#(please imagine commas where they would be)

[micahdotgov]

i wish that the doctor's daughter had somehow referenced georgia being peter davison's daughter like why would ten's daughter be blonde you could easily get a joke out of that

[pastryleclerc]

je vais t'aimer

requested: yes/no

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (one shot)

warnings: slow burn smut (the act itself is about two pages long, it's also my first!!), my bad english (and possibly bad writing), language, established bf/gf relationship, some fluff of charles and the reader making music together and being domestic towards the end, lots of text in between the lyrics - please imagine yourself singing in one go, reader is described to have brunette hair and blue eyes, mentions of death and dying, oral (fem and male receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!) but reader is said to be on the pill, cock warming if you squint, also slight breeding kink towards the end, please comment if you find anything else and i'll add it to the list

word count: 4.846 words (with lyrics), 4.352 words (without lyrics)

a/n: hello guys 🥰 finally it's here - my first fic! i truly can't believe that i wrote an almost seven page long one shot but here we are. 🤩 the inspiration for the fic was "je vais t'aimer" by louane from the movie "la famille bélier" (the original was sung by michel sardou) - go and give the song a listen if you can :) i've proofread the text but i'm sure there will be a few mistakes, especially when it comes to grammar and commas, since english is not my first language. also, i feel like the ending is a bit rushed. 😅 feel free to let me know what you think as feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome 🙏 if you can find the symbolism used in this, i'll give you a cookie 🍪 in addition to that there's a hint to one of my favorite shows - leave a comment if you know what it is 😉 (italics = lyrics, brackets = translations) - here we go, i hope you enjoy this :) | *"Tonnerre de Dieu" is an idiom meaning something like "Bloody hell!"

🔎 directions | 🔎 masterlist

The cool summer breeze coming through the window – which was left open after last night’s activities – softly grazed her skin. The warm sunrays that rested upon her eyelids awakened her slowly. It was an early Sunday morning in the Monégasque summer – almost too early for her liking – so she blinked a few times but ultimately decided to close her eyes again, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep. Trying to escape the rising sun she turned towards where she thought her lover would be laying, hoping to snuggle up to him while enjoying the last day of their free weekend. But when she reached out her warm, delicate hands, all she could feel were empty sheets that had started to become cold already, indicating that her boyfriend had been out of their shared bed for a while now. So much for staying in bed.

Slowly Y/N sat up, letting out a yawn while stretching her arms above her head. By doing so, her own sheets slipped down her body, uncovering her very naked breasts. She sighed to herself, memories of the previous night came flashing back shortly, making her miss the brunette boy even more. Her heart yearned for him, thinking about the love and intimacy they shared. So the young woman made it her mission to find her other half. She swung her legs over the edge of their shared bed – her warm feet meeting the cold floor – and walked into her adjacent closet, fishing a fresh pair of panties out of the drawer. Forgoing putting on any more clothes, she went back into the bedroom and picked up the shirt her boyfriend wore yesterday and slipped it on. She tried to open the door as silent as possible, already hearing the faint sounds of a piano, and went to the top step of the staircase. From there the young woman could see her boyfriends bare back as he played the keys with his delicate fingers. Y/N noticed how the muscles of his back, moved with the rhythm he created, absolutely mesmerizing her. She couldn’t believe how such a beautiful man was truly hers and decided to watch him a little longer before making her way downstairs with the softest steps she could possibly muster as to not make him aware of her presence.

Charles Leclerc was up early. He didn’t understand why, as it was his weekend off and he had stayed up late the night before – he should be exhausted. Looking to his left, he saw his girlfriend and smiled at her sleeping form. His heart tugged at it’s strings at how filled it was with love for Y/N. His mind remembering the events of the night before. The look in her eyes gave her own love for him away, as he deeply stared into them while making sweet love to her. Their foreheads stuck together as they exchaged words of affection, some more dirty than others. For a second the young racing driver thought about waking the woman beside him up to take care of his now throbbing member but ultimately decided to not disturb her peaceful slumber. The brunette leaned over and gave his girlfriend a soft kiss on the forehead before he slowly, as careful as possible, sat up in bed and let out a yawn. He started to look for his boxers that should have been left somewhere in the room. When the Monégasque had found them he stood up and tip toed to the piece of clothing, which was laying by the bed post, and put it on. Before Charles left the room, he turned around once more and took one last look at the sleeping woman in their shared bed – half smiling at the sight – and made his way downstairs to work on his music.

Long arms snaked around his torso and a kiss was pressed to his neck. „Good morning, mon amour,“ his girlfriend whispered sweetly in his ear. If he didn’t know what music sounded like, he’d probably say this might have been it – the angelic voice of the woman he loved. Charles body automatically leaned back in her arms and he rested his head on her shoulder. „Morning, mon cœur.“ he smirked at her, squinting his eyes while he looked at her. She kissed his stubbly cheek, her left arm moved to lay over his exposed chest: „Why are you awake already? I’ve missed you.“ The older man shook his head slightly and he was able to smell his girlfriends hair: „Couldn’t sleep anymore I guess.“ Y/N hummed in response. „So you decided to leave me all alone and replaced me with your piano?“ She mumbled in her lovers neck and left a hickey. Charles hissed. „You found me after all, didn’t you? How about you join me?“ He slid to the left and patted the now free space on the bench. The woman behind him grinned and wrapped her fragile fingers around his firm chin, turning his head to look up at her. Their eyes met, completely enamoured with one another. Slowly both started to lean in until their lips finally touched for their first official good morning kiss on this early Sunday morning. The drivers hand moved to lay on her neck, deepening the kiss as both of them let out a sigh. He took it as his opportunity to slip his tongue between his girlfriends parted lips, making out with her some more, until she pushed him back slightly by his chin. „I thought you had asked if I wanted to join you?“ Y/N smirked at Charles and got the biggest smile out in response, showing off his beautiful teeth. „That I did!“ His opposite giggled and gave him on last kiss on the cheek.

She moved away from him and sat on the bench to his right hand side. Turning his head to look at her, he asked her: „Would you like to sing for me?“, knowing she had the most beautiful singing voice in the world (but don’t tell George he said that, he’d fight him for his life trying to defend Lewis). Her head now turned to look at him too: „I’d love that. Can I make a wish.“ Charles heart skipped a beat at her question and he stared at her as if she hung the moon, the sun and all of his stars. „You don’t even have to ask, you know I’d fulfill you all your wishes without a second thought.“ The young womans eyes got teary hearing those words from her lover of two years, knowing he loved her as much as she loved him. „Je vais t’aimer, mon beau.“ Her boyfriends wrinkled as his lips spread out into a smile: „Toi aussi, ma belle.“ „No, idiot, the song from ‚La famille Bélier‘.“ She laughed loudly, infecting the other Monégasque with it’s brightness and who soon joined her, shaking his head. „I knew that of course.“ Smirking, Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing full well he didn’t. Charles eyed her from the side and cleared his throat while cracking his knuckles, before his warm fingers touched the cold piano tiles again to form the opening notes oft he 1976 tune.

À faire pâlir tous les Marquis de Sade (To make all the Marquis de Sade pale)

À faire rougir les putains de la rade (To make the whores blush in the harbor)

À faire crier grâce à tous les échos (To be shouted through all the echoes)

À faire trembler les murs de Jéricho (To shake the walls of Jericho)

Je vais t′aimer (I will love you)

Y/N tried not to look at Charles while singing the all too familiar song but she couldn’t help it. He was just so gorgeous. The way his fingers moved across the tiles amazed her, watching his forearms flex while doing so. A simple yet so effective move, which – in a dangerous mix with the obscene lyrics coming out of her mouth - went straight down to her core.

À faire flamber des enfers dans tes yeux (To make hell blaze in your eyes)

À faire jurer tous les tonnerres de Dieu (To make all the thunders of God swear*)

À faire dresser tes seins et tous les Saints (To have your breasts and all the saints raise)

À faire prier et supplier nos mains, je vais t'aimer (To make us pray and beg our hands I will love you)

His cheeks reddened hearing her sing those lewd words which were meant to be for him only at this very moment. Her hand touched his biceps, moving up and down, and it sent cold shivers down his back straight to his dick. He loved sharing such intimate moments with her, just the two of them – sometimes they watched a movie, other times, like today, they made some music together – but as soon as her long fingers moved across his naked skin, he always knew he was gone for and there was only one way this would end. And she knew it too.

Je vais t′aimer comme on ne t'a jamais aimée (I’m going to love you like you’ve never been before)

Je vais t'aimer plus loin que tes rêves ont imaginé (I’m going to love you further than your dreams have imagined)

Je vais t′aimer, je vais t′aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)

Je vais t'aimer comme personne n′a osé t'aimer (I will love you like no one has dared to love you)

Je vais t′aimer comme j'aurai tellement aimé être aimé (I will love you as I would have loved to be loved)

Je vais t′aimer, je vais t'aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)

The young woman put her head on her boyfriends shoulder while singing, as she moved the hand – which was wrapped around his biceps – to the veins on his forearm and finally landing on his right thigh. Slowly she caressed the exposed skin, making the bulge in his underwear grow. The air between the two lovers became thicker with sexual tension second by second. Charles just really wanted to hear her sweet voice sing but now he was about to hear even better sounds coming out of her mouth and her teasing showed just how close she was to giving him herself all over again. And he loved every bit of it.

À faire vieillir, à faire blanchir la nuit (To age, to whiten the night)

À faire brûler la lumière jusqu'au jour (Burning the light until the day)

À la passion et jusqu′à la folie (To passion and to the point of madness)

Je vais t′aimer, je vais t'aimer d′amour (I will love you, I will love you with love)

À faire cerner, à faire fermer nos yeux (To be identified, to close our eyes)

À faire souffrir, à faire mourir nos corps (To make us suffer, to kill our bodies)

À faire voler nos âmes aux septièmes cieux (To make our bodies fly into seventh heaven)

À se croire morts et faire l'amour encore, je vais t′aimer (To think you’re dead and make love again, I’m going to love you)

The words sung perfectly described the love they shared for one another. They were each other light in the darkness of this world, especially Y/N for Charles. She was his anchor and saving grace whenever he had a bad race and she was there for him through it all – the ups and downs of racing ever since they had been kids, the deaths of his father and Jules, the travelling, the distance, the winning, the losing and everything in between. Everytime they had sex it felt like the very first time. And everytime they finished it felt like they had died and gone to heaven. He was excited to feel this way again and he knew she felt the same way. Their passion for one another almost exceeding the point of madness where they couldn’t go long without seeing, touching and talking to each other and not turning crazy about it. Charles and Y/N burned for each other- their love a blazing flame that never seemed to die – they were the bane of each others existence and the objects of all their desires and wildest dreams. For the last chorus the young woman let all of those feelings out and every word was meant only for her Monégasque lovers ears – the one man she ever wanted to spend her forever and beyond with.

Je vais t'aimer comme on ne t′a jamais aimée (I’m going to love you like you’ve never been loved)

Je vais t'aimer plus loin que tes rêves ont imaginé (I’m going to love you further than your dreams have imagined)

Je vais t'aimer, je vais t′aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)

Je vais t′aimer comme personne n'a osé t′aimer (I will love you like no one has dared to love you)

Je vais t'aimer comme j′aurai tellement aimé être aimé (I will love you as I would have loved to be loved)

Je vais t'aimer, je vais t′aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)

Charles fingers lingered on the piano, finishing the final note. They stayed silent for a little longer, letting the past few minutes catch up to them, the only sound being heard were their breaths that were in sync with each other – mirroring the rapid beating of their hearts. The woman moved her right hand from her boyfriends thigh and placed it upon his chest. „I love you, mon amour, thank you for letting me share this moment with you,“ she whispered in his ear and left a kiss right below it. The racing driver next to her turned slightly and put his hand on her cheek, his thumb caressing the warm skin. „Anytime again, ma belle.“ His dimples showed due to the soft smile that made it’s way to his face. And also his girlfriend couldn’t help but reach out for him, letting her hand linger on the side of his neck. The two of them knew what was about to happen, so Charles put his arm around Y/Ns waist, pulling her even closer (if that was possible) and their lips radiated towards each other, as if they were two magnets, finally reuniting in a breathtaking kiss.

