#especially for getting a specific warmth level lol

[c4tto626]

anyways merry christmas to everyone who like me celebrates this evening, my mom knows me well and got me a 2x2m super soft and fluffy red blanket which my cats also love very much lol

[carpkoinobori]

[✮] the politics of dancing — wendy x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): enjoy the silence - depeche mode | the politics of dancing - the reflex | cities in dust - siouxsie and the banshees | there is a light that never goes out - the smiths | love is a battlefield - pat benatar

summary: you’re told to find the man who killed your partner— husband, to you, but your superiors had no idea. You’re told to collect information on all KGB agents, and while you will, you’re far more focused on killing the man who took away the man you loved. and yet, there’s this woman you keep seeing. who the hell is she?

pairing: cia!reader x csis!wendy

tags: set in 1989 cold war era berlin, they’re spies, angst, it was the cold war ok, angst with a happy ending

wc: 6k

cw: blood, weapons (guns, etc), smoking, violence, death, sexual themes

ex: reader has a dead husband, pls listen to the songs in order.. PLEASEEEE.. they’re so good. c/n stands for code name, it’s not a code name like badger but more like a fake full name. Like Nicole Elizabeth Mintz. just think of a fake name lol

a/n: this is inspired by atomic blonde

September in Berlin was cold. Not horribly so, but enough to need a coat due to the weather. It was roughly 48 degrees, and your breath could be seen in the air, the vapor made even more noticeable by the streetlights. The cigarette between your fingers helped to fight off the chill, as you took a drag and exhaled. The warmth settled in your stomach, as you gazed up from where you were previously looking.

it was imperative to stay alert, to stay vigilant. Especially now.

You had a job to do. You were here to collect a list full of formation on KGB members— their names, what they’ve done, how long they’ve been working— it’s essential for the CIA.

but you want to find someone, specifically. The man responsible for killing your previous partner.

it was complicated, to be frank. There was a man— you had been told his name was Pyotr. His last name, at this moment, was unknown.

He was believed to be hiding out in West Berlin, passing along information to his comrades in East Berlin. There was the issue of the wall, of course, but you were sure you’d figure it out.

you had to.

for him.

September 14th, 1989

“He’s dead,” was the very blank, monotone way you were informed that your husband, your partner— was dead. You had only been working at the CIA for about seven months, at that point. You were told this news by your superior, and it was almost like he wasn’t surprised.

Death haunted this building. Dead agents, dead enemies, dead civilians— morality was no where to be seen, too. You can’t claim to be the good guys and stoop to the same level as everyone else.

but all you can think at that moment is— dead? he can’t be dead. He’s coming home, in a few days. We were going to go, together, our next job— but he’s dead. your superior, everybody calls him Badger— he’s an older southern man, gives you a barely sympathetic look. He’s not a monster, you know. He just can’t afford to feel for every death. It’d kill him.

“He was a good man, y/n,” is what he offers.

“I know,” is the only thing you can manage. There’s not much else to say.

September 15th, 1989

You were deployed to Berlin three days later.

the first thing you notice is that it’s cold. It’s not unbearable— not like Moscow, or any of the rest of Eastern Europe, but cold enough. You didn’t love the cold, truth be told.

The plane ride had been long. You were given a new name, which was only natural— c/n. A new hair color, a new passport— and you took completely new clothes in your suitcase. Getting off the plane, and out of the airport— you see your contact.

Your handler was another man— god, it was like you never saw a woman in these places— he says his name is Perceval.

outside the car there are is another man. He helps you put your bag in the back.

as you sit next to him, you know something is off. There’s an odd feeling about the car, and it’s making your hands fidget. This job was rumored to give you paranoia, but christ, it couldn’t be—

he adjusted his coat, and you see it. Sleek, black metal. Amazing, you think, sarcastically.

You’re starting to regret not carrying a knife on you, or some other weapon, when you remember you’re wearing stilettos.

Thank God.

you reach down as you turn into a dark tunnel, and repeatedly stab the man next to you. He doesn’t die, of course, but you manage to take his gun, and despite the way he twists your hand, you manage to shoot him in the chest. You’ve barely been in Berlin twenty minutes.

The driver is next. You begin struggling as he still tries to steer the car. You’re swerving, and he’s wrestling the gun out of your hands, yet, you manage to shoot him in the side of the head. You’re grateful that the gun was fully loaded.

taking control of the car is a different story— there’s two dead bodies inside the vehicle, and you don’t want to be caught by the Stasi— well, you’re in West Berlin, but it’s still plausible they’re there. KGB would be slightly more possible. Either way, you want to remain discreet.

a car pulls up, slowly.

your actual contact.

