice to raise from their odd, in-between whisper and normal volume.

“But don’t you get it? Luke, we aren't in some magical place where we can meet each other in the middle. A place like that doesn’t exist. You’re dead, and I’m alive, and any future here ends with both of us losing each other.” 

“Julie-”

“You said you would wait another lifetime, right?” Using his own lyrics against him. She watches his hands twitch before nodding; the movements of his head barely visible. “Then wait. Another lifetime, another two -- the fucking universe clearly didn’t want us to have this one, so we’re stuck waiting for the next one.”

Even through his clear and fighting need to argue, to talk with her about this, he stiffly nods his head. It’s obvious that she has thought way too much about this from the way she’s barely choking out each word before crumbling into tears before his eyes -- but then again, he’s thought about it too. 

Callused hands are running along her neck to tilt her face up out of the blue. She was too busy crying to notice that he had crossed the distance between them to stand right in front of her and assure that she was meeting his eyes.

“Luke-”

“No, Julie, it’s my turn. Please.”

She won’t argue with him. So, with a tender swipe of his thumbs under her eyes, he proceeds.

“Look, I get it. You think I don’t get it? I fucking hate being dead, for so many reasons, Julie. But if I never died, I never would have met you.” Her lips part, and maybe he thinks she’s going to protest because he smoothly lifts a finger in front of her lips that barely makes contact. 

(Julie almost presses her lips into it.)

“And you’re right. I wish there was somewhere that we could meet in the middle, but we don’t have that. I wish so many things, Julie. But none of them involve a life where I don’t have you.”

She whimpers, because listening to the man that normally chains his emotions in a cage bare his soul to her at nearly one in the morning is a seriously more out-of-body experience than she expected. She knew, deep down, that she loved him. But she never allowed herself to feel the all-encompassing warmth that she feels now.

“But hey, Julie, look at me,” he coaxes her with a tone that drips with affection. The pads of his fingers are nearly kneading into the back of her neck. “Like you said: The universe didn’t want to give us this lifetime. They couldn’t let us have all the fun, right?” Both of them let out a watery chuckle. “But they still brought me to you, didn’t they? They let me know you in this lifetime, even if we couldn’t have forever. I said I would be yours wherever I am. So even if this,” he gestures to his ghostly form, “isn’t forever, even if we don’t have this lifetime… You know I’ll love you forever, right?”

It was a monologue straight from one of her dreams that left her waking up with a manic smile and tears running down her face. 

Unable to form any other response besides an unaware nod, Julie waits for him to continue.

“And maybe, the universe will give us the next lifetime, or a whole new universe, or… Just somewhere where we can get forever.” 

Abruptly, his hands slide from her neck and grasp her hands like he needs to hold on firmly enough to believe that she’s still real in front of him. Julie is still speechless and teary, and in the most sentimental gesture, Luke kisses the back of both of her hands. 

“We’ll get forever, Julie.” His warm breath puffs against her skin. “I promise you.”

And, well, if he promises forever in the next life -- then why can’t she take what she can get in this one?

--

tags: @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @lydias--stiles @moreflowersthanweeds @pink-flame 

[callsign-mischief]

The Gift of a Weasley Sweater is a Powerful Thing [F.W.]

Day 23 prompt of ‘A Very Harry Potter Christmas’ : ‘Weasley Sweater’

Thank you so much to @jamilelucato and @whack-ed for letting me participate in this writing challenge! I am so sorry it is extremely late, please forgive me. Hope you like it!

Fred Weasley x Female!Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: Mention of fighting, Umbridge, Umbridge’s using that quill, George being mean, a few cuss words, mention of  “bloodtraitor” *if I missed anything that should be put into the warning, please let me know!* 

Word Count: 6.5k (so sorry!)

As the Christmas holiday was quickly approaching and many students were preparing to leave the comfort of Hogwarts to spend time with their respected families, it was becoming increasingly normal to see different love-sick couples scattered about the castle basking in each other's presence to soak up every last ounce of time they could before being separated by the long vacation. What wasn’t normal, however, was seeing Fred Weasley spending any, and almost every, spare second he had with a girl doing the exact same thing. And to make it even more unusual, a Slytherin girl! 

It was a few days before Christmas break and George Weasley has had enough of seeing his brother act like a lovesick fool.

“I do not know what is going on in that head of his but I’m right ‘bout to take my beaters bat and knock some sense into him. Thank Merlin she’s not wedged her way into coming home with us!” he huffs sending silent daggered glares toward his twin brother sitting a few feet down the way at the Gryffindor breakfast table with his serpent of a girlfriend nestled into his side. He couldn’t stand the sight. How did Fred Weasley, a proud Gryffindor of all people, become entranced with none other than a snake? It just didn't make sense! 

From across the table, Lee Jordan casts a glance up towards the inter house couple before returning to face the boiling redhead sitting across from him. “Honestly George, I don’t know why you hate her so much, you've never even actually met her! She is actually quite nice y’know? She helped me escape Snape once, it was brilliant!” 

“She’s a Slytherin, Lee! The whole lot of them can't be trusted…” he grumbles, taking a quick bite of his slice of toast before sipping his pumpkin juice and clearing his throat. “I don’t know what game she's playing but I’m gonna find out what it is. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Lee could understand where the boy in front of him was coming from. Fred had never taken a liking to any Slytherin house member before, no matter who they were, up until the week before the end of the previous school year when you had transferred to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons. “Just give her a chance George. You never know, she could be genuine in her love or whatever she feels for him and not be as bad as you think!” 

On top of what George, and almost everyone else at Hogwarts, was already putting up with this school year (aka Professor Umbridge terrorizing the school and you know whos return creating chaos amongst the wizarding world) George didn’t want to add having to be civil with a snake to his list of things to deal with. 

“Yeah...guess not but still! She has not approached any of us, his siblings, to get to know us and they have been cozied up since she got here last semester! In my book, that's already a bad sign.” he frowns looking at the couple again. 

Meanwhile down the table, the two lovesick teenagers are conversing amongst themselves, oblivious to the pointed looks from her boyfriend's twin.

“So I have Ron, George, and Ginny’s gifts all wrapped up and ready to be handed out...and I was thinking, maybe I could come up to the common room later after lessons and give them out? What better time than to finally let me meet them and get to know them than Christmas!” she asks, voice dripping with excitement and hope. 

A grin graced his lips as he admired her excitement. “That sounds like an excellent idea, love, but with Umbridge, I don’t think it’s safe to be going into others common rooms.” 

“I really would love to officially meet them, Freddie. We’ve been dating for three months and you haven’t introduced me to any of them. They’re your siblings, part of what makes you,you! Especially George. I mean come on- he’s your twin! Your other half! And when has Umbridge terrorizing the school ever stopped you from breaking the rules? I can come up and watch them open presents, maybe stay the night so I don’t get caught sneaking back to the dungeons….we can spend some time in the common room after everyone’s gone to bed?” you giggle playfully.  

“You had me at ‘stay the night’!”

Another giggle slips past your lips as you peck his lips before rising from the bench. “I thought you would like that idea. I am off to see Professor Snape before my potions lesson starts, I will see you later in Transfig, yeah?”

Fred nods quickly, leaning up to peck your lips once more before you turn and strut out of the Great Hall. He watches you go with that same dopey smile on his face and his eyes swirling with pure adoration. He was in love. 

After a hefty handful of morning classes, a quick lunch with friends, Transfiguration with Fred (whom of which you got to spend no time with due McGonagall partnering you with other people) and one intense charms lesson, it was finally time for your favorite part of the day; your free period. You weren’t sure how you got so lucky to have a free period at the end of the day but you definitely weren’t going to complain. 

Normally you would spend the free period in the Slytherin common room, on the Quidditch pitch practicing, or in the Room of Requirement (which had quickly become yours and Fred’s spot when he decided to skip afternoon lessons), but today you decided to change things up and direct yourself to the library. You had spent your fair share of time amongst many stacks of the old, dusty books for studying purposes and to grab different for-fun reading material but hardly ever did you come in here to spend your free time. 

Upon entering, you quickly set your course for the small ‘Muggle Fiction’ section that had been added in recent years, in search of a new adventure to lose yourself in. Your study partner, Hermione was the one to actually introduce you to the section and recommend a few novels to try reading and you turned out loving them all. Despite being a pureblood and having the nasty ‘I hate everything Muggle’ stereotype follow you around everywhere like a shadow, your heart couldn’t help but get excited about Muggle literature, your favorite genre so far being Romance.

Once you have made your pick of entertainment, you gravitate your way to a back corner nook of the library to get comfy-that is until you see the back of a familiar mop of fiery red hair fluttering between shelves before plopping down at a table with his books. 

Having not been able to contain the excitement of seeing your man (even though he should be in potions), you quickly divert your course to him, staying quiet with a beaming grin on your face. Once close enough behind him, you reach out, playfully covering his eyes with your hands blocking his vision from the herbology book he had been scanning through. 

"Guess who, Freddie." You giggle. 

"What the bloody hell? Get off of me!"

Your eyes went wide in horror upon hearing the voice of the man who was definitely not your boyfriend!

"Oh, Salazar, I'm so sorry! I thought you were Fred from the back!" 

George stood up from his seat, turning to you with a piercing glare, "You should really make sure you know who you are approaching before you touch them!" 

He hadn't completely yelled at you but the angry tone and rise in his voice made you want to nearly cry. 

 You cast your eyes to the side, the amount of complete embarrassment you felt had your face feeling as though it was on fire. "I..I know, and again I'm really sorry about that. I- I'm uhm...I'm (Y/N), by the way...Fred's girlfriend." You look back to him, introducing yourself properly for the first time. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you George." 

"I can't say the same for you, snake." 

You recoil at the name, "What did you just-" 

"You heard me, a snake. That's what you are, clearly. Whatever love spell you have my twin under, you need to end it, and end it now." 

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "What are you talking about? There is no spell. I wouldn't do that to Fred, or anyone for that matter! How can you stand there and accuse me of something like that when you don't even know me?" 

“Don’t think I know you, do you? You're a stuck up, entitled, conniving witch whose family only cares about things as ridiculous as blood purity and money. Everyone knows what kind of people you are. You and Fred have been dating for months and you haven't approached any of his siblings to get to know them. And what’s more is that over the summer you didn't even want to come to the Burrow to spend time with his family; it was always him leaving to meet you. What does that say about what kind of person you are?"

"You don't know a thing. That was not because of me! That was always Fred's choice, I wanted to-" 

"No, don't try to seem all innocent now. You don’t want anything to do with us and we certainly don't like you. Now, if you'd excuse me, I best be leaving."

Before you could get another word out, George turned and collected the books he had grabbed, walking away to the front of the library and out its doors. 

*

*

After your encounter with George in the library this afternoon, your day had only gotten worse.  

You had attempted to break up a fight between two of your younger Slytherin female students but you had ended up getting elbowed in the face, leaving you with a small black eye. Yet before you had the chance to visit the Hospital wing, you were summoned to Umbridge's office.

What had been intended as a “friendly chat” -the pink toads words, not yours-, upon seeing your forming black eye when you stepped into her office, you were dished up a detention for “unacceptable display of muggle dueling from a prefect”. You tried to explain the situation and what had happened but it only seemed to aggravate the woman more. She implemented your detention immediately- the punishment being having to write lines. Instead of writing lines for the said cause of your detention, you were made to write lines for "associating with a blood traitor below your class grade". The way she talked about Fred made your blood boil with rage but you didn’t want to make your situation any worse than it was so you kept the angry words and insults for the woman to yourself.  

And finally to top off  your terrible day, you had received a letter from your parents stating that they would be spending the Christmas holiday in a tropical paradise while you were to stay at Hogwarts, alone.  The day was turning out to be too much to handle and all you wanted was Fred. But with him nowhere to be found, you took to locking yourself in an abandoned classroom in the dungeons, crying out your frustrations. With your eye swelling, your hand stinging like crazy, and your chest aching knowing that Fred's family already hated you without meeting you, you felt completely miserable.

After what had seemed like hours, you finally managed to get your hysterical sobs under control to only getting small hiccups ever so often. Your eyes stung from the hours of repetitive rubbing away of tears and you could only imagine what you looked like. Breaking from your ball-like position in the corner of the room, you rise from the chilled ground, stretching your aching limbs as you take a glance at the small watch on your wrist. You see that dinner had started almost half an hour ago. With a sigh, you emerge from the dungeon’s classroom making your way up to the Great Hall. 

When you enter through the hall's double doors, you immediately scan the Gryffindor’s table for the man you have come to love. You spot him quickly as he's waving his arms around wildly with a wide grin on his lips, seeming to be telling a crazy story to the surrounding group of his friends made up of George, Ron, Harry Potter, your study partner Hermione, and Lee Jordan. You can't help the way your eyes fill with nothing but pure love seeing him in his element; entertaining people and making them laugh and smile. Your eyes cut to his twin sitting beside him and your face falls. 

In that moment, his harsh words from earlier this afternoon ran through your head on repeat like a broken record you couldn't stop. You never wished for anything more than to meet Fred's family and have them approve of you and your relationship but with the way things were going, that would never be anything but a wish. 

You b-line for the Slytherin house table, taking a seat next to your best friend. As you start to shovel food onto your empty plate, his eyes fill with concern. 

"Blimey, (Y/L/N)! What in Salazar’s name happened to you."

You pause and give him a quick pierced glance before resuming to fill up the plate of food. "Do not start with me Zabini. I've had a rough day." 

"I can tell by that black eye of yours. Did Weasley do something he shouldn't have to make you cry? Because you know I will-" 

You crack a sad grin at his over protectiveness but let out a sigh, "N-no, he didn't do anything...he's great. It's just...I don't know.." you trailed off. You didn't want to out George and have him face Blaise's wrath, but how could you keep the day's events away from your best friend?

Blaise noticed your hesitation and rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, "hey, if you don't want to talk about it right now, you don't have to but I'll be here for when you're ready and have the right words." 

You give him the best side hug you can manage as your eyes begin to prickle with a few tears. "I know and thank you Blaise. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

He returns the hug with a smile, "probably be miserable, I suppose. But I meant what I said. Just because I support you and Weasley's little love fest doesn't mean I won't hex him into next year if he hurts you." 

You shove his shoulder playfully before returning back to plate to enjoy your meal. 

As always, dinner was delicious and you stuffed your stomach full with too much dessert. You rise from the bench along with your fellow Slytherin's and begin to trickle out of the great hall. As you are walking between Theo and Blaise, a hand reaches out and grabs your arm from behind, spinning you around. You're met with a pair of familiar soft and warm lips being placed on your own. Before you can respond to the kiss, your boyfriend pulls away with a smirk leaving you with a small pout.  

“Don’t go pouting, love. You will get more kisses soon, are you ready to go? Hell- what happened to your eye?!” he cups his hands around your face, inspecting your eye closely.

 “It's nothing, don't worry. Where are we going?”

“You don’t remember? You were going to stay the night after you handed out gifts to Ginny, Ron, and George. Which by the way, I've got to tell you, I’m a little peeved off I’m not getting my gift yet and I’m your loving, devoted boyfriend who adores you and who worries about you.”

You rub your neck nervously, looking away from him. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day and I forgot..”

His eyes scan your face, his frown only growing deeper “I thought you were excited, love. I didn’t think you would forget something like this. What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t help it. Hearing Fred ask ‘what’s wrong’ after the day you’ve had, unleashed a new wave of fresh tears. 

“Woah, woah, love what happened? Why are you crying, did I say something wrong?” he quickly encases you in his warm embrace, pressing your head gently to his chest to muffle your sobs. Your body shakes horribly as you try to keep yourself from crumbling right then and there in the hall in the presence of other students. 

He looks ahead to see Theo and Blaise have stopped in their places, noticing your absence and are now looking at him holding your distraught figure. He sends a pleading look to Blaise, desperate for him to give a clue as to what was wrong but Blaise only shook his head and frowned in response.  He knew Zabini was your best friend and that you told each other everything so when even he didn’t know what was wrong, Fred began to worry even more. 

As Fred held you to his chest, he gently brushed back your hair with his fingers a couple of times hoping it would calm you. Bending down slightly so as to not scare you, he whispers into your ear, “C’mon, love. Let’s go up to my room and we can cuddle until you’re ready to talk. How does that sound?”

You nod your head slowly, breathing deeply as you can as you step away from him. His heart shattered seeing your eyes so puffy and bloodshot. Gently wrapping an arm around your waist, he guides you up the moving staircases to the portrait sealing the Gryffindor common room. Fred mutters the password and once there is enough space for you both to walk through, he softly pulls you along, hoping that the room will be empty or at least empty enough so you will be comfortable walking through. To his relief, the only people who have opted to stay out in the common room were George, Lee, Ginny, and the Golden Trio. George is the first to notice his twin's sudden presence.

“There you are Freddie, been wondering where you went off to. Hopefully not to see that-”

“Shut up, George. Do you and Lee mind staying down here for a while? We would like to be alone for a bit.”

Ron pipes up from his spot on the carpet by the roaring fireplace. “We?!” 

Just then, George and Ginny’s head snap to Fred, only now noticing you curled into his side, face pressed into his shoulder. 

“WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?! She-”

“Not now George! You’re my twin and best friend and I love you but please don’t start right now, mate. Just give us some time, please.” Fred begged. 

George backed away with a scowl before nodding. Fred glances at Lee who gives him an encouraging nod with a soft smile. With a sigh of gratitude, he thanks his roommates, guiding you to the stairs. With a flick of his wand, he says the counter charm to keep the stairs from changing and walks you up.

Once you're in the safe space of his room, he sits you on his bed as he couches down by the end of it rummaging through his trunk. Once he finds what he's looking for, he stands facing you handing you a small stack of clothes. 

"Here, sweetheart. These will be more comfortable for you than your uniform. And look, I even picked out your favorite sweater of mine." 

You let out a weak smile, leaning up to plant a loving kiss on his lips. He returns the kiss, cradling your face carefully between his hands. Fred is the one to break the kiss, placing his forehead softly against yours. 

"Let's get changed, love." 

With a final nod, you pull away and stand, moving to the opposite of the room to change giving Fred his own space. Once you're both changed, you walk back to his bed with your uniform gently folded in your hands. Fred takes the stack from you before gesturing you to get in bed. You happily oblige and wait for him to get I'm with you. Once he settles in, you get comfortable in your favorite cuddling position. You being the little spoon with Fred cradling your body to his front.

No words are spoken for the first half hour. Fred doesn't rush you to talk, only softly brushing his hands up and down your arms in slow comforting strokes. Once you feel comfortable and ready to talk, you turn over to face the loving man behind you. You wrap an arm around his waist pulling your body flush against his, burrowing your head into his chest. 

Fred let out a gentle chuckle, squeezing our waist a little tighter. “Are you ready to talk now, love?”

“I ha...frrible ay…” 

Fred let out a deafening howl of laughter. “I have no clue what you just said, do you mind repeating that more clearly for me, sweetheart?”

You pulled away from his chest, “I said that I had a terrible day.”

His joyful expression was quickly replaced by one of alarm. “Why what happened?”

‘Here goes nothing…’ You thought. 

With a deep breath you begin. “It wasn’t so bad at first. Double potions went okay, lunch with Blaise and Theo was good. Transfig sorta fell short because McGonagall split us up but that was okay too, nothing to ruin the day. It all started in my free period.” you stopped, beginning to feel nervous and nauseous . “W..we always say that honesty is the best policy...right?”

He confirms your question with a small dip of his head. “Of course”

You continue on, “I went to the library today to find a new Muggle romance book to read and well...before I could pick one that I liked, I thought I saw you weaving in and out between the bookshelves. I got excited seeing who I thought was you and so I ran up behind him and put my hands over his eyes like how I do with you and well…”

Fred knew where this was going and he instantly began to feel awful. 

“It was George, as you could have guessed and needless to say he did not appreciate that. Of course I apologized, but he was still so angry and not just about me touching him. He seemed to be mad at me, as a whole person. He accused me of having you under a love spell and said that he knew what kind of person I was because of my family. Told me I was entitled and stuck up because I haven’t approached him or Ron or Ginny to get to know them nor did I visit the Burrow to spend time with your family this summer. I tried to tell him that me not coming to your home or meeting your family wasn’t my choice but he didn’t want to hear it.” you sobbed, letting the building tears in your eyes fall freely. 

If Fred didn’t feel terrible before, he sure as hell did now! He knew that it was long overdue for you to meet his family but just when he got the nerve to introduce you, he couldn’t. While Fred was a very confident man in many aspects, your lifestyles were complete polar opposites and it oftentimes left him feeling inadequate. While you live a life of luxury, Fred and his family oftentimes struggle to make ends meet. While Fred’s family is thought of as a full lot of blood-traitors, your family name is highly admired and respected amongst the Wizarding community. Now, the Weasley boy knew such trivial things didn’t matter to his girl, but the worry he had of you leaving him once you dived in deeper to what made Fred, Fred was just too much to take the risk. 

Fred couldn’t even begin to be mad at George for what he said to you because he was too busy being angry at himself. He was the reason this happened. He was the one who kept you from meeting his family. He was the one who would reject your wishes to spend time at the place he’s called home all of his life and with the people he loved more than anything. He made you look like you didn’t want anything to do with his family when in reality, you wanted nothing more than for his family to adore you almost as much as Fred did.

“Baby I am so so sorry about all of this. George had no right to say that to you but he wouldn’t have if I had just gotten over my own insecurities. I promise I will make things right, love.” his solemn expression broke your heart and made you cry even harder. 

Wiping your eyes hurriedly, you shake your head. “That’s not even the worst of it! I got this stupid black eye from trying to break up a petty fight between two younger girls from my house, and then when I wanted to go see Madam Pomfrey, I was summoned to Umbridge’s office. One look at my eye and she gave me a detention of writing lines with that horrid quill of hers and my hand hurts so bad! And then on top of everything, my mum sent me a letter this morning saying that she and dad will be going somewhere for Christmas while I stay at Hogwarts instead! It was just one thing after another and when I couldn’t even find you, I broke down. Ended up locking myself in a classroom to cry, it was awful. That’s why I was late to dinner.”