When they broke apart, Y/N took the initiative and took her sweet time kissing down his body, leaving a few hickeys on the way – from his cheek, to his neck and his abs, until she ended up on her knees in front of the piano, facing Charles‘ crotch. Looking down on his girlfriend, he moaned her name: „Touches moi, s’il te plaît…“ Smirking at that, Y/N let her hands glid up his thigh. „Of course, baby boy, let me take care of you.“ Slowly she caressed his bulge while maintaining eye contact before dropping her head to leave some more kisses on his thighs. Then she moved her hand into his shorts and boxers to free his semi-hard dick. Charles shuddered when her cold fingers touched his warm dick and he bit his lip to keep in the moan he so badly wanted to let out. „Don’t hold back, baby, I wanna hear you. Show me how good I can make you feel.“ The girl encouraged him while stroking his hardening length. „Mon dieu…“, Charles whispered under his breath and threw his head back. At that she smirked and stuck out her tongue in order to lick a long stripe up the underside of her boyfriends dick, sucking on his tip where she left another kiss. The brunette driver locked eyes with his girlfriend who just swallowed his precum and continued to watch her as her mouth wrapped around his length again and went further and further to take him in fully. „Oh.“ His moan spurred her on and she started bobbing her head up and down, as her hand went to massage his balls. Charles so desperately wanted to keep focused on the woman in front of him but he ultimately lost control and fisted his hand in her hair, in order to form a makeshift ponytail and started pushing her head down on his dick harder. „Chérie - I’m gonna…“ His breathy voice got cut off by a groan he couldn’t hold back. As if his girlfriend could sense it, she had moaned on his dick and stroked his thick thighs, silently telling him to come in her mouth. A few seconds later Y/N heard Charles let out an especially loud moan and felt his sweet cum shoot down her throat. The young woman released his dick from her luscious lips with a loud „popp“ and opened her mouth to show Charles that she had swallowed it all. With hazy eyes he smirked down at his girlfriend and wrapped his hand around her chin, his thumb lightly stroking her cheek. „Good girl.“ He leaned down to leave a kiss on her forehead, then helped her stand on her two feet again. „Let me return the favor, amour.“

Charles stood up and deeply stared into his girlfriends eyes while slowly taking steps forward, backing her up into the piano. „Cha…“ Y/Ns voice was desperate and she closed her eyes as he reached out his hands. She waited for his touch, which never came. He closed the lid of the piano, then returned his attention to the smaller woman, his eyes so full of lust for her. His head bent down and he feverishly kissed her which she easily returned, their tongues exploring each others mouths, as if it was the first time they made out. The racing driver put his hands on her butt and softly kneaded the skin there, before leaving a slap on her right ass cheek, making her gasp loudly. „Jump.“ He said with his signature wink. Y/N did as she was told and wrapped her legs around his torso, as he sat her on top of the piano. „You look so good in my shirt. Much better than I ever did, ma jolie.“ His girlfriend giggled and his hands glid along her curves taking them all in. Charles kneeled down until his eyes were lined up with her ankles. He left the lightest kisses up her legs, alternating between the left and right one, while moving his hands up their sides. When his eyes were on the same level as her core he pulled her crotch closer to his face by her hips. „Ahh!“ A squeal left the girls lips as Charles took her by suprise. The latter laughed slighty. „Excuse-moi, Chérie.“ All was forgotten though when he kissed her cunt through her panties before he pulled them down. The excitement rose in his chest and he licked his lips, whereas his girlfriend felt a certain anticipation, wating for him to continue. Moving his face closer to her already dripping core he left a longing kiss on her clit, as his right hand came up to assist him – one of his fingers went in between her folds collecting her juices. „So wet for me already, bébé.“ He then wrapped his lips around his own finger, tasting her. „And so sweet.“ Y/N was in a state of pure bliss already, humming approvingly. „All for you, ma vie.“ Charles nodded. „Yes, all mine.“ The Monégasque started sucking on her clit again, acting as if his life essence is made up of the sweet sounds that escaped her throat. One of his fingers finally entered her, moving in and out in a steady rhythm that coordinated with the way his tongue moved along her clit. It felt as though she was his instrument: His fingers moved delicately inside of her, playing out a tune of moans mixing with the breathy calles of her name, truly showing his artistic skills aside from the piano. Two of his fingers were inside of her now, preparing the young woman for later, as he alternated between scissoring her hole and stroking her g-spot.

As Y/N felt her orgasm approach, her hands flew to her boyfriends fluffy hair, pulling on the loose curls. „Charlie, ne t’arrête pas!“ She moaned, feeling the tight knot in her lower stomach starting to loosen up. Spurred on by the soft massaging of her hands he moaned onto her clit. That was the last note missing in their steamy melody pulling the girl over the edge as she came with a loud scream of his name, squirting her juices into his mouth. He lapped at her lower lips, trying to collect all the juices he could get, before rising from his kneeling position. Her uneven breaths started to calm down again as she noticed the state of his chin through half-lidded eyes and let out a shaky laugh. „I’m so sorry, mon Chéri.“ Charles slightly leaned over her, moving his hand to her back, as he wrapped her right leg around his waist to pick her up and get her into a standing position in between him and the piano again. „No need to be sorry, mon ange. I enjoyed every second of it.“ At the second sentence his voice lowered an octave, accentuating every word into her ear. He nibbled on her earlobe moving down her neck, leaving a small hickey there. „Should we move this to the sofa for the big climax of our wonderful duet?“ He asked into her neck, knowing the couch was closer. „Yes, please.“ She breathed out, her head still thrown to the side, letting Charles have his access to her skin.

He took her hand in his and lead her to the other part of their living room. There, she regained some control when he turned around in order to kiss her, and she put her hand on his chest instead, pushing him back into the soft pillows. Charles smirked as he was under her spell once more. He patted his thighs and his girlfriend smiled, placing herself in her favorite seat, facing him. Once more the two lovers found themselves lost in each others eyes, before slowly leaning in, their lips meeting in a loving kiss, much softer than the ones before. Y/N moved her hands along his abs once more, moving over his bare chest to his toned shoulders. His own hands found their way to her wast, moving towards the hem of her – no, his – shirt, slowly lifting it above her head and throwing it somewhere behind him. The sudden cold air made her nipples harden, sending a shiver down her back. Charles smiled up at her – taking in all of her naked glory – and licked his lips in anticipation. His right hand moved to her breast, his lips latched around the other. „Ohh, Char…“ The young woman moaned and watched him suck on her tits. The fingers of his right hand fumbled with the small bud before he went to switch sides. Wanting to feel more of him, Y/N rubbed her body along his legs. Smirking, he removed himself from her boobs. „So impatient, ma jolie.“ His girlfriend laughed. „I mean, can you blame me? Everything about you turns me on immensly. Mon dieu, je t’aime tellement.“ The heat of her bare core meeting the cold skin of his thigh – he had already forgotten that her panties still layed somewhere by his piano – reminding him about the truthfulness of her statement. „Je t’aime aussi, mon cœur.“ The two stared lovingly at each other once more before the woman moved her hands down to the waistband of her boyfriends boxers – the only article of clothing left to separate their most intimate parts – and she couldn’t stand his advantage at all. „Take them off, baby.“ He smirked and tapped his hands on his girlfriends waist to signal her that she would have to get off him first. Y/N lifted her butt so that he could pull the garment down, letting them hang by his knees.

With his underwear out of the way, the woman above him slowly sunk down on his dick, stabilizing herself by putting her hands on his shoulders. At the feeling of Charles length entering her wet hole, they both let out long moans. „Putain!“ Y/N placed one of her hands on his cheek, making him look into her eyes – then she started to move. Slowly she lifted herself off him and sunk back down. The two lovers found a steady rhythm, their bodies creating a sweet melody once more. Charles hands wandered to his girlfriends ass, leaving a slap there before he kneaded the soft skin, soothing it in the process. His love let out a yelp and started to bounce on top of him faster. Her hands now rested on his waist, as she let her head fall to his neck, making her body lean on his. The new angle made both of them feel the movements more intensly – their breathy moans and husky groans filling the already sinful aria of skin slapping on skin to it’s full extent. „Chérie…“ the driver moaned into her ear, kissing his girlfriends shoulder. „Regarde-moi.“ Y/N lifted her head look at her boyfriend, who moved on of his hands to the back of her head, pulling her closer and locking their lips in a desperate and messy kiss. As they pulled away for air, both could feel their orgasms approaching. With his hand, Charles kept the woman close to him, the sweat on their foreheads mixing. „I’m so close.“ She deeply stared into his eyes, nodding frantically. „Moi aussi, Char.“ Then he steard to trust his hips up into hers, supporting her sloppier movements. Suddenly all the different components became too much for her to handle – from his hands on her body, his dick filling her wet core, to their erratic breaths conjoining in lazy, open-mouthed kisses - her body overstimulating as it reached it’s climax. The relieving wave washed over her and she came with a loud, high-pitched scream of her boyfriends name. Her walls clenched around his dick, sending Charles over the edge too, who let out a deep growl followed by a hitched cry of her nickname. The driver still held her body close as she collapsed on top of him and he started stroking her back in order to calm her down.

It felt like minutes before either of them moved again – the Monégasque just enjoying the feeling of her naked breasts on his skin, his partner listening to the sound of his beating heart. Charles even thought about taking her again, but that’s a thing that could wait until later. Right now, all he wanted to do was staying right here with her in his arms. But his girlfriend had other plans, as she was the first to sit up again. At the feeling of Charles dick still inside her both let out a groan, before laughing. „Merde, I almost forgot about that.“ Y/Ns hands caressed his cheeks as she dipped her head to leave a short but sweet kiss on his lips before she tried to lift herself off his length. She hissed at the feeling of the cold air of the living room hitting her warm entrance and noticed the way Charles cum dripped out of her hole. „Mmh, I love seeing that.“ The man in question stood up and pulled up his boxers before he stepped closer to his still very naked girlfriend again and held her close. „Can’t wait for when you don’t take the pill anymore. Gonna fill you up all nicely until you’re pregnant with our child, mon amour.“ He whispered seductively in her ear. The woman tried hard to keep her composure at his words, but the goosebumps on her skin gave her away. She wanted to have a child with him, as much as he wanted it, but only after they had gotten married. Leaving a last kiss on his lips before going off to search the shirt she was wearing earlier, she switched the topic while looking around the room with Charles following her around. „I’m starving, how about breakfast?“ Y/N smiled softly at Charles before putting on the piece of clothing, having found it laying behind the couch. „Oh yeah, let me help!“ The driver beamed as his girlfriend passed by the piano, picking up her panties, turning around afterwards to face her boyfriend – laughing at him. „Surely, ma vie, I’ll let you cut some veggies but that’s it, idiot.“ Charles jokingly rolled his eyes. „I’ll do anything, as long as it’s with you.“ She blushed at his words, softly hitting his chest with a wink. „Sweet.“ The two of them pulled back the curtains and opened the windows on the first floor of the apartment in order to let some fresh air in, before going to the kitchen to fix their brunch.

The two lovers spent the rest of their day cuddling on the couch, watching some movies and just enjoying each others company before ordering some takeout in the evening.

disclaimer: all work posted on here with this disclaimer was written by me. i do not consent this work to be published or translated on other sites than my own (@pastryleclerc on tumblr or wattpad). picture credits to their rightful owners

copyright: ©️ 2023 pastryleclerc on tumblr, all rights reserved

[lady-pug]

Anything For You

Summary: 5 times Crosshair protects you and 1 time you do the same for him.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, one dude being kinda creepy at 79's

Notes: Hello hello everyone! It's been a hot minute since this series has seen an update, but after season 3 I had some inspiration (I know it has been a while since season 3 actually come out, but some things had happened that needed my sole attention, I didn’t have the time nor the energy and motivation to write for quite a while). But now I’m back!

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided. Also, when describing the formal attire in topic 3 I tried to keep descriptions to a minimum so you can imagine what the reader is wearing in this scene (I’m a sucker for women in suits, but it’s up to you to imagine)

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1.

The Batch’s mission on Taanab had gone south very quickly. The Separatists had aimed to cut the commercial lines the planet held with Coruscant, which would pose a major problem as it could possibly throw the entire Republic into starvation. So Clone Force 99 had been sent to scout the planet and possibly find Separatists spies stationed there. What they didn’t count on was being ambushed by Norulac pirates almost as soon as they tried to leave the planet.

Tech and Hunter had gone inside a facility suspected of housing the spies they were looking for, while Wrecker kept watch by the entrance, and you and Crosshair covered their shebs from a hill a few klicks away. What you didn’t expect was for Tech to take a major hit as soon as they walked out the door with the spy. In order not to compromise the mission, Wrecker pushed the cuffed nautolan back inside the compound and closed the doors behind them. 

As soon as the first blaster bolt was fired, you leaped to your feet, much to Crosshair’s protests, and started running towards Tech, medkit clutched tightly under your arm. Crosshair, ever the marksman, kept shooting his Firepunch, trying to get rid of as many pirates while you pushed forward. As you approached the place where Tech had gone down you skidded to a halt, keeping your head down as to avoid the blaster fire. Slipping your hand under his armpits you dragged him across the pebbled ground (and mentally apologized for any scratches he might find on his backplate later on), taking cover behind a short wall and starting to patch him up.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the pirate approaching from behind you and Tech while you assessed his injuries, who must have either slipped unnoticed by Wrecker and Hunter or come up all the way from behind the facility. You only seemed to notice him once Tech, coming back to his senses after a stim shot, pointed over your shoulder and told you to look out. By then it was already too late, as the pirate had his vibroblade raised and ready to strike.

As you fumbled with your blaster to at least try and protect the two of you a long blaster bolt came scorching through the air, hitting the man right on his temple and sending him tumbling sideways, dead. You glanced back towards the hill you had just climbed down from, sending a nod in Crosshair’s general direction, knowing he could see you with his scope.

“Thanks for having my back, Cross.” you spoke into your commlink before resuming your work on Tech’s wound, barely catching Crosshair’s reply.

“Anything for you, Copikla.” he mumbled, going back to firing his rifle in order to help his brothers take out the remaining pirates.

2.

The woman was definitely moving too fast for someone who allegedly had nothing to hide. And Clone Force 99 was hellsbent (more like ordered to) figure out why.

Your current mission, issued by Commander Fox of all people, albeit a stealth mission of sorts, wasn’t like anything you had ever done before. A Gran representative of Malastare, acting as a temporary substitute for Senator Ainlee Teem while the senator went back to his home planet to help calm the nerves and appease the public opinion of the citizens of Malastare about the rampage caused by the Zillo Beast, was suspected to be working for the Separatists. Afraid that an investigation lead directly by the Coruscant Guard would be too on the nose and she might try to cover her tracks, Commander Fox had surprisingly, as him and the Batch often didn't see eye to eye, requested that the Bad Batch be the ones to follow her around and figure out her intentions.

So here you and Crosshair were, following the woman a few paces behind her all throughout Coruscant busy streets. The plan of action had been to split up, Hunter and Wrecker taking the two parallel streets to the one where the woman was currently speed-walking while you and Crosshair followed behind her. Tech had stayed behind at the Guard’s headquarters, tracking the woman’s movements using the surveillance system. 