Perceval, he says.

“Where the fuck were you?” You spat, anger and panic already rising in you.

“Oh, don’t be so upset. Nothing’s happened, you’re alright,”

“I’ve been made, you idiot!” You exclaimed, already feeling increasingly aggravated. You couldn’t afford this, you had to stay calm.

you took a deep breath while Perceval attempted to placate her. “Christ, woman, you have to calm down,” he groans. “We’ll be fine, it’ll be figured out,” Your contact has a slight British accent. If he’s part of the MI6, you’re unaware, but it’s a possibility.

“Just take me to my hotel,” you sigh, finally, just needing to get away from the scene.

“As you wish,”

Packing yourselves into the car, you discard the bodies somewhere Perceval claims they won’t be found, and you’re finally taken to your hotel.

this job is going to be hell. You can feel it.

September 16th, 1989

The hotel isn’t bad, but you can’t exactly stay there long. You don’t love having to sleep, anyway— it’s necessary, you know, but the dreams that plague you are unbearable.

you always see him. You couldn’t save him, you couldn’t, but does he blame you? Would he still love you?

you don’t want answers, and you don’t want to think about it, so you throw yourself into your work.

You know there’s an apartment in Berlin that housed a list of all active KGB members. You know the man who had the list— your husband— is dead. You just need to find who killed him.

You flag down a cab.

The apartment itself? Already ransacked. There’s papers and files everywhere, and all you do is tear the place up further.

there’s nothing left of him. No pictures, no writing— some files, some other things, but nothing worthwhile. You know it’s been too long since he died for there to be anything. Half of Berlin has probably already been inside the place, but it was worth a try.

but, you find something.

there’s an earring. It looks like there was a struggle in one of the rooms. It’s silver, and you know a woman must have left it. What man wears earrings? Not many you know. Especially not KGB officers.

that’s who has the list.

It’s not like you can’t do two jobs at once, right? The woman who had the list is probably who killed your husband.

you’re sure you’ll find some intel on the way.

Talking to Perceval, he reveals there’s a man named Sergey. He’s important to the KGB, and he has money. He’s currently in West Berlin, allegedly. Perceval isn’t a bad contact. He does have some information, even if he’s insufferable and drinking half the time. He’s a complete wreck, and you’re a little offended that he’s your contact.

he frequents a bar that Perceval’s fond of, as well. You’re sure if you can find Sergey, you’re bound to find some information, as well. It’s very possible.

you get dressed up nicely— lingerie, with a wire hidden by your clothing. You need to record, of course. The wire is covered up by a simple outfit— a long black dress, and a coat.

once you enter the bar, you remove the coat. Your hair has been done quite nicely, framing your face, while the dress is meant to distract. A low cut, a bit loose, revealing your back, shoulders, the side of your chest— and of course, you’re wearing a bit of makeup.

you light up a cigarette, and wait.

after a few minutes, you spot him by the bar. There’s a woman speaking to him. She has short hair, down to the nape of her neck. It’s brown, a darker color in the light. You notice her immediately. She’s wearing a black dress, as you are, with a very low cut. It has straps, and covers most of her back, aside from the diamond shaped cut out that reveals smooth skin. You take a drag, and then she’s gone.

Sergey approaches you. He’s propositioning you, obviously, but you feel off.

there’s something about the woman. There’s something off about her. She didn’t seem like just a patron of the bar.

maybe you should ask Perceval.

September 17th, 1989

You’ve been following a specific man for about an hour. He’s yet to notice you. For a KGB agent, he’s quite dull. His name, Alexander, wasn’t hard to find. His friends are easy to pin down, as well— Nikolai, and Dimitri. All this information has been written down. You’re here to collect information on who’s apart of it, and what they’re doing— but you’re still not able to hear, yet.

Getting close is hard. You don’t want to be seen.

and when you’re about to leave, to go back to your hotel, you catch a glimpse of the woman. The one you saw at the bar.

she’s getting into a cab, sunglasses obscuring her face, and a long coat on.

you tell yourself it’s just a coincidence, and move on.

you get a tip from Perceval, later in the day.

he gives you a watch. This watch, he says, holds a new contact you should meet in the East.

another new passport. More dyed hair. An outfit yet unworn.

getting through the border isn’t the most difficult.

it’s what comes after.