“That bloody woman used that damned quill of hers on you?! I swear, I will make that vile woman regret ever using that on you! Let me go see if Hermione has anything to help with the scarring.” 

Before he could get out of bed, you wrapped your arms around him tighter, “No! Don't bother her about it, I just want to be with you right now. Don’t leave, just stay.” 

It was hard for Fred to contain the anger he had raging through his body but he gave in to your request.  He settled back into his position, pulling you in tighter by your waist. “I am so sorry all this happened to you today, sweetheart. I promise, the first thing tomorrow, I will make things right. I will owl mum and tell her you will be coming home with me for Christmas and then I will face my siblings and explain everything to them. Then once I’m done there, I will make that pink toad wish she never set foot into this school.”

By now the tears had stopped falling, leaving you to the occasional sniffle. “Can we just go to bed now? I’m tired.”

Fred snuggles down deeper into bed pulling his heavy crimson duvet up around you both, tucking you in. “Let’s sleep. Tomorrow will be better”

You wish Fred had been right. No sooner than you were both peacefully asleep, you had been rapidly alerted awake by Professor McGonagall busting into the dorm room. You and Fred had both sprung up to see her shaking George awake. When she made her way over to Fred’s bedside, she paused in shock seeing you there.

“Miss (Y/L/N), what in Godric’s name are you doing in Gryffindor tower? And in the boys dormitories no less!” 

“I-I.. well.. You see, what had happened was-” 

“Never mind that, we don’t have time. I need you and mister Weasley to come with me immediately.”

Once you were all out of bed and met with a disheveled Ginny, the four of you were guided back to the Headmaster’s office and upon entering, you all see Harry looking distraught. 

Ginny was the first to speak out, “What’s going on Harry? Professor McGonagall said you saw dad hurt-”

Dumbledore answered the girl before Harry had the chance. “Your father has been injured doing some work for the Order of the Phoenix. I am sending you all to Sirius’s house by portkey instead of the Burrow, where you will meet your mother. But we must hurry before Umbridge is made aware you all are out of bed. Hurry now, all of you.” 

Immediately you all gathered around the kettle you would be using to transport you and waited for the countdown from Dumbledore. On the count of three, you all placed your hands on the portkey and instantly you felt the pull behind your navel and a rush of wind before you were met with the ground of a...kitchen? 

Before you could comprehend anything, into the kitchen came Sirius Black. You weren’t entirely sure what to make of seeing the man in the flesh but looking at him as he spoke to Harry and the Weasley children, there was no way he was this “mass murderer” you had read to believe. After a small riff between the twins and Sirius about staying put instead of rushing to St. Mungo’s, he offered everyone up a butterbeer (which you graciously accepted) to calm the nerves. When you all had received the small letter from Mrs. Weasley, Sirius suggested that everyone try to obtain some rest so one by one, each of you filtered off to catch some sleep once you were finished with your respective butterbeers. You and Fred go off together to find a couch big enough for the both of you, quickly settling into deep sleep.

*

*

*

In the days that followed upon your arrival, you had finally met Mrs. Weasley and although you were seeing her at a tough time, she was thrilled to meet you and have you around for Christmas. Things were a bit tense with Fred’s siblings given the state of things, but you didn’t want to make what they were going through worse so you gave them their space. With your free time you had got to know Sirius and seemed to get along well given the many similarities between the two of you. You had also learned about the Order of the Phoenix and found that his home was made the Order’s headquarters. And then on the day the Weasley family was heading to St. Mungo’s to visit Mr. Weasley, you met a few more of the Order members, including Mad-Eye and Tonks. After a few discussions with them about the Order and their careers as dark wizard catchers you just knew you wanted to follow their paths and become an Auror and join the Order after you finished your schooling. 

It was finally the day Mr. Weasley would be getting released from St. Mungo’s and the whole lot of you Hogwarts students were busy tidying up around preparing for his arrival while Mrs. Weasley, Mad-Eye, and Tonks went out. 

You were currently cleaning down the tabletops in the kitchen with Hermione when you heard George in the next room over beginning to speak out of the blue. “I just don’t get it. My father has a near death experience and he has to come home to around another slimy snake...unbelievable.” he scoffs. 

You halt in your movement as you look up to the door separating the two rooms. The whole time you had been here, you hadn’t possibly done anything to set the boy off.

You hear your boyfriend speak up, anger laced within his tone. “George mate, stop. What the hell! She hasn’t done anything to make you be so cross with her. What the hell gives?”

You drop the towel in your hand onto the dark table, rushing over to the swinging door that separated the rooms. You push it open to see the two redheads glowering at one another in rage as Ginny,  Ron, and Harry stop in the midst of their own cleaning to watch the building argument.

“What gives?” he shouts. “What gives is that she shouldn't be here! She doesn’t belong here with the Order nor is she family! It’s not like she likes us anyways! Besides, she’s a Slytherin for Merlin’s sake! Who knows what she’ll go and tell Umbridge when we get back to school. Better yet, who knows what she will go say to those death eater parents of hers to get all of our asses all killed. ”

“That’s enough! Your bang out of line! You don’t know a thing about her but yet you decide to hate her?! That’s my girlfriend, George!”

 “None of us know her because she doesn’t want us to know her! We’re your family Fred and she’s kept herself from that. She-”

“ENOUGH!” Fred bursts in anger, making you flinch. You had never heard Fred so...so livid before. “That.  Is. Enough.” his tone rough and grave. He looked around the room, looking into the eyes of each of his siblings as he spoke, “You three loathe her because you believe she thinks of us as beneath her. She’s not like that! You all don’t know her because I didn’t want you to know her. I wanted to keep my family and my relationship separate and I see now that that was a horrible mistake and I’m sorry! She truly has always wanted to meet and spend time with you guys  but I have been the one to say no every time, even when she begged and pleaded!”

“Ginny.” His little sister's body straightened upon the hearing of her name, “you would actually really like her. The way you feel and talk about Quidditch, she’s the exact same way. You’re as much of a headstrong firecracker as she is too. You would get along so well..” 

“Ron…” he paused looking at his youngest brother, “I have never seen someone more strategic with Wizard’s Chess and obsessed with the Chudley Cannons than (Y/N). You both could talk for hours about that team and never get tired, you would think she’s great, too.”

Fred looks back to his twin, his eyes softening. “And Georgie...you’re my twin. You have no idea how hard she fought to meet you. After mum and dad, she’s wanted to get to know you the most because she knows just how much you mean to me. You aren’t just my twin, you’re my best mate. Not only does she support me, and you too, she supports our dream of opening the joke shop; something we’ve wanted since we were kids! You would love her maybe just as much as I do.  She’s actually brilliant, I’m telling you. She’s smart, funny, inventive, ambitious, and just as much of a kid-at-heart as we are..” he grinned a bit with a few tears pricking his eyes.

The tension encased in the quaint room was undeniably thick. With teary eyes, you take a glance at his siblings and see their faces are all beginning to mirror the same emotions. Embarrassment, guilt, and shame. You couldn’t lie, seeing them at least a bit remorseful for the way they treated you and made you feel, made you feel a tad bit better.

As he takes a few paces across the room to stand next to you, he looks around at his siblings one last time, “If you want someone to be mad at, be mad at me. Not (Y/N). As my family, I’m begging you, give her a real chance. I love her and I can guarantee you all would love her too.” 

You gently wrap your hand around Fred’s bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze with a watery smile. He looks down at you, tenderly kissing your forehead before grabbing your hand in his much larger one and leading you up the staircase to the room you were staying in. You peek back at his siblings as you ascend the steps, offering them a meek smile of their own. When Ginny had returned with the slightest smile in response, it gave you a new hope that things would be different from here on out. 

*

*

*

Christmas was finally being celebrated at 12 Grimmauld Place and everyone was in high, happy spirits. In the past few days, Ron and Ginny took the initiative to get to know you, and you with them; and as Fred predicted, they enjoyed you and the company you offered. You connected very well with the both of them, and you couldn’t be happier.  Mr. Weasley was ecstatic to finally meet you at last and welcomed you wholeheartedly. He ended up talking your ear off quite a bit about all things he knew about Muggles but you genuinely enjoyed his conversations and enthusiasm! 

Currently, you were helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, placing the last few finishing touches on the small feast the lot of you would be indulging in when Fred and George strolled into the room. Fred waltzed over to you wrapping a strong arm around your waist, spinning you around into his chest. You giggled happily as he placed a quick tender kiss on your lips before pulling away when his mom swatted his shoulder from behind him. Mrs. Weasley announced that the food was ready and for everyone to take their seats so you could get started. Before you all tucked in, she walked around the table handing out brightly colored paper wrapped packages to each of the children. You were beyond surprised when she gestured for you to grab the one she had been holding out in front of you. 

“I got something, too? Mrs. Weasley, you shouldn’t have! Thank you so much!” You spoke as you tore open the wrappings. You see a beautifully homemade scarf and matching gloves in your house colors of silver and green. Your eyes crinkle in excitement as you wrap the fluffy scarf around your neck. You peer up at her again, “I love it, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, dear. I hear those dungeons are quite chilling, those ‘ought to keep you extra warm, I guarantee it.” 

You thank her again and before you can begin to show Hermione your wonderful gift, another package is thrusted your way. You see only this time, it’s George holding it out to you. 

“What is this?” you gently grab it from his hands, your eyebrow arching in wonder. 

“This is technically something from the entire family but I had been the one to ask mum to make it. I owe you, and Fred too, a huge apology. I was a right foul git to you and should have never said those awful things to or about you, and for that I’m very sorry. I know it doesn’t completely change the fact that it happened but I hope you both can forgive me. I have never seen anyone a better match for my twin and I’m happy he has you in his life. Go ahead and open it.“

Your beam at him as you unwrap your second gift, your eyes immediately filling with happy tears when you look down to see what it is. You take the dark green plush sweater out of the paper and hold it up, your eyes roaming over your first initial  that had been stitched in white,  in elation. “My very own Weasley sweater?!” 

George cracked a sincere smile as you hurriedly pulled the sweater over your head to try it on. “Welcome to the family, (Y/N).” 

*

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Taglist: @weasleytwinswheezes

[spacedikut]

“let me do this for you. please.” ; aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner (criminal minds) x reader

summary: it’s left to you to help aaron with his injury. taken from this prompt list - 1781 words

a/n: this is kind of shitty trash but i wanted to add to the one hotch fic ive written

Aaron Hotchner, in all his glory, is more often than not described as strict. Maybe even grumpy.

It takes less than one conversation with the unit chief to fully understand this, sometimes all it takes is witnessing the way he walks and holds himself, and he’s become somewhat notorious for it.

However, you know more about Hotch than the average person. More than either of you care to admit. For a while you were certain he hated you, definitely didn’t trust you, despite being highly trained and told again and again by your team that that’s just how Hotch is. Emily, especially, pulled you aside to tell you she was also victim to his cold persona at the beginning.

It takes time, she’d said, but he’ll warm up to you. He won’t be able to resist.

It all changed when he appeared at your apartment door several hours after you’d been discharged from the hospital following a gnarly gunshot wound to your shoulder. He stood there, with his famous furrowed brows, straight-mouth look on his face, cradling a basket. He’d made you a ‘get well soon’ package – your favourite candy (he knew that?), some DVDs (including your favourite – he knew that?), and his favourite book (written by your favourite author). There were fluffy socks and a colouring book, too.

“I couldn’t visit you in the hospital,” He’d said, “So Jack and I made you a gift basket. He chose the colouring book.”

In your stunned silence you didn’t ask any further questions, just took the present and contemplated getting shot again in hopes he would pay another visit, maybe come inside. Maybe fall in love with you. You’re not picky.

That night you realised your unit chief doesn’t hate you and you definitely don’t hate your unit chief.

Now, almost a year later, there’s been some big changes. You’re pushing Aaron onto his bed as he grips the top of his bleeding forearm; he’s mumbling curses under his breath while pouting – yes, pouting, no matter how much he’ll deny it when you tease him about it later. It had taken you raising your voice at him to convince him to let you help at all, let alone clean the cut, so you allow his brooding.

When you sit on your heels of his bedroom floor in front of him, he instinctively opens his mouth to, once again, say something along the lines of, “You don’t have to do this,” or “I can look after myself.”

You interrupt before he can even begin.

“If you refuse to go to the hospital, refuse to let an on-site medic come to you, you’re gonna let me help you, you got that?” You snap, fuelled by worry and frustration.

On the scene he’d refused medical attention, telling the medics to focus on the victims which, fair enough, was valid. But then Rossi had tried to drive him to the hospital, to get stitched up because anyone could see the cut on his arm needed it, and he’d argued and argued to the point where Rossi shoved him into your car and said, “You take him. He’s being a child and I am too old for this.”

He kept telling you to just drop him off home and he’ll be fine, but you couldn’t do that. You have a medical background; you’ve stitched up everyone on the team at least once, excluding Hotch, and you’ll get peace of mind if you do the job and know he’s okay.

You followed him inside, he kept telling you to go home because he’s fully capable, and you kept telling him to shut up. Now you’re here.

Aaron says nothing in return – just stares into your eyes and maintains a tight, strained posture.

You recognise the look in his eyes, then. Everything clicks into place in your head and your heart hurts slightly.

“Let me do this for you. Please.”

Aaron is a leader. A protector. He always has been. He trusts his team with his life, of course he does, but he’s also stubborn. The idea of anyone, let alone the one person who’s somehow wormed their way into his life in a way he hadn’t prepared for, seeing him so vulnerable after a stupid mistake led to an even stupider injury is downright humiliating for him.

He’s embarrassed. He hoped he could sulk home, drink a little too much whiskey as he clumsily cleaned himself up, and move on like nothing happened.

But it’s you, all non-judgemental eyes and worried tone with your caring and reassuring words. You’re too good for him. You’re too good to him.

You work slowly and gently, in a very you way, and Hotch watches closely the entire time. You assume he’s watching so he can do it himself next time, can use this as an excuse for you to not do this ever again, but a part of you wonders if he still doesn’t trust you.

He sits patiently, until he realises how much blood he’s lost and starts to feel woozy. It’s very possible he has a concussion, too, along with the exhaustion from not sleeping for at least twenty four hours. His head feels like it’s swimming and his vision gets a little blurry.

You notice him swaying and stop what you’re doing to hold his biceps to steady him. His eyes almost roll, but he seems to jolt himself out of it. Aaron has this disturbing ability to act as if nothing bad is happening – for example, right now. The blood loss is alarming, he just almost passed out, but it’s like he flicks a switch in his brain that decides nah, let’s not do that.

“You okay?” You ask, voice quiet.

He nods and mumbles, “Yeah. Brain almost collapsed.”

You think that’s an attempt at a joke. You’re too concerned to laugh, even fake it, and slowly move your arms back to the med kit you’re rifling through.

“Brain dumb.” He adds.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes. Aaron surprises himself by wanting to cry at how beautiful you look.

“My name’s Aaron. You should call me it.”

You laugh quietly – the blood loss is beginning to get to him and he’s losing his professional barrier. The barrier that he lets down rarely, usually only when he’s in the comfort of his home, maybe relaxing with you and Jack. This is a special version of that, amplified by his injury.

“I’ll call you Aaron, then.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright, Aaron.”

He goes back to watching you, contentment coming off him in waves.

You’re done a few minutes later, Aaron’s cut all cleaned and stitched up. You wrap it in gauze and move the med kit aside, standing before him and sighing, hands on your hips.

“Alright. Bed time.” You say.

Aaron flops back on his bed, arms spread – it makes you giggle. It reminds you of the one time you had to bring drunk Hotch home.

“Move up, Aaron. Against your headboard.” You command.

As he moves, you grab some of the pillows he doesn’t use and place them under his legs to elevate them. You go to his ensuite and fill a glass of water, placing it on his bedside table, and look at the handsome unit chief seemingly asleep. You lean in closer to get a look at his condition – is he pale, cold, clammy?

His eyes snap open. You jump back in shock.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” His voice is rough, he’d almost fallen asleep, and his dimples begin to show when he smiles at your surprise.

“I’ll always take care of you, Aaron.” You say instantly, trying to fluff the pillow behind his head. You don’t realise what you do to him, he thinks, or what the things you say do to him.

“Let me take care of you, too.”

You smile, ignorant to the way he’s looking at you, “You do take care of me. You take great care of the whole team, A. You’re kind of amazing at it.”

You move to tuck him in, like you’ve watched him do to Jack many times.

“I mean-“ He stops you, large hands holding your wrists, “Let me take care of you. No one else.”

Your brows furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Me, Aaron, take care of you, Y/N.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I can take care of you.”

“Yeah, I know,” You laugh at the situation, the ridiculousness of how you’re going in circles, “I just told you that you take great care of me.”

He lets out a deep breath in exasperation, “Let me take care of you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That sounds sexual, sir.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t mean it-“ He cuts himself off, “I mean, yes, but no, at the same time.”

You open your mouth to say What?!

“I’m trying to ask you out, Y/N.”

Oh.

You’re stunned, to say the least, and speechless. There’s nothing more you’d like than to go on a date with him, but he’s… vulnerable right now. Fragile. You’re not sure he’s in the right state of mind for this conversation.

Hotch senses your hesitation before you even register it yourself. He begins to backtrack.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s inappropriate-“

“Aaron.”

“Yes?” Despite the look on your face, filled with doubt, he’s still hopeful.

“I would really like to go on a date with you.” He smiles at that. “But you’ve lost a lot of blood and you’re concussed AND you’re exhausted. I can’t take what you say now as, like, gospel.”

He nod as if he understands, but the concoction of ailments he’s got going on make him incapable of truly recognising what’s going on. All he knows is that you said you’d really like to go out with him, and that’s good enough for him.

“Say this again tomorrow and I promise you I’ll make it worth your while,” You grin, now smoothing his hair away from his face as he blinks slowly at you.

“Make it worth my while, huh?” He sleepily smirks, a teasing lilt to his voice. If he wasn’t on the brink of sleep you’re sure he’d look too good for you to handle, but now he just looks adorable.

“Oh yeah. So worth it.”

“Alright then. Night night. You can kiss me on the forehead, if you feel so inclined,”

You roll your eyes and give a big sigh jokingly, “Only because you’re injured.”

You lean, give a quick peck to his forehead, and his dazed gaze follows you like a magnet.

“See you tomorrow, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

awkward ~ harry styles

word count: 1911

request?: no

description: after taking a role in a movie that she regrets, she has an awkward encounter with the inspiration for the movie’s source material

pairing: harry styles x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

(fair warning, there’s some slight trash talking of after. i really don’t like that movie or the books so if you do...maybe skip this imagine)

“And here we have (Y/F/N), star of the new teen romance After!” the interviewer happily announced into the camera.

I tried not to visibly cringed as I waved at the cameraman.

When you’re an actress, there’s this unspoken rule that you shouldn’t regret the movie that will launch your career. And, in some aspects, I didn’t regret After. I made new friends thanks to filming that movie, and, even before the first trailer launched, I was becoming a household name.

However, there was some things I regretted about After...like the decision to star in it.

I took the role of Tessa before I even really knew what the movie was about. I decided to do some research by reading the books, only to become absolutely appalled by them. The relationship between Tessa and Hardin was absolutely toxic, and the books only plot was basically sex. The entire trilogy! It was like reading Fifty Shades of Grey for teenagers. At that point, however, it was too late. I was already signed on to do the movie and I couldn’t back out.

Now, I was locked into trying to talk good about the movie until it was announced that I had backed out for the upcoming two sequels, something that wouldn’t happen until months after the movie’s release I was sure.

I was on the red carpet for an award show and I had already given at least four interviews about the movie. I was starting to get tired of it. Was this how Robert Pattinson felt trying to promote Twilight? That poor man.

“Were you aware of the source material before you took the role?” the interviewer asked me.

I shook my head, giving her the response I had basically memorized at this point. “I wasn’t, actually. It wasn’t until I got the script and it said it was based off of a book by Anna Todd, and I knew I had to go read the books.

“What were your thoughts when you read the novels?”

I thought it was an awful relationships and sex for teens. "It was interesting. The first movie isn’t a super close adaptation to the first book, but I think fans of the original will still like it.”

“Were you aware it was a fanfiction before a book?”

I tried not to sign in annoyance at yet another familiar question. “I found out shortly after reading the books actually. That’s pretty fascinating!”

“I don’t know if you knew this, but Harry Styles is actually here tonight. Do you hope to meet him?”

I felt slight panic swell in me. I wanted to say absolutely not! I didn’t want to have to face Harry after what I had been a part of. He couldn’t have liked the fanfic, it was awful! He probably hated that this movie was being made, not that he could really do much about it considering Anna Todd changed all the names in the book so it could be published.

I tried not to let me panic show as I responded, “As a long time One Direction fan, I would love to meet him if given the chance.”

I managed to get away from the interviewer before she asked anymore questions. I felt like I had to be on high alert now. The last thing I wanted was to run into Harry, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t want to run into me, either. Unless he didn’t know I was here, in which case that would make running into him even more awkward.

I managed to bypass any last interviews and get into the venue. Among the crowded room of people, I searched to see the one familiar face I was looking for. I let out a sigh of relief when I didn’t see him and went on to mingle some of the other attendees.

We were only 30 minutes to show time when I heard the familiar deep voice that I had been dreading all night. “Hello.”

I turned away from the conversation I was having to see none other than Harry Styles stood behind me. I felt my face heat up in embarrassment and I just wanted to melt into the floor. Did he come looking for me? What was he going to say to me?

“H-Hi,” I stuttered, causing Harry to smile.

“You must be (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you,” he said, extending a hand to me.

I tried to remain cool as I shook his hand. “I am, yeah. It’s nice to meet you, too, I’m a big fan.”

“So I’ve heard. An interviewer out there told me that she had been talking to you just before she talked to me.”

I could only imagine what an interviewer had said to Harry. Some of the interviewers on red carpets were vultures, they just liked to stir up drama for the sake of clickbait.