As the teams were being separated Crosshair had demanded that you go with him (although ‘demand’ might be too strong of a word, as he knew Hunter, as his commanding officer, could very well tell him to shut up and take a step back, which he thankfully didn’t), internally reasoning with himself that you could very well get lost and compromise the mission, even though the knowing smirk the Sergeant had sent his way after agreeing with his suggestion told him he might have other reasons. And now he was glad he insisted on that.

As dusk fell over the city and rush hour approached, more and more people filled the streets eager to head home. This didn’t pose a problem for Crosshair as his height, greater than that of the regs (and quite greater than Hunter’s, as he often liked to tease his vod about) paired with his extraordinary eyesight allowed him to keep his eyes on the Gran woman at all times. You on the other hand weren’t so lucky, as people bumped into you and tried to squeeze their way past the both of you. Concerned you’d slip away, dragged by the sea of people, he snaked his arm around your waist, his hand lazily draped over your hip, keeping you close to his side and not letting you venture away from him.

You looked up at him, a tiny grin gracing your features.

“Thanks Cross.”

The only response you got was his grip on your hip. tightening almost imperceptibly.

3. 

“I don’t like it.” 

Hunter sighed for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

“I already told you, these are our orders.” he turned towards his brother, who scowled in return.

“Why can’t one of us go in?”

“As a matter of fact, that option has been brought up to Commander Cody,” Tech chimed in, not once taking his eyes off his holopad “but he has reminded us of a crucial fact: no matter how much our phenotype might differ from that of the regs, we’re still clones. If a single slightly more enlightened individual in that ballroom catches sight of our resemblance to our mandalorian progenitor, the mission would be compromised.”

Crosshair huffed, still not convinced.

“But why does it have to be her?” he argued “Why couldn’t they have brought another natborn specialist? Or, kriff, even a senator? Senators are good at these sorts of events.”

“Senators are public figures, they would be recognized in an instant.” Hunter promptly answered “And all other female natborns were unavailable.”

“And the Seppie likes pretty women!” Wrecker laughed “I mean who doesn’t? I’m sure none of us would be able to seduce him!”

“I still don’t like it.” unsatisfied, Crosshair picked up his Firepuncher to check the scope, even though he knew for a fact it was pristine as always. 

A beneficent gala was being held by the InterGalactic Banking Clan to members of the Confederacy of Independent Systems council in Cantonica. One Separatist senator, a sleazy old quacta of a man, was rumored to have information on the next course of action regarding a siege against Republic forces in Ansion. So, given the sensitivity of the mission ahead, Clone Force 99 was called in. However, none of them could go in without the risk of being recognized as members of the GAR, so they had to send in-

“How do I look?” he was buried so deep in his own thoughts he didn’t even hear the door to the fresher opening and you stepping out into the hull of the ship. As he looked up to glance at you, he thanked the maker he was already sitting down, otherwise his knees would have buckled and he would have been sent tumbling down.

You looked gorgeous. 

Your hair was styled in a completely different style than you normally wore it, a few delicate pins adorning it. Some light makeup covered your face, accentuating your natural beauty. And your outfit… Crosshair had only seen you in your uniform and armor in the battlefield, or in your GAR-issued blacks around the ship. He had never seen you wearing anything like this, so formal and fitting for your exact frame.

He couldn’t even speak. He just kept staring at you, his eyes moving up and down your frame.

“You look beautiful, baar’ur’ika!” Wrecker’s booming voice brought him out of his stupor, as he shook his head.

“You really think so?” you asked, feeling a little shy “I never usually wear something so nice, this is a bit out of my comfort zone.”

“You look amazing Doc.” Hunter chimed in, nudging his brother with his elbow, his lips pulled in a knowing smirk “Doesn’t she, Crosshair?”

He was still collecting his thoughts when you turned to face him, eyes gleaming with… hope? 

“Yeah,” he dared answer “yes, she does.”

You beamed at him, smiling so brightly he felt his heart skip a beat for being the reason for your happiness. He wasn’t even bothered when he heard Hunter chuckling under his breath, no doubt catching on his vod’s reaction to your presence. 

As your squad started diskimbarking to start the mission, Crosshair reached out to hold you in place, his fingers gently encircling your wrist, leaving just the two of you still on the ship.

“If-” he swallowed thickly, not knowing how to say what he was thinking. 

“What is it, Cross?” you turned towards him, giving him your full attention.

“I’ll be keeping watch on the roof the entire time.” he breathed out “If anything happens, if at any moment you feel like you might be in danger, comm me. I’ll find a way to get you out, Copikla.”

You smiled softly at him, turning your palm up and intertwining your fingers.

“I’ll be fine, Cross. Really. You don’t have to worry about me.” Impossible, he thought, and as if reading his mind you squeezed his hand gently “But thank you for keeping an eye out for me.”

He squeezed your hand back, lips turning up in the tiniest of smiles.

And if at a certain point during the gala, a glass of wine carefully balanced on a tray on a waiters hand spontaneously exploded, startling the waiter and making him drop the entire contents of the tray over the separatist senator as he started getting handsy with you, Hunter’s scolding for nearly compromising the mission was definitely worth it as you giggled at his antics behind the sergeants back.

4.

79’s was certainly more packed than usual for a standard Taungsday. It seemed like most battalions were on leave at once, hence the more chaotic atmosphere and the crowd forming around the bar. 

It had been forever since Clone Force 99 had shore leave scheduled on Coruscant instead of being called back to Kamino, so you intended to make the most of it. Wrecker was already a few drinks in, arm wrestling some of the boys of the 212th; Echo was catching up with some of the boys in blue, having spend so much time away from his old battalion; Tech had already gone back to the barracks to read some articles on his holopad, the weird neon green cocktail he had order right at the beginning of the night only half empty and long forgotten; and Hunter had already scurried off with a gorgeous orange Twi’lek. 

Only you and Crosshair remained at the table, chatting idly, your thigh pressed against the side of his and his arm slung over the back of the seat behind you. Your heads were tilted close together in order to hear each other over the beat of the music in the club. For a moment Crosshair thought it felt weirdly… intimate, even though you weren’t actually doing anything. He’d never been this close to anyone, where he felt he could just let himself be. It was nice.

“I’m going to get another drink.” you whispered-yelled at him at one point, gesturing at his own cup “Want anything?”

He pondered for a moment, before declining with a shake of his head.

“Someone has to keep a clear head in order to babysit the lot of you.” he motioned to where Wrecker, clearly a little more than tipsy, was celebrating another victory over a shiny.

You snorted, before quickly turning around and walking towards the bar. He couldn’t help but silently watch over you, always keeping you in his line of sight.

It had become second nature to him, watching you. At first he tried to argue that it was only to ensure you didn’t do anything stupid and risk one of his brothers, but it slowly ended up becoming something he just did naturally. He wanted, no, needed, to ensure you were safe at all times, and not just on the battlefield.

As he watched you lean over the bar and signal the bartender, your back turned to him, he noticed a devarionian man quickly glance over at you from a few seats away. For a few moments nothing happened, he kept his eyes trained on you, occasionally catching sight of the devarionian from the corner of his eye. 

And then the guy was moving.

He slid up next to you, standing way too close for your (and Crosshair’s comfort). The mirror above the shelfs in the bar let him see your face,  and you did not seem too happy with your new company. At first you tried ignoring the man, he noticed, giving him very clipped answers and only nodding along. The guy, it seemed, couldn’t seem to take a hint, as he kept rambling on and on about something the sniper couldn’t bother reading his lips for. And the moment his hand brushed against your arm, startling you and prompting you to take a step away from the man with ‘uncomfortable’ and ‘creeped out’ written all over your face, Crosshair was out of his seat and crossing the dancefloor towards you in quick strides.

Once he approached the pair of you, you noticed him over the man’s shoulder, your face relaxing slightly at the sight of him.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, to which the devarionian turned to him seemingly undisturbed. 

“Yeah, me and the lady over here were having a wonderful chat.” the devarionian dismissed him “ Now if you’ll excuse us.” 

Crosshair knew he was tall. He, along with Tech, was the second tallest amongst all clones, shorter only than Wrecker. It wasn’t something he usually cared for, unless when he got to tease Hunter about his own height, which was shorter than the regs, but he knew for a fact he was taller than most people. So he decided to use this to his advantage. As his face contorted into the deepest scowl he could muster, he crossed his arms over his chest, squaring his shoulders. This meant he was absolutely towering over the man. He didn’t even have to say anything and the devarionian was already cowering.

“A-actually, I think my buddy over there is calling me over.” and he rushed off without even looking at you again.

You looked at Crosshair as he relaxed, a mixture of gratitude and a sense of residual unease written in your face.

“Thanks Cross,” you started “but I could’ve handled him. You know I can take care of myself.” 

“Trust me, Copikla, I know.” he shrugged “But you shouldn’t have to.” 

Your face softened at his words, and you leaned your head against his arm. 

“Thank you anyway.” 

His response came in the form of a wordless hum, but which carried a whole lot of meaning to it.

‘Always’.

5.

Crosshair absolutely hated keeping watch. He would take Wrecker’s snoring and Tech’s endless tinkering over this any day. They were in hyperspace, for maker’s sake! What threat could be so dire that one of them had to stay awake and alert for hours, freezing cold as Tech refused to fix the cockpit’s heating system?

But Hunter insisted. And as their sergeant, Hunter was in charge and whatever he said goes. And so here Crosshair was, watching nothing go by bored out of his mind.

All of a sudden he heard the soft pattern of bare feet against the cold floor of the Marauder, approaching the cockpit. It couldn’t possibly be Wrecker, he could still hear his snoring from all the away from the bunks. It wasn’t Echo either, as the clanking of his mechanical legs against the durasteel floor would have given him away. It probably wasn’t Hunter, as the man was an incredibly deep sleeper, his slumber being one of the only one moments his heightened senses gave him a break. And Tech wasn’t supposed to come relieve him from watch duty for at least three more hours or so. So that left only you.

Because of this line of thought he was unsurprised when you joined him in the cockpit, dropping onto the co-pilot seat next to him.

For a moment neither of you uttered a word. He stayed silent as he took you in, noticing the way your shoulders trembled slightly and the soft sniffles you were trying to contain.

“What’s wrong?” he asked at last.

You startled, as if only now noticing his presence next to you. Once you calmed down you simply shrugged in response.

“Nightmare, ‘s all.” your voice wavered a tiny bit, but it was enough for him to notice.

Silence permeated the room once more as he thought about the situation. You clearly seemed shaken by whatever was plaguing your mind when sleeping, yet he didn’t really know how to help. He wasn’t the best with words, Hunter and even Wrecker were way better than him when it came to comforting people.

But then he paused. Thinking about Hunter reminded him of something his older brother would do whenever one of them had nightmares as cadets.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

As a kid Crosshair never took Hunter up on his offer to listen, but he would still sit with him in silence and let him wind down after the dream. Wrecker on the other hand often rambled about what had scared him and Hunter always found a solution for him. Tech often kept to himself, never mentioning when he had nightmares of his own, but he knew Hunter had his back should he ever wish to talk.

You chuckled, though it was humorless and heavy.

“You know I have worked with other clones, right?” he nodded, remembering the medical base you used to work at before joining Clone Force 99 as their field medic “I had a lot of patients there. Most we were able to treat, but… we lost a lot of them as well.” 

He could only imagine the kind of toll that took on someone.

“And it’s like they weren’t even people!” you whispered, frustrated tears collecting in your eyes “There wasn’t any family we could contact to deliver the bad news, at best one of his batchmates or another brother from the same battalion. But in the end it was just… crossing numbers out of a spreadsheet.” 

You took a deep breath in order to collect your thoughts.

“I see them when I fall asleep sometimes.” you smiled, but it was a sad smile, one that Crosshair didn’t think suited you at all “The ones I could save.” 

Crosshair didn’t know what to say to that. How much death had you witnessed before you met the Bad Batch? Before you met him? You had your own demons haunting you, and it served to show him that them, the soldiers fighting this war, weren’t the only ones affected by it.

“Come here.” he extended a hand to you.

“What?” you looked at him, confused.

He repeated himself, and when you stood up and stopped in front of him he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you onto his lap, maneuvering you so your head was resting against his shoulder, your ear right above his heart.

“It’s not your fault.” he spoke into your hair “You cannot save everyone. All you can do is try.”

“What happens if I’m not able to save one of you?” he heard the terror in your voice and he couldn’t stand it.

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Cross…”

“I won’t.” he affirmed firmly “I watch over you so you can watch over us. Always.”

He could feel the tension in your body vanishing, as a comforting silence enveloped the both of you. Slowly, as your breathing slowed down and you fell back asleep, he tightened his grip on you, keeping you close to him. And you slept soundly and peacefully through the night, with Crosshair keeping guard of your dreams. 

+1 

Another mission, another success. Clone Force 99 was ordered to infiltrate a Separatist base on Agamar and retrieve some sensitive information regarding the former Separatist rule over Onderon. The mission was easy (at least by the Bad Batch’s standards) and Wrecker was overjoyed over getting to blow a droid tank up. But it was time to head back to Kamino, resupply and wait for new orders.

Wrecker practically barged out of the ship as soon as the Havoc Marauder touched the hangar on Tipoca City, claiming to be starving even though he had eaten not even an hour before. Tech, Echo and you followed him to the mess hall, and Hunter headed to the commander’s office to submit the several missions’ reports he was due, promising to join the four of you later. Similarly, Crosshair mentioned stopping by the armory to grab some more reflective disks as he was running out, shooting a wink your way as you promised to save him a seat next to you on the squad’s usual table.

On the way back to their quarters following his visit to the armory Crosshair bumped into Hunter and after a few words both decided to stop by their quarters in order to leave their equipment before heading to the mess hall to meet the others. As they wandered the sterile halls of the kaminoan facility, however, an incoming transmission from Hunter’s comm made them stop short.