You step into a theater, of some sorts.

you’re already being followed. By who? You’re unaware. Most likely some members of the KGB.

when you’re sitting, you see the woman— with the short, brown hair.

There’s that feeling again, that sense that something is wrong. Why do you keep seeing her?

you slip out the viewing area and move into some storage area, hidden in the theater. You trip the fire alarm, you take some keys out of a coat pocket— those were the keys you needed to meet your contact.

unfortunately, there are some KGB members waiting for you.

Fuck.

the first man is disarmed quickly. A well-placed kick sends him to the ground, and you’re free to focus on the second man.

you get to stab him with the key, and you fight. It’s violent, and the man is very bloody, but he’s managed to get several good kicks and punches in. The pain is clouding your mind, but you’re nothing but a good agent.

You manage to steal a coat off a rack, and slip out of the back unnoticed. An abandoned building is where you’d been told your contact would be.

you unlock the door, and deadbolt it when you get inside the building. The contact is in the roof.

“There’s a lot of unrest in the youth,” He informs. “I’m sure if you found the right motivation, well..”

“Keep talking,”

September 19th, 1989

You made it out of the east relatively unscathed. You took a day to patch up your wounds, to reconvene with Perceval—

there should be someone with information at this club, from what you’ve heard. Perceval encourages you to go.

The club is loud and filled with people. There are colored lights flashing— purple, blue, red— all against the black walls of the club. you’re wearing a black dress, again. It’s tight, sitting at your mid-thigh, exposing your shoulders and some of your back.

you’re at the bar, again, sipping vodka on the rocks when that woman appeared at the bar. She was wearing a skirt, which is a nice navy blue, along with some kind of matching tank top. Over it was a black leather jacket, and her hair was down. You had half a mind to run up to her and ask just what the hell she was doing.

Luckily for you, she walked over to you, ordering a drink. She turned to you, with her drink in hand. She smiled— it was oddly disarming.

“Hey,” she began, taking a sip. “What’s a girl like you doing at a place like this?” Her voice had an accent— it was a bit hard to decipher, though.

“I’m.. just looking for something to do,” you answered, vaguely.

“Oh?” She tilted her head, slightly. “I’m Wendy,” she introduced herself, and extended her hand. You shook it. “C/n,” you muttered, in reply. “It’s nice to meet you,”

She didn’t respond, just moved a little closer. The club was loud.

“What do you do, Wendy?” You asked, wary. You know she had been following you.

“I’m a translator. What do you do?” She asked back, a playful smirk on her face.

“It’s unimportant,” you shrugged, shifting slightly.

“There’s something I really want to ask you,” she smiled, still, leaning closer. “Let’s go somewhere quieter,”

she leads you to a secluded part of the club, a small room covered in graffiti and lit by red lights. The flashing outside was still seen in the room.

it’s immediate, the spark between you two. The tension breaks, and you’re kissing her. This random woman, that could possibly be trying to kill you— she’s up against the wall, and tastes like alcohol. Your ears are still ringing from the noise outside, and as you feel up her body— you feel something cold and hard tucked into her skirt.

you manage to get it out, and point the gun to her head.

“Why do you have a gun, Wendy?” You question, lowly, and she only looks shock for a second. She sucks her teeth, before visibly giving up.

“I’m working for Canadian intelligence,” she murmured. “They sent me out here a few months ago. Things have gotten really bad, lately, and they wanted me to go help some Americans on a job,” she explained, leaning against the wall. She looked so much more confident, before, but now she’s curling in on herself, her arms crossed and a leg up against the wall.

There’s not much you can say for comfort. It’s true. There’s been rumors of the wall going down, and tensions in Berlin are rising. Sometimes, you just want to forget, too.

“I’m guessing c/n isn’t your real name,” she adds, quietly.

“It’s not,” you agree.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she offered.

“Y/n,” you reply, even if you know you really shouldn’t. There’s something about her that makes you want to trust her.

“Son Seungwan. Wendy is my name, but I thought I’d give you something extra,” she smiles, now, even if it’s weak. You remove the gun from her head, and she lets out a soft laugh, looking down, and it just sounds a bit like she’s trying not to cry.