“Is that...all she said?” I asked, afraid of what else might’ve been said to him.

Harry shrugged. “She just talked about the movie some. I avoided those questions.”

I couldn’t stop the groan that erupted from my throat at this sound. “I am so sorry, I hope you know how much I regret filming that movie.”

Harry tilted his head. “Why do you regret it? They’re already saying it’s going to be the next big teen romance phenomena.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Too bad I won’t see it grow after the first movie.” I mentally scolded myself for spilling the beans already as Harry gave me a confused look. “I didn’t sign on for the second movie, or the third or however many they’re gonna make in the future. The first After is the end for me, that’s it.”

“Why would you do that? This is an easy three movie deal, wouldn’t most people kill for that?”

I shook my head. “I can’t believe you’re so concerned over this. I thought you’d hate the whole franchise considering it’s based on a really shitty fanfiction about you.”

To this, Harry chuckled. “Well, I don’t exactly like the After franchise. I’m definitely not looking forward to more people becoming aware of it due to the movies, but I also know what it’s like to try and break into the fame scene. It’s hard, you should always grasp what you need to in order to get to where you wanna go, you know?”

I smiled at this. “I guess you have a point. I’m just glad you don’t absolutely hate me for starring in the movie.”

“How could I hate you? I haven’t even properly met you yet, and so far, you’re too nice to hate.”

I felt blush creeping up my neck at this. I looked away from him, but couldn’t contain the smile on my face.

Harry and I talked for another while until we were being ushered to our seats. I hated to have to break away from him, but I had a feeling I’d see him after the show again.

The award show felt like it dragged on forever. I wasn’t nominated for anything, After hadn’t even come out yet, and I wasn’t presenting anything. I was just there to give interviews on the red carpet and to be just another face in the crowd. The performances were good, and the host of the show was hilarious, but I couldn’t help but wish it would just end already.

When it finally came to an end, I found myself waiting outside the arena for my Uber ride home. I was watching in confusion as my driver went in the exact opposite direction. Weren’t they supposed to have the GPS on their phone working? Where the hell was he going?

A car pulled up in front of me and the passenger side window rolled down. Harry’s smiling face beamed at me from inside the car as he asked, “Need a lift?”

I looked down at my phone, seeing how far away my Uber was yet again, before cancelling it all together and climbing into the front seat.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” I responded. “Uber sucks.”

“You didn’t get a ride to the show with anyone?”

I shook my head. “My manager sent for this fancy car to take me, so that I looked good in front of the cameras and such, but didn’t arrange a ride home for me.”

“That’s shitty.”

I shrugged. “That’s show biz, kid.”

Harry smiled and chuckled at this, and I felt a warm feeling in my stomach. Not a bad one, quite the opposite really.

The drive was silent for the most part, just some quiet music playing. I watched out the window as Harry drove, unsure of what to really say or do in this moment.

“You like the show?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

I shook my head. “Not at all. I thought it was quite boring since I had nothing to do besides talk up the movie I hate to the press.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, that’s understandable. Award shows are more fun when you’re not just sitting in your chair for like two and a half hours watching other celebrities get awards for things.”

“You did good, though,” I told him. “Your performance was amazing, you had the whole audience on their feet.”

He tried to contain it, but I could see the proud smile on his face. “That’s what I try to do with my music - something you can dance to and feel something when you’re listening to.”

“You definitely do both.”

God, small talk is so awkward. Why can’t you come up with anything else to say?

“I’m not good at this,” I admitted.

Harry glanced over at me for a moment. “Not good at what?”

“Talking to famous people,” I responded. “Well, super famous people I guess. I chatted with some people tonight who were more on my level of fame, but you’re like...you have your own level. Doesn’t help that I had a crush on you during my One Direction days.”

Harry’s low chuckle confirmed that I had indeed said that last part out loud. I face palmed so hard, the sound of my hand hitting my skin was actually audible, which caused Harry to laugh more.

“I’m such a mess,” I groaned. “Just dump me on the side of the road, it’s my time to go.”

“If I did that, I wouldn’t get to see you again.”

I looked over at him. “You wanna see me again?”

“Only if you’d like to spend more time with me.”

My smile was so wide that my cheeks were actually hurting, but I could’ve cared less. He was actually asking me to hang out and spend time with him? Yes please!

“I’d like that a lot,” I told him.

I was slightly disappointed when we pulled into my driveway, but it wasn’t enough to rid myself of the excitement I was feeling. Harry and I exchanged numbers before I got out of the car and smiled at him one last time.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised. I was too shocked to say anything else, so I just nodded before making my way to the front door of my apartment.

When the door closed behind me, I exclaimed with excitement and jumped around like a child on Christmas morning. Who knew that the movie I so despised would bring me some good, and not just with my career?

[ofaprilflowers]

- part 2: home? - 

warnings: descriptions of injuries, not too detailed.

tags: shout out to my first-ever requested tags, @sista7-7​  @softieus​ and @marrambles​ yay! Thank you for reading and sorry for the late update TT. Hope you guys enjoy :)

disclaimers: I am not a medical professional, this is all part of my imagination and totally made-up therefore is in no way accurate. If you find any part I could improve on, do tell. I would appreciate the feedback. Other than that, enjoy! <3

previous/next

It took another week for me to finally be discharged. A week of rehabilitation and physiotherapy (which Dr. Hwang said would be continued after my discharge TT). I had lost strength in my extremities and also my sense of balance. This, I found out after almost falling down right on my face when I attempted to climb out of bed for the first time. Almost, well because thankfully, he was there. 

My parents had arrived the night I woke up. My mother immediately cupping my face, tears brimming in her eyes while my father just took my hand in his and smiled every time I looked his way. 

It felt surreal, honestly. My family and I were close. But we were not exactly the type to be crying and holding each other, or professing our love for each other. We were the laugh-at-each-other’s-life-problems-cuz-I-had-it-worse-than-you type of family. Then again, for me it felt like I was waking up from a long nap, while for them, they didn’t know whether I would make it or not so, fair enough.

Turns out, the accident was pretty bad. My head had to be stitched up and so now there was a nasty gash above my left eye (it was definitely gonna scar but let’s not think about that right now). My arms where full of cuts and scrapes from the broken windshield. My legs and chest, badly bruised. Dr. Hwang said they had healed fairly well in the past two weeks, but I still cringed at how ugly they looked every time I caught a glimpse. He also mentioned that I was lucky not to have sustained any other serious injuries other than my head trauma. I was grateful of course, but losing my memory was deleterious enough. 

I woke up every morning feeling confused as to why the heck I was at a hospital and it took a few groggy minutes to remember. Sometimes it took seeing Jaehyun- either curled up asleep on the armchair or standing next to the window with a cup of coffee in hand- for me to come crashing back into reality. 

I learnt through my mother- who had attempted to fit the past 2 weeks of my unconsciousness along with the last 6 years into a 2 day crash-course- that Jaehyun was the only one who stayed at the hospital every day and night. My mother had stayed the first week, as my condition stabilised however, she opted to visiting daily. That also depended on whether my father was available to drive her 45 minutes to the hospital from home. You see, my parents were rational people, but I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of hurt. I mean I was laying unconscious on a hospital bed yet there were still other important stuff to be handled. Well, as they say, life goes on, right? Kind of made me think if I had just hallucinated the tears brimming in her eyes the other day.

While my mother would babble on about looking on the bright side and starting my life again, Jaehyun’s presence was like having a burden be lifted. I know I’ve lived most of our “acquaintence-ship” hating him, but I made a mental note to properly thank him for this in particular. On every occasion that my head felt like it was about to burst from the overwhelming information my mother was flooding me with, he’d interject, naturally bringing her focus to something other than trying to piece me back together. Often times he’d ask her to join him for a cup of coffee, or show her things he was currently working on. I’d close my eyes then and pretend to fall asleep.

“So, you’re saying, I should continue my life ‘as normal as possible’. Meaning?” We (the doctor and I) were currently in his office. By tomorrow morning I was finally leaving. Goodbye to the sanitary, boring hospital, hello to......well, life?

The doctor had explained all the procedures and follow-up appointments that were to come. Both to Jaehyun and I. Then, we talked about going home and that’s when I realised, home had changed. I don’t know how we had avoided addressing it, or maybe I was the only one in denial of it. I mean throughout the week after regaining consciousness, although Jaehyun was there, we barely talked. Mostly because I became a selective mute, and he, well I guess he was respecting my space?

Dr. Hwang had noticed the awkward silence that had passed after he mentioned about going home and quickly changed the subject, calling in a nurse to guide Jaehyun in signing my discharge papers or something. After he left, the doctor didn’t hesitate in putting on what I call his “uncle-face”.

“As normal as possible, meaning that it’s better if you return to your daily routines prior to the accident,” he explained for the nth time.

I fidgeted in my seat. “But, wouldn’t that cause me more distress? It’s a life a barely know.” “Astrid,” he began, straightening his back. “I understand how hard it my be for you to wrap you head around all this. 6 years is a lot. But it is your life. Your experiences and memories throughout that period were real, and you deserve to remember them. You need to give your life a chance.”

Well, damn. He had a point. He should’ve been a therapist instead.

“And, what if my memories don’t come back?” I prodded.

“Well then, at least maybe you’ll learn more about yourself.” Okay, then. Here we go, Astrid.

We live in a loft?!?!

Pretty sure my eyes were bulging out of my head but wow.

Eyes wandering around the space, I tried to take in everything at once. This was certainly NOT what I had expected. This can’t be real right? I must absolutely be dreaming.

“Welcome...home?” Jaehyun said.

My head snapped in his direction, mouth agape. He smiled sheepishly, his infamous dimples popping out, his hands tucked into his jean pockets, his shoulders lifted briefly. He looked like a child, shyly presenting to the world his greatest creation. I almost smiled. Almost. 

“You like it?” he asked.

I scoffed. “For real?”

My eyes turned back to the space he had referred to as home. Well, it didn’t feel like home (yet. Remember Astrid we’re giving this a chance), but yes, I absolutely love it!

I took in my surroundings again and this time, couldn’t help the smile that crept up my cheeks. 

The space was gorgeous. It was big, but not huge. It was small, but not tiny. It was spacious enough to have everything and more. There was an L-shaped sofa that could probably fit 5 or maybe even 7 people if squeezed in together. There were even 2 more smaller ones in front of it. Perfect for a small gathering. Opposite the living room was a kitchen, with a small kitchen island. God, I’ve always dreamed of having an island. There was another floor and at the stairs leading up to it were ceiling-high windows with a bumped-out seat, all set with pillows on one end and potted plants on the other. It looked like the perfect spot to read or stargaze at night. I walked into the living room, the brick walls were covered in framed movie posters and artwork, some smaller frames containing pictures which I guessed were probably a collection of memories.

I stepped closer and caught a glimpse of some familiar faces in unfamiliar settings. One photo caught my eye. It was a photo I remember, taken earlier this ye- I mean well, early 2017, right after graduation. I was sandwiched between Jungwoo and Ten, holding up a peace sign to the camera. Jaehyun on Jungwoo’s other side, hand around the latter’s shoulders. Others in the picture smiling widely, so many poses, so many expressions. Literally, it felt like yesterday. 

“You remember that?” Jaehyun probed. 

I smiled. “Yeah, just a couple weeks before Taeil’s birthday bash, right?”

Then, something flickered in my mind. Of Jaehyun, smirking at a table with his friends, of them exchanging words and laughter, of me hearing something I probably shouldn’t have. Jaehyun had many circles of friends, being the typical extroverted, super-friendly campus sweetheart. This circle was one I wasn’t quite familiar with, least to say I didn’t really like them. I felt my cheeks heat up as my blood boiled at the thought of that memory.

“You wanna see upstairs?” Jaehyun’s voice pulled me back into reality. I turned to look at him. He was standing right next to me, looking almost exactly the same as the Jaehyun I knew. The Jaehyun that I couldn’t stand being in the same room with. The Jaehyun that always had a competitive, mischievous glint in his eye. The Jaehyun that would take every chance he got to argue with everything I said. The Jaehyun that made me feel like I had to defend everything I had. 

There was a slight difference, though. The competitive, mischievous glint was somehow...softer. It made me confused, because I was angry, but looking at him now, I don’t know who to be angrier at. Me, or him?

“Ummm, I think, I just- I just wanna lie down,” I tore my eyes away from him and took a step back, putting just a little more distance between him and I.

I saw his fists clench and unclench a bit at his sides. A moment passed until he said, “Yeah. Sure,” walking back towards the doors he picked up my hospital bag and gestured towards a room behind him.

“This is actually, um, our bedroom, but don’t worry, I’ve moved most of my stuff upstairs so this space is all yours,” dropping the bags on the bed, he stepped aside to allow me in. It was a beautiful room, with slanted windows, decorated with some more plants. 

“So, feel free to look around, get used to the place and all. Oh yeah, um, this is the bathroom,” he opened a door on the left of the room, then gestured toward a closet in front of the bed, “Your pyjamas are in the top drawer and, uh, well, um, everything else is-”

“I’ll take a look,” I smiled at him briefly.

His eyes landed on mine for a moment, then quickly looked away. 

“Yeah, okay, so um, I’ll be outside, if you need anything just, um,” his hands, one scratching at the back of his neck, the other gesturing undecidedly, “yeah.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied. He stood there for a second, then turned to leave the room.

“Jeahyun?”

“Hmm?” he snapped his head towards me, eyebrows lifted in question.

“Thank you,” I breathed.

I saw a bit of tension leave his body. “You don’t need to thank me, Astrid,” he replied softly. “This is- this is your home too.” With a tight-lipped smile, he closed the door behind him.

[florenceandthemachine]

The last meet-cute I asked you for was so good and I saw this prompt on someone else’s blog so if it sparks anything: “We’re both hiding in the garden furniture section of IKEA”

do you ever see a prompt and just have a full fucking fic pop into your head? just me? ok. 

here’s some fluffy-trope-y-nonsense! also saw you just had lasik sorry if reading this unedited nonsense makes you go blind again xoxo

When it came to IKEA, Eddie was typically a messy person. Normally, he relied on one of two things if he needed to stay focused; a thorough, detailed list, or Christopher, who had absolutely no patience for Eddie wandering through a literal warehouse of crap, designing for a home he didn’t buy.

Which was rough, considering his current mission—buy some new furniture for Chris’s room for his birthday. Which meant he had no list, no sense of direction, and no Christopher to keep him on track. That would normally spell a recipe for a distracted disaster—but he was so focused, so determined to get this right, that he was confident in his shopping abilities for once. He had to be, he only had two hours until Carla brought Chris home, and two hours wasn’t enough for an IKEA visit on a normal day. So he had to be focused.

He’s so focused, in fact, that as he passes by the Poäng’s and the Fjällbo’s, he almost doesn’t notice the man in the plants.

And no, that isn’t something that he can clarify. 

There is a man. In. The plants. 

What?

He tries to walk away, but the image of a tallish, blondish, beefyish, honestly pretty cuteish if Eddie is being honest, fully grown adult hiding in the plastic bamboo is a bit too much for him to ignore.

“You know, those plants are fake. If you’re trying to check the soil, they’re definitely not gonna need water any time soon.”

He tries not to laugh as Plant Man immediately stumbles, nearly knocking over a Smycka, a Fejka, and a whole case of hanging planters as he turns around. It’s cute. Kinda sad, but cute.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, I kind of figured. I mean, they’re realistic looking, but definitely fake. No, I’m—I’m hiding.”

Hiding? This was an IKEA, a place where you could get lost without even trying. 

“You’re hiding.”

“Yeah. My ex is here.”

Oooooohh. That, Eddie could understand. 

It was easy enough to spot who he thought was the culprit, if the harrowed look on her face and half empty yellow bag was anything to go by. 

“Shorter, redhead, kind of sloppy smokey eye, looks like she would stab someone with a high heel?”

Plant Guy laughed, but the sound didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, that’s Taylor.”

Eddie pretended to be engrossed in his phone as he looked over to the stranger again, tilting his head to the side. 

“Well, I’ll tell you what. If you agree to help me load what I buy into my truck, and get me a plate of meatballs before we leave—the full size plate, by the way, I’m not settling for less than ten meatballs—I’ll help you get rid of her for good. I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“I’m Buck.” Plant guy—Buck—looked like Eddie had just handed him a goose that laid golden eggs. “For good? No, way. You can really do that?”

“I can.” Eddie said seriously, extending a hand to Buck. “But you have to trust me. My methods may be extreme, but I can almost guarantee results.”

A bit dramatic, maybe, but he still found himself smiling as Buck easily took his hand, taking a moment to savor the warmth. A sharp tug was all he needed to pull Buck up and out of the plants, making a sort of yelping noise, stumbling over a row of Boysenbär pots as Eddie put a hand on his hip, helping him steady. 

The effect was instantaneous—while the noise wasn’t loud, it was just enough to draw the attention of anyone who happened to be searching through the warehouse already. 

Eddie could feel the redhead’s eyes laser lock onto him as he steadied Buck’s hips, his opposite hand coming to cup Buck’s cheek. 

“Sweetheart, you okay?” He plastered what he hoped was a look of concern on his face as Buck turned bright red, something that thankfully could be attributed to his stumbling, and not the fact that a near stranger was calling him ‘sweetheart’. He was mercifully quick on the uptake, at least, a smile blooming over his face as he chuckled, ducking his head, pressing into Eddie’s hand a bit more, and oh, wow, that was fucking adorable.

“Yeah, I’m good, sorry, I just… thanks, baby.”

Eddie chuckled as he dropped the hand from Buck’s face, the hand on his hip lacing with Buck’s instead, tugging him along. “C’mon, I want to look at a new lamp for the living room. We need something brighter, and as much as your smile lights up a room, I’m tired of stubbing my toe in the morning.” Eddie said, pulling that story directly out of his ass, hoping that he was selling the ‘teasing boyfriend’ aspect as he pulled Buck along.

It was purely coincidence that the route to the lighting section of the warehouse was only a row away from the redhead that was currently glaring daggers into Eddie’s back. 

Once they turned the corner, Eddie let his hand slide out of Buck’s easily, the air a little cooler than he was expecting after being so close to someone so hot something so warm. 

“Holy shit, that was amazing.” Buck blurted out, looking at Eddie like he hung the moon, and yeah, Eddie could admit, he preened a little under the admiring gaze.

“There you go. You’ve just earned yourself a harassment free shopping experience.” Eddie said proudly, winking as he took a few steps back, snatching up a yellow bag and tossing it over his shoulder easily. Buck still looked a little flustered, and honestly, it was cuter than anything Eddie could have hoped for—but the tick of his watch brought him back to his mission. “Hey, I hate to scare off an ex and run, but I gotta make some quick choices, so...”

“Oh! Oh, uh, for sure. Thanks again, Eddie.”

“No problem. Good luck, Buck.” Eddie winked for good measure as he turned around, feeling warmth pool in his stomach. He hadn’t had that much fun flirting since before he was married, and while he worried occasionally that he lost his touch, the blush on Buck’s face begged to differ.

--

Eddie was making good time. He had narrowed it down to two potential presents—it was either a Vitval bunkbed / loft, complete with a desk and a physical-therapist-approved ladder, and Eddie knew that Chris had been dying for a bunkbed for forever, but... on the other hand, there was the Phal workspace, with plenty of drawers, shelves, and surfaces for Chris to completely drown with his pictures, Legos, arts and crafts. 

He had been stuck between the two—literally, standing between both display models—when he felt a hand slide into his own, blinking in surprise, a low voice in his ear before he could turn. 

“Sorry, uh, she followed me out of textiles. I’m so sorry, this is super weird, I just can’t shake her off, and—”

“Phal or Vitval?” Eddie asked, cutting him off, raising a brow as Buck just blinked.

“Uh, gesundheit?”

“Very funny.” Eddie said, squeezing Buck’s hand, tilting his head between the two. “I’ve been stuck here for like twenty minutes, and you’ve been no help, leaving me just so you could get your...” A quick peek into Buck’s bag told him everything he needed to know. “...artwork and lightbulbs. Which should we go with? Phal or Vitval?”

Buck blanched at that and Eddie let himself chuckle, shaking his head as Buck groaned. “Come on, Eddie, you know I’m no good at making decisions. I don’t even remember which toothpaste I like, I rely on you for things like that.” he said, and Eddie had to admit, he was impressed with the little tidbits of information Buck was throwing into their faux-relationship so easily. If this Taylor chick was still in earshot, Eddie would have bet that she was just plain pissed by now.

“I know, I know. You really are hopeless, aren’t you?” Eddie said with an exaggerated sigh, bringing their linked hands up to his cheek, pressing Buck’s knuckles against the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t intimate enough to be a kiss, not really, but to the casual bystander it would have looked like a simple show of affection, kissing his boyfriends knuckles in the middle of an IKEA. 

As he pulled the hand back, he did a quick scan around them—no redheads in sight. “I think your coast is clear—is she still hanging around?”

Snapping himself out of what looked like a trance, Buck blushed again—Eddie could get really used to that—and looked around, shaking his head. “No, I think she’s gone, um. Thanks again. And sorry. Again.” he said, their hands falling free again. Buck was the one to retreat this time, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I should, uh, probably go back and grab the dish set I had to ditch, but If you want my opinion, you should definitely go with the Flem.”

“Buck,” Eddie started, trying and failing to keep the smile off of his face and the laughter out of his voice as Buck turned away. “That was not an option!”

“Sorry, can’t hear you! Go with the Flem!”

--

In the end, Eddie had wound up buying both—Chris was turning ten, damn it, Eddie was allowed to treat him—and finished up ahead of schedule, swinging by the restaurant to make sure he had everything before he started the trek out to the parking garage. He was double checking his receipt when a tray clunked down across from him, two plates of meatballs sliding his way as his brows rose up into his hairline. 

Buck sat down shortly after, looking incredibly too apologetic as he handed Eddie a fork. “Sorry, she kind of followed me away from the register, and I saw you here, and... I did promise you meatballs, right?” he offered, and Eddie actually laughed, resting his head in his hand as he took the fork Buck offered, raising a meatball to Buck’s lips to help keep up posterity—and immediately stealing one from Buck’s plate for himself afterward. “So, Buck. What do you do when you’re not hiding in fake bamboo?”