“Hunter, where are you?” Tech’s usually calm and collected voice came through sounding a bit… panicky. Strange, Crosshair’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at his brother; Tech didn’t panic.

“Crosshair and I are on our way to our quarters, why?”

“You might want to make a detour to the medbay.” Echo’s voice came in as well. “A fight broke out in the mess hall.”

Hunter pinched his nose as Crosshair sighed in annoyance. Typical. They’ve been back on Kamino for less than a standard hour and they were already in trouble.

“What did Wrecker get up to this time?” Crosshair spoke into his brother’s comm.

Echo and Tech paused, the silence on their end stretching for a moment.

“It wasn’t Wrecker.” Tech answered.

“This time.” Echo chimed in.

A distant ‘Hey!’ was heard as Hunter and Crosshair exchanged a confused yet concerned glance before rushing through the halls. Tech and Echo were waiting for them before the closed doors that lead to the medbay.

“What happened?” Hunter asked, his tone laced with tiredness, clearly fed up with his brothers’ antics. 

But before either of them could respond a pair of troopers, regs by the looks of it, walked out the doors. And they couldn’t look worse for wear; one of them had a busted lip and the other was sporting a broken nose, two large bruises already starting to climb up towards his eyes.

“Oh, look, the rest of the anomalies are here.” the one with the cut lip snickered, grimacing as the action pulled against the wound.

“How about you control your little shabuir next time, eh?” the other scoffed as they walked away “Crazy shebs medic and the genetic freaks, it’s like they were made for each other.”

As soon as the word ‘medic’ crossed the reg’s lips Crosshair was moving, busting through the doors of the medbay. What he saw made his heart clench with worry; you were sitting on a cot, holding Wrecker’s hand rather tightly as a medical droid worked on your face. Crosshair could see some caked blood on your hair as the droid cleaned the side of your forehead where it had dripped down. As the droid went over where the cut must have been you winced, to which Wrecker rubbed up and down your back.

“There, baar’ur’ika. It’s all better now.” Wrecker whispered, or at least tried to.

“Thanks, Wreck.” you smiled up at him “I’m just not used to being on the receiving end of medical care, that’s all. I’m always the one cleaning up your cuts, not the other way around.”

Crosshair was so engrossed in watching the exchange he barely heard his brothers follow him into the medbay.

“Some regs started provoking us as we were walking to our table in the mess hall.” Tech explained “She started getting agitated but we told her to just ignore it. But then… a pair of regs said something under their breaths only she could hear, and she…”

“She went ballistic.” Echo completed for Tech, who looked unsettled for once “It looked like she was out for their heads. So much so that Wrecker had to step in.”

Crosshair heard Hunter sigh behind him.

“Command is not gonna be happy with him for getting into a fight. Again.”

“Oh no,” Tech corrected “Wrecker intervened in order to pry her away from the regs. The two troopers who just walked out? That was all her doing.”

A strange sense of pride bloomed inside Crosshair’s chest and started crawling up his throat, his lips threatening to curl into a small smile. Not only were you always looking out for them on the battlefield, but also outside of it? The trust he had been building over time seemed to solidify at that very moment.

As the droid finished wrapping your injury and walked away, Wrecker finally seemed to notice them. 

“Look! Crosshair and Hunter are here!”

As your eyes finally found his, you seemed to light up entirely, akin to a little kid on Life Day.

“Come on, Wrecker, let’s get you some food.” Hunter called, a barely contained sigh escaping from his lips “From what I hear you didn’t get a chance to eat yet. And I have to go back to Command and report this incident.”

Your smile turned sheepish and Crosshair couldn’t tell if you were embarrassed over the slight reprimanding tone in the sergeant’s voice or because your shenanigans had caused everyone to miss dinner so far.

As the other’s left, he sat down on the foot of your cot next to your legs, his long fingers wrapping around your ankle.

“So” he drawled out, a small smirk pulling at his lips “I hear you got yourself in trouble?”

You chuckled, to which he squeezed your ankle playfully in return.

“Yeah, I guess your affinity for trouble is rubbing off on me.”

“I mean, you were assigned to us after all, you obviously aren’t the little angel Commander Cody made you out to be.” he joked, before letting his curiosity get the better of him “What did they say anyway to make you snap like that?”

He noticed the very moment your face fell, your smile slipping off your face and your eyes turning slightly dull.

“Oh, Cross.” there was something so sad in the way you said his name that he never wanted to hear again, even if it meant he never got to hear his name fall from your lips for the rest of his life “They were so vile. First they started talking about Tech, Wrecker and Echo and they just told me to ignore it, but then…” a very soft, almost unnoticeable sheen of tears brimmed in your eyes “They started talking about you, Cross.”

The grip he had on your leg grew even tighter as he physically recoiled, taken aback.

“They started saying these awful things about you and you weren’t even there.” you stammered “They were being cruel and mean to you behind your back and I couldn’t let that slide. I just remembered what you once told me, about how the regs treated you as cadets and I just… saw red. I didn’t even think, I just acted.”

Crosshair felt his heart skip a beat. You, their sweet medic, got into a physical altercation… because of him? Because you felt the need to protect not only him, but his vode as well? You, who baked cookies and was nice to him even when he pushed you away and insulted you, broke a soldier’s nose… for him?

“I-I’m sorry.” you sighed “I know I shouldn’t have, but-”

“Would you do it again?”

Now was your turn to be taken aback.

“What?”

“If a bunch of regs ever insulted me or my brothers again,” he said slowly, the words feeling heavy on his tongue “would you defend us again, even if it meant getting hurt?”

Your lips curled up in a gentle smile, one he came to realize was reserved for him and him alone.

“I’d do anything for you, Crosshair.”

In a moment he was by your side, not even realizing he was moving. He sat on the bed by your side as you scooted over, making space for him, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. His lips pressed softly on the hair on the crown of your head as he spoke.

“I won’t let you get hurt, Copikla.” he whispered, the most vulnerable he had ever been “Not on my watch, you’re never getting hurt again.”

He sighed contently as you relaxed by his side, laying your head on his shoulder.

“I promise.”

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Bookmark my Heart

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: You're not the audiobook type. You much prefer reading over listening to books. It would just be your luck that an audiobook got you into this predicament. His eyes are piercing as you fumble with your phone to mute the volume, his voice blaring from the device.

Warnings: None! (Though I do believe Flirty!Rooster is a warning I should call out.)

Themes: Meet-Cute, Flirting, Coffee, Books, Smut Books

Word Count: 3456

A/N: So, if you all aren't aware, today is the lovely @roosterforme's birthday! I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate Em and all of the amazing things she does more than to write some Rooster for her. Happy Birthday! I hope your day is as wonderful as you are! So without further ado, I'm pleased to present you all with Bookmark my Heart, a fic where Bradley Bradshaw is an audiobook narrator and the reader, nicknamed Paper, runs right into him! All my thanks to @horseshoegirl and @desert-fern for beta-reading this fic and catching all of the places where I've missed commas as well as updating my phrasing!

My Masterlist

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

You’re not the audiobook type. Something about having someone read the pages, providing inflections and changes of tone to the otherwise inflectionless words tends to kill your imagination. So you much prefer reading over listening to the books you’re in the mood to peruse. It would just be your luck that an audiobook got you into this predicament. His eyes are piercing as you fumble with your phone to mute the volume, his voice blaring from the device. But maybe you should back up a little bit.

It all started, like it usually did for you, with a book. Unlike normally though, you aren’t talking about Keats, Byron, Shelley, or Austen. This time, the book that was your downfall was something you’d usually classify as chick-lit. Not that chick-lit is a bad thing. There are quite a few romance novels which are beautifully written and that you enjoy reading and re-reading. It’s just not normal that a romance novel, something smutty and provocative, would end up being talked about on podcasts and the news. That’s not considering how all of your female colleagues seem to be talking about the very same book. But that’s the other interesting thing. They’re not even discussing the book’s contents. More like they’re discussing the narrator’s voice in the audiobook edition - how deep and smooth and raspy it is.

It hadn’t even been a full day before the curiosity got the better of you and you purchased the book from Kindle Unlimited. It took you the better part of two weeks before you actually screwed up the courage to listen to it though. Maybe you shouldn’t have picked a Saturday morning when you were running errands to listen to the book. In your defense, there was no better time to listen to the book other than a day when you’d be spending quite a long time in the car with nothing else to do. You’d definitely miscalculated. Dear lord, this man’s voice?! It’s deep and raspy, something smooth and dark in how he voices the syllables. It’s the kind of voice you’ve once heard referred to as panty-wetting - an epithet you’ve never understood until now.

The book has you squirming as you walk through the grocery store. There’s sweat dripping down your spine as he talks about something involving fighter jets and the men (and women - you always feel like you have to correct) who fly them. You’d never have thought that flaps and ailerons could ever be that alluring. You have to take a minute as you leave the grocery store, sitting in your car in silence practically heaving just at the way the word “Doll” had dripped off of his lips. Maybe you can buy into the hype a little bit. It’s not often that you find a romance book in the male perspective after all. As far as finding the pilots sexy goes, though, what can you say? You’ve seen Top Gun - both movies - those boys in their dress whites are awfully sexy.

You send a little prayer of thanks to Rooster Bradshaw, whoever he is, for narrating this book. Just his voice has already made your boring Saturday running errands a thousand times better. You don't even mind that you're melting in the San Diego heat without the air conditioning on as you collect yourself. At least there is only one thing you have left to do today. As a reward for finishing up your errands, including odious activities like going to the bank and post office and grocery shopping, you'd vowed to treat yourself with a romp through your favorite bookstore.

Like you mentioned earlier, it all started with a book. What can you say? You're nothing if not predictable. The Breezy Bean is your favorite coffee shop and bookstore. It's a small shop nestled right in the midst of cobblestone streets and overshadowed by apartment buildings on either side. It's always a zoo trying to get parking, but you can't regret the competition for parking when the books are as good as they are and the coffee is even better.

Lara's not at the counter, but her business partner and best friend, Emily is, and you wave at her absentmindedly as you tangle the cord of your headphones around your index finger. The entire shop smells like coffee beans, paper and ink. You could spend forever here, and you're sure you have, at the very least, spent the entire day in the shop before. The shelves tower over your head, creaking under the weight of everything they hold. You're not a woman on a mission today, content to just meander until a cover catches your fancy. The eyes eat first, after all, isn't that what they say? If only you knew how true that statement would be.

The whole time you're listening to the book, tasting the words on your tongue seconds after Rooster says them, teasing the syllables out like you're trying to snatch them from his lips. Is it any wonder that after about four hours of listening to his voice, you're starting to imagine what the main character of the book looks like based on how Rooster sounds? You're only human, after all. It's quiet and dim in the back of the store, the shelves lit only by the small lights shining from the wall sconces. This is your favorite section of the store. There's a squashy green armchair here with a small table, and this is where you usually sit and wile away the hours.

It's rare that anyone ever ventures into this corner of the store. So it's a surprise when you see a man standing right in front of your favorite chair. He's tall and ridiculously handsome, wearing an eye-wateringly bright Hawaiian shirt and slim-fitting jeans. Like everyone in California, he's got Ray-Bans flung into the neckline of his tank top. The truly unique part of his look is the mustache he's carefully cultivated on his upper lip. He’s holding a book in long-fingered hands, lips pursed as he scans the pages, leaning gently against one of the shelves.

You try your best to squeeze past him in the narrow aisle, wondering if Em and Lara have squeezed more shelves back here or if you've just gained weight when it happens — your headphone cord snags on the buttons on his open shirt. You try to untangle it, unsuccessfully, but then your phone falls out of your pocket and rips your headphones right out of the jack.

You were just getting to a good part, something filled with innuendo but not quite at the sex. That's your only silver lining. Because when your phone nosedives to the, thankfully, carpeted floor sans your headphones, the audio keeps playing way too loudly for the hushed environment. To add insult to injury, your phone is closer to him than it is to you, and well, you've embarrassed yourself enough. The last thing you need is to get eye-level with a stranger's dick while your phone is narrating smut in a bookstore.

“Good book?” There's a smile on his face, and you nod timidly as he hands you back your phone. You pause the app and turn the volume all the way down before his words, or well, you should say, the sound of his voice sinks in.

If you weren’t mortified before, you're even more so now. Obviously, your brain does not compute, so your brain-to-mouth filter isn't working as you blurt out, “You're Rooster Bradshaw.”

It doesn’t surprise you at all when he starts laughing - a full body, belly laugh which fills the stacks with the mellifluous sound. If you had any doubts before that you'd run into the Rooster Bradshaw at your favorite coffee shop before (which you didn’t - see your intimate knowledge of his voice from earlier), you wouldn’t have any now. His character had actually laughed not fifteen minutes ago in the book. Well, now what are you supposed to do? You feel hot, embarrassment crawling its way up your throat as you shift your weight back and forth. Rooster's smiling at you as he stands back, lounging against the shelf like he's waiting for you to get your shit together. You'd hate to break it to him, but you don't think that's possible.

“I'm sorry.” You try your best to hide your face because he does not need to see what your facial expressions are doing.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” You shrug a shoulder as you busy yourself by turning around and trying to force yourself to read the titles. “It's not every day I run into pretty girls in my favorite bookstore, listening to me narrate a book about US Naval Aviators.”

Flirting shouldn’t be the thing which puts you at ease in this situation. There really must be something wrong with you. You’ve never done anything like this before. What happened to the girl who would have run away the minute the phone fell? She might not be facing down the sexiest man she’s ever seen, but at least that version of her isn’t at risk of heart palpitations.