“Things are so, so bad lately,” she mutters to herself.

you don’t have a response. You know they are. You can tell she’s not used to this kind of job. She wasn’t meant for the field.

you lean in, again, and your hands are on her again. You hold her face in your hands, alcohol heavy on your tongue, and the both of you are pressed so close together you might as well be one person.

at one point, the hard wall of the secluded area grows uncomfortable, and you manage to get out of the bar and into a cab, then your hotel room.

your hands are on her again when you enter the hotel room, and there’s just something so warm about her you’re not used to. Maybe it’s because she’s new to this world, and hasn’t hardened around the edges yet, but you like it. You really, really like it.

she’s ripping your clothes off, and you’re doing the same. Her skin is warm, and despite the seedy place you were just in, her hair smells good. It’s soft. You tangle your hands in it, and the both of you fall onto the bed.

You get to forget everything, for a while. That makes it all the more worth it.

September 20th, 1989

and you don’t dream, for once. You’re sure there’s echoes in your mind, but as of right now, you slept soundly the first time in a while.

you would’ve slept through the whole night, if not for Wendy bolting upright in the middle of the night, clutching at her chest and panting.

you’ve always been a light sleeper. There’s no other way to be when you’re in this profession. You blink quickly, the sudden movement shocking your system awake.

“Wendy?” You call, tentatively. You sit up a bit more, your hand hesitantly brushing her side. “Seungwan?” Is what you resort to when she doesn’t respond.

the brunette next to you takes a shuddering breath, but nods. “I’m alright,” she assures, weakly. you don’t want to pry, and the reason for this sudden awakening is quite obvious.

“Go back to sleep,” you instruct, coaxing her to lay back down. Her head is on your chest, now, and it feels strange to be comforting her, but you do anyway. You stay silent, but rub her back gently. You run a hand through her hair, and when you hear her breath even out, you close your eyes again.

it’s strangely intimate, given it’s the first time you’ve officially met, but you don’t mind.

Wendy is warm, and you hate the cold.

When you actually wake up— early, in the morning— it’s even colder. Luckily, Wendy was still there. It looked like she was a slight sleeper, too, but was too tired to do anything but continue to lay there. You sat up.

Wendy looked unguarded when she slept. There was always something off about her when you saw her in public, a sort of forced ease and practiced facade about her, but as of now, she was simply quiet, and relaxed.

You were slightly unsure what to do.

“Wendy?” You called, peering down at her. She stirred immediately, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. Usually, she would’ve jolted up, but as of right now, she was finally feeling well-rested.

“c/n,” is how she greets you. She would’ve said your name— she quite likes it, after all— but your room could be bugged. Everybody knew that.

In any other scenario, you would have left before she woke. She would have done the same. But you’re both aware there’s a certain kind of suspicion surrounding you two— what if she stole something? You couldn’t leave her unsupervised.

you both don’t talk. She gets dressed, and you light up a cigarette.

she wrinkles her nose at the smell, and you pay her no mind.

it’s cold in Berlin, today.

September 25th, 1989

you keep seeing Wendy everywhere you go. You’re aware she’s trailing you, but that’s kind of her job description, so you ignore it. It’s just that every night, she’s in your hotel, without fail. Much like right now.

“Wendy,” you groan, fingers tangled in her soft hair. “How many times-” your breath hitches, and you look down at her. “-are we going to do this?”

she looks back up, and her eyes are dark and hazy. “Well,” she murmurs back, voice low. “I think the better question is how many times can we do this?”

Wendy’s voice is like honey, and it pulls you in. It’s slightly rough. You forget about your objective, again, as you’re with Wendy.

she bites at your lip, tugging it, and you reciprocate.

and when you wake up, it’s before her. You watch her leave in silence again. You would much rather not seeing her in the morning, you would rather just leave— but you don’t trust her alone in your hotel room.

there’s still some rules you’ve made sure to keep.

September 26th, 1989

you are instructed to meet your superior. There have been small reports back to the CIA that you’re distracted, not completing your work— it’s not true, but it’d be hard to argue.

“C/n,” he greets, casually.

“Badger,” you return the greeting, eyeing him cautiously.

“You’ve managed to get me sent over here,” he informs. “I wonder, c/n, what is it that’s been distracting you?”

“I’m not distracted,” you protest. “I’ve just been collecting information while I plan what to do with it,”

“Right, then. I’d hate for your friend.. Wendy, is it? I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her,”

“What are you implying, sir?” You gritted out, your jaw clenched.

“Don’t be dull,” he murmured back, dangerously. “Finish the job, y/n. Or someone will finish it for you,”

September 29th, 1989

You had been working nonstop, now. You had successfully orchestrated a meeting with a man you only knew as Yuri— Perceval had assured he’d have information.

it was a rather simple affair.

“Yuri,” you greeted, as you sat down.

“C/n, it’s a pleasure to see you,” he smiled, although it was practiced.