It was incredibly easy to talk to Buck, Eddie found, dangerously easy. They had a fair amount in common, turned out—both had older sisters, Buck with one while Eddie had three, both spent a good amount of time at the gym when they weren’t at home, and Buck had spent some time with the SEALs while Eddie was in the Army.

They even worked together, in a sense—Buck was a firefighter with the 118 while Eddie was a paramedic with Station 6.

“...though I promise, I did not come to IKEA to enlist the help of a handsome paramedic in avoiding an ex girlfriend that literally might be Satan in disguise. I just needed some art to cover a drill hole in my wall before my landlord kills me.”

Eddie almost swallowed his fork, feeling a certain thrill build up inside of him—Buck was flirting. Flirting with Eddie! Eddie hadn’t been flirted with in an age and a half, but as much as he wanted it to continue, he knew that it would be unfair for him to let it continue without addressing the childs-bunk-bed-sized elephant in the room. “Well, much as I hate to admit it, I didn’t come to IKEA today to help a firefighter run away from Satan either. I’m here today buying some furniture for my kid. It’s his birthday next week.”

Eddie squared his jaw, watching Buck process the information, ready for the easy let down. “You have a son?”

Here it comes. Oh, well it was nice meeting you. Oh, well thanks again. Oh, enjoy your day, Oh—

“Do, um. Do you have pictures of him? I love kids.”

... oh. 

Any hesitation Eddie might have felt melted way as he brought his phone back up, easily scrolling through endless pictures of Chris, paying painful attention to the way Buck’s eyes grew wider than his smile.

Oh, no. 

Buck wasn’t just hot, he was cute.

--

Eddie had to admit; after Buck helped him load the furniture into the bed of his truck, true to his word, and Eddie had scribbled his number out on Buck’s hand with a hot pink marker (the hazards of sharing a vehicle with a kid), he wasn’t sure what he should be expecting. What he definitely wasn’t expecting was a message to be waiting on his phone as soon as he started his truck.

Unknown Number, 11:01 AM: so maybe i have a confession to make

Sent, 11:03 AM: Maybe?

Eddie couldn’t deny the spike of curiosity he felt with that, taking a moment to save Buck’s number in his phone as the three dots appeared again.

Buck, 11:05 AM: yes, maybe. taylor maybe actually left when you pulled me out of the plants

i didn’t see her again for the rest of the day

i was just kind of... being self indulgent after that

wow this sounds way creepier than i thought i am so sorry

Literally laughing out loud in his car, Eddie let himself reread the message twice, a smile growing on his face as he typed out a response.

Sent, 11:09 AM: Tell you what. You help me build these monstrosities, maybe bring over a beer, maybe let me kiss you goodnight, and I promise I won’t hold your awkward flirting against you.

He felt another thrill race through his stomach as he sent the message, putting his truck in gear, not trusting himself to look down as his phone buzzed again until he was safely at a stop light.

Buck, 11:11 AM: it’s a date :) :) :) :)

[arsonistvoyager]

A Jedi for a Clone Pt. 2 // Captain Rex x Reader

pairing: Rex x Reader

If you haven’t already, read part 1 here!

Summary: Rex sits down and is determined to talk to you about some unpleasant things that happened on Umbara — you’re ready to slice his head off. 

a/n: Thank you all so much again for the feedback on the first part! They definitely boosted my confidence a lot and as a result I picked up writing regularly again after a long pause. A lot of you wanted a second part and I also wanted to go a little deeper into their relationship so here we go! I hope you all like this one just as much. 

taglist: @starflyer-104​ @mangoberry43​ @kaminobiwan​

“Master I did it! You saw that right? Mention it to Master Luminara when we’re back in the temple! I heard Barriss when she was gossiping about me and I want her to know that I improved.” One moments negligence and you landed flat on your back with one of your lightsabers flying upwards, before falling down and crashing with your nose and landing next to your head. “Ouch!” You managed to catch the other one before it fell on your face as well. It was worth it since you had dodged the blaster hit but in the end you had landed on the ground anyway.

Master Krell had put up this exercise for you, which required you to stand on a bunch of unstable crates that got continuously smaller, the higher you got to practice your physical balance as well as your ability to control the force while reflecting blastershots. On top of that of course you had to do it blindly.

You pulled the blindfold down your face while extending your hand into the direction your lightsabers were lying and wrapped your fingers around each of them.

“But that’s not fair. I thought the last one had hit the blasterdroids main computer... it shouldn’t have been able to function anymore!”

Your Master was sitting a few feet away from you, his legs crossed and his eyes closed – potentially trying to meditate.

“Didn’t sound like that now, did it.” You frowned, sitting up and facing him, unintentionally mimicking his pose. “I’m tired. I’ve been trying to balance on that pyramid of junk half the day now.” “Patience, young padawan. Experience is your greatest asset.” Your Master hadn’t opened his eyes yet. “I don’t need patience when I wield the force.” You gripped your stomach the moment it started growling quietly. “But maybe I need some lunch.”

Master Krell opened one of his eyes and smiled. “How about this. If you manage to meditate with me for at least 10 minutes without any interruptions I will take you to Dex’s Diner.” Your eyes widened in disbelief and excitement. “Really? Okay!” Shortly after you rose to your feet and took a few fast steps forward before swiftly falling to the ground right next to your Master and adopting the same position he had. “Remember Padawan. Patience.” You smiled back at him. “Yes, Master.”

Your lightsabers shined brightly as you polished them for the 4th time in a row. They had not even been dirty in the first place. Maybe some light dust had settled on their surface when your shuttle had landed on Arami and the wind had blown up dirt from the ground. But it was certainly a good distraction and an even better way to calm yourself. You sat far from where the rest of the battalion had set up their campfires. 

The Clones sat around several fires in their own little groups and your enhanced hearing allowed you to hear the conversations they were having. Half of them were about missions, attacks they had used, stunts they had pulled, people they had flirted with. Normal clone-talk you assumed. The other half of them were about you. And you had to admit it was almost cute how they thought you could not hear them, or that you were too occupied with cleaning your sabers to pay attention to your surroundings. Because of course they thought like that. How could simple minded beings like they were understand how a Jedi’s mind worked. Maybe they didn’t even care.

Your movements slowed down and you stared at your shiny reflection on the metal of one of your sabers for a brief moment. Then your eyes shot up and landed on a particular clone with bleached blonde hair. You didn’t like how he had been able to sneak up on you earlier. Nor had you liked the way he had observed you in the tent when you were discussing battle strategies with Skywalker. 

Speaking of the Jedi General... Out of politeness Anakin had sat next to you and talked to you – you of course not saying a word but that did not seem to bother him a lot. He had excused himself earlier to take what he called a very “important and unpostponable” holocall. The blonde clone, Rex, had risen to his feet immediately and asked if he needed his help. Skywalker had glanced your way for a second and assured him that he did not. Reluctantly Rex had sat down again.

Now, almost 20 minutes later he hadn’t returned yet and you were sitting alone, watching Captain Rex. Most of the clones had taken off the upper part of their armor, so they were sitting in their blacks, seeming relaxed.

Your eyes trailed down for a second, noticing how the clothes outlined their muscles. You wondered how many scars the fabric hid. And where those scars were.

It didn’t take long for Rex to notice the stare you were sending his way and he shifted around a little before looking back to you.  Unlike you he couldn’t hold it out for too long. It kept shifting into other directions and back to you. 

One of his brothers with a goatie was telling a story to some shinies, a wide smile on his lips. Something about dominos. Whatever he meant by that. The goatie-guy stopped talking only for a second, when Rex leaned towards him and said something not audible enough for even you to hear. Shortly after goatie shrugged his shoulders and continued talking. Rex however stood up. Your eyes narrowed into slits before widening slightly. No no no. Had you sat in the dark too long and your eyes were deceiving you? Or was that reckless bastard actually walking towards you?

You gripped your lightsabers tighter, the closer he got and finally lowered your gaze. You did not need to see him to know where he was. One or two steps were left when you ignited both of them, a bright luminous blue hue falling over your features and lighting up the area around you. Rex stopped dead in his tracks and you noticed him shaking slightly, before composing himself again. A dozen pairs of eyes turned towards you, half of them were smart enough to look away again and pretend they didn’t see anything.

Your gaze was locked onto the bright blue light. “What do you say, captain?” His title left your lips with a hint of venom. “Are they clean enough?” With that your eyes wandered up to him and stared back right into his. Rex gulped. This was an awkward position. Although he was the one looking down on you, the power was in your hands.

An uncertainty crossed his mind. Would you be bold enough to hurt him? In front of his brothers? He knew they would not hesitate to defend him and stand up to a General – not after Umbara. But he was also convinced you could take them all on. He had heard your stories. And General Skywalker was nowhere near to help.

“Yes, General.” You didn’t turn off the lightsabers. Nor did you speak. But you stared at him and held him frozen with your gaze. This time, he told himself, he would not fail though. He was gonna speak to you one way or another. “Would you...like to join us, General?”

You sat in silence for what felt like minutes before furrowing your brows.

“What did you just say?” You could tell he was getting more nervous by the second. Very slowly and almost intimidatingly you swung your lightsaber, while tilting your head ever so slightly to the side. “I didn’t hear you.” His eyes followed the blade of your weapon and you could see a pearl of sweat roll down the side of his face.

“I asked...If you wanted to join my brothers and I. At the campfires I mean. It seems cold and lonely here.” He was getting braver, the longer he stood there without you mutilating him.

“We also have spicebrew if you would like some.” Your gaze was merciless. “Drinking the night before the mission, Captain?” His eyes dodged yours, looking to his right side, then his left, then the ground and then his right side again. “Uh...No I mean yes. But. We would enjoy it, if you just sat with us. It’s an honor to work with a Jedi…” Your other lightsaber rotated clockwise in your hand – his eyes followed the motion. “Quite like you.” “Cut the flattery.” The surprise made him look right into your eyes. “I’d rather meditate.” 

The next thing he did surprised you to say the least. Rex sat down opposite of you. “Then do you mind me sitting in your company?” Now he was the one looking up into your eyes, as you were sitting on an old log. Your eyes narrowed once more. “What are you trying here, clone?” Before he knew it one of your lightsabers was pointing at him, resting inches from his chin in front of his neck. “Don’t mistake my professionalism for kindness. I don’t trust your kind.” 

Rex, though trying his hardest not to move, seemed weirdly calm about the situation. As if somehow he knew you would not kill him on the spot. “Can I ask why that is, General?” He almost whispered, as he was too scared to strain his vocal cords too much. The fear of them being sliced by the jedi weapon still present.

Your eyes were burning now. “You’re asking me that? You’re actually asking me why?”

Now he had done it. You were angry. So angry. Who did this guy think he was? He was surely trying to provoke you. Where the hell was Skywalker? “Need I remind you it was one of your kind that murdered my Master in cold blood? Did you forget that already? Maybe your cloned brain doesn’t hold enough capacity for that.” Rex bit on his lip. He would not let your words get to him. Besides him and his brothers were pretty much used to distrust and mistreatment from the republic and its organic citizens.

“Who told you...about what happened on Umbara, General.”

“The council of course.” You lowered your lightsaber when you realized the other clones slowly stopped their conversations. Seeing the deadly weapon not in lethal proximity of their captains head anymore had a majority of them pick up their talking again, though many eyes continued to linger on the two of you.

“Did they leave out the part where he told us about abandoning the Jedi to join the new order he thought would rise to power?” For the first time since Rex had looked back at you from all the way over at the campfires it was you who looked to the side. Not wanting to look into his eyes this moment. “Master Krell was confused. The light would have surely found its way back to him.” Your features hardened. “Not that the council would have let him try…” you mumbled, more to yourself, than to Rex.

“But who are you to judge about that, clone.” Your eyes landed on Rex again. They still burned with hate but he was a lot calmer now that he had seen the glint of vulnerability in your eyes and was a little more certain that you would not try to harm him. Rex stood up and your eyes followed his. You did not move when he walked over to you and sat down next to you on the log. Your lightsabers, though, were still ignited and if it came down to it you would still be able to slice his head off clean.

“Did they tell you about the way he had us kill our own brothers?” You stared at the blue hued ground in front of you. That’s not quite what they had told you. 

A mission gone wrong. False Calculations. A deception of soldiers and an unlawful decision by Master Krell that had led to a horrible string of events which obliged the soldiers to act on their own. That’s how the council had worded it. 

“Surely you know General Kenobi. The 212th is his battalion. Many good men I knew. Waxer he...was a good man. Always tried to do the right thing. Always followed orders. The last time I saw him I watched him bleed out. on the ground of enemy territory.” You noticed him grip his left wrist in his right hand.  He was nervous. And scared. But you had not killed him yet, neither had you screamed at him to shut up. So he continued. 

“The betrayal he must have felt in that moment…” Rex rubbed his face. “General I know you don’t like us. Not a lot of people do. But we have each other and that gives us strength. We’re bred for war. And we fight without complaining. But we’re no tools. We still feel. And sometimes...sometimes I wish we wouldn’t.”

Waxer cried in his last moments. Knowing the few people he trusted had fought him with the intention to kill him” He looked away, then towards you and you turned to face him as well. His eyes were...sad. “General Krell ordered this attack on both sides, knowing fully well what was gonna happen. I hated him for what he made us do. I hated him and I wanted him dead before he could hurt any more of us.” You tensed up at the images of your Master being shot. “And I achieved that. I was the one that killed him, General. I didn’t enjoy doing it. And I am sorry about it. Not because he is dead, but because he was important to you. And you lost him because someone else made the decision that he did not deserve to live.” By now tears were building up in your eyes.

“He could have…” You couldn’t even finish your thought. He was right. They weren’t tools. And if anything they deserved their free will. Master Krell had taken that from them. But were you ready to admit that? The Master Krell you knew was kind and compassionate. The Master Krell you knew had let younglings climb onto his 4 arms and swung them around like they requested, while they laughed. The Master Krell you knew had taken you to Dex’s Diner because it was your favourite and had laughed when you told him he’d probably look like Dex himself if the Order hadn’t trained him.

But then he was forced to fight in this stupid, seemingly endless and catastrophic war that raged across the galaxy. Was that enough to change a person? What if the Master Krell you knew was nothing but a memory.

We’re bred for war. No one had given the clones a choice when the war had started. You didn’t notice it but Rex did. The eyes you were looking at him with now were not filled with rage, nor hatred. They held empathy and maybe – confusion. 

“You have every right to hate me. But forgive my brothers. None of us ever wanted this.”

None of you said a word but what could you have possibly said in this moment. So you stayed silent and so did he. The more you looked at him the more you started to notice how genuine he seemed. How desperate for you to understand. And how beautiful he was.

You tightened the grip on your lightsabers once more before you stood up and turned them off. Silly thoughts. Looking over your shoulder back at him you looked him over once more. This man had killed your Master. And your Master killed his brothers. “I’ll decide that myself.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: Again I wanted to include so much more in this chapter but after reaching 2000 words I told myself to stop lol So I definitely have a third chapter planned out where I wanna get into a more romantic vibe! I’m so sorry if this feels too dragged but I didn’t wanna feel like I was forcing something too quick (I mean even that “how beautiful he was” felt kind of rushed ahh) 

[spiderman-homecomeme]

oh, what a laugh it would have been

🎄The Twelve Days of Promptmas🎄 - Day Two

concept: kid fic

❆❆❆

In the three-and-a-half years since becoming a parent, Peter’s learned a lot about himself. 

Or rather, things—facts that have only been confirmed.

Namely, his ability to say no to anyone with MJ’s eyes and wild curly hair has all but disappeared. To be fair, it’s not like it ever existed in the first place. But still, he always likes to think he has some sense of control. 

“Can we read…” His little girl’s words are drawn out as she wanders up from his lap and over to her bookcase, seemingly taking her time inspecting each and every spine; a tactic she’s learned to drag out the bedtime routine. There’s a triumphant smile on her face, a true a-ha! moment as she grabs one of her favorites. “This one?”

Any sense of that control Peter thought he had goes flying out the window when she turns to look at him, holding out the worn copy of Corduroy—the one that Aunt May would always read to him. 

He’s figured out a workaround for this, though, always agreeing to less than what he’s actually willing to read. “Sure. After that, we’ll read two more.” 

“Three more!” She responds with a toothy smile, eyes crinkling as she holds up three fingers. 

Sure, it might not be the best of parenting methods, but if it avoids another meltdown before bed, then it’s fine with him. He’s already had to deal with three this evening; the first, when he gave Lia her a sippy cup of water and, the utter horror, the lid didn’t match the cup. 

The second, when she found out he’d be the one putting her to bed tonight instead of Mom. MJ had already put Ben to bed an hour before, so it was only fair for Peter to take over. Sure, it tugged at his heart a little when Lia ran into her mother’s arms crying, saying she needed Mommy specifically to read her books and sing her songs. 

But he gets it. He’s not MJ. MJ’s cool. MJ’s Mom. 

And the third; when she found out as Peter was carrying her off to her room and her big girl bed—the one she’s always so proud to tell everyone about—that they wouldn’t be lighting the Menorah tonight or opening any more presents until the 25th. Who knew that a toddler wouldn’t understand the concept of Hanukkah stopping after eight days? 

Three books later, and he’s placed her in the bed, clicked off the lamp, letting the soft glow of the nightlight shine, sitting on the floor beside her, his heart soaring in his chest as she holds her stuffed bunny close, snuggling into the blankets. 

“Sing me a song, Daddy!” She requests, stretching her arm out to him. 

“Okay, sweet girl,” Peter says softly, smiling. “One song.” 

She giggles. “Two songs!”

“Okay. Two songs,” he relents without hesitation. “Which one do you want me to sing?” He asks, taking her tiny hand in his. 

“Hush Little Baby,” she answers after a moment of thought, the little sounding more like a widdle, something that definitely tugs at Peter’s chest. 

“Alright,” he grins, his voice hushed. “Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…” Her little voice picks up with his as she quietly sings along, her already drooping as struggles to stay awake. “And if that mockingbird won’t sing, Daddy’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…” His thumb draws a line on the back of her hand, feeling as if his chest is about three sizes too small for his heart. “And if that diamond ring don’t shine, Daddy’s gonna buy you a porcupine—”

Sleepy giggles bubble up from Lia as she dramatically shakes her head. “You’re not singing it right!”

This goes on, Peter purposefully—and maybe even a little on accident—getting the words wrong, all to make his little girl laugh, even as he sings Old McDonald for her. He can’t help but chuckle himself when she scolds him for saying a bark bark here for the cow, or a meow meow there for the horse. It’s enough to almost make him sing another one just for her, when he sees her nodding off. 

After kissing her goodnight as he tucks her in, he makes his exit, quick and quiet. Sneaky, like a spider. 

A quiet falls over the apartment, a peaceful hush that only comes from two successful bedtimes in a row. MJ’s sat on the couch, curled up with a mug of tea in her hand, a book in her lap. He comes up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, pressing a kiss into her hair. She hums leaning into his touch. 

“How’d it go?” She asks as he jumps over the top of the couch, giving him a pointed, warning look when her tea dangerously sloshes in her mug at the movement. 

“Good,” he says, smiling apologetically. “She kinda forgot about everything when I asked if she wanted the dinosaur pajamas or the donut ones.”

Michelle huffs out a knowing laugh, smiling fondly. “Which did she pick?”

“Donut ones.”

“A solid choice.”

“Yes. Very cute.” 

“Read four books, too,” he adds, resting his arm on the back of the couch, thumb softly grazing her shoulder. 

“Only four?” MJ asks from behind her mug, brows raised. “I can see why she wanted me to do it. Damn.” She nudges him playfully, hiding her smile behind another sip of tea. 

“Ouch,” Peter says, placing a hand on his chest, wounded. “At least I make up silly songs on the spot. I’m a good dad, okay?”

Her gaze softens, lips pressing into a faint grin as she takes his hand, interlocking their fingers. There’s a warmth in her eyes that always anchors him, that always makes him feel that overwhelming sense of home. 

“You are.” 

“And you…” He trails off, leaning in to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Are an amazing mom.”

She hums in appreciation when his mouth finds hers, slanting them together in a gentle peck. “I know.” 

He scoffs, more from amusement than anything. 

“You know what would make you amazing though?” She asks lowly, her gaze drifting down to his mouth, her breath tickling as her lips ghost over his. 

“Mmm what’s that?” He replies under his breath, his arm on the back of the couch now fully wrapped around her shoulders, fingers subtly pushing the sleeve of her cardigan down. 

“Now that the kids are asleep…” She trails off, looking to the baby monitor on the coffee table in front of them. “I was wondering…”

“Uh-huh?” A sly grin tugs at his lips. 

It truly is the perfect time for this, he thinks. He’d always heard the stories of certain activities becoming less frequent after kids appear in the picture, and while it’s mostly true—peaceful moments of quiet are few and far between when you have a one-year-old and a three-and-a-half-year-old crawling around the apartment—they’ve still been able to find some time for themselves. Especially in the late evening hours after putting their precious little ones to bed. 

Peter sits up, ready to pounce the second the words leave her lips. He’s learned to be ready for anything. 

“If you could go to the store and get me more of that winter earl grey?” 

Okay, almost anything. 

He deflates, eyes screwing shut as he hangs his head, laughing into his palm. “MJ… That wasn’t nice.” 

But he looks up at her, and the look in her eyes is enough to make him commit to anything ever. “Please?” 

It doesn’t take much at all for him to give in, rolling his eyes playfully as he hops up from the couch. He looks over at her, a satisfied little grin tugging at her mouth as she folds her legs underneath her. “I promise I’ll make it up to you when you get back.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, pointing a finger as he disappears into their bedroom to grab his suit—the faster he gets to the mini-mart and back, the faster she can make it up to him. 

“Please do,” she replies. 