“I hate to break it to you, Rooster, but a lot of pretty women are listening to you right now. This book has made its way onto podcasts and PBS. The author herself has been interviewed gushing about your professionalism and how you say the word “aileron.” Despite your mortification, you find yourself mirroring his relaxed position against the shelves. “Though I do have to correct a part of your statement there. What about yoga pants, glasses, and a messy bun makes me pretty? Because I’d call myself a mess.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re a mess, pretty girl.” Rooster grins as he tugs the shoulder of your cami up from where it is sliding down your arm. “Don’t you know exactly how devastating you look in those yoga pants?”

You’re left dumbstruck, reeling as he leans even closer to you. All of a sudden, you’re inundated with the scent of his cologne as he crowds into your space, and you’re forced to tip your head up to keep eye contact. Of course, the motion makes your glasses tip on your face, and you can’t lift a hand up to resettle them on your face without brushing up against every inch of the man, nearly squishing you into the shelf. There’s a scant few centimeters between you as you try to string words together.

“What makes you think I don’t know how good these pants make my ass look?” You smirk just a little, screwing up all of your courage to peer up at him. “But really, this outfit is comfortable.”

“Comfortable is not how you’re making me feel, honey.” There’s a heat in his gaze as his voice rasps out the words. “But maybe we can both get a little more comfortable and have a cup of coffee together?” 

Only two people will ever know if your hand strays right over the seam at the front of his jeans as you walk away. “I’d love to, but maybe you need to take a few minutes in seclusion, Mr. Chicken.”

You feel giddy as you walk away because things like this don’t just happen to girls like you. You don’t flirt with men you've just met. And you definitely do not brush over the dicks of men you've just met! The counter is nearly empty as you walk up, and you know Em has clocked onto the fact that your hands are surprisingly empty of books.

“Hiya, Paper!” You roll your eyes only a little. Buy a stack of paperbacks once a week from a bookstore for months, and this is exactly what you’ll be nicknamed. “No books today?”

“Hey, Em. Can I get a latte, please? And whatever the gentleman in the Hawaiian shirt orders is on me.” You grin at the sight of her eyebrows ticking up until they’re nearly in her hair.

“What has our sweet little Paper been doing today, huh?” You shrug just a little, grinning as she hands you your drink. “I’ve been reading, Em!”

“Of course you have!” You’re laughing as you make your way to a table for two in the corner.

You’re smiling outright when Rooster swaggers out of the shelves a few minutes later, and Em clocks the Hawaiian shirt on his broad frame. She’s half drooling when he orders an Americano. As she turns to make his drink, you get the messages in short order.

What the fuck, Paper!

This is the man you’re buying a coffee for?

Damn, girl! I’m going to need all of the details. STAT!

You put the device away only when the chair opposite yours slides out, and Rooster settles in. You'd promised a full detailing of the encounter to Em, and you wouldn't be surprised if Lara interrogates you the next time you see her as well.

“So, obviously, you come here often, then.” He’s smirking as he sips on his coffee.

“Yup!” You’re just as chipper as you blow over the surface of your own mug.

“You come here often enough that one of the owners just threatened me with the loss of my…” He pauses like he’s not sure if he should laugh or cry as he says the words, “...crown jewels…” and grimaces before continuing, “...if I hurt you.”

“She also called you Paper. Why’s that, Honey?”  

You lean forward, feeling just a little more confident as he mirrors your position. “Tit for tat, Bradshaw, if that even is your last name. You tell me something about yourself, I tell you something about myself.”

“Deal?” You stretch your hand out and gasp when he takes it and sets it down to the side of the mugs.

“Deal.”

“I’ll start.” Your faces are inches apart from each other. He's whispering, and you have to lean forward even further so you don't miss a single word. “My name’s Bradley Bradshaw. I didn’t want to use my real name while narrating those books.”

“And Rooster was what you decided on?” His chuckle and yours rise into the air in perfect harmony.

“It was a nickname I got in college. I was always the only guy in the dorm up before 9 A.M.”

You take turns sharing your life stories and quite a few secrets until your coffees are long gone. You find yourself telling him all about how you got your nickname and how you’ve been feeling stuck for the longest time. With Bradley, it doesn’t feel like another boring first date. If it weren’t for the faint hiss of the espresso machine and the clank of mugs and cutlery you wouldn't think there was another person in the room but the two of you. There are butterflies in your stomach, and your entire body shudders when he hooks his ankle around yours and tugs you closer. That point of contact has your blood turning into molten lava in your veins as his hand trails gentle patterns across your upturned palm.

“Hey, Paper?” It takes an inhuman effort to drag your eyes away from the magic Bradley Bradshaw is committing just with your hands in his own.

“Hey, Em.” As you say her name, you realize how dark it is. “The store’s closing, isn’t it?”

“Yup. It actually closed an hour ago. You looked so cute together that I called Lara, and we made an executive decision to let the two of you keep talking for just a bit longer.”

Your face feels extra hot because Em’s looking at you like she’s liable to start laughing at any moment. You don’t want to know what your hair looks like now, not after hours of running your fingers through it. It’s probably even more of a mess than it was when you literally ran into Bradley hours ago. A great first impression, right?

“Let me settle up then, Em.” If your voice is hushed and a little more subdued, it’s because reality and panic are settling in.

“No, sweetheart.” Bradley’s voice is even firmer as he stands up and places a hand on your arm. “Today is on me, I insist.”

You know exactly when Em puts it together, because her eyes widen to a comical degree. She was the biggest reason why you bought the book in the first place. “You’re Rooster Bradshaw!”

For the second time today, you find yourself laughing along with Bradley, though the sounds of his laughter doesn’t put you at ease in quite the same way as it did earlier. Em’s laughing too, and she looks gorgeous in the golden light. At least she’s put together in a way you’re so obviously not. Maybe you should have taken your mother’s well-meant advice when you were younger - dress to impress, for you never know who you’re going to meet. But you haven’t taken that advice, choosing to dress simply and comfortably. It works when you can’t wear any makeup when you work in a laboratory and when all of your nice clothes would be at risk of chemical spills at worst and covered by a lab coat at best. So you walk through life in a swirl of well-worn jeans, tee-shirts, yoga pants, tank tops, camisoles, sneakers and sandals. There are a few dressier items in your closet, but they’re so far in the back that you haven’t worn them in probably a year and a half. Em’s cute outfit and wavy, non-greasy hair probably feel like a breath of fresh air to him. The same goes for the timber of her voice and how she sounds so elegant. 

If you didn't know any better (because you know Em, you do), you'd think that the words the two of them are sharing by the counter now are flirtier than settling up a bill. It doesn’t help the green, envious monster sitting on your shoulder, though. Nor does it help when you run to the restroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror. You look worse than you thought you did. Your face is wan and pale, the bags under your eyes have bags, and your hair is so greasy that it lays limp when you release it from your bun. Your lips are chapped, and fuck, how did you manage to drip coffee onto yourself?! You only drank one cup! What's left to show you that you've made a huge fool of yourself?

Your hands shake as you splash water on your face and put your hair back in its sad bun again. Just a little longer and you'll be home, wallowing in peace at yet another failed potential relationship. At least the water has brought a blush to your cheeks and cleaned the worst of the smudges off your glasses. Bradley probably has Em's phone number by now, right? It's probably best not to get your hopes up too high, else you find yourself falling from a prodigious height.

Instead, you're pleasantly surprised to see him still in the shop.

“Hey!” His face lights up when he sees you, and you're sure your earlier pep-talk about managing your expectations hasn’t worked at all. This is going to hurt. “So, I know talking to a stranger for hours at a coffee shop probably isn't the best first date. So would you maybe want to go on a real one sometime soon?”

“Y-you're serious?” He smiles and hands you his phone, unlocked.

“Put your number in there, Paper.” Your mind's not working at all as you type the ten digits in. 

“Why me?” 

His smile is warm and fond as he takes the phone back, types something and hits send. Your notification tone goes off soon after. 

“It's not every day I run into a pretty girl listening to me reading a romance novel who doesn't fawn all over me once they realize who I am. It's been nice talking to you. I feel like you're the first person in a long time to see Bradley, not Rooster.”

He holds the door open for you, a hand finding its way to the small of your back as he walks you out to your car. He even opens the door for you, a chivalrous action which has your heart flip-flopping in your chest. “Baby doll?”

“Yeah?” He takes advantage of the height difference between you to tip your face up as he feathers a kiss across the apple of your cheek.

“It helps that your ass looks damn good in those yoga pants!” 

You're laughing despite yourself as you drive away. Maybe audiobooks aren't as bad as you think? Or, well, at least their narrators aren't.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @footprintsinthesxnd @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @chaoticassidy @shanimallina87 @kmc1989

[akiraruru]

(๑•̀д•́๑) " 𝘼𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙤 "

Included: Kaeya, Diluc, Albedo, Zhongli, Raiden Ei, gn! Reader

CW: Mentions of drinking.

A/n: Stan twice for better life (stream set me free on Spotify!) Possibly ooc, not proofread

Kaeya:

▶ You know when the bartender serves your drinks? And when you go and get your drink he'll snatch it before you can before giving it to you. I don't know why but I just feel like he'll do this to tease you lol, he doesn't do it often though.

▶ It's really frustrating because it's like when you're about to eat something but your siblings get to it before you. Kaeya finds it funny how your face turns when he does it.

▶ Like imagine you're so excited to get your drink but then BAM snatched.

▶ At first you'd be a tad bit confused because he didn't say anything about it so you'd just kind of ask him why after a while.

▶ When you ask Kaeya about it he'll just laugh it off and say he's just simply teasing you.

"Okay here are your drinks, hope you guys enjoy it" the bartender says while they put down your and kaeya's drink "Thank you " Kaeya says in thanks to the bartender, you went to get your drink but kaeya got it before you, you looked at him in confusion as to what he's doing "Why'd you get my drink?" You ask while he just chuckled and put it back on the table. After a while you've slowly grown used to this particular habit of his.

Diluc:

▶ Diluc has this habit where he would pop out of nowhere behind you and suddenly touch you without saying a word before greeting you hello.

▶ It's kinda creepy too because you don't really know when he arrived behind you because of his quiet ass.

▶ AND AND he would just smile at you innocently as if he didn't just pop out of nowhere and scare you.

▶ Diluc doesn't really get why you get startled because he thought you always knew he was coming right up behind you.

▶ Now this can be real annoying especially if you get startled or scared easily lol.

▶ If you ever tell Diluc about it, he'll try his best to make his presence known less scary.

Since Adelinde was on a day off you were cleaning the dishes after you and Diluc had dinner, after he ate, he excused himself as he had documents to sign so obviously you thought that he was upstairs. Well, you were kinda right but he decided to do them later and came back down to see you washing the dishes, you didn't notice him coming up behind you as you continued to sway your hips while singing. He suddenly puts his hands on your waist causing you to jump and look behind you quickly.

"What do you want to do tonight?"

He asks, you look at him with sightly wide eyes before returning your attention back to washing the dishes.

Albedo:

▶ I will be doing this in modern au because why not.

▶ Albedo has a habit of pointing out your spelling/mistakes in chats.

▶ He would correct them too.

▶ Like it would just be a tiny typo then he's be saying "you spelt ___ wrong"

▶ I love albedo but PLEASE, he's sometimes so logical at times it isn't funny any more.

▶ He will literally notice the slightest mistakes in your grammar. Like you didn't put the comma in the right place? He'll notice.

☑ [name]: Hey 'bedo you coming later?

☑ Albedo: You forgot to add a comma.

▶ Leave them grammar mistakes alone.

☑ [name]: Did you knoo about the homework yesterday?

☑ Albedo: *know. Yes I did, thanks for reminding me.

☑ [name]: okay, it's due tomorrow

Zhongli:

▶ Zhongli's annoying habit is that he sometimes speaks in deep words and would often not say what it means (this is me fr in my native language, I never understood deep words T-T)

▶ You'd be having a normal conversation with him and then he'll say something like 'Mellifluous' and then if you ask him he'll just look at you for a second then go back to what he was talking about.

▶ But if he's feeling generous he'll actually say what it means.

▶ Mellifluous is a word to describe someone's voice as sweet-sounding or musical lol.

▶ These stuff usually happens when he's telling a story that happened when he was still an archon or whenever he's talking about stuff like flowers, history, etc..

▶ It also happens often at tea time! Since that's where he mostly tell his stories and experiences.

▶ While you kinda found it confusing, it was also kinda attractive since he speaks so proper and formal.

"Guizhong is a kind girl, her voice was mellifluous and smooth. It's pleasant to hear" He said as he talked about his old friend Guizhong. "Wait, what's mellifluous?" You ask, not knowing what the word means "Ah.." He just said before looking down at his tea then continues to talk about Guizhong, about how she was when she was still alive. You sat there in confusion.

After a while he finally says what it means "Mellifluous means that someone's voice sounds sweet or pleasant to the ear"

Raiden Ei:

▶ I THINK we know what she does.

▶ Raiden would sometimes steal your mochi/sweets when you aren't looking.

▶ Like for example you got distracted by something, either by a person talking to you or when she purposely distracts you by saying things like "[name] look! There's a cute cat over there"

▶ She'll make sure you're fully distracted before getting a piece and stuffing it in her mouth lol.

▶ Sometimes you can tell she ate a piece because of the residue on the sides of her mouth lol.

▶ If you ever notice a piece is missing and you ask her about it she'll just deny it and say that you already ate it (gaslighting at its fullest)

▶ She'll just look at you confused as if she didn't just sneak a snack into her mouth when you ask her about it 😒.

▶ You can tell she ate it though, but we don't talk about that, you don't have the heart to tell her.