“I’ve been told you know who has the list— I’ve also been told you know some of the contents of the list,” you began, slowly. “In exchange for my promise to help you out of East Berlin, I’d like to know what, exactly, is in the list, and who is in possession of it,”

“I can’t tell you who exactly has it, but I can tell you where they are. As for what’s in the list, well— it’s all current KGB informers, and a few other bits of information covering them. It’ll tell you where they’re stationed, for how long, the things they’ve passed along.. quite a useful list, wouldn’t you say?”

“Quite,” you murmur, in agreement.

you aren’t quite ready for the sense of betrayal when you find out, though. You aren’t ready at all

you’re at some dingy apartment, one that looks barely cleaned. You’re inspecting the drawers of a dresser when—

“Wendy?” You blinked, surprised at seeing the other woman.

“C/n? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m..” you see her ear, now. There’s a silver earring, it looks oddly familiar, and— her other ear is missing an earring. A sense of dread washes over you in waves, and you feel the shock begin to creep in. Its a cold chill that runs up along your spine. You berate yourself. You’re a CIA agent, for Christ’s sakes, you should react like this to a little betrayal. It’s what you expected.

“Wendy,” you murmur, slowly. “Where’s the list?”

“What?”

“Where’s the list, Wendy?” You press again, slowly taking your gum out of your coat.

“Y/n, come on, I-”

“Where’s the fucking list, Wendy? I need that list!” You press, growing frantic. The first thing you’re taught is to keep your cool, but for some reason, you just feel off-kilter. You point the gun at her.

“I can’t give you the list,” she murmurs, turning her gaze away from you.

“Wendy, just tell me where-” and in that split second, she’s sprung up in front of you, her hand turning your arm, the gun now on the floor. You barely register what’s happening until she elbows you in the stomach— hard. Your breath is stolen away, and you struggle to take in a gasp of air. You lunge at her, the both of you falling to the floor. It’s a struggle, but you manage to get a few good hits in. It all comes to a head when you grasp a shard of glass, and impale her hand. She lets out a shriek, and you scramble onto your feet. You rush towards the bookshelf, where you’re sure the list is, but she grabs your ankle. She tugs you down, and you fall into the hardwood floor while she stands to her feet. She kicks your side, moving you out of the way with her foot, and takes the list from behind one of the novels. She rushes out of the door, and you try to get up despite your disorientation.

you’re chasing her now, and she’s fleeing into the streets, hailing a cab. You do the same, of course, but she’s already being lost in the crowd. Fuck.

November 7th, 1989

it’s a strange feeling, really.

you’ve only known Wendy for about three weeks, but the betrayal stings. She has the list— she knows who killed your husband. She knows you, and yet she’s nowhere to be found.

It’s just hard to understand. Did she know? Was she working with Pyotr? She had said she was working with Canadian intelligence, but it could be a lie. You should’ve known better than to trust some random woman that you met.

but your time is running out. You need the list by the ninth of November. You only have two days.

you have to talk to Perceval.

“There’s a warehouse in East Berlin,” he begins, twirling a cigarette between his fingers, as you stand in his messy, cluttered apartment. “There’s an exchange going on for the list. Pyotr wants it to cover some things up, and he’s planning on auctioning it off to the highest bidder. The thing is, he has to be given the list. By Wendy.

“And when is this happening?” You inquire.

“The ninth,” he replies. “There’s going to be a protest, a huge one. It’s the perfect cover,”

“Right, then,” you nod. “I’ll need a fake passport, again,” you remind.

“Of course,” he grins, in that sleazy way of his. “It’ll be done by tomorrow morning,”

November 9th, 1989

“Here’s my passport,” you say, as you hand it to the man in the booth. He checks the passport, giving you a strange look, but you’re allowed inside.

the deal is allegedly being made later, when the sun begins to set.

you wait, and it gives you some time to think. You’re in some dingy abandoned building, and it reminds you of your first assignment with him.

sometimes, you feel guilty for moving on like this. His death hurt, of course, and you’re doing this assignment for him, primarily, but— after, what’s left? You’re alone. Your only friends are your coworkers, you’ve never been able to know anybody, and everyone you love ends up dead. You hate this job. You really do. And Wendy- it’s stupid, you know it is, but you felt.. good, with her. She was witty, and intelligent, and you can’t believe you let your guard down.

everyone that you’ve ever loved, ever trusted, is either dead, or has betrayed you. Well, no. To be fair, most of your coworkers haven’t, but that’s not for you— that’s for the good of the country.

you begin preparing your weapons, your supplies, and your plan.

you have to put these feelings behind you. They make you volatile.