She’s still curled up on the couch when he emerges from the bedroom, now covered in red and  blue spandex, sans mask. “Winter earl grey?” he asks, though it’s not as if he’s ever made a mistake buying her tea. He always knows what she likes, what her favorite brand is. 

“Thank you,” she says, smiling behind another sip. 

And he pauses, unable to help himself as he takes the sight of her in; adorably curled up, looking so soft under the twinkling lights of their Christmas tree, her soft flannel pajamas, and he wants nothing more than to snuggle up next to her right at that exact second. 

He cracks a lopsided, somewhat dopey smile, still as gone for his wife as he was in high school. “Anytime.” He has his mask half-way on, almost to the window, when she stops him. 

“Wait,” she says, rising from her place on the couch, approaching him slowly. “Consider this motivation.” Her hands find their way to his mask, holding it still just above his nose as she leans in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. 

It’s instinctive, the way his hands come to rest on her waist, his touch gentle as his gloved hand smooths over the plush fabric of her robe. 

But then, as he feels himself smiling against her lips, they hear a high-pitched gasp, and they nearly jump away from each other. 

From the archway, they see Lia peeking her head from behind the corner, little eyes wide with wonder, her mouth hanging open in surprise. 

“Ohhh no…” Peter hears MJ mumble under her breath. 

The problem here being that neither of their children know of their father’s second life. It was something that Peter and MJ had decided long before they even had kids, knowing that it would be better to tell them when they were old enough to understand—and old enough to know the concept of a secret identity. 

Certainly not at three-and-a-half years old.

In an instant, before either dumbstruck parent can say anything, Lia dashes down the hallway, out of sight, giggling to herself. 

“You couldn’t hear her sneaking up on us?” MJ asks. 

Peter grimaces. “Oops.”

But all hope doesn’t seem lost. 

“Ben! Ben!” Lia shouts, no doubt waking up her little brother from his restful sleep in his crib. 

MJ curses, chasing after her. 

“I saw Mommy kissing Spider-Man!”  

[fangirlovestuff]

Cycle - Steve Rogers x reader ch.1

a/n- Hey lovely people! this was a one shot idea that spiralled into a multi-part series, and i am very very excited to post this! i actually identify with steve’s situation more than the reader’s, but we all have imaginations😂 also i suck at summaries but give it a chance! the divider is by the amazing @whimsicalrogers​, thank you so much! Enjoy<3

Summary: You want a relationship but keep getting tangled up in one night stands, while Steve just keeps getting himself friendzoned. When pollar opposites with the same desires meet, will you change each other’s lives? Will you break the cycle?

Word Count: ~2,420

Warnings: bad language, mentions of sex

The music was thumping in Steve's ears, way too loud as always but he learned to manage it. He tried tuning back in to Bucky and Sam's conversation, but his thoughts kept pulling him away. He liked going out with his friends, he really did, it's just that lately, life wasn't exactly working out the way he expected it to. Which is normal, I mean, no one's life is exactly like they imagined, but at this point it was getting ridiculous.

A pretty blonde was coming up to them, and Sam and Bucky elbowed Steve, drawing his attention towards her. His overly-supportive friends were, of course, nagging him to "get some" for a while now, and honestly, it wasn't Steve's fault he didn't. It wasn't for a lack of trying.

It's just that, well, Steve was a really nice guy. That was just who he is – sweet, attentive, caring. And he wanted to love someone, physically but also emotionally. But his character kept getting in his way. You see, he had many opportunities to get a girlfriend or even just a one-night stand, even though he wasn't that kinda guy. Plenty of beautiful women came up to him, he was Captain America for gosh sake. He was told he's also very good looking, but that's a matter of opinions. To himself, he still seemed like that scrawny kid from Brooklyn, just that he obviously didn't look the same. Still, none of Steve's thoughts about himself can change the fact he was a catch.

But every time he'd go on a date, or meet someone at a bar, he somehow said exactly the right things. So right in fact, that the women in front of him ended up confessing their secrets to him, opening up to him, trusting him immediately. One time the girl even started crying, a full-on sob session in the middle of the restaurant they were in. And of course, he'd comfort them, rubbing soothing circles across their backs, nodding in that understanding way of his, listening to them with genuine interest in his eyes, because that's just who he is.

And at the end of the night, when he asked, "can I see you again?" or "can I get your number?" they'd answer: "You're so sweet… but I think we would be better as friends, you know?"

He'd swallow a disappointed groan, smiling politely and saying "sure, that'd be nice."

And that's the story of how Steve Rogers ended up with tons of friends who were girls, but not one girlfriend to spare. Honestly, it was kind of sad that a man who listens gets automatically labeled as a friend who doesn't want to date the girl in front of him.

But it was getting sadder that he wasn't, as his friends so delicately put it, "getting some."

Presently, the blonde came up to them, waving and looking at Steve with interest in her eyes. "I'm Sharon," she introduced herself, "Wanna dance?" she smirked. From the corners of his eyes, he could see his friends glaring daggers at him, as if saying "if you say no, I will kick your ass so hard."

"Sure," he said, getting up. He took Sharon's hand and led their way to the dance floor. They danced for a while, moving against each other to the beat. They didn't talk much, because the music was so loud on the dance floor. After some time, Sharon pointed towards the bar and he nodded, feeling hopeful for the first time in a while.

They ordered their drinks, Steve insisting to pay for hers. From their place at the barstools, the music was still loud but bearable, so they could hear what the other was saying.

"So, what do you do?" Steve asked her.

"Well, I actually work at S.H.I.E.L.D," she smiled a little. "I saw you a couple of times but you seemed busy so I didn't come say hello," she shrugged apologetically.

This, of course, would be the time to say something smooth like "I'm never too busy for such a pretty woman." Except that, well, Steve worried that might be a little objectifying, so instead he opted for: "Well, you can come say hello whenever."

She giggled a little and sipped her drink. "I bet you've got some interesting stories though, right? I mean, bring an Avenger and all must make for some adventures."

"Oh, it does." Steve chuckled. "Do you know about the time when, uh, Loki disguised himself as Fury?"

Sharon sent him a quizzical look, prompting him to continue. "He thought he could access some weapons like that. The funny thing is, he almost did it, but Tony fell asleep while making a waffle and nearly burned the kitchen. When Fury didn't appear the moment the fire alarm went off, we realized something was seriously wrong."

She laughed. "Yeah, I can see how that would be alarming, pun intended," she grinned. "Honestly, Fury's great at his job, but he is a bit of a pain in the ass sometimes. I mean, that one time he told me off when my holster was on the wrong side, but we were in the office! What the hell would I even need a gun for?"

They continued to talk about work, and conversation flowed easily. At one point though, the conversation took a more personal turn.

"You know what…" Sharon said, "being in S.H.I.E.L.D is great, but sometimes I wish I would have taken a different path. I always thought that being an agent was my destiny, but honestly there are a thousand other things I could've done," she sighed. "Like, I don't know, be an architect or… a vet. When you're a kid you have all these dreams and then you just end up taking the practical job."

Steve's eyes filled with understanding. He reached out and put his palm on her arm, rubbing it soothingly. If he would've glanced at his friends, he would see them facepalming violently, aware that Steve's getting himself friendzoned, again, but Steve didn't notice. Instead, he told Sharon, "Hey, you're great at what you do as an agent. But It's never too late to change it up. I mean, I thought I wasn't gonna have a chance to fight in the war and here I am," he chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she said, a pensive look on her face. "Thank you, Steve. For the drinks and everything." She smiled and got up, taking her bag with her.

"Wait," Steve said, "can I get your number?"

"Oh," Sharon's brows furrowed for a second before she fixed her expression. "I just figured we'd see each other at work or something, you know, now that we're friends and all."

"Yeah, sure, you're right," Steve said, disappointment settling in his stomach. "See you around, Sharon."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Bye Steve," she said before getting up and walking away, exiting the club while Steve ordered another shot and got back to his friends' table, who took one look at his face and guessed what happened, thus were cackling and giggling like crazy.

He sat down, downing his drink and grumbling, "I miss Asgardian mead." Which only sent Sam and Bucky into another laughing fit.

Later that night Steve plopped down on his bed. He tried to sleep, but his thoughts were keeping him awake. What was he doing wrong? What was it about him that pushed women away? But should he change in order to get someone to like him?

He tossed and turned like that for a while, not finding a good answer to any of his questions. But when finally, after a couple of hours he managed to drift off, he closed his eyes with a resolution in mind.

I'm gonna break this cycle.

You looked around the small café, searching for… Josh. Yeah, that was his name, you were sure of it. Pretty sure anyway.

You sighed in frustration and checked your phone once more. Sure enough, he texted you he'll be this address in five minutes. It was definitely this address.

But it's been nearly an hour and he wasn't here, not texting anything else either. The waitress was giving you weird looks, so you had ordered your own coffee in the meantime.

You met Josh two nights prior, when you were out with your friends. You felt numerous eyes on you as you and your friends were dancing, the alcohol sending a pleasant buzz through your body. Josh was the only one who caught your eye, so when he came by offering to dance with you, you said yes.

Now, this is probably the place to mention you weren't having a lot of luck with guys lately. You liked to divide the guys you met into four catagories, so; pretty much every guy you met has either:

a)      Used you for sex

b)      Blew you off

c)      Gave you a wrong number, probably on purpose, or

d)      "was looking for something casual and it seemed like you were too"

So, your dating life was a little shitty to say the least. You knew that you were hot, or at least that guys considered you to be even though you didn't most of the time. But it's not like you were looking for "something casual." Quite the opposite actually, you were more than ready to date, have a serious relationship like most of your friends did.

But apparently, guys didn't really get that memo. Some days you wondered if you were a douche magnet, or was it maybe tattooed on your forehead that "I am a slut! Fuckboys, assemble!"

It wasn't that, but you couldn't say it didn't sting a little every time you were sent straight to voicemail, or every morning you woke up and found that he snuck out.

To be fair, you enjoyed some of it. The clubbing, the energy you feel when you cross eyes with someone across the room, the occasionally good sex. But for a long time now, it wasn't what you really wanted. You wanted to be sent flowers, not "u up;)" messages.

It wasn't like you didn't have other hobbies as well, and a job you were great at. So great in fact, you were offered to work with the Avengers, starting next week, because the position was open and they knew you were that good. You were a well-rounded person for fuck's sake, not a one-night-fantasy.

But the night you met Josh you really thought he could be different. You both talked, danced, had a lot of fun. And then, you know, went to his place, and argued about if he should put on a condom, which you won because he was way too drunk and horny to argue that stupid opinion, then fucked. At that point you realized no matter how much fun you had; he was a jerk for thinking he shouldn't put on a condom when you asked him to. So, you waited for him to fall asleep and then quietly gathered your belongings and left his apartment, thinking you'd never hear from him again.

The next day your fingered hovered above the "delete contact" on your phone. When you exchanged numbers last night you saved him as "cute guy<3" and you kinda hated your drunk self for that, but what's done is done. You were just about to delete his number when he shot you a message apologizing for last night, saying he didn't mean it, and asking you if you were free tomorrow to meet him at this small café which was "totally great".

So, wanting to give him another chance, you accepted.

Which brings us here, to said little café you were currently sitting in, waiting for the guy you were pretty sure was named Josh and questioning all of your life choices.

You finished your coffee, which had already gotten to be at room temperature and it wasn't even that good in the first place, so it was bad. But hey, you already paid for it, so you downed the rest of it and left the café, wandering into the warm, humid street.

Once you were back home from the commute, which was a terrible experience due to the humidity, you quickly shed your clothes, taking a nice cold shower to wash off the sticky sweat from your skin. You dried off, putting on a pair of shorts and a tank top before checking your phone, just to be sure, and—

Yep, still no message from Josh. You resisted the sudden urge to throw your phone across the room, taking a deep breath before shooting him one last text – "sayonara, dipshit" – before finally deleting his number from your phone, like you should've done yesterday.

You put your phone away for the rest of the day, going on your computer to do some chores – reply to your emails, settle some stuff before your start at the Avengers compound, closing things in your old workplace.

When evening arrived, you opened your phone to messages from your friends asking how your date with Jason, and it took you a minute to realize who they're talking about. You chuckled bitterly before telling them he stood you up.

They were very sympathetic, telling you you're going to find the right guy and that Jason wasn't worth it anyway. You agreed with the latter sentiment, but you weren't sure how much you agreed with the first one.

You had dinner on your own, scrolling through social media and mindlessly pecking your food. You spent the rest of your evening thinking about… life.

The thing is, you were tired. Tired of being treated like you're only good for sex, tired of pretentious assholes apparently named Jason who play you just so they can feed their own ego by having the last word, but most of all – tired of being alone.

You were ready for a change. You needed a change. You spent the rest of your evening planning it all in your head, resolving to stop giving into guys because they're fun or cute. You're not actually looking for cute fun, and it's time to start acting like it.

When you're on your own, this all seems like a given to you; that you're a strong woman, that you want romance. But somehow when you're actually around guys you forget all about it and become impulsive. Living in the moment is great, but so is having a future.

Well, your future starts tomorrow, because before you went to sleep you made up your mind –

Tomorrow, I break the cycle.

Hope you liked it! this was a bit more of an introduction, but i still really liked writing it :) i don’t know exactly when the next one’ll be out cause school and stuff but i promise to do my best... if you have any ideas/requests please feel free to tell me about them!

thank you again @whimsicalrogers​ for the magical divider <3

next chapter teaser: “It's a new week, and you're getting a new start.” 

Chris Taglist: @swatson06 @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @phoebe-21-99 @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​ @wanessalopesueiros @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @darkwitchfromthesouth @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal

if you wanna join / be removed from the taglist, comment/message me! this is a taglist for Chris and his characters. much love <3

[plethora-of-imagines]

Human Custom

AN: So this fic started as an anon that just kept getting longer and became it’s own fic. Which is why I am not yet done answering anons. The idea was so soft and let me tell you anon, I spent many nights just rereading this prompt and thinking it was so very soft. I’m not too happy with how the Master sounds in this as it is more from his POV and I don’t have a great grasp on Dhawan!Master’s POV but I tried my best!

Word Count: 1773

Description: Written based off of this anon

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings @how-masterful @truthbehindthemysteries

The Master huffed and rolled his eyes at all of the gaudy Valentine's gifts still on display in the store. He honestly believed they should just throw them all out the second it was the 15th. It was bad enough to have to see them before the “most romantic day of the year”. He couldn’t believe that he had to subject himself to this just because you had forgotten something while doing the shopping. Of course, you couldn’t just do without. So someone had to go get what you forgot. Lucky him.

To be fair he probably shouldn’t have volunteered to go for you so you didn’t have to feel embarrassed about the shop staff seeing you come back for something. You had been absolutely adorable when you pressed your face into his chest bemoaning your forgetfulness. It had made him forget how much he hated going shopping like this on Earth. It reminded him too much of the 77 years he had been trapped without a TARDIS. Which always left him in a touchy, annoyed mood.

The two teen boys blocking his way past as they slowly walked down the aisle were pissing him off too. If it wouldn’t cause even more trouble for him he would just TCE them both and be done with it. He took a deep breath. He would just push past them soon and continue on his way. It was fine. He would get what you had forgotten and you would jokingly call him "your hero". Giving him a soft, loving kiss for his troubles. It would be worth the annoyances to make you happy.

The Master had no choice but to listen to the two kid's conversation with the volume they were talking at. Wonderful.

“Look man, it’s complete bullshit that she didn’t tell you she was moving until yesterday!”

“She just wanted us to have a normal date before telling me that we would be going long-distance okay?”

The Master wanted to roll his eyes so hard that they fell out of his skull. He did not want to be stuck listening to lower lifeforms and their romantic struggles. He settled instead for slowly dragging his hand down his face. 

"I'm just gonna get her one of those stereotypical bears holding a heart stuffed animals to give her before she moves. It's on sale so it's not going to cost me much if she does end up breaking up with me."

"Fair enough, man. It's your money."

Stereotypical bear? Was this some customary holiday gift or something? The Master had to admit he was curious.

Then he saw them. Dozens of bears of different sizes and colors. Most of which were holding a heart-shaped pillow with the words "I love you" on it. He wanted to be disgusted by them but then the image of you clutching and cuddling a bear after falling asleep while waiting for him to join you entered his thoughts. You would probably love it, and it would be absolutely precious seeing you cuddling a stuffed animal he got for you. He needed to get one for you now. The image would consume his mind until he gave in to it.

He examined a few of them trying to decide which one would be the least insufferable to buy and carry back to you. They all seemed too human of a gift. He couldn't see himself handing you one of these. Besides none of them were the size he imagined. The Master wanted it to be half the size of you, something you could curl around comfortably. Something inhumanly soft for you to smush your face into as he teased you for your bed head and sleepy expression after waking up.

This store may be too human but humans spread across the universe in the future taking their customs and holidays with them. It shouldn't be too hard to find something that fit what he pictured. Something big, soft, and decidedly not human-like. And none of that cliche "I love you" on a heart stuff. He could get something much more profound for you.

The Master rushed back towards the TARDIS. He knew just where to go to get what he wanted. Brushing past you he began to take off immediately. 

"Did you get the milk?” You asked in bewilderment at his hasty actions.

“They were out.”

Well fuck. He forgot that there had been a reason he was in that store in the first place. Perhaps he shouldn't have rushed off in such a hurry.

“They were out of milk,” your tone was completely flat.

You definitely didn’t believe his lie. Why didn’t he think of a believable lie instead of just saying the first thing he thought of?

“Okay, fine! I thought of something that I need to buy before I got to the milk. Two birds, one stone situation. I can get both the milk and what I need from the store I am going to.”

You wrapped your arms around him, leaning your head against his body. His body relaxing as you held onto him. He loved you so much for being so understanding.

"Okay, Master. As long as we do get some milk. We really need some so I can bake and you can make us hot chocolate. I'm still jealous that you make hot chocolate so much better than I do. One day I'll learn your secret."

Closing his eyes for just a moment the Master enjoyed the comfort of your embrace. Once the TARDIS landed he reluctantly left your arms. He had a plan to accomplish.

"I'll be back. And this time I won't forget to grab some milk."

"Oooh, you did forget. You admit it!"

He playfully booped your nose. Anyone other than you talking to him like that wouldn't survive the next minute. When you did it, it was fine. In fact, it was encouraged.  He loved it when you were playful with him. He wanted you to have no fear of him, to treat him like an ordinary person. Even if he couldn't be any further from ordinary.

"Well if someone else hadn't forgotten in the first place we wouldn't be in this position."

You covered your face with your hands as you flusteredly cried out, "Nooo, don't remind me!" with a laugh. You were too adorable to handle. He would never get over it. If he ever lost you somewhere - and he would never dare lose you- he could just describe you as adorable and you would be quickly found.

His errand didn’t take long at all, especially when he chose to have the inhuman stuffed animal sent to the TARDIS by teleportation. In no time at all, he was back by your side smiling to himself as he presented you with the milk. He had been successful in getting just the right stuffed animal for you. You would be wonderfully surprised.

"Did you get what you needed?"

You were soft in your curiosity. Not pushing too much for an answer but expressing your interest in what he did.

"Yes. It should be here shortly. I asked for it to be packaged and sent so I didn't have to carry it and the milk."

"I'll be back soon then. I'm just going to go put this away before I manage to forget."

Perfect. By the time you got back to the console room, the box should be here for you to open. He watched you leave. The moment you were gone he lowered the TARDIS shields so that the gift could be delivered. Just as he put the shields back up you walked back in.

"What did you need to get? The box is huge!"

"Open it and find out."

You gave him a wary look as if you feared that he was playing a prank on you. The Master didn't let it bother him, your reaction should more than makeup for your minor distrust. It’s not as if it wasn’t justified. He had played pranks on you this way before. The joyous laughter and smile on your face when you pulled the stuffed animal out of the box sped his hearts up. It was some weird combination of a bunch of standard anatomy of different animal species found in the universe. With fins, tentacles, and antenna. Half the size of you, you could just barely bring your arms completely around it. He had made sure that it was as soft as possible, softer than any other stuffed animal in the universe.

Gasping, you moaned out into the stuffed animal as you smushed your face into it. "Master it's so soft!"

You pranced over to him, your face still pressed into the stuffed animal. You were ever more precious and adorable than he had imagined you would be.

You popped your head out from behind the stuffed animal to ask him curiously, " what does it say, Master?".

He didn't want to admit what it said. It almost felt embarrassing to say.

"What? Don't you know?"

"I can guess but you know that I can't read it! The TARDIS likes teasing me too much."

You playfully pouted at the TARDIS by looking up towards the ceiling. In truth, the reason the TARDIS rarely translated for you within her walls was to ensure the two of you spent time together. The Master never tried to hide how much he adored holding you in his lap as he read to you for hours. So his TARDIS created opportunities for him but refusing to translate while you were in the TARDIS if not necessary. He sighed. He might as well tell you before you assumed it was something as generic as "I love you" written on the heart.

"It says, you are my universe."

He messed up. You had tears starting to form in your eyes. What had he done? This was a terrible idea. His hands moved to cradle your face, prepared to wipe away any tears.

"Oh no, don't cry! Shh, shh , sh. It's okay."

"Sorry, I just- this is just really sweet and I'm a bit overwhelmed. M' not sad if that's what you're worried about Master."

Shifting the stuffed animal to one side you moved in close to hug him. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Your lips as sweet and soft as they always were. He could never tire of the sensation of your lips against each other.

"I love you, Master."

It wasn't the first time you had said it. But his heart swelled all the same as this time he held you close in his arms.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Commie, can you do a fic of the BN thieves + any other thieves from Super Sentai/Kamen Rider?

Absolutely I can! And since you haven’t given me a specific prompt, let’s say that

U is for unknown

Balance isn’t, like, a suspicious guy. In fact, he’d generally describe himself as friendly. He likes people! They like him, too! Good feelings all around. But when he spots a flicker of a red tailcoat that definitely shouldn’t be in one of the back corridors of this weird little vault satellite, he maybe gets a little worried.

So he says, “Hey, love cobra.”

“Please don’t call me that in public, Balance.”