You were munching on some cookies while also giving bites to Ei because you know how much she loves sweet stuff "[name] look is that yae?" Ei says while pointing her finger at something in order to distract you "hm?" You acknowledged as you turned around where her finger was facing, while you were trying to see where Yae is Ei took a cookie or two from the container it was in and quickly ate it "hmm.. I don't see her" You say, not being able to see the pink haired girl. You turn back to your cookies and there was only one left "huh, I swear there were two cookies left" You said while you searched the table, you then turned to Ei and asked "Ei have you-" You cut your self off as Ei looked at you with an innocent face while you notice the crumbs on the corners of her mouth that wasn't there before.

Likes, follows, reblogs, and any kind of feedback is appreciated!

[bigskydreaming]

The Vampire Daniel Molloy, when Louis asks what he's looking forward to most about the next stage of his newly immortal life:

Hmm. With how much my maker already complains about me ruining his life and how every day I give him a new reason to regret ever siring me, if I had to pick just one thing, I'd say the thing I'm most looking forward to is when I hit vampire puberty.

Louis: ....

Daniel: Vampire puberty's when the really wild superpowers kick in, right?

Louis: I suppose technically that's not....inaccurate.

Daniel: Hey, what are the chances of me getting the 'set shit on fire with my brain' thing you've got? Can you even imagine how much that would piss him off? His disappointment of a fledgling having the same gifts as the ex who dumped his ass....oh, man. C'mon now. I bet I could do some real damage with that.

Louis: Actually, while we're near the subject: would you please stop introducing yourself as 'the reason your vampire parents got divorced?'

Daniel: No, Louis, Louis! You're not getting it, see....the thing that makes it funny is its true.

Louis: You've really decided to lean into the whole 'second childhood' angle, huh.

Daniel: Mmmm. And just think. If you'd turned me fifty years ago when I first asked, I'd be well past this stage by now. And also still twenty. And hot.

Louis: Ahh. Its like that, then, is it.

Daniel: Oh, only a little bit. Really though, its like, every day I discover a new way to make Armand rue my very existence all over again, and maybe I'm just a simple man with simple needs, because that's just....very fun for me. I mean, there's just something extra validating in knowing the guy you're all "fuck that guy, I hate him, he sucks" about hates you waaaay more than you can be bothered to hate him. Because then its like you win the feud, right? You still get to hate that guy, which is great, because fuck that guy, he sucks, but you also get to know your very existence drives him way crazier than his ever makes you, and I mean, let's be real. Who doesn't like winning things?

Louis: Well I'm so glad you've found something that gives you a sense of purpose at least. Its very -

Daniel: Yeah, yeah, immortal blood drinkers need hobbies other than mass murder, it keeps the body count low and is good for the environment. Relax. I know. I literally wrote the book on it. You were there.

Louis: That's what you got out of it?

Daniel: Why, did you want me to fixate on your sex scenes instead? That seems weird. A little narcissistic even. And at the risk of self-awareness, when I'm the one -

Louis: Right. Well. I just wanted to make sure you had something to focus your energies on. It can all be a bit overwhelming at first and with your level of public attention at the moment, its very crit -

Daniel: Nope, all good here. Got myself a steady supply of Deadbeat Dad jokes that make my maker's eye twitch - apparently base word play is "gauche" or some shit - ugh, my god, its like nothing I do is ever good enough for him, and I only ate one of the editors on my shitlist to test drive my shiny new murder skills. He had this thing about Oxford commas, used to bug the crap out of me. Its like we get it, you hate them. They're literally dots on a page, they can't hurt you, can we please move on....

Louis: ....

Daniel: Louis, I'm kidding. Look, you don't have to worry about me. I already decided I find emotional evisceration way more satisfying than the physical version. Less clean up and it lasts longer anyway. I'm not going to get myself into trouble by cosplaying as Jack the Ripper where paparazzi can catch me red-fanged, and even if I do, I hereby absolve you of all responsibility. You can stop mother-henning me, you didn't turn me, you literally said no when I begged you to, its the whole reason I have eternal wrinkles instead of youthful tautness.

Louis: Not gonna let that one go, are you.

Daniel: Gimme a few centuries and ask me again. I'll let you know then.

Louis: Mmhmm. So this was....memorable and we definitely won't be doing it again. But you do seem to have things figured out so I'll leave you to it, then.

Daniel: Wait, Louis, don't go! Don't you want to hear my five-century life plan for annoying Armand into an early retirement mausoleum? I made visual aids!

Louis: Goodbye, Daniel.

Daniel: Fine, leave then! I don't care! You're not my real dad anyway! Et cetera, et cetera!

[evidenceof]

regretful for the winnix ask please 🙏

aaa thank you for waiting and for the prompt, anna! <3 had this tumbling in my head for a while.

[ regretful ] for a kiss meant to apologise

happy/unhappy He peers through his car’s dashboard at the green of Dick’s farmland. It stretches on for miles into the purple orange horizon, broken and punctuated only by Dick's bright white house like a comma. When they talked about it in Eindhoven, Nix imagined a red barn; all hay and scattered livestock. Dick in jean overalls leaning on a shovel.  Nix doesn’t know what he was expecting. But it isn’t this: that both of them would be happy. Nix thinks, it only makes sense to be selfish when he’s unhappy. So it doesn’t make sense that he feels it now.

“It was good to see the boys again,” Dick says in that same way he does when he feels the need to fill a silence, when neither of them could sleep in a foxhole. Nix wishes he’d stop thinking about them in the war. 

“Lipton looked well,” is all Nix offers. Their first Easy Company reunion in thirty five years. He had gone because Dick had asked. His friend knew just as much and took over all the talking; the you-look-greats, the how-are-yous, and I’m-sorry-to-hear-thats. While Nix stood two steps behind Dick, realizing he hadn’t quite broken the habit. 

“You feel old yet, Dick?” Nix says now, staring ahead. Inside the big white house, he watches a light switch on through one of the windows. Someone would be waiting for Dick. It would be Ethel and it wouldn’t be Nix. Because he is here instead, in a car, engine stalled on the the Winters’ gravel driveway, clutch waiting to be put in reverse—to drive back home, to the airport, to California, to Grace, where he was happy. And it wouldn’t be Dick.

“The reunion felt like entering Toccoa again for the first time.”

“Major Winters? Nervous to meet his men?” Nix tries not to look back at the light in the house.

“My class As don’t even fit anymore, Nix.” Dick shakes his head when he laughs, but Nix hears the sadness in it anyway.

“Doubt any of ours do either. Hell you’re still a sight for sore eyes, Dick.” It’s takes a bit more maneuvering now but Nix manages to elbow Dick on the passenger seat. 

“And you’ve always been too kind to me, Lew. You know that?” The words sound like they're hooked to Dick’s throat, managing to get out but just barely. Nix had expected the novelty of the nickname to have dulled in time. But Dick’s voice rattles in odd places except in that one syllable. Even now, Nix knows it the only thing that sounded sure, and that makes him feel selfish.

“That all I was to you?” Nix looks at Dick and tries not to sound cruel. Tries not to resuscitate same unspoken conversation from ’45, that they tried to bury again in ’48. It's tense silence, strung up like a live wire that they chose to ignore, hoping it would die on its own. Neither of them wanted to be the first one to shoot the horse in the head. Depending on the day, Nix saw the hesitation either like hope or self-flagellation.

“Lew.” Dick is looking at him and doesn’t seem to notice when the porch light turns on. Lew stares hard at the front door, willing it not to open. They never seemed to have enough time, not in the war, not in peace time. “Are you happy?”

“Fuckssake, Dick.” Lew feels his face buzz at the question, like a million ants were crawling underneath. It feels like Dick is in his head. He doesn’t know why it hurts so much when he says, “Of course I am.” He doesn’t know why he chose right now to tear off the bandage of a gaping wound. He knew it was unfair. There would always be Section 8s. Hidden bars and clandestine hotels when Dick needed sun on a field, and Nix the expanse of the open ocean. Maybe he had hoped he’d forget. That he would be so happy, so, so happy he’d stop looking at Dick and thinking, “But I still wanted it to be you.”

“So am I. I'm happy.” And that hurts too. From the corner of his eye, he sees Dick reach out a hand and pull it back on his lap. Suddenly, they did feel old, straining against a conversation they had dodged when they were twenty-five.

“You think we retreated?” Nix turns to Dick again. Dick looks at him, and Nix didn't have to explain.

“We needed to give ourselves a chance to live.” Dick tries to say calmly. Nix almost sees him in ’44. M1 slung across his shoulder, red hair bright against the olive drab, giving the men a pep talk. Back then when they couldn’t allow themselves to imagine old age. “We had to try.” 

Nix only nods, staring at his lap. Dick’s hand is warm on his cheek and he’s almost forgotten what that felt like. He doesn’t know how he knows, but Nix is sure that Dick’s thinking of the same September afternoon in their last shared billet in England in ’45, when they talked about the future like they shared it. It was the only time Dick had held his face. Nix in turn had held his knee like he's doing now. When Nix boarded the troopship home, they had not said good bye and hoped that the lack of it counted as a drawn out promise, however tenuous.

It’s Nix who pulls away first because he knows Dick will wait for him until he does. Like he’s always waited for him. But he knows Dick has to go back to Ethel, and him back to Grace. Back to where they were happy. Even if it was a different kind.

“Maybe we’ll make it next time.” Nix's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's Dick who moves closer, and presses a small kiss on his lips like an apology.

“I’d like that, Lew.” It comes out strangled. And Nix feels his teeth are getting punched in when Dick opens the car door to leave.

He doesn’t wait for Dick to enter the house before he drives away. It should be easier when you’re happy.

my winnix kiss prompt drabbles

[melancholysway]

Okay okay I know your ask is closed but this idea has been eating away at my for a week now

Alright so imagine the reader is a feline mutant, could be a house cat or a big cat mutant whatever you imagine, and they’re cuddling with their turtle and they start kneading, making bread, their paws into said turtle while they sleep. How would the boys react to that? Cause it just seems so cute, especially if the reader gets embarrassed by it.

preferably 2007 or Rise, cause I’ve also seen you mention your desire for 07 requests

I’ve read a bunch of your posts and I’m sure you can do my request wonderfully, now you make sure you take care of yourself and if this is too much for you right now I can wait ❤️💖

I JUST SAW THIS & I THINK THIS WAS THE BREAK I NEEDED BC HUH

Yes YES YES

If your request hasn’t been fulfilled yet, IM SORRY BRO IM TRYING FR FR😭I think I jumped at this bc it’s just a short shot & I literally have to mentally prepare myself to write a long shot

Also me using the same 4 gifs of the guys bc there’s barely any TMNT 2007 gifs 😫😫

TMNT 2007 Headcanons: Baking Biscuits (Cat Mutant!Reader)



Leonardo

This turtle loves every second of it

Tries to catch you all the time kneading, he’s infatuated with how normal cat habits fall onto you

How turtles have things like chitters(?) & mating season, he likes to see you have cat qualities

You knead the ends of his mask a lot

Cats sleep a lot, so I think you’d fall in between sleeping for a full 8 hours all the time no matter what

And once you wake up, Leo’s gone(in the event you stay the night or share a bed,) but he always leaves an extra blue mask for you to knead while he’s training or meditating

Like how turtles enjoy their shell to be scratched, you’ll definitely both have a set time where you just love on each other like that, where you just cuddle and scratch while he rubs your back

That’s so cute omfg wait I might’ve just did sum

Raphael

Won’t ever tell you, but he feels it while sleeping

So much so that he’ll have a dream of you kneading on or around him

We all know he’s a cat lover

Guys that love cats >>>

But anyway, he’s already fond over you and protective

Also I hc that he feeds the stray cats around the city & the best part is watching them make biscuits in an alley

So to see you do it is the cutest

Raph is a known heavy sleeper, so he doesn’t awaken that easily

HOWEVER (comma)

He would not mind it at all if he woke up to you trying to knead on his shell before he rolled over

Also if he does wake up, he’ll lay on his stomach for easy access to his shell for you

Also doesn’t tell you if he’s awake, he’ll wait a few just to hear you purr while baking those biscuits

Donatello

Donnie doesn’t sleep

However (comma) he wouldn’t mind it if you kneaded next to him while he was working on something

My cat usually kneads right next to me and buries their head on some part of my body, so if you do so, Donnie seriously doesn’t mind

In fact, he loves it! Just feeling you next to him is all he needs

Actually, since Donnie doesn’t sleep, I feel like he would take a cat nap (no pun intended) via bread kneading

He thinks of it as a nice massage. Although kneading is usually on a blanket or something, Donnie’s shoulders are free real estate for kneading

Michelangelo

He notices right away

He’s not a heavy sleeper idc RAPH is 😭NOT Mikey

He immediately does the lil head pat

Also likes to joke around about it

“Guys please stop ordering biscuits Y/n’s been baking for hours please they haven’t seen their family in weeks”

That line. All. The. Time.

Is definitely the most physical out of the four brothers

Meaning he’ll absentmindedly pet you or rub your back knowing you enjoy it as if you’re a non-mutant cat

If you get a little embarrassed (especially if done around his brothers or April/Casey,) Mikey would just switch and do it in private

But tbh he just wants to show off his cute s/o to everyone

Gifts you a (very fluffy) orange blanket of his exclusively for kneading and baking those nice loaves of bread

Since being a mutant feline, your nails will naturally be sharper than average, so he always (attempts to at least) stitch the blanket back up for you?

//

Taglist:

@bee-1n-space @ducky-died-inside

Masterlist

[doxypsychlean]

Killing Your Heart

Aemond Targaryen x Targ!Reader

|Oneshot|

Warnings: Targcest, Death

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

A/N: So, I stumbled across this song few days ago...Then this really nasty idea popped up in my head.

Do you ever think of what could've been?

Aemond shot up from the bed, eye frantically searching through the room. His silk hair was sticking to his face from the sweat and tears.

Is it guilt? Remorse? Shame?