The protesting outside could be heard from your spot in the corner of the dusty old building, and you took that as your cue. You slipped out through a back door, into the throngs of marching youth. Finding the warehouse wasn’t that hard, honestly. You entered slowly, and tried to peer inside as you went, looking for a wall or something to cover you. You leaned against some kind of corrugated metal sheet, one that obscured you. Your gun was heavy and cold in your hands.

“Pyotr, I have the list,” You hear, and it stops you in your tracks. It sounds a lot like Wendy. It probably was, if you were honest.

“Good, good. Give it, now,” he instructs, presumably holding out a hand. You can’t see them.

there’s the sound of rustling paper, which you find odd, now that you think about it— why would such a confidential list be written on paper? Why wouldn’t it be hidden somewhere, in a watch, or painting, even?

“I’d better get going then,” You heard her turn, footsteps making their way to the door where you were standing near. You held your breath.

“Wait,” Pyotr’s voice. “I can’t let you go before I read the list, Wendy,” He laughed, lowly, and it sounded threatening. “I need to make sure everything’s on it,”

You heard Wendy’s footsteps stop. She was frozen. Suddenly, you watched her bolt. She ran straight out of the door, most likely when Piotr looked down to read. Your eyes widened, and your first instinct was to chase after her.

it was hard to find her in the mess of protesters, but only she was running. You ran after her, contemplating on yelling her name. It was a few seconds later when you saw Pyotr, as well— he had just stepped out of the warehouse, and gave some directions to a man high up in a building via a hand signal. His face looked cold— angry.

suddenly, you noticed a man dressed in civilian clothing following Wendy, as well. He trailed a few paces behind, walking quickly to keep her in sight. You then realized something had to be wrong with the list. Wendy had given them the wrong thing.

you were rapidly approaching the wall— as you ran, something told you to look up and to your right. A tall, run-down looking building, boarded up, and—

that’s when you see the faintest glimmer, something reflecting the barely there ray of light obscured by the clouds. The tip of a sniper rifle.

The spike of fear is what causes you to shriek out, “Wendy!”

she turns her head, and stops for a second. You don’t know if you’ve just signed her death warrant or not, because you lunge at her, tackling her to the ground.

You feel a droplet of a warm, familiar liquid hit your hand. It’s crimson, it’s blood.

you look to Wendy. She’s staring up at you with wide eyes, panting. You’re panting, too, and the adrenaline doesn’t completely taper down the pain of the gunshot in your shoulder. You had moved her out of way enough to be unscathed. It was unfortunate the bullet hit you, but you were both alive.

Alive. You wouldn’t be for long if you just stood there. Wendy seemed to realize that too. She scrambled upright, dragging you up with her, and now the both of you were running.

“Wendy,” you panted, glancing over at her, and then your surroundings. “Why are you being chased? What’s going on? Where’s the list?” You bombarded her with questions, but they were necessary.

Wendy made a sharp turn, jumping into the front seat of an unlocked car. You quickly caught on, and threw yourself into the passenger seat.

“I gave them the wrong one,” she confessed, lowly, breaths shaky as you both ran closer and closer to the wall.

“What?” You blinked, heart pounding in your chest, blood still roaring in your ears. “Why.. what? I don’t-”

“I’m supposed to bring the list back to my superiors. That’s my assignment,” she confesses. “I just didn’t think.. I don’t know why they gave me such an important one, I don’t know if I can complete, I didn’t think he’d notice, and-”

Wendy’s started the car, and navigating the streets is another mission all on its own. Suddenly, you hear the sound of glass cracking, and your head whips around to see hundreds of fractures on the back window of the car. Your eyes widen, and you watch Wendy hit the gas. You pray that another car, a bus, a truck, a bullet— you pray it doesn’t hit you.

“…The wall is coming down... The sledgehammers in the hands of men not born when it went up tear into it... behind it, the East German soldiers tried to stop the tide. Water cannons were brought out, but the West Berliners were determined. One West Berliner sprayed champagne back. It is the moment Berliners have waited twenty-eight years for…”

Wendy is in your hotel room. She’s patching up your shoulder, and you’re panting. Pyotr isn’t dead, but you have the list. You let out a sharp hiss as Wendy presses a cotton ball, saturated with alcohol, straight to the wound.

“Sorry,” she mutters, and you bite the side of your lip to not make a sound.