“Who’s in public? Just you, me, and twenty dead security cameras, baby. Anyway, you love it.”

Naaga stares fixedly into space for a moment, which is pretty nice, since that blue blush of his is so cute. “Notwithstanding my enjoyment of your pet names, they are not appropriate in public.”

Balance sighs theatrically. “Whatever you say, baby. Did you also see a LupinRanger just now or do I need to re-calibrate?”

“I have not seen the LupinRangers recently.”

“Well, that’s worrying, not gonna lie.”

“But my eyesight is not as acute as yours.” Naaga’s tongue flickers out for a moment. “I can smell them, though.”

“Oh. Good, no re-calibrating on the menu for the evening. Still worried, though! You think this thing Lucky needs is one of their whatsits?”

“I strongly doubt it, given that they are not from this universe.” Naaga scents the air again. “They are this way.”

They catch up with the Lupins after two corridors, and the first thing that happens is that Umika sees them, makes a happy noise, and bounds over to kiss Naaga on the cheek. Then she does the same to Balance, interrupting him in the middle of, “Hey, hey, don’t go kissing on a guy’s--oh. Hey, fancy meeting you guys here! Wait, isn’t he a cop?”

Umika frowns. “Isn’t who a--wait, you mean Noël? No. I mean. Kind of? He’s with us, it’s fine.”

“You’d better not be here after a Lupin Collection piece, though.” Kairi’s hanging back, although he doesn’t look unhappy to see them. “We’ve got dibs.”

Naaga’s nictitating membranes flicker shut for a moment over his eyes. “I am certain that we’re looking for different things, the Lupin Collection is not native to this universe.” He flashes them a brief, awkward smile. “Also, hello.”

Tooma nods. Noël Not-A-Cop waves, smiling, and says, “Bonjour, mes amis, I was sort of hoping we’d get to see you again. How have you been? How’s your handsome friend?” He’s also the one who starts walking again, and since it’s also in the direction that Balance and Naaga are going in, it seems reasonable to walk along with him.

Naaga nods in his direction. “We’ve been well. You will have to be more specific.”

“Yeah, all of our friends are pretty cute.” Balance skips out in front of the group and walks backwards facing them, relying on his sensors to keep him from tripping. “You gotta say which one you mean.”

Noël looks amused. “Fair enough. The very tall one, with the red coat and the dramatic attitude.”

“Tsurugi! He’s doing ok, I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

“Please do.” Noël looks past Balance’s shoulder. “Ah, good, I think this is the storeroom we were looking for, we’ll bid you adieu here.”

Balance glances at the door, but Naaga beats him to saying, “This is also the storeroom we’re looking for.”

“Ah,” Tooma mutters. “That’s reassuring.”

“Isn’t it?” Balance flashes him a thumbs-up, which will either make him feel extra reassured or weirded out, and either option works under the circumstances. “Let’s go in together! Like a team! Good times.”

They open the door and crowd through it all together.

The storeroom is entirely bare of anything interesting to steal, let alone Lucky’s whatsit or the Lupin things. Not that it’s a boring room, though, because there are already people in it, and it only takes a second for Balance to take in two of them and say, “Hey, baby, isn’t that Stinger’s pirate buddy and his girlfriend? The scary girlfriend, not the princess one.”

Naaga nods, as on Balance’s other said Kairi visibly brightens up and says, “Hey, Marvelous, what are you doing he--you again.”

Because Stinger’s pirate buddy and his scary girlfriend are having sort of a staring contest with a third human, who’s got bleached hair and a white jacket and a big blue gun. He glances at Kairi and says, “Oh good, it’s the brat. I hope you brought--there you are, Nicky, nice to see you.”

And Noël says, pleasantly, “Bonjour, Dion, fancy meeting you here.”

“This has gotten overly complicated,” Naaga and Tooma say simultaneously, to Balance’s delighted cry of, “Jinx! So who’s this guy?”

“Daiki! Hi!” Umika bumps Naaga with her shoulder. “Naaga, Balance, this is Kaitou Daiki, he’s also a thief, he’s sort of Noël’s ex? And he’s a, a something, a Kamen Rider! That’s it!”

“No shit?” Balance flickers his eyes, just for dramatic effect. “We met a couple of those once. Nice guys. One of them had a suit with hair on it, fun look.”

Daiki nods to them, still watching Captain Marvelous out of the corner of his eye. “There are a few of us around. Anyway, evening, Nicky, Nicky’s friends, I’m assuming these two are also Sentai?”

Naaga nods shortly. “We are Kyuurangers.”

“Yeah, I thought so, you guys have that look.” Daiki glances around. “So, anyone happen to know why we’re all here? I’m supposed to be able to find an interesting treasure here, a Dark Mirror, I was going to give it to Tsukasa as a present, but I’m really not seeing anything. Starting to think I might have been misled.”

Tooma huffs. “We may have all been misled, I don’t see a Lupin Collection piece here.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Balance scans the room. “Definitely nothing in here like the whatsit Lucky wanted us to get, the, uh, baby, help me out here.”

Naaga pats him on the shoulder. “The Heracles Cape.”

“That’s the one, yeah.”

“So we’ve all been tricked.” Daiki eyes Marvelous and Luka. “Marvelous, I hope you know that if you’re the reason I’m here, I’m going to punch you.”

Captain Marvelous shrugs. “I’m not exactly happy to see you either, Kaitou. No, I’m not why you’re here, I’m just along for the ride with Luka so she doesn’t get kidnapped by evil armor again.”

Luka huffs. “Shut up, Marvelous, that was one time. I was promised a ruby the size of my fist.”

Balance bounces on the ends of his feet, just to make his earrings swing a little and get everyone’s attention. “So who got us all here, then? That’s the big fun question of the moment.”

And a quiet voice says, “I’d be happy to answer that for you.”

Everyone jumps and turns towards the back corner of the room, where there’s yet another person waiting. She’s wearing a black dress and boots with lots of pink details and pink gloves, and her hair is bright pink too. Balance is pretty sure it’s a wig, but he’s not positive, he’s not great on hominid hair.

Luka squints at her and then turns to Marvelous. “The Go-Busters didn’t have a Pink.”

“I didn’t think they did--” Marvelous pulls out his cell phone changer thing, taps a button, and says, “Gai, did the Go-Busters have a Pink?”

There’s a faint crackle from the phone, and then a voice Balance vaguely recognizes says, “Not really? There was someone who called herself Pink Buster, but she was a civilian criminal. Basically a cosplayer." A pause. "Why? Who's dressing as Pink Buster?”

“We’ll get back to you on that. Thanks, Gai.” Marvelous hangs up the call, but doesn’t put the phone away. “Who the hell are you, and why are you dressing up as a fake Sentai?”

Naaga says, slowly, “We don’t appreciate being tricked.”

Kairi and Daiki say, much more succinctly, “What the fuck?” and then glare at each other.

Not-Actually-Pink-Buster nods. “That’s understandable. I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you all here. I require your assistance in a matter of some...” a dramatic pause, which Balance appreciates, before, “delicacy.”

And--it clicks. Balance nearly shoots off the ground in delight, and then throws up his hands in a wide enough gesture that it gets everyone looking at him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You called a bunch of thieves together--”

“I’m not a thief,” Marvelous says, sounding irritated. “Luka’s a thief. I’m a pirate.”

Tooma looks unimpressed. “The difference being?”

“Thieves sneak and snatch. Pirates smash and grab. Totally different approach.”

Daiki rolls his eyes.

Balance senses that he’s rapidly losing control of the moment, so as soon as he can he barrels on ahead. “You called a bunch of thieves and pirates together under mysterious circumstances in a weird place and you’re showing up wearing a disguise. And saying things like, ‘I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you all here.’“

“She said exactly that.”

“I know, baby, I’m being dramatic.”

“Ah. Carry on, please, I enjoy your dramatics.”

“Thanks, love you too, anyway! Did you pull us all here for a job? Is it a heist? Are you trying to get us to team up to do a heist?”

Pink Lady opens her mouth--

--but Balance is now fizzing with so much energy that his earrings are jangling. “Because I am here for it, pink lady, I’ve always wanted to do a heist! Are we robbing a bank? Wait, no, not sexy enough, please tell me it’s a casino.”

Everyone’s staring at him. It feels fantastic. Pink Lady gapes at him and then says, slowly, “It’s. Ah. A museum, actually.”

He punches the air. “Hot damn! Lady, I could kiss you. I mean, I’m not gonna, I don’t have lips and I’m pretty big on monogamy, but if it wasn’t for that then I could. A heist!"

Naaga nods and says, "I am also enthusiastic to participate."

He even sounds enthusiastic. Balance isn't sure he's ever felt so loved. "The BN Thieves are gonna do a heist!”

He and Naaga do the pose. Umika, Noël, and Daiki all clap politely. It’s amazing. It’s the best day of his life.

Kairi also looks pretty thrilled, but then he gestures to Daiki and says, “A heist sounds great, but I’m not working with that guy.”

Daiki sighs. “I’m not thrilled about the idea of working with you either, brat. Flattered to be asked, though,” to Pink Lady.`

“Oh, come on, guys, a heist! A museum heist! It doesn’t get any cooler than this!”

Tooma’s raising his eyebrows high enough that they’re actually visible over his mask. “You’re very excited about this.”

“Balance has wanted to participate in a heist since he was fifty years old.” Naaga looks pleased.

He’s so cute. Balance is going to die of joy. “I’m gonna marry that reptile,” he says to Umika, who pats him on the shoulder as Naaga turns bright blue. “Anyway, come on, you guys can put aside your weird human differences for the crime of the millennium, can’t you?”

[obwjam]

The mike x borrower meeting sounds interesting, you should definitely write it!

not the exact same thing but this is a direct copy-paste from something i wrote a year ago lmao i’m putting it under the cut, in which mike makes a new borrower friend breakfast

“G’morning, little buddy,” a soft yet cheery voice rang out above me. My eyes snapped open to see Mike looming over me. I shot up and tried to scuttle back, but not only was my leg wrapped up nicely, but I was, too. I merely fell back into the mountainous folds of the cloth.

“How’d ya sleep?” he asked, pulling a chair up and seemingly glossing over my flinch.

“O-okay,” I stammered. I was sleeping well until I was rudely awakened.

“Was it too hot? Too cold?”

I shrugged. “Too big.”

Mike let out a small laugh. “Funny. Lemme getcha somethin’ to drink. Y’ever had coffee?”

“What do you think?” I asked, trying to be funny but instead coming across as rude. Mike raised his eyebrow at me, but amusingly smirked.

“You care to try it?”

“I--I guess I could… I’ve always smelled it. Never been able to sneak around and grab any.”

“Mmm, alright,” he said, standing back up. I marveled up at him as he moved around, almost not able to believe that I was watching him like always, but I was close. I didn’t have to hide, or worry that he might see me.

“Hmm…” Mike mused, filling his mug to the top. “Didn’t really think how I’d pour ya a cup.”

“I’ve got a cup back in--” I started, but stopped. It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell him about the nook.

But of course, he heard me. “Back where?”

My eyes darted to the table. “N-nothing. Nowhere. I--I wouldn’t be able to make it there, anyway, with my leg.”

“Are you talkin’ about where you live?” Mike asked, leaning back against the counter and casually sipping his coffee. As if this was a casual conversation.

I nodded. “It’s called -- well, I call it my nook. Just where I sleep and keep all my things.”

“Sounds very cozy,” he said, taking another sip. “Y’know, I could always bring you wherever you--”

I laughed, shaking off the thought of one of them holding me. “You wouldn’t be able to bring me to the nook, Mike. You’re too big.”

A smirk grew across Mike’s face. “Too big, huh? Can’t just stick my arm in a hole or somethin’?”

“No,” I said with a chuckle. “Still much too big.”

Mike shrugged. “That’s a shame. I would’ve liked to see it.”

He paused, deliberating over something. He eventually let out a sigh and flopped back down into a chair.

“I, uh, look, I--” he paused for a breath. “I know this is all, uh, less than ideal,” he stammered, glancing down at my leg. I bit my lip. “But, well, y’see, we want to help. So if you need anything, want anything… just, just tell one of us. We’ll be happy to getcha what you need.”

Before I could speak, he started again.

“A-and, well… I-I know it’s prob’ly pretty scary, f-for you, but, uh, we can bring ya anywhere too.”

There it was. I knew he was going to address that. And it wasn’t entirely crazy -- I certainly didn’t want to be stuck on this table forever. But the thought of trusting one of them with my life in their hands and having the others give me stares? I didn’t want to deal with that. Not right now.

“I bet you don’t wanna be sittin’ on this table forever,” Mike echoed my thoughts. I gave him a nod.

“It’s just…” I started, freezing up when I looked up at Mike. Eye contact was still a work in progress. “I dunno.”

“You can tell me, darlin’, it’s alright,” Mike said softly. “I’m not gonna get mad.”

I took a breath. “This is all pretty… new to me. A-as you can imagine. I’ve never… I--I don’t want to…” Inhale. Exhale. “I don’t want to be a bother. I’ve already caused too much trouble.”

“Aw, darlin’, you haven’t caused a lick of trouble,” Mike said.

“You understand that I can’t go back, right? I can’t go back on my own with a broken leg. I--I can’t climb, I can’t even walk. If--if I want to survive, at least— at least until my leg is better… I’m gonna need your help to do it. That’s an awful lot of attention you’ll need to dedicate to me. And I… I don’t want to ask that of you.”

“Oh, it’s not as big a deal as you think it’ll be,” Mike said, leaning down. “Sure, you’re pretty small, and we’ll have to be extra careful. But makin’ sure you have somethin’ to eat or drink or that ya have a place to sleep at night is no trouble at all.” He paused to rub the back of his neck, desperately trying to think of what to say next. “Are you… how are you feelin’? ‘Bout all this.”

I shrugged, allowing myself to laugh. I guess there was no way any of them would ever understand unless I explained it to them.

“I think… more than anything… I’m, uh, anxious,” I said, furiously twiddling my thumbs. “A-and scared. I-it’s hard not to look at everything and everyone towering above me and not get overwhelmed, you know?”

Mike nodded, suddenly acutely aware of how big he must seem to her. “I can leave ya alone, if you need time to… relax.” That was not the right word to use.

***change of perspective for no reason just go with it***

To his surprise, she vigorously shook her head. “No. Well. I dunno. I’m just… I-I’m already here. You already know about me.” In truth, she wanted to be left alone. All she wanted to do was crawl into her nook and never come back out. But knowing that she couldn’t go anywhere, the last thing she wanted was to be lounging around on the table, exposed and alone, without someone to accompany her and take some of the attention away. Mike was taking the lead on taking care of her and was the least invasive of the four, so this was the best she was going to get right now. “You… you’re not going to…” she stopped. Mike inched forward, eyes urging her to press on.

“Not goin’ to what?”

She sighed. “Not… do anything to me.” Her voice was so soft, Mike was surprised he could hear her.

“Do anything? Like what?”

She shook her head, lower lip quivering. “N-nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Mike’s eyes widened with sorrow, but he knew it wouldn’t be good to push her. He could piece together that the “anything” she was referring to wasn’t a good thing, anyway.

“You hungry?” Mike asked, desperate to change the subject. She slowly nodded, still looking away. Mike tried to ignore the fact that this whole thing stemmed from his inability to give her coffee and he had yet to come up with a solution. For the first time ever, he found himself wishing that Micky was awake early. He would know how to make something for her.

Mike stood up and looked into the ice box, his heart leaping when he saw actual food in there.

“Y’ever had eggs and bacon?”

She laughed. It was a genuine laugh, one of those laughs you give when you’re delightfully amused. Mike hadn’t even seen her smile, so hearing her laugh float up from the table surprised him. He found the corners of his lips turning up at the sound.

“It’s safe to assume I’ve never tried anything,” she called out, clearly trying to make sure Mike could hear her. Mike fished out the carton of eggs and half-eaten package of bacon from the back of the ice box, swiftly placing the ingredients on the counter. He reached for a pan and clicked the stove on.

“Think about it,” she forced herself to continue. She didn’t want Mike to be the only one talking. “How could I have possibly borrowed eggs and bacon while you weren’t looking?”

Mike bit his lip. He never really thought hard about the fact that she had basically been stealing things in secret for years. Anything she’s ever taken was done without their knowledge. He couldn’t even remember noticing things going missing until the recent bread incident.

“Fair point,” Mike said, cracking an egg over a now-heated pan.

“Plus, it’s hard to borrow a meal you only make twice a year.”

Mike turned around quickly, a comically amused look on his face. “Was that a joke?” he said with a teasing tone. She winced and sunk back into her towel a little bit, but recovered quickly when she realized Mike wasn’t being harsh.

She shrugged, trying to hide a smile. “It’s just the truth.”

Mike found himself trying to hide his own grin.

“Yer funny,” he said, letting the sizzle of the other side of the egg try to hide his comment. It was the second time calling her funny this morning. He called Micky funny maybe once a month.

She had heard his comment, of course, and definitely registered that it was a repeat compliment. She knew Mike was going to get all weird if she mentioned it, so she stayed quiet, marveling at his cooking. This wasn’t the first time she’s ever watched one of them perform a mundane daily task, but it was different than all the other times. She was present in this. Though the nagging thought in the back of her mind telling her to hide was still there, she knew it was just instinct. Mike was making this for her. She didn’t have to watch him cook and smell the food and wonder what it tastes like and wish she could find out for herself. She was going to find out. Despite the fear and uncomfortability she felt, she was willing to let her guard down for this one thing. This was a primal instinct letting itself through. She was going to enjoy this meal, and enjoy the company. Maybe it would help her feel more normal.

Once the egg was done frying, Mike plopped two strips of bacon in its place, transferring the egg to a small plate. The smell of eggs was good, yeah, but the smell of bacon was overwhelming. So overwhelming, in fact, it got Micky to get out of bed. He bounded down the stairs, excited that they had enough food for Mike to be cooking for everyone. He was so excited that he completely forgot about their little house guest.

“You’re making breakfast? Groovy!” Micky said, riding up right on Mike’s tail, making him jump.

“Don’t do that,” Mike muttered harshly, flipping the bacon over. “It ain’t for you.”

“What!” Micky cried. “You’re just making breakfast for yourself? C’mon, man, that’s--”

“Are you stupid?” Mike hissed, jerking his head toward the table. Micky looked back, down, then gasped. Yeah, I am stupid.

He chuckled nervously, locking gazes with her for just a bit too long. Her cheeks were bright red, and she looked nervous.

“S-sorry,” he said suddenly, breaking eye contact with her. “I’ll, uh.” He reached up to the cabinet and pulled out the almost-empty box of corn flakes. “I’ll just go back upstairs.”

Before Mike could protest, Micky was already halfway gone. The Texan sighed, peeling the bacon from the pan and placing it next to the eggs.

“Sorry about him,” Mike said, placing the plate in front of him as he took a seat. “That boy don’t know how to control himself.”

She shrugged, looking down to her cast. “He did a good job with this.”

Mike looked to her leg. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“It’s… it hurts. Kinda throbbing,” she said. “But I can feel it getting better.”

“Already?” Mike asked, almost absentmindedly, as he took his fork and began cutting off a little piece of egg.

She nodded. “Borrowers, we… we tend to heal faster than humans do.” Mike cringed again at the distinction. “I’ll probably be good to walk around again in like, two weeks.”

“Two weeks? Are ya sure? Have you ever broke your leg before?”

She laughed that amused laugh again, and Mike found himself getting embarrassed every time she did that. It was a laugh that said Oh boy, this idiot doesn’t get it.

“I’ve broken more bones than I can count.” She fiddled with her thumbs. “Elbow, legs. Both of ‘em. Arms, shoulders, fingers. I’ve rolled my ankle so many times I don’t know how it’s still attached to my body.” She stuck her good leg up and rolled her ankle around. “Yeah, it’s still there!”

“Jeez, that’s awful,” Mike said, suddenly losing all interest in the food. “How did you…” He didn’t know if asking this was a good idea, but he wanted to know everything about her that he could possibly find out. “How d’you, get all those… supplies you need, if you’re all banged up?”

She went quiet for a moment. “Wh-when I take food, I usually keep a weeks’ supply going. To prevent running out. Water is… more difficult. I’ll go a few days without drinking any.”

“That could kill you!”

She shrugged. “I’ve gone weeks without water before. It’s so hard to transport, I end up spilling half the stuff I take.”

Mike tried to picture carrying a bucket of water through an obstacle course with a broken leg. He couldn’t even fathom the possibility.

“It’s… amazing you even get any,” he said carefully, not wanting to sound patronizing.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” she smirked, eyes cast downward. She wasn’t very hungry anymore.

“I…” Mike tried, but stopped himself. Everything he asked led to her being sad, and that was the last thing Mike wanted right now. “…why don’t ya try some of that food I made ya?” he tried. “It’s gonna go cold soon.”

That seemed to catch her attention rather quickly. She finally had a hot meal in front of her, and she was really about to squander it. She stared at the scraps in front of her, studying the textures of the egg. Luckily, the bacon smelled delicious, because the smell of the egg was not doing her appetite any favors. She began to wonder how disgusting this thing might taste.

“Everythin’ alright?” Mike asked with a mouthful of egg. He figured she would be all over this. She finally looked up at him, and his face was soft; sympathetic. He was simply waiting for her to try the food, eager for her reaction to his cooking. She gave a small nod before picking up the small piece of egg with her hands. It was still warm, though not fresh-out-of-the-pan hot. It was still warmer than anything she’s ever had before, and it felt wonderful in her hands. It wasn’t often that she experienced warmth; though, in California, she fared better than most. But the nights got cold and the heater was much too loud to sleep next to. Huddling up in her blankets and getting some hot water was the closest she ever got to the feeling of warmth. And when she was able to treat herself to hot water, the feeling of it traveling through her body and down to her stomach, ironically enough, always gave her chills. Maybe this egg could do the same.