The voice twisted and turned, the sound bouncing off the four walls. Flat, lifeless, desolate. It felt like the possessor was miles away, but also standing right in front of his face.

It hurts. Where am I? It's cold.

A quiet, scared whine. Aemond ran a hand over his face, then sat up. His feet touched the floor.

Do you ever think of what could've been?

He was shaking. He reached over to the nightstand, twitching fingers wrapping around the neck of the wine bottle.

Do you miss me? Crave me? Love me?

Aemond put the bottle against his lips and lifted up. The bitter liquid did nothing to help soothe the burning sensation in his throat. He dropped the bottle down to his lap.

So close. Where am I going? I see something.

The memory of his mother's pained yells flooded his mind. He remembered the way her fists collided with his chest time after time, then how she dropped down to her knees.

Do you ever think of what could've been?

Then came the memory of how happy he'd felt when she told him she was with child. How she took him in her arms as Aemond broke down, admitting that he didn't know if he'd be a good father to their child. The feeling of her soft, warm lips, pressing against his.

Do you wish you could turn back time? To take back what you did? To fix what you've done?

Aemond got up from the bed with a feral roar, the bottle leaving his hand and shattering against the floor. Then he noticed the stain. Even in the dark, he could make out the way the red liquid had spilled, now in a puddle at his feet.

Almost there. Why does this look so familiar? It's so dark.

Tears rolled down his face again, falling to the ground and mixing with the bitter wine. Aegon tried to wipe them away, but it was useless. It was as if his body had taken control over his mind.

Do you ever think of what could've been?!

The words cut through his ribs and lodged into his heart. Aemond fell to his knees, hands landing in the small puddle of wine,tears and glass shards. He raised one hand up to his eye, a lump finding home in his throat. He tried to breath in, but nothing happened. The short nails of his red stained hand dug into the skin of his throat, just as they had on that night.

"Aemond?"

The voice came from the open windows of what once was their shared quarters. He looked up, eyes meeting with two milky white orbs. Her white hair, that was pushed back, seemed to not be affected by the windstorm. She stood there, on top of the windowsill. Hands neatly folded behind her back. The dagger still lodged in her rounded belly. An angry red gash on her ghostly white neck.

"My heart?" She called out again. "I'm scared."

Aemond scrambled up to his feet and made his way towards her. He didn't care for the way the words that came out of her mouth twisted and turned. Voice flat, lifeless, desolate.

"My heart..." He whispered as he came to stand right next to the window, neck craning up so he could look at her pale face. "My heart, don't be."

One of her hands unfolded from behind her, then reached down towards him.

"Please, Aemond. I'm scared. I don't want to go alone."

Without hesitation, he took her hand. He was sure it'd would go right through her, that she was only a figment of his mad imagination. But it wasn't. She was there. Aemond got up on the windowsill.

"Come with me, my heart."

He rubbed his thumb over the cold, sticky skin of her palm as he nodded his head. Aemond let go off her, then his hands wrapped around her waist.

"Love..." His voice failed him. "I've missed you so much."

She didn't respond, but instead snaked her dead hands around his neck.

"I'm so sorry." Aemond sobbed out. "I've missed you so much."

Her grip got stronger, nails digging in but leaving no trace behind. No pain.

"I'm scared." Her voice came through once more. "Come with me."

Aemond pulled back so he could look at her face, one hand reaching up to cup her cheek. She didn't lean into his touch as she usually did. It didn't matter. She was there.

"Come with me, Aemond, my heart."

Their lips met. Hers were awfully stiff and dry, never moving. The tears that ran down Aemond's face met with hers, but they didn't stain her cheeks. Instead, the small droplets fell right through her.

Aemond pulled away, nodding his head as he looked down at her lovingly. They wrapped their hands around eachother again. Tight.

Then the woman leaned back, until her feet were no longer touching the stone windowsill.

A second before Aemond hit the ground, he heard that same question that had been eating at him for months. Flat, lifeless, desolate.

Do you ever think of what could've been?

[abbyzenken]

Alright you people.... SPLITTER GIRL HEADCANON EXPLOSION TIME!!!! :3

In my days of using Tumblr but I have never posted headcanons nor think much about tuem... but splittet girl is making my head full of tjem so here we go

1 . She is roommates with chemical girl. Splitter really loves annoying the shit out of her and even calls her "chemical-X" (funny powerpuff girls reference... eeheheheh);; on a side note, they live on a duplex

1.1 Some stupid shit Splitter really LOVES to do is push bowling balls down the stars, blasting very shitty music and so on ^^ To annoy her roommate even more, she blasts this super shitty "song", at max volumne, not even bothering to turn it off nor be even more quiet; she just sits there and dances like a drunk lady. Hell, she will even laugh like a bitch (song link below, view at your VERY own risk, it is so fucking shitty oh my god someone please take away this guy's suno activies)

• Speaking of this... she dances like an idiot^^

...anyway I apologize for putting a shitty """song"""... back to what I was ramblign about

2 . Splitter girl REALLY loves doing parodies of children's books and those fuckass AI ""songs"", and oh boy are they so fucking funny;; She made alot of parodies of the shitpiece linked below

3 . Her room is just a bunch of wires, cables, chargers and whatever the fuck,, Weevil said that she'd have a shitty depression room but I personally think it would be shittier. There would be posters of badly drawn stickmen, unorganized wires under her bed and so on

4 . Speaking of the stickmen,, she draws like Brewstew:pp she also watches Brewstew alot because it suits her humor and gets a super good laugh ay them,, not to mention has merch^^

5 . She has VERY shitty hair. Like it is all knotty and shit, super hard to detangle that someone, regardless if it is her roommate or somebody else, has to make her go to a super professional hairdresser

6 . She makes ramen when she is SUPER high. When I say super high I mean like, a fucked up combination of someone smoking a blunt, Lindshey Lohan and an extremely shitty person. When making ramen, she would put all sorts of random bullshit - makeup, olives, anything, INCLUDING wood and metal. And then she dumps it all into the toilet and. fucking clogs it. And then her roommate would wonder what the hell happened and who made knock-off fairy dust and calls a plumber to fix that shit

7 . Unironically plays knockoffs of well-known games. Like instead of "Uno", she would play a very shitty knockoff called "Cnuno". I'd like to imagine that she just brought it one day and shoved it on chemical girl's face. It went like this :

"HEY GIRLIE!!!! LOOK WHAT I BROUGHT!!" "oh, that's nice^^ what is it, the game uno? "Oh Chemical-X, it's better! Do you wanna play... THE SHITTIER VERSION CNUNO?^^" "...what the FUCK is a Cnuno?!"

8 . Fast typer. Like in her journal entry she has so much spelling mistakes (such as "me/.", "norma;l" and so on). Not to mention she would also not put a comma where needed, and would put all caps letters when making a sentence sometimes (sOmethign lik;e This; yes I am typing like splitter just for this example)

9 . She absolutely LOVES getting drunk and going to sobriety tests. She would hope that her table will be the drunk table and if it is, she will scream so fucking loud and immediatly get as much as she can, and on the sobriety test, she is absolutely fucking shitty

10 . She and chemical girl would go to the same school and would share some of the same classes^^ For example, they would share woodshop class - chemical would be extremely good at it, meanwhile splitter sucks ass at it

That's all I have^^ I will share more splitter headcanons and possibly of the other girls (including chemical) tomorrow, so please look foward to it:3

[decepti-geek]

okay listen Aziraphale has basically NOTHING in common with Elle Woods aesthetically but besides that minor detail a Legally Blonde (specifically: The Musical au) would be PERFECT for Good Omens/Ineffable Husbands????

And I wanna make a distinction right off the bat - if we went by the movie, Crowley would proooobably be the only one who really fits Elle because she's the only one with a real fish out of water narrative. HOWEVER. Musical!Elle is more overtly like... fish out of water but still with some safety nets (ha) to fall back on, which are highlighted within the story. And meanwhile Emmett gets his own fish out of water story with the specific focus on his comparatively underprivileged background, and when you put those two together, Crowley feels a lot more Emmett to me.

Like, Aziraphale has the two key Elle qualities of a) lots of shit going unexamined because he's never truly lacked power/privilege before, and b) belligerent determination to do the right thing even when people are telling him it will cause him personal detriment. Crowley's whole dynamic with Aziraphale in the Job and Resurrectionist minisodes is basically just Emmett in Chip On My Shoulder if you swap 'navigating the heaven/hell dichotomy' with 'navigating law school.' GABRIEL IS A DEAD RINGER FOR WARNER. THE METATRON WOULD BE CALLAHAN. Serious and Blood In The Water fit them both so well post-s2 I'm just [clutches face] (the reprise for Serious is probably even more fitting for Gabriel than the initial version tbh).

Also, What You Want is just concentrated Aziraphale energy imo - "So! I will get into Harvard, impress Gabriel, win him back, and then marry him! Wait, you really think I need more of a plan than that? Can't I just... charge ahead and do it anyway?" In some ways I think I like this AU because it's effectively Aziraphale walking up to Crowley and going 'god says it's MY turn to be the absolute hot mess'

Beelzebub can a) be Vivian and b) stay together with Gabriel at the end, as a treat for Gabriel (Gabriel still drops out to become a model). This is partly because I find the idea of Beelzebub becoming Aziraphale's personal cheerleader towards the end fuckin delightful. The Brooke thing feels like it would take some finagling but I am confident it can be wrangled into a good shape with the right choice of characters (Harriet Dowling is legitimately a frontrunner right now but I think that could very easily change).

I can think of multiple directions in which to approach the Paulette and Kyle subplot, and honestly multiple couples who would fit if you changed up the surrounding circumstances a bit? I like the idea of Nina and Maggie in a very drifted version, maybe where they both still own their canon businesses, because then TECHNICALLY Nina as the one with the horrible ex would be Paulette, and it would be fun to switch around who is hopelessly pining after who!!

I am also playing around with Delta Nu roles BUT I know in my soul that Muriel is Margot if only because then they get her line like "Keep it positiiiiiive~ As you slap [them] to the floor! :D" Please take a moment to imagine Muriel singing that in full earnestness, it's a delight.

(And having decided this I kind of want the frat boys from the bit in What You Want to just be like... multiple Erics).

These are the edges of the idea, where stitching it together into something coherent starts to get a bit shaky, but at its core is Ineffable Husbands content along such lines as!

Crowley getting Emmett's little moment of delight at the end of Chip On My Shoulder when Aziraphale makes his first successful argument in class! ('Fell' rhymes with 'Elle' we can get some scansion going here with 'little Miss Woods comma Elle' I know it)

For that matter, the "Where are your law books?" bit in Chip On My Shoulder would be extremely funny if Aziraphale's dorm room is just the bookshop in miniature, and then still under all of that the textbooks are plastic wrapped and completely buried and unread becase they simply do not interest him the way an antique bible does.

Aziraphale in the playboy bunny costume and Crowley doing the "What's up?" [excruciating pause] "... Doc?"

The proposal right at the end where Crowley gets the repeated little 'oh my god's!

So many things about Take It Like A Man!

"Swallow your pride for me, just nod yes" is just such an Aziraphale @ Crowley line, generally.

THE CHORUS "Here you'll become what you're supposed to be/You think you can't but you can/Think of the guy you want most to be/Here's your chance to make it..." I will FIGHT people on how much this fits, Aziraphale has always wanted Crowley to have a place where he can inhabit the wants-to-do-good parts of his personality without fear or punishment, which Crowley is convinced he cannot have. This is the same idea!! (And in this AU, a more seamless role in the establishment is... legitimately the best that Aziraphale has the power to offer Crowley, tbh).

"Why can I never say no to her?" is basically just Crowley's canon inner monologue, c'mon.

"That's the best part/The outside is new/But now it reflects what's already in you/Couldn't change that if I wanted to" Again, I am prepared to Fight about this being a brilliant fit.

And then finally with this song, "Don't watch me change!" would have added embarrassed Crowley Noises which is wonderful to think about.

AND!!! The part of this whole stupid concept that so deeply compels me!!!!!

The duet part of the title song from either side of the door!!

"What about love/I never mentioned love/The timing's bad I know/But perhaps if I'd made it more clear/That you belong right here/You wouldn't have to go/Cause you'd know that I'm so much in love"-

AND

"We both know you're worth so much more"

AND

"If you can hear, can I just say/How much I want you to stay"|"It's not up to me..."

AND

[in chorus] "You are the best thing about this place-"

I am going to be thinking about this last one for days.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Trapped

First posted: July 30, 2018

Focuses on: Jason Todd (and Bruce Wayne)

My favorite bookmark: "i think this is my favorite jason fic now?? shit" thank u but I've written better, please come back

Tier: Top 20 in terms of hits, kudos, and bookmarks, surprisingly

This is my "behind the scenes" series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Another BatFam Week entry, but this time the prompt is the title.

This one started with a very specific kinetic image of being able to feel Bruce's hand covering Jason's eyes and knowing why. Very horse blinders, but soft and dadly. From there it was just a matter of writing it.

A panicked whine whistled through the dark.

In my own fics, the use of "whine" is very "Oh hi, I've been binging fic indiscriminately for weeks and now have plunged headfirst into writing without knowing a thing about how to do it my own way." No shade on people who do use that verb. I just don't anymore, because it's not my style.

He was buried. Buried in the dark with the bugs and the worms and the dirt.

Treble parallel structures are just the best and I rely on them way too much but also I AM NOT SORRY.

He swung his arm in a panic, forearm slamming against the wall of rubble. Nothing moved, but his arm screamed, so he joined it.

☺️

That was him. Good, good, that was good, dead people didn’t know their own name, because they were dead, but he was going to be dead because he couldn’t see and couldn’t get out and oh god he was buried again—

I really hecking love stream-of-consciousness panic, though I would edit some of the commas here. They were technically, grammatically correct, but a few implied breaths Jason was definitely not taking.