“It’s fine,” you reply, stilted. It’s kind of awkward, all things considered. You still let her bandage you up, and there’s an uneasy, tentative silence.

When she’s done, you bandage up her hand. It’s only fair. She had already done so, but you redress the wound. You may not be the best agent, but you always have gauze.

and when you’re done, you stand. You wish you had a painkiller.

“Wendy,” you call, lowly. “I need you to tell me where Pyotr is— or where he’s going, I don’t care. Just tell me,”

she owes you this much, you figure.

“He.. he should have been giving this to some seller. I don’t know where, but now that he doesn’t have it, he’s.. well, I’d think he’s coming after me,” she reasoned.

“And where does he think you are?”

“My hotel room, probably,”

“That’s where we’ll go, then,”

Finding Pyotr isn’t hard. He’s currently tearing apart Wendy’s hotel room, two of his men standing outside the door. You signal to Wendy, and both of you walk closer, silently. You both stay close to the wall, and you only have one shot.

a bang. a second.

There lie two bodies, crumpled on the ground. You push past them, moving them aside with your boot, and opening the door to the hotel room. You stay pressed to the wall, of course, you can’t just barge in.

You take a chance, and glance inside. Pyotr immediately shoots at you— he misses.

you glance at Wendy.

you take a few blind shots inside. You hear a pained shriek, guttural and low, and turn to see directly inside. He’s on the floor. You make eye contact for a split second before pulling the trigger, again.

a third body, limp and bleeding out on the ground. You don’t feel satisfaction, though. Just a cold hollowness.

You stare at Pyotr’s body for a long time. Wendy puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n,” she calls, softly. “Let’s go,”

November 25th, 1989

“Congratulations,” Badger takes the list from your hands. The real list was encoded in a watch. You and Wendy had to transcribe all of it onto this list and hand it back to your respective agencies. You were back on home soil, now.

“Thank you,” you bow your head, slightly. It feels strange to be congratulated for this. It was sloppy, and you barely got the job done. You wouldn’t have been able to complete it without Seungwan— or maybe she’s the reason it was such a mess. Either way, it was done.

“Y/n!” You turn your head to the sound of your name— your real name— It’s her.

“Seungwan?” You blink, a smile creeping onto your face. “What are you doing here?”

Badger has the sense to make himself scare, disappearing down one of the many hallways of the main building.

“Well, the CIA wanted a translator, and I volunteered,” she explained, a small smirk growing on her face. “I figured while I got situated you’d let me crash at yours?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, replacing the action with an amused huff. “Right. I suppose I can agree to that,”

She has a small grin on her face, and leans forward. “You’ll show me around America, won’t you?” She presses. She’s so.. smug isn’t the word. Teasing, maybe? Something like that.

“Just like we toured around Berlin?”

“No,” she snorts, shaking her head. “I’d prefer it to be a bit more calm, if you wouldn’t mind,”

You sighed, theatrically, as she leaned in. She pressed a kiss to your lips, and a warm feeling blossomed inside you. Your eyes fluttered shut, hands snaking into her hair as you sighed into her mouth.

“Yeah,” you murmured against her mouth, reluctantly breaking apart. You still had public decency, obviously. “Yeah, I’ll show you around..”

A/N: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT!! I know it’s not the best pacing and there’s not a lot a lot of interactions.. it’s mostly plot and I apologize. I don’t love how this came out, but I don’t think it’s bad either. Perfectly average and mediocre. kind of sad I wasted such good plot and setting on this but.. so is life. I promise to do wendy/rv justice in another work, but take this while I work on my sakura fic I SWEARRR I’ll try to get it out in a timely manner. as always, thank you for reading and please send asks!! they’re what inspires me to write, in a way.

p.s. the music for this fic is so good I highly recommend you listen to it as you read. songs are in order but you can play it out of order I guess. the most important part is the politics of dancing is meant for the club scene so if you just want to play it there ❤️THANK YOU!!

[poptartcat]

Steve and Dally

@vickypersch

Hi I saw you reply so I will now gleefully make a post in a way that sounds like poorly structured rambling >:) (I mean that’s literally what I’m doing but yk) (sorry this is going to sound really bad I suck at wording things when I’m trying to like analyze)

We don’t hear a lot about Steve, but he’s got a no-good dad, a buddy he’d fight until the ends of the earth for, and would choose to fight out of hatred and contempt. Wait-

You could totally apply that to Dally.