With a renewed sense of energy, she bit into the egg and was instantly surprised—it was squishy. It almost sloshed around in her mouth, but it was fluffy at the same time. A little wet, too. There was some weird yellow liquid on it, which she could only assume was part of the egg. She chewed carefully, wanting to savor and remember the first egg she’d ever eaten. She couldn’t quite place the taste, but it was cooked enough that it was stained with the taste of old foods cooked in that same pan. It gave it an extra depth she didn’t realize food could have. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted and she loved it.

“This… this is incredible,” she said, looking at the egg like it was a newborn baby. Mike couldn’t help but smile at her infatuation.

“Aw, well. My cookin’ ain’t that good,” he joked. Inside, he was just happy she seemed to find pleasure in something.

Before she could even respond, she abandoned her notion of savoring the taste and scarfed down the rest of the egg. She ravenously turned to the bacon and ate it up before Mike could even blink.

“Jeez, you’re hungry, aren’t’cha?” he mumbled affectionately, not realizing he had slipped into pet-talk mode. She, however, did notice. She shot him a glare, which took Mike a few moments to understand.

“If you only ever ate stale crackers, you’d eat like this too,” she said, wiping her mouth. “Well, I’m actually a little surprised you aren’t eating like this is the first hot meal you’ve ever had!” She said cheekily with a nervous chuckle.

Mike smiled, once again amused at her joke, before realizing there was a layer to this.

“…is this your first hot meal? Ever?”

She shrugged, which Mike was beginning to realize was an ashamed “yes”.

“…It’s not even that hot,” she mumbled, only half-joking.

“Jeez, bud, I—I could have heated it back up for ya.” She didn’t respond. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from. Do you want some more?” He gestured to his plate, which was still full of food, but she took intrigue with something he had just said.

“Plenty more?”

“Well, yeah. I-I’m not gonna let you starve,” he said, sniffing a laugh.

“You… you don’t need to do that,” she said, more ashamed than anything. No matter how wonderful real cooking was, she didn’t need to be treated like she was totally helpless.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Mike asked, genuinely surprised by her reaction. “Based off everythin’ you told me, well, you don’t need to hunt for scraps anymore. We can take care of stuff for ya—”

“—I don’t need to be taken care of,” she snapped, surprising herself. “I’ve been managing for 22 years,” she mumbled lowly. “I’ll be alright.”

Mike raised his eyebrows. He understood this kind of stubbornness because it was the same exact kind of pride he carried around himself. He didn’t expect her to be proud of the way she lived, but he understood the knee-jerk reaction. It was a lot easier to see how silly it was on the outside, though, and he suddenly started to wonder how many times his pride made him seem foolish instead of independent.

“I’m not sayin’ you can’t take care of yourself. Clearly, you’ve been going for this long. I don’t think you’re helpless. You seem to be anything but.” She meekly met Mike’s gaze, which was sincere yet firm. “But I get it, y’know? The stubbornness. Refusin’ help because you think acceptin’ it makes you weak.”

there is more but this is already way too long lmao

[iam93percentstardust]

I'm bombarding you with those prompts, so I fully understand if you just ignore all those you don't like, lol. Would WinterIronFalcon be an OT3 you're intrested in writing? Some established WinterFalcon with Tony pining helplessly after them, not believeing he could have a chance? With a dash of angst in it? Thank you ♡

There isn’t much angst in this but there is hopeless pining so yay?

Also on ao3 here

~

“Share Bear, it’s not fair,” Tony whines into the phone.

“What isn’t?” his cousin asks, sounding patient but also kind of amused. He takes the phone away from his ear and squints at it. Is she making fun of him? She probably is, Sharon always makes fun of him. She’s mean like that; he’s pretty sure she gets it from Natasha.

“They’re so fucking gorgeous, I can’t stand it.”

“Oh. Them again. Seriously Tony, didn’t you used to have better taste?”

“Excuse you,” he says, offended. “My taste is perfect.”

“They think arguing is foreplay.”

“It’s bickering! And it’s cute!”

“Gross,” Sharon says cheerfully.

“God hates me,” Tony says dramatically, flinging his hand over his eyes. “That’s why he cursed me to work with two such beautiful humans who are already dating each other.”

“Tony—”

“I know Bucky stays up to date with the fandom,” he continues, going a little quieter. “He’s gotta know that tons of people ship the three of us. But he doesn’t say anything about it. Share Bear, why doesn’t he say anything?”

“Probably because for every person who ships all three of you, there’s twice as many who ship just you and him,” she admits. “I know that if someone were shipping Maria and Nat and ignoring that I even exist, I’d be pretty upset.”

“Yeah,” he says glumly.

“What’re you filming today anyway?” she asks.

“True Crime. We were supposed to be doing an episode of Supernatural at the Odinson Mystery House, you know, over in Norway where the son found out he was adopted and then got super into Norse mythology and supposedly disappeared into a rainbow?”

“Oh yeah, that guy was crazy.”

“Wasn’t,” Tony insist stubbornly. “There are three different eyewitnesses and they all saw the same thing.”

“All three eyewitnesses tested positive for meth.”

“It was trace amounts and ruled irrelevant to the case. Anyway, there’s some sort of blizzard so our flight got canceled. We figured we’d get a jump on this season’s True Crime episodes instead.”

“What are you doing this week?”

He scowls into the phone. “Fandom episode. They voted for Captain America.”

He can practically hear Sharon wince. “I’m sorry. That fucking sucks.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, not least because both of them know exactly what happened to Captain America. He was recovered from the Arctic back in the 50s and went on to live a very happy and fulfilling life with Aunt Peggy. But that’s a very closely guarded state secret; the U.S. government can’t let it get out that Steve Rogers survived nearly a decade in the ice. Technically, Tony and Sharon aren’t even supposed to know but Aunt Peggy had insisted she be allowed to tell them after she took custody of Sharon and Tony moved out of Howard’s and into her home. It’s kind of cool actually, knowing that Uncle Steve is really Captain America. He’s a pretty great guy. It just kind of sucks that he can’t tell anyone about it and now he has to do a whole episode about it when everyone knows he’s a shitty liar.

He’d talked it over with Uncle Steve and Aunt Peggy when the results of the vote had first come in. Aunt Peggy’s advice had been to act more manic than usual, throw even more outlandish theories into the mix, and really make this episode about the banter between him and Bucky. “Direct their attention away from Steve,” she’d said. “They’re already going to be looking at you. Just make sure they’re doing it for the wrong reason.”

He kind of wants to kiss Bucky. That would definitely draw attention away from the episode. But that’s not fair to either Bucky or Sam, who are very happy with their relationship and don’t need a homewrecker like Tony throwing a spanner into the mix.

“Good luck,” Sharon tells him before they hang up. “You’re gonna need it.”

“Wow, thanks,” he mutters but she’s already gone.

~

Marvels Unsolved was never supposed to be this popular. It started off as a novelty webseries about Tony trying to convince Bucky about the existence of the supernatural—he firmly believed that if science could turn Uncle Steve from an actual shrimp to the god of muscles, then magic had to be out there—and then they’d started talking about an unsolved crime from the early 20th century after filming an episode one day, forgetting that the camera was still rolling, and had ended up with enough footage to make a second episode about real crimes. They had stayed pretty unknown throughout that first season but then true crime podcasts had exploded in popularity and Unsolved along with them.

Now they have a fandom and merchandise and actual fanfiction written about them, which is the craziest thing. They both have several often-quoted gifs floating around the Internet and Bucky has somehow become the poster child for being unimpressed by literally everything (he actually makes some of the best faces when something genuinely scary happens but they always end up editing those parts out—he has an image to maintain after all).

They brought Sam on once they started gaining in popularity. Tony, by that point, already had a pretty well-established crush on Bucky. He’d even thought that he had a chance with his co-host, small as it may be, and at first, it hadn’t seemed like Sam was going to change anything. He and Bucky argued all the time so Tony had been absolutely stunned when he’d stumbled upon them making out like it was the end of the world.

They had just finished filming their second season. Sam had suggested going out to a local bar. He’d suggested it for all three of them but Tony had, inexplicably, felt like a third wheel all night as Sam and Bucky bickered. At one point, Sam had disappeared off to the restroom and a couple minutes later, Bucky had followed him. Tony doesn’t know how long he had sat there waiting for them but he’d eventually gone looking for them only to find Sam pressing Bucky up against a wall.

And that had been that.

Three years later, Sam and Bucky are still going strong, Tony is as smitten with Sam as he is with Bucky despite knowing how hopeless both crushes are, and the fandom seems convinced to either write Sam out of Tony and Bucky’s relationship or write Tony into Sam and Bucky’s. He wishes they would stop. He stays pretty up to date with the fandom as well and they have all these meta posts about the way Bucky looks at him or something. It just keeps giving him hope but, well, it’s been three years. If Bucky wanted him, or if Sam did for that matter, they would have done something long ago.

~

“Hey, you doing okay?” Sam asks him as they’re setting up.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” He avoids meeting Sam’s eyes, focusing instead on adding creamer to the coffee. Marvels had presented them with these mugs last year to congratulate them on four years of Unsolved. They’ve got their most iconic quotes printed on them, Bucky’s with “Obviously I killed JFK” and Tony’s with “I’m the dramatic bitch your mom warned you about.” Sam has one too with his one and only line in the entire show printed on it (“Why did I agree to work with you?”) but since he’s always behind the camera, he doesn’t have to use the same mug for each episode.

“You just seem a little off.” The worst part is that Sam genuinely looks concerned. If they didn’t care about him, he thinks his crush might be easier to manage but they do because they’re just nice guys like that. “I know you weren’t too thrilled when we announced this week’s case.”

“Howard worked with him, practically hero-worshipped the damn guy. Of course, I’m not excited.”

Sam winces. They know all about Tony’s shitty relationship with Howard after his dad called Marvels furious that his son was hosting a webseries instead of coming home to grovel at his feet and take over the business. The whole team had been brought in to listen as Fury tried to placate him. By the end, Bucky had been furious on Tony’s behalf and Sam had berated Fury for twenty minutes for making Tony listen to the vitriol his dad had spewed. It had cemented his crush on Sam, then just a passing fancy, into something real and permanent.

“Seriously, Sam, I’m fine. Might be a little off today but I would have said if I didn’t think I could do it.”

Sam doesn’t look convinced but he agrees anyway. Tony sits down next to Bucky and passes him his mug. Bucky shoots him a grin and murmurs, “Thanks, doll.”

Tony doesn’t blush but that’s only because he has five years of practice. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Sam counting them down and he turns to face the camera, settling his hands in front of him.

“This week on Marvels Unsolved True Crime and in celebration of our 100th episode,” he begins, “we asked you what you’d like us to investigate and you came back—”

“—overwhelmingly,” Bucky interjects.

“Many, many times,” Tony agrees, “with a topic near and dear to my own heart: Captain America.”

“That’s right,” Bucky says, sounding surprised though Bucky had been the first to point out that maybe they shouldn’t do this episode because of Tony’s connections to Project Rebirth. “Your dad helped turn Steve Rogers into Captain America, didn’t he?”

“And he never let me forget it!” Tony says cheerfully.

“One hundred episodes,” Bucky says slowly, enunciating each word. “Can you believe that, doll?”

Sometimes, he wonders why the fans ship them when Sam is right there. Other times, Bucky says things like this and he understands completely.

“Not even a little bit, Bucky Babe.” Okay, so maybe he doesn’t help.

“One hundred. The big one zero zero.”

“We tried to do something extra special and get Sam in front of the camera for you guys—”

“—so you could see what a hunk he is—”

“—but Sam said that he didn’t trust anyone else to film us properly—”

“—which makes sense because Tony? If you put him in the wrong light, he’s practically a gremlin��”

“Hey!”

“I’m just telling the facts.”

“Well, the facts are wrong.”

“They’re facts, sweet thing, they can’t be wrong.”

“Can too. Anyway, since Sam refuses to join us—”

“—and that just breaks my heart because Sam, he’s one of my favorite guys, you know?”

Tony pauses. It’s not like Bucky to say anything nice about Sam. Usually, it’s all good-natured insults and bickering. He must really be fed up with the Starkbucks shippers to say something like this when they’re still this early in the show.

“Only one of?” he asks curiously.

Bucky shoots him one of those filthy grins that their audience loves so much. “Well, it’s hard not to include you on that list,” he drawls.

He’s not going to blush.

He’s not going to blush.

He’s not going to—

Damn it.

Whatever. It’s no big deal, that’s what editing is for. So what if Sam has never edited out one of Tony’s blushes yet? Maybe Tony will get lucky and he will this time.

“You know, I was actually named for Captain America’s sidekick?” Bucky asks, getting them back on track.

“Wow, that is deeply unfortunate,” Tony deadpans.

“Yeah, Dad’s a fanboy. His whole troop was pinned down and rescued by the two of them. He tells the story all the time—kind of like your dad.”

“Except my dad goes straight past into fanboy and directly into obsession territory.”

“…Fair enough.”

“Really? That’s all you’re going to say?”

Bucky shrugs and takes a sip out of his mug. “I’ve been inside your house. I’ve seen the Steve Rogers shrine. I’m not going to argue with you.”

Tony thinks about that for a moment. “It is kind of a shrine, isn’t it? Anyway, we’ve got some great stuff for you today. We’re going to crack open this cold case, show you some never-before-seen footage courtesy of my mom sneaking my dad’s old war tapes out of the mansion, and then we’ll talk a little bit about the theories out there.”

“How many of them are going to be ridiculously outlandish and physically impossible?”

Tony glares at him. “None of them. I have never once presented a ridiculously outlandish and physically impossible theory.”

“Right because alien abduction is a valid—”

“Aliens are real!”

“You said that crabs might have eaten Amelia Earheart!” Bucky shouts over him.

“It’s a valid theory!”

“I take it back, you’re not one of my favorite people anymore.”

“That really hurts me, deep inside,” Tony says sarcastically, trying to cover up that maybe that does send a small pang shooting through his chest. He likes the thought of being one of Bucky’s favorite people. He doesn’t want to lose that.

“How deep?” Bucky asks and winks.

“Very deep. Way, way deep down. Practically in my—”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he nearly chokes on his coffee. “Okay, that’s enough of that. Let’s get into the facts.”

“Hey, that’s my line!”

~

“With a missing plane and pilot and so much redaction in the files, we’re lucky to even have a name, let’s get into the theories.”

“Actually, wait, before we do that,” Bucky says, “I want to ask if you’ve ever noticed that your voice changes when you’re doing the voiceovers.”

“Wait, what?” Tony asks. He glances at him, to one of the cameras, then back to Bucky. “What do you mean?”

“You know, it gets all deeper like you’re trying to voice movie trailers or something.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Sure it does.”

Tony shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

They both turn toward Sam, who thinks about it and then makes a ‘sort of’ motion with his hand.

“Told you!” Bucky says triumphantly.

“You’re such a child,” Tony sneers.

“Yeah, that’s why you like working with me so much.”

Behind the camera, Sam silently snickers and Tony glares at him before telling the camera, “If you’re watching, let us know in the comments. Is my apparent movie trailer voice okay or does it need to go like Bucky clearly thinks?”

Bucky goes paler. “Hey, wait, I didn’t say it had to go.”

“It was implied when you brought it up,” he argues.

“No!” Bucky insists. “I was just wondering if it was on purpose.”

They both turn toward Sam, who thinks about it and then makes a ‘sort of’ motion with his hand.

“Aha!” Tony says triumphantly.

“Traitor,” Bucky mutters into his coffee.

Sam signs, “I’ll make it up to you when we get home tonight.”

“And that was more than I ever wanted to learn about Sam and Bucky’s love life,” Tony lies through his teeth. “Let’s get into the theories. I only have two for you today, one of which I think Bucky will particularly like.”

“Oh no.”

“Our first theory is that Steve Rogers died in a plane crash on December 16, 1944. Winter months in the Arctic are known to be particularly stormy. There would have been low visibility due to the high latitude and time of year and with the waters and surrounding land being well below freezing, it’s possible that, even if Captain Rogers survived the impact, he would have frozen to death in the stormy seas.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second. “Yeah, that seems plausible.”

“In addition, Howard Stark, a known Captain America aficionado and the father of Marvels Unsolved’s best host—”

“You lie like a rug!” Bucky howls.

Tony snickers and then when Sam signs, “He’s really not,” bursts out into full-out laughter.

Once he’s recovered, he continues, “Howard Stark has spent the first fifty years after the crash of the Valkyrie and the last twenty funding searches in the Arctic in the hopes of recovering Captain Rogers’ body. He has found no evidence that Captain Rogers survived the crash although he did find part of the remains of the Valkyrie and has since stated that, ‘No human could have survived that crash.’”

The expeditions are a scam and have been since Howard first found the Valkyrie crash site and Uncle Steve along with it. He hadn’t been planning on continuing the expeditions—too costly, as he claims—but when Aunt Peggy had told him that Uncle Steve’s survival had to remain a secret, he’d kept them up for pretense’s sake.

Bucky is saying something about how it sucks that the first superhero is gone and when he finishes, Tony grins and says, “Then you’ll like our second theory.”

“Somehow, every time you say that, I end up completely hating it. Wonder why that is.”

“Our second theory is that Steve Rogers survived the crash and is still alive but cryogenically frozen in the ice. There—”

“Bullshit!”

Tony starts laughing but he tries to continue on over Bucky shouting that it’s complete nonsense. It’s hard and he knows that Sam will probably have to do some editing and maybe make Tony do some voiceover work in order to make the theory audible but he thinks he manages to do a pretty good job.

Bucky is pouting by the end of it, arms crossed over his chest. “What fucking bullshit,” he mutters.

“The supersoldier serum—” Tony starts to point out.

“Isn’t a miracle drug.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“No, it just made him big and strong. It doesn’t just magically keep people alive when they should have died.”

And then they’re off into familiar territory, arguing about the merits of either theory. Tony’s actually feeling pretty good about himself, convinced that he’s doing a decent job of steering the conversation away of anything classified, right up until Bucky says, about halfway through the episode, “I’m surprised at you, Tony.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Surprised?”

“Usually, you have some absolutely batshit, off-the-walls crazy theory but these have actually been pretty normal for you.” He pauses and then adds for effect, “And you’re usually much better at your research than this.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on, even I know that there’s one more theory.”

He starts tapping at his chest nervously, almost wishing that he had a pair of sunglasses. Aunt Peggy always said that his lies are in his eyes, that they’re too expressive to hide the truth. When he was living with Howard, in the spotlight, he always had a pair of sunglasses to hide his eyes but he hasn’t wanted to use those since he moved out. He wishes he had them now.

“And what’s that?” he asks, feigning a casualness he doesn’t feel.

“That Steve Rogers lived and came out of the ice at some point and has been living out his life in anonymity.”

He barks out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t mention it because even I know that that theory is completely impossible.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.” Sam nods agreeably. Bucky nods back at him and adds, “Even Sam agrees with me.”

“He’s your boyfriend, he’s practically required to.”

Both Sam and Bucky laugh at that one and yeah, okay, it was a pretty ridiculous statement. Anyone who knows them knows that being boyfriends is less likely to make them agree with each other.

“Look, Steve Rogers didn’t come out of the ice alive. Howard would have known for one thing and if you think, he could keep something like that quiet, then you don’t know him very well.”

“Maybe the government insisted it be a secret,” Bucky suggests, shrugging. “There have been plenty of people who have claimed over the last couple decades to be Captain America.”

Tony scoffs. “Oh come on, by that logic, anyone could be Captain America.”

“Maybe they could be.”

“No,” Tony says flatly. “It’s like that crazy conspiracy theory guy over on Reddit who’s convinced that Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

“Maybe Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

“Ooh do the butts match?” Tony says mockingly. “I mean, really, Bucky Babe, if we’re going off of lookalikes, then my fucking Uncle Steve is secretly really Steve Rogers, which is ridiculous because the guy’s like practically ancient and faints at the sight of blood in PG-13 movies.”

That sets off another round of arguing that lasts the rest of the episode until finally Tony wraps it up with, “Whether Steve Rogers died in 1944 or is still alive today is a mystery that will remain unsolved.”

They both pause for a moment to provide time for Sam to edit in the theme music and closing title. Usually, there would be some lighthearted bantering afterwards, maybe a joke about something they said earlier in the show. This time though, Bucky says thoughtfully, “The thing is, though, I’ve met your Uncle Steve—”

Tony goes cold.

“—and he really does kind of look like—”

Tony panics. That’s the only explanation that he has for declaring, “I’m done waiting,” reaching across the tables and grabbing hold of Bucky’s shirt, and yanking him forward to kiss him.

For a moment, Bucky is too startled to do anything but then he melts into Tony, mouth opening under his, tongue pushing forward to meet his. Bucky’s arms come around him, pulling him up and out of his chair and settling him into his lap. Tony makes a small greedy sound, swallowed by Bucky’s kiss, and then they’re both pulling away. Bucky’s lips are very red; Tony can’t stop staring at them even as he’s filled with dismay.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Why not?” Bucky demands.

“You—Sam—” He glances toward the camera but Sam isn’t standing there anymore. His heart drops into his stomach—has he just ruined Bucky and Sam’s relationship? But then he hears someone drop to their knees behind him and when he turns slightly, Sam’s fingers are on his chin, gently turning his head.

“How long?” Sam asks.

“How long what?”

“How long have we been wasting our time when we could have been kissing you instead?”

Three years, two months, and fifteen days. “Too long.”

Sam kisses him then, mouth gentler than Bucky’s but no less consuming. Bucky is a hard, hot line against his front; Sam is warm against his back and Tony? Tony loses himself in the storm that is the two of them, sparks shooting through him as Bucky’s hands find their way to his hips, as Sam’s tongue slips into his mouth, as Bucky whispers into his ear, “We’re not wasting any more time.”

~

Marvels Unsolved’s 100th episode shoots to their most watched, most liked video in less than a day and when asked, maybe the smallest handful of viewers could have said what it was about.

The day after it posts, only a week after it was filmed, Tony’s phone rings.

“Kill it with fire,” Sam says sleepily.

Tony, however, recognizes Aunt Peggy’s ringtone and he rolls over to grab it before Bucky can throw it at the wall. “Hello?” he asks groggily.