Also I don't remember if it was this fic or another early one but some commenter tried to be like "capitalize that g." No. When the characters reference the deity or deliberately the name, that's God. This is god.

No matter where Jason had cried out for him—in a warehouse in Ethiopia, in a muddy grave, on the banks of the Pit—Bruce had never been here.

Listen, you might think you hate your dad, but when you're living out your worst nightmare, it's good to have him around! Like oh thank goodness AN ADULT, and not just any adult, the ADULT WHO FIXES THINGS.

Bruce’s hand tightened on his ankle.

Some things are just fun to write because it's less about imagining and more about, no, I can just tell you Bruce has his gloves on and his fingers are around Jason's ankle and the pad of his thumb is pressed to that little hollow between the ankle bone and the Achilles heel, I'm not conjuring it, that's just how it is.

It was a ludicrously heavy beam, and his muscles were already weak from panic and fading adrenaline.

I have no idea how heavy concrete with a rebar center actually is. If I were Audrey, I would have googled it and researched down to the ounce. As it is, my brain went "It's like the Little Billy scene in Rocketman, it's fine."

“I have died here,” Jason reminded him, voice teetering like a small figure on a bridge.

I pat past me on the back for that wording.

Bruce placed his hand over Jason’s eyes, sandpapery callouses rubbing across soft eyelashes and bloody skin.

Bruce has my dad's hands. Which doesn't actually make sense because Bruce is a manual labor guy and my dad's only callouses are writing callouses, but it's true.

“You’re not alone. I’m here, and I’m not leaving you.” Bruce kissed Jason’s forehead tenderly, then prompted, “Say it.”

Yay forehead kiss.

“You are not alone.” “I am not alone.”

I am not fond of dialogue-only endings (when I do them.)

Also, to pull out one of my own replies from the comments:

The hill I choose to die on is that the majority of both the strife and bliss between Bruce and Jason at any point in their lives centers on the fact that Bruce is the closest anyone has come to earning total trust from Jason. Period. So that makes every betrayal ten times worse but also means that when the chips are down, Jason will turn to Bruce. 

Another gem from the comments: my elation that @cerusee (whose work I had devoured) read AND liked this fic AND liked it well enough to text it to @audreycritter (who had not yet appeared like a Jack-in-the-Box to drag me bodily into friendship.) I tried to play it cool in the reply. I was not chill in real life.

[queenofbaws]

For the behind-the-scenes fic asks, could I get 12, 24, and 25 for The Almosts pretty please? I'm so insanely curious

heheheh aw man, any chance i get to rant and rave about t(a), you KNOW i'm gonna take it!! ;)c

12. Was there a scene you wished you could have included? Why didn't it fit in?

mmmmmmmmm this one's tricky. i wouldn't say there were any scenes that i wished hadn't ended up on the cutting room floor in the end (as the wordcount will attest, pffffft), but there are definitely some that i had sort of imagined going differently when first planning/setting about writing, and that ended up significantly different when all was said and done.

the two that come most readily to mind are: (1) the whole reason i had sam's dad scott be an er nurse was because i fully intended on him being the one letting her know about josh's hospitalization, and then there being a very, very awkward confrontation with chris about it later; and (2) the fight in ch17 was actually going to be, uhhhhhh worse, hahahaha. in the end, i decided i wasn't really feeling the direction of those decisions, and so ended up changing them. i for sure wouldn't say i regret that, though, or that i wish i'd stuck with my original plan, but i do think they could've changed the overall vibe of the story significantly.

EDIT: I AM A FOOL! THERE WAS A SCENE I WISH I COULD'VE INCLUDED, AND THAT WAS SAM AND ASHLEY GOING FULL PARENT TRAP ON THEIR PARENTS TO GET THEM TO DATE SDKLFJLKSJDFKLJSDF hahahaha, not exactly an important part of the story, nor a necessary one, but........i had plans for scott giddings and jamie brown, oh yes i did. oh yes i did. hehe.

24. Did you write every scene in order? What was the first scene you wrote, and what was the last?

god no, oh jesus, oh no. nonononono. i am like, pathologically incapable of writing things in order. i WISH i had that sort of discipline, my gosh. hilariously, the first scene i wrote was...well, okay, yeah, the first scene of the fic!!! hannah and sam having a little chat before The Big Party, but after that, all bets were off, babyyyyyyyyy. i jumped around.....everywhere, and the one thing i remember most about writing t(a) is that i was, at ALL times, actively working on 3 chapters. nightmarish. don't recommend it. absolutely the only way i found i could get my brain to work XD the last scene i wrote.....man, was josh and hill in that last session. everything after that had already been written, it was all set in stone, but that last session, man...that one took me.......a long time to write, hahaha.

25. Is there anything you would change now about this fic? Why or why not?

so, here's the thing. i feel like it's really easy to look back on an artistic endeavor and pick out all the stuff you don't dig about the final result. i have, in all honesty, not gone back and FULLY reread t(a) start-to-finish since finishing it BECAUSE of that. i am positive that if i really sat down and looked at it with a magnifying glass, yeah, there are some things i'd change - pieces i'd get rid of, segments i'd rework, commas i would delete by the dozens.................

but at the end of the day, t(a) is, was, and always will be my baby, something that not only served as my first step into the ud fandom, but something that introduced me to so many AMAZING people - writers and artists and readers and editors and gifmakers and not-so-silent lurkers all - and so looking at it and thinking about the things i'd change doesn't really occur to me. it is what it is, and i'm very happy to leave it as is :) <3

that being said, i would've loved to format some of the...stuff in the ending where they (starve) in a more house of leaves sort of way, but ao3 proved pretty tricky for that, alas!

behind-the-scenes fic asks!

[lakelewisia]

Hello! I absolutely love your writing and world-building, and I was wondering how you feel about someone using some of your ideas in other works or as prompts (with credit)? For example, expanding on the idea of invisible ice mushroom ink in a different fantasy story. Thank you!

The long answer is, as Neil Gaiman has said, ideas come from everywhere, and they are the easy bit. If you want my permission to do all the work that comes after the idea, you have it.

What you have from me is three sentences, sketching out a silly little idea about mushrooms. [This idea, incidentally, was itself born out of the intersection of reading about mushrooms (some of which really can be made into ink) and rereading The Hobbit (which has a map with invisible bits on it) and taking walks around my land (where the first solid frosts of January are also when all the mushrooms start sprouting up).] That's the easy bit, plus a little bit of shuffling words around and chortling to myself as I shoehorn a few more commas into an unsuspecting and previously respectable sentence.

If you want to make more of a story out of that idea, you're going to have to do a lot more work. There will likely be several more than three sentences, and certainly a much higher casualty rate among commas. By the end of that, it will have been transmogrified into your own idea. And it will sneak into the mind of some other reader, who will think about it in ways you never imagined until it is something else again.

I couldn't stop my idea from wandering afield, even if I wanted to, which I don't. I'm quite pleased to know I've infected someone with my silly idea. That's what it's here for.

The short answer is, yes, that would be fine. Have fun.

[drugstore-love]

So Long, London

so many people, including those who say they are fans dislike TTPD and refer to it as lazy but I find it to be some of Taylor's best work. I appreciate the metaphors and how vulnerable she is with the narrative. She's not hiding; it's poetry. It's about emotion and the musicality really does come second.

Here's my song by song break down of things that I enjoy (and don't like) about the album for my own future reference so that I do not cave into peer pressure and start to hate the album on principle. Here are my personal interpretations and what the songs mean for me.

In no particular order So Long, London:

This is a big one, the most Track 5 track five she's released in a while and I've seen a lot of commentary saying that it's not sad enough but honestly, those people must have never loved someone so much that you put everything you had into them and they were still so sad. Like take away all the nuance, mental illness, big words, reasoning whatever and at the end of the day it was a person who was just sad and nothing you could do would take them out of their emotions and everything you tried made them view you as the enemy. You were the opposition for not wanting to wallow, for wanting more and for wanting it with them. To the point where it really made you question yourself and the thought of leaving made you feel worse because then you'd just be like everyone else but then it ended anyway and you thought you'd feel better but you still feel awful because you really did love this person and want the partnership you dreamed of with them but they just couldn't see you past their sad....I'm rambling

also can we please touch on how the comma changes the phrase without even trying (thanks, angelica)

anyway, i like the way that this one starts, the dissonance makes it kinda haunting, and I imagine her voice as an echo bouncing around the empty house as she leaves a final time. Honestly, in my imagination she's not talking to anyone, her partner in this scenario isn't listening because they didn't listen during the relationship. Regardless of who ended it (unclear in the narrative) her partner blames her for the decline of this relationship; this song is her side for whoever will listen and I imagine it to be the empty house and the quiet car as she leaves their shared house a final time.

moving on, when the beat comes in with the trembling synth rhythm, it adds to the confusion for the listener. It makes us feel disoriented and like we're joining in on something during the climax. Another interpretation is that it's a a fast heartbeat, the bpm of the song is 160 which is a normal heartbeat for exciting situations like exercise, drug use, rollercoaster rides etc... I can also imagine it as the heartbeat of someone leaving a lover. This really ties the song into You're Losing Me which I would say is a prequel to this song in theme alone.

I'm always a fan of the way Aaron incorporates emotion into his accompaniments and what I really like about this is he let's Taylor's vocals really make up the melody and become the focus of the song and uses layering of her voice to create emphasis and drama instead of the music.

While extremely poetic I think the lyrics are rather straightforward in conveying just how much the author gave to this relationship and how they felt alone and used at the end so I just will highlight some key phrases here instead of simplifying the metaphor as previously done:

Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away My spine split from carrying us up the hill Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill Thinkin, how much sad did you think I had Did you think I had in me? Oh, the tragedy ...

I didn't opt in to be your odd man out I founded the club she's heard great things about I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

And you say I abandoned the ship But I was going down with it My white knuckle dying grip Holding tight to your quiet resentment

Every breath feels like rarest air When you're not sure if he wants to be there

You swore that you loved me but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

And I'm just getting color back into my face I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

For so long, London Had a good run A moment of warm sun But I'm not the one So long, London Stitches undone Two graves, one gun You'll find someone ...

[disappearingmuse]

(Spicy Eizen/Rokurou where they navigate asexuality. No warnings apply.)

Under the cut, I talk about my process for writing this little guy because I'm a nerd for that kind of stuff! There are spoilers in it, so I suggest reading the fic first before diving into it.

Wet, Crooked Colt: Using Form and Language to Convey Tone

I thought WCC would be the best test subject to get deeper into this topic since the form and language are very distinct! This is one of the weirdest things I've ever written- not because of the premise, but because of the way the story is told.

Form as a vessel for conveying tone

I think the most effective experimental styles are the ones that enhance certain aspects of the story, whether that be a theme, a character’s mindset, etc. The form I chose for WCC- formatting the dialogue like a script- ties in thematically with Rokurou (and as Rokurou soon discovers, Eizen) following a script for foreplay. The script format also has the effect of starkly separating the dialogue from the action, which exemplifies how Rokurou feels a disconnect between his words and his thoughts. Finally, it gives the story a cheeky, playful, rough-around-the edges feel, like the back-and-forth whip of sitcom dialogue. 

I wasn’t completely consciously aware of these things while drafting. I stumbled on the form by accident. I originally wrote WCC with normal-looking dialogue, but the story wasn’t working. It was time to get funky.

At the time, I was reading Big Swiss by Jen Beagin, which is told partially through transcripts. Beagin executes this style expertly. 

I thought, what can I do with that? How can I adapt that to WCC? 

I tried it out and never looked back. I Big-Swissified Eizen and Rokurou. 

I didn’t have much of a better explanation for my bizarre choice other than “this feels right for the story and I can’t imagine it any other way.” While editing, I was much more intentional with applying it so that it benefitted the story.

Apart from the dialogue, one thing that sets the form apart is the stream-of-consciousness description. (Please forgive my gratuitous sins against comma usage.) I think it works because, for the most part, Rokurou is very much in his own head instead of in the moment.

It also meant I didn't have to edit the idiosyncrasies of the drafting process out. The way I wrote the story was very stream-of-conscious; I wrote everything completely out of order. If I wanted a line, I threw it in, regardless of whether it made sense in context. Mass chaos. Fingers were going in places they didn't belong. It was one of the most freeing, lovely drafting processes I've ever had.

Language as a vessel for conveying tone

The atmosphere of WCC is awkward, off-kilter, and a little bit nasty, so I wanted to use words and descriptions that sound that way. The best example of this, I think, is the title. Finding the right title kicked my ass because nothing sounded like it fit the piece. While brainstorming, the phrase “Wet, Crooked Colt” popped in my head (the title is so obscure that you would think it came from a line, but no, it was the other way around.) I tried to resist, because it was just so weird! Who the fuck names a story that?? 

Me. I do.

The title’s symbolism was immediately apparent to me: they’re still figuring each other out, and they’re figuring their relationships to sex out, and things are disjointed like a newborn horse with its wacky new legs covered in afterbirth. (Fun fact that I realized while writing this: this isn’t the first time I’ve used afterbirth/birth imagery with Eizen and Rokurou. See my other work “Liminality.” This was NOT intentional, and no, I don’t know what my subconscious is doing.)

Here are some more lines and moments that aid the tone (whether they're awkward, off-kilter, nasty, or all of the above):

“They clasped hands as if shaking on a dull business contract.”

 “...pour the words down Rokurou’s throat so they turned into more digestible bits, got ground into formless bile.”

There’s a motif of putting clothes back on, which reflects a reluctance towards sex. Eizen tightens the drawstring on Rokurou’s pants instead of taking them off, and in the end, they put each other’s clothes back on.

I can nerd out on this stuff for ages, but I’ll close off here. TL;DR read Soggy Pony