“Congratulations on not blowing Steve’s cover,” she says.

“Oh yeah,” Tony mutters. “Can I go back to bed now?”

“One more thing, duck.”

“What’s that?”

“Congratulations on the new boyfriends.”

[technoskittles]

Catradora fic rec list

I mentioned making one of these awhile ago and I’m finally sitting down and compiling some of my all-time favorite fics. I’ve read a lot (like, a LOT), but I feel like a few of those really deserve an extra shout out.

I’ll separate them between multi-chap and one shots, but other than that they won’t be in any particular order. I’ll also try my best to tag the authors here on tumblr if I can find them, but if not, just lemme know if you see your fic and I can edit this later.

I’ll also be including ratings/word count/trigger warnings/etc

(I’ll mostly be including common tw’s so please make sure you also read the tags for anything that may affect you personally! Also, if I miss any, please keep in mind that it’s been awhile since I’ve read some of these so I may not remember all of them!)

Key:

[E] - Explicit 

[M] - Mature

[T] - Teen & Up Audiences

[G] - General Audiences

And for the multi-chap fics:

(O) - Ongoing

(F) - Finished

(?) - Not finished and they haven’t updated in awhile so the author probably died

So let’s get started! (Get ready for a long post obviously)

Multi-chap fics:

1. upper west side by ceruleanstorm (F) [T] ~190,000 words

TW: past child abuse, alcohol abuse

@princessofgayskull

I feel like this is definitely one of the top must-reads for all Catradora fanfics. I know I’ve seen this on a couple different lists but I’m including it on mine as well because it really is just that good.

The chapters are lengthy (but in a good way!) and the story really takes its time to flesh itself out. The character development of the characters as individuals is beautifully done and wonderfully realistic. The pacing of the development of Catra and Adora’s relationship is also sweetly slow, a steady slowburn that invokes that deep-rooted yearning feeling mirrored by the characters themselves.

It’s a really clever premise that takes place in the modern world but implements the canon universe in the form of the book that Adora’s writing that ties back to her and Catra’s shared childhood. The way that aspects of the show were revamped into this fic are so creative and I just....ugh. LOVE.

This fic also has a oneshot compilation that takes place after the events of the final chapter which is currently ongoing and I HIGHLY suggest checking that out as well once you’ve finished this. 

The sister fic for those interested: she’s god (and I found her) (O) [T] ~40,000 words

2. The Devil Is In (The Details) by SeasInkarnadine (O) [M] ~58,000 words

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, child abuse, emotional abuse, use of recreational drugs, Major Character Death

@seasinkarnadine

This is a really great fic where Adora is an undercover cop who sidles her way into one of the largest gang syndicates to bust whoever killed Hordak, a big gang leader and drug trafficker, whose death was originally ruled as an accidental overdose. Her and Catra (one of the gang members) both know foul play was involved and work together to figure out the truth.

The dynamics between these two is so casual and hilarious but still has those gut-wrenching moments that really ground you and realize that their relationship is dysfunctional on a few levels. The exploration of Adora’s conflicting feelings towards Catra hurt in such a good way as she realizes that she does genuinely care for Catra, but also is aware that what she’s doing will eventually screw her over and land her in jail. It’s the best kind of underlying angst and I highly recommend it.

Another really great selling point that I particularly love is that Adora is deaf in this AU and the author really shows this in such a realistic and natural way that shows she really knows what she’s talking about. It makes the dynamic between the two even more interesting considering that Catra also knows sign language which give the two a lot of moments of mutual understanding that doesn’t extend to the other characters. It’s something that the two of them have that’s sort of just for them to be on that level of understanding and it’s so great.

Also, Morgan is just a great writer in general and I highly suggest checking out more of her stuff (her art too!). She’s one of the writers I’ve looked up to since my beginning days in the fandom and it’s still amazing seeing all the great stuff she puts out.

3. Skinny Love by Maychup (O) [M] ~100,000 words

TW: past child abuse

@maychup

Another staple of big fics in the catradora fandom but for good reason. This fic is a wonderful exploration of events taking place after S1 illustrating Catra & Adora’s relationship in a different path that the rest of the show takes. It focuses heavily on their past experiences with each other and how that affects their current situation being on opposite sides of the war. 

This fic is older, published just after S1, so canon divergence is an important aspect of its build. But the way the story is written is so beautiful and grounded that it’s still interesting even now knowing what really happens in the show. 

Their dynamic is kind of back-and-forth, with Catra figuring out what Adora means to her and vice versa and where the two of them want to go from that point. It has so many sweet moments and steamy ones as well (btw, there’s a lot of smut) and the exploration into each of the character’s pysches is so compelling and intriguing.

4. Faded With Feelings by yesimgay (F) [T] ~24,000 words

TW: recreational drug use

This was such a cute, short multi-chap fic. It’s a bit older but I think it’s still one of my top faves. 

A modern au, Catra & Adora are roommates post-college and trying to make their way in the adulting world. Catra has ADHD and smokes weed to help with that. One day Adora accidentally eats a couple of her edibles and cute shenanigans ensue. And that’s just the first two chapters.

The rest of the fic goes on to the girls figuring out their feelings for each other, especially Adora who, in this case, isn’t really sure of her sexuality. All-in-all, a really cute fic that’s a nice break from all the angst that typically saturates the fandom.

5. Chasing the Spotlight by holymountain (?) [T] ~20,000 words

This is an AU where Adora is hired to be Catra’s, a pop singer, bodyguard. There’s so many cute moments in this, though admittedly it’s been about 6 months since it’s last updated so be sure to keep that in mind.

6. we’ve been making shades of purple out of red and blue by darklady21 (?) [t] ~24,000 words

An “and they were ROOMMATES” au. In this one though, Catra and Adora don’t actually know each other and really only get to know each other over time. It’s cute and has a lot of interesting interactions between the two, but it hasn’t updated in about 7 months.

7. Tuning Out by FaiaHae (?) [T] ~2500 words

I actually really loved the whole concept of this fic but it hasn’t updated in like, an entire year so...only read if you’re okay with the fact that it probably won’t ever be finished haha

8. burnt sugar by jeserai (O) [G] ~11,000 words

@jeserai

Oh god YES this fic. The classic “fake dating” au except Catra is a rich kid inheriting a business who essentially hires Adora, a broke college student, to go on a date with her to this big business function. There’s not a lot to say about it other than that without giving too much away, but the fic is about halfway done at this point so it’s a pretty short read as of now.

Just be warned, it’s currently on a MASSIVE cliffhanger so if you wanna wait until it updates I totally understand lol

9. still waters by summerson (O) [M] ~28,000 words

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, self harm

A “The Last of Us” AU. Personally, I’m not super familiar with TLOU because I could never get into the game myself, but this fic is so well done and the writing style is so interesting and well-executed that I still love this fic to bits. But obviously, for those of you who are aware of TLOU, you already know that this fic is going to contain quite the fair share of angst so be ready.

10. Whispering Dreams by dragonesdepapel (F) [T] ~7500 words

It’s been awhile since I’ve read this one so I don’t remember everything, but I do remember really enjoying the writing style and the construction of this fic. It’s a short read, but it’s totally worth it

11. please could you be tender by erce3 (F) [G] ~40,000 words

@figbian

please please PLEASE go read this fic. I’m actually begging y’all to go read this one I loved it so much it’s still one of my top 10 faves out there.

This fic is set in a modern setting where Adora & Catra were childhood friends and are in college and god it’s just SO. GOOD. The writing style and composition of the flashbacks with the present events is so beautifully done and organized and I really cannot hype this fic up enough GO READ IT

12. buried a hatchet (it’s coming up lavendar) by erce3 (O) [G] ~12,000 words

on the note of that last rec, I highly rec their other work which is currently in progress. It takes place after S3 but it’s an exploration on if Catra and Adora got trapped in the portal instead of Angella and FUCK this person is genuinely amazing go read their stuff

13. Senior Year by SimplyAbsolute (O) [E] ~98,000 words

@simplyabsolute

This is a really cute fic about Adora and Catra in their final year of college and I guess for me personally it really just hits hard because I’m also in my final year of college lol. But really, it’s a great fic and I suggest checking it out. It’s actually only got one more chapter left too so it’s almost done!

14. Assassinating Adora by Wicked42 (F) [T] ~13,000 words

@wicked-42

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Jeez this fic was a real rollercoaster of emotions. I loved every bit of it. 

Basically, some people try to assassinate Adora and Catra stops one of them, but both girls are still inflicted by the poison and....it just gets crazier from there. Don’t wanna spoil it too much but this is a must-read for sure.

And this one may seem like cheating but I’m gonna plug one of my own multi-chap fics here

15. Pure Feeling (O) [T] ~30,000 words

TW: brief mention of sexual assault in Ch 5

This is a modern AU set after all the kids have been out of college for a few years. 

Adora and Catra were childhood friends but ended up drifting apart and falling out during their college years. Fast forward about 6 years and they run into each other again, except now Adora has a daughter and is struggling to balance her life as a single mother. Overtime the two girls work on rebuilding their friendship and somewhere along the way might even realize that they’re feelings for each other never really went away. But of course, like all things in life, this isn’t an easy process and they run into more than a few complications - internal and external.

One Shots:

(there’s so many of these I’ve loved so I’m really going to try and narrow it down to about 10. If yours didn’t make it, no offense! I just have WAY too many to include and this post is already so long haha)

1. The Interlude That Never Ends by FMLClexa [M] ~2500 words

TW: Major Character Death, brief mention of sexual assault

Okay I’m gonna be honest: If you ignore all the other fics on this list, READ THIS ONE. This is absolutely my #1 favorite without a doubt. It’s a soulmate/reincarnation au and it’s so wonderfully executed that I honestly cannot even begin to tell y’all how much I love this one. It’s old and one of the first fics I ever read, but it’s so timeless and excellent and I promise you won’t regret reading it. I know I’ve read this about a million times over.

It’s been a whole year and this has held my #1 fave position the entire time. READ. IT.

2. after party by summerson [M] ~2000 words

TW: recreational drug use

God this fic was so great I read it last night and I’m still in awe in how well it was written and the emotions it managed to invoke in me. My favorite scene is the part where Catra tells Adora “I love you” because it’s so raw and desperate and I vibed with it so hard. It’s really difficult trying to tell someone how much you love them with just a few simple words because they really just don’t convey how much you love them and it’s so frustrating and GAH this fic was fucking great please read it.

3. jigsaw by jeserai [G] ~2500 words

@jeserai

This fic is so great and I felt so warm inside reading it. Definitely read if you want sweet, slow friends to lovers burn.

4. Vicious by SeasInkarnadine [M] ~3500 words

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

I really highly recommend this one if you can get past the trigger warnings. It was so well written and very suspenseful with the juxtaposition of the timeline between current events and snippets of what had happened just hours before. But the ending is really sweet and the way that Catra cares for Adora after the whole thing squeezed my heart to pieces.

This is one I’ve read a few times over because of how much I love it. Def in my top 3.

5. Basement by spookyscaryskeletons [G] ~2800 words

This was such a great rendition of “Adora and Catra are forced to talk” and the emotions were raw and bleeding and I love the character portrayals. 

6. Coming Apart by Whorls [E] ~13,000 words (or ~6,000 words each chap)

@crazy-pages

Okay this fic technically has two chapters but I’m including it here in the oneshots because the chapters are identical in the sense of story but the only difference is that in chapter one Catra is a cis woman and in chapter two she’s a trans woman pre-op. Other than that the chapters are identical so it’s mostly based off which experience you would rather have while reading.

This fic was. So. Fucking. Good. Sen did such a fantastic job with both aspects of this story and I love it to bits and pieces. The smut in the beginning is delicious as can be, but then towards the latter half it absolutely sucker punches you with feelings but in a good way. I really, really fucking love this fic and I think it needs more attention than it initially got so I’m imploring you all to please go read this fic. It’s fantastic.

7. Seconds That I Cannot Replace by Mogatrat [M] ~7800 words

TW: child abuse, underage(?)

This is a really heartbreaking fic set before canon. It’s about all the times that Catra and Adora started a romantic relationship only for Shadow Weaver to come in and ruin everything by constantly erasing and resetting Adora’s memory. I still think about this fic from time to time. Give it a go.

8. Come morning light by dragonesdepapel [T] ~1800 words

TW: Major Character Death

Another one that’s technically two chapters but it’s the same events, just covers the perspective of each girl. Adora’s dying and asks Catra to stay with her.

Basically this fic ripped my heart out and I still think about it sometimes.

9. someone you like by caela [T] ~5100 words

oh fuck me yes this fic. A modern au where Catra sorta stalks Adora on instagram and accidentally likes an old picture. Fluffiness galore.

10. When You Came Calling by ActuallyMe [E] ~5200 words

TW: Major Character Death

A 1940′s Mob AU where Catra is a private eye and Adora married high-ranking mob boss Hordak...who’s just been murdered.

Really great one shot. Personally I would’ve loved to see more come of this but it’s great on its own.

And once again, this is cheating but here’s a couple oneshots of my own that I wanna plug real quick

11. hang tight (all you) [T] ~9200 words

Modern AU fic set when Catra and Adora are in high school. Adora struggles to come to terms with her sexuality in an discouraging environment as well as the fact that she’s had a crush on her best friend since middle school. Personally I think this was one of my best works and a lot of other people seem to have liked it too so yeah!

12. as my World d[ivides] [E] ~2500 words

TW: Rape/Non-Con, Underage

One of my darker fics, but still one I’m pretty proud of. Without giving too much away, Adora suffers from a trauma and engages in unhealthy coping mechanisms and Catra enables her because no one’s taught them any different.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

@theeyethatbinds​ Girl SING IT. SING IT LOUDER FOR THE GIRLS IN THE BACK, SWEAR TO GOD.

Like I’m gonna be real wit y’all I was looking forward to le Comte for a while, but I was always side-eyeing Jeanne. He’s a blunt hermit and grump and 100% mood, so I hoped his route would give me more insight into how I feel about him.

Ladies. When I tell you. It was EXCELLENT. I mean there are so many gr9 routes in the game, I don’t want to take away from them, but there was just something about his that hit me so hard???? (MY KOKORO BROKORO)

More under the cut since his route won’t be out for a little while (we still got Isaac, then Theo, then Jeanne), as a little treat. As usual, pls don’t read if you don’t want spoilers, thanks!

Okay so going into this route I was fully expecting the big sads. I mean, if history has taught us anything it was that Joan D’Arc was a badass but good lord, that doesn’t mean the people of her time were kind to her. (I need to do more thorough research on her, so if I’m getting any of her pronouns wrong or neglect something, I do apologize.)

That being sad, I was like aight DECK MY SHIT WITH TRAGEDY, JEANNE. And at the beginning it’s p fascinating. He’s very ornery and resistant to any kind of consideration or attempts at friendship MC extends. But eventually, after a good deal of persistence, he relents little by little.

I’d also like to level with y’all for a sec. Being someone who knows a great deal in regards to the kinds of mental and emotional shit Jeanne struggles through, I think they handled that part of the route so, so well. Granted, I’m not the kind of person to launch a crusade over different writing styles--but for me it just feels all the more poignant when it makes sense; when certain dispositions or trauma are conveyed with that depth. To me, it made 100% sense that Jeanne would be so against accepting other people into his life immediately.

He and Mozart vibe because they’re so similar, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s comfortable letting just anyone in--much less a complete stranger. I think it’s more that Mozart and Jeanne share a kind of indelible bond/mutual recognition through their talent, actually. They were both prodigies, absolute geniuses in their fields (military vs. music) but their social skills were shot to hell for the very same reason. To be brilliant--beyond one’s potential posthumous legacy--tends to mean being hated. Plus, they’re both principled to absolute extremes. When they’ve decided on something, they will not waver. They’re stubborn and austere, but behind those walls lies a molten core of sensitivity.

This is important to understanding him, I think, before I move forward.

While one could argue that their reaction is a result of that deficiency of emotional and social support (which I entirely concede does contribute to the matter at hand, it shouldn’t be overlooked) I think the real crux of the matter here is control. Think about it. Among the oldest residents in the mansion (let’s say that were born more than 100 years within the range of the present period of the game) are Mozart, Jeanne, Isaac, and Shakespeare. What do they all have in common?

Extremity. For Mozart, it comes in the form of a kind of OCD, as perfectionism. For Jeanne, it is generalized anxiety and PTSD. For Isaac, it is primarily social anxiety--but it’s still noticeably severe. And Shakespeare runs around with a knife, insecurity through the roof, literally unable to trust anything or anyone (psychosis? schizoaffective? I’m really not sure, these are all ballpark assessments based on the evidence I have). In order to adjust to their new surroundings, there was a cost--and in some ways their coping mechanisms become noticeably maladaptive. They were born into eras that were mercilessly unpredictable, and the only way they knew how to cope was to was to either take the blame--make it a personal failing that tragedy struck--or try to immerse themselves into their craft. They all seek to regain some kind of control (this is even visible in Vincent, to a degree--painting was an escape from his emotionally turbulent world).

Granted that’s not to say that the others don’t struggle with such issues at all, I just feel like the characters from more unstable time periods tend (as a general trend) to mirror that instability within their personalities.

All that being said, (I apologize I am a tangent-monger and love meta), Jeanne’s self-imposed isolation is only partially caused by the above dynamic. Yes, he is unwilling to let people into his heart for fear of betrayal. (It’s almost like an entire nation clamoring to watch you burn for something you didn’t do after spending your entire life and talents trying to protect them would do that to you, but I digress >:| ). But there’s another devastating and potentially less obvious reason for keeping people out.

He thinks he deserves it.

Loneliness, melancholy, aimlessness. These are all the punishments that he incurred on himself after a life of what he conceives to be considerable sin (hahaha battlefield enemies go ripppp). Whether or not he was operating purely out of a sense of duty, even if he felt sympathy for his enemy combatants, it’s not enough. And the condemnation of his king, of his entire nation, only served to magnify that self-loathing to a dangerous degree. (Don’t get me started on his parents I’m still so angry >:| they more or less disowned him since he was constitutionally weak as a young boy, and thus could not serve as an adequate farmhand. Don’t work? Don’t eat/live).

It’s hard enough living in a reserved way because you’re afraid of getting hurt, but to think that you deserve it when hurt finds you, no less? And my favorite part, that he’s so profoundly sure that it is an extension of a personal, fundamental failing? That for a person to survive, they must be strong, that there can be no other way--that there is no time or space for ruminations on fairness or unfairness, there are only those who manage to survive and those who die.

Now my friends, esteemed comrades, legendary sluts. Is that enough for us, Cybird asks, are we feeling enough pain quite yet? Fuck no.

Most of his route after we get over the hurdle of his hesitation is just him. Being. Bashful and gentle as all FUCK. Like he is the definition of “I'll kill you, but also I’m babie.” For instance, she insists on teaching him how to read and write at night when she finds him trying (and not succeeding) to read “The Ugly Duckling”. Yes I mean the children’s book. I CRIED THE FIRST TIME AND I’M CRYING NOW. So, naturally, MC buys him a notebook to practice with and he puts his name in big letters on the front. When MC sees this, she asks him about it--wondering why he would given he’s so self-conscious of his own writing (boy writes all squiggly like a little kid because he’s never done it before ;-;).

The scene goes a little something like this:

MC: Wh....whatcha go there Jeanne? Jeanne: ? My notebook? MC: I...mean that you wrote your name on it? Jeanne: Yeah? MC: Why? Jeanne: ._. It was a gift from you, and I figured it'd be hard to practice if I lost it...so I put my name on it... (HE WAS SECRETLY TOUCHED I BET AND IM--) MC: Why such big letters? Jeanne: So people can spot it quickly, obviously MC, inches from crying and laughing: Jeanne: Mademoiselle??? Why are you laughing? MC: Because you’re cute, Jeanne!

Like. They start out so rocky and Jeanne is so SIGH. I guess I’ll agree if it’ll get her to stop looking so sad and ask me to join her for stuff. But then he just can’t help but go full softe at how patient and kind she is, starts feeling comfortable just...being who he is deep down. A man that’s always hoped for better in life, a person that only ever takes up his sword to protect--that has an incredibly pure and clear heart, despite so much pain.

And good lord, they are GOD TIER romantic slow burn???? Swear to everything holy, I was BEGGING for them to make out by like chapter 10, I was just suffering for most of the route until the bangarang premium. Here’s probably my favorite moment in the entire route:

Basically Sebastian and Mozart pull out all the stops trying to bring Jeanne and MC together (once they see Jeanne show some interested in her). And so Jeanne asks her to join him in the courtyard the next morning, and they’re playing with Cherie (Jeanne’s pet baby white tiger). Besides being ungodly adorable--because Jeanne invited her for the sole purpose of hoping to see her delightfully surprised--Mozart begins to play a love song nearby. They don’t name the tune, but Jeanne canonically starts singing along (I wholeass cried, I WANT TO HEAR HIM SING????). And so she asks what the song is about, and he explains that Mozart once played it for him, but he couldn’t make out the words at first. Mozart explained that it was a love song that speaks to the difficulties of being in love (the worry, the strife) but also the beauty of the intensity and passion. He goes on to say that even when he learned the words, it never made much sense to him back then--it never resonated.

He’s singing softly with a fond look, and so she asks, does he understand it now? And he looks her dead in the eye, and says “...I think I’m starting to.” Like. AM I SUPPOSED TO NOT LOSE MY MIND AT THE TENDERNESS????? WHAT A SMOOTH MOFO????? MAN RAISED TO BE A SOLDIER, NO KNOWLEDGE OF ROMANCE OR WOMEN, AND KILLS ME IN MILLISECONDS?????? I DEMAND JUSTICE. (Or it’s just me thinking sincerity is the best aphrodisiac, but that’s beside the point.)

This has been your quarantine 2d boy meta and yelling, provided by your local mod Minnie. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to get to the things I’ve been procrastinating on while reliving/dissociating about one of my favorite rts in the entire game. Stay safe and well out there y’all, peace out!