Dally mentions to Johnny that his dad doesn’t care where he is or what he’s doing. That’s just like Steve. We don’t know about either of their moms but we can assume they’re out of the picture. We know Johnny was Dally’s person (and Dally almost literally hid a dead body for him lol) but Soda was Steve’s. Pony says Steve would keep fighting and hating if it Soda who died. Dally did and didn’t fight after Johnny died- he fought an idea. Dally fought the mere idea of existence without Johnny. Steve would fight to avenge a wronged Soda. Steve would fight the people, the social class who looked down at them and killed his best buddy. He’s smart. He can’t fight something that isn’t there. He can’t fight an idea. He can fight the people perpetuating the idea. But ultimately, they’re both fighting for one person. And their people (Johnny and Soda) are the only ones who aren’t described very negatively. They’re two bright greasers in a world where those are hard to find. Both like see the warmth the world has to offer through them.

They’ve both also just been given a certain emotional trait. Dally’s got his indifference, Steve’s got his anger (this one idk how to properly explain). I like to imagine that this helps them bond (since they actually don’t ever directly interact in canon, which is actually very weird to realize). They both are spiteful of the world around them and tackle it in different ways. I imagine they have this dynamic where they’re hateful or cold to the world when they’re together. A little like Pony and Johnny where their eyes blaze and mouths curl into a sneer and it’s conveyed like that. Or maybe they’re both isolating themselves from everyone else because the world sucks. They both don’t really know what or how to feel except the one thing they know.

And this one is a little more in my own head, but I genuinely believe Steve could’ve gone down the same path if not for meeting Soda. I once saw another post and I wrote in the tags:

Steve and dally feel like two sides of an abnormally shaped coin. Like straight up just how Johnny is described as only really being around bc of the gang I imagine Steve in a similar situation where he’s only as open or joyful as he is bc of the gang. more specifically soda. He’d have a dally-esque reaction if anything happened to soda in ‘nam which is why I love [the idea of Soda in Vietnam]. Steve and dally losing the people they love most to the cruel reality and hatred of the world. their brightest person’s flame being stomped on before it lit the sky

Steve met Soda in grade school and he’s had the gang for years and he’s still a ball of fury. One can only imagine what he’d be like without Soda. He’s angry, but he’s got a best buddy for a reason. He’s got cars, and jokes, and does all that because he’s gained almost as much as he’s lost and had a system/people in his corner. Dally never had that. Dally didn’t meet them until way later and he’s hardened when he does. Both found that ray of hope within a hopeless war. Steve just got lucky and found it earlier. Especially when you take their childhoods and place them side by side (to a surface level, anyways. Since we don’t know much about either’s childhood. Especially Steve.) I think Steve would’ve let himself get consumed by the anger just like how Dally did the coldness.

Sorry I def had thoughts but idk if I connected them very well

[coral-lilies]

animal festival coming!!

okay with the newest teaser for the big update, we got a look at the new festival! this teaser truly gagged me, it was not what I was expecting at ALL and not in a bad way.

eating my words: it's in winter

first thing that I noticed is that it's in winter which... technically I think I owe a lot of y'all $10 now T-T . I really thought it was gonna be a fall festival next since the first update was for summer but I'm not in any way mad about it lol. I do think it's interesting that the animal festival is in winter, to me I feel like that would be more of a spring/summer or maybe fall. winter just seems to cold for the babies with all the snow but that's not a complaint just an observation y'know. the good thing about it being in winter is that I can keep playing on my save file now, I had been waiting so that I didn't play through all of fall but the festival is in winter so it doesn't matter now lol

one thing I do think is interesting with it being in winter is that it isn't in any way related to any of the big winter holidays. I also noticed it with the spring and summer festivals, we haven't been getting any that relate to religious holidays. in stardew we have the egg festival and even though it isn't called Easter, it's Easter. you search for hidden eggs, that's Easter but without the Christian traditions and story. we also have the feast of the winter star which is, again, just non-Christian Christmas with gift giving and feasts. I think avoiding religious holidays is a good move for keeping the player base open and keeping the world building of mistria separate from our world. I am interested in their approach of not adapting the holidays to be non-religious but simply scrapping them in favor of other concepts. I am a little sad that the winter festival isn't related to the warmth and giving nature of the holiday season but that's not something that necessarily needs to be added, especially not in a town where that is the general vibe throughout the seasons. it does make me wonder if the fall festival will be similar to Halloween in any regards or if they will take it in a different route to avoid pre established holidays.

decor: gimme those plushies nowww

at the end of the teaser we see this little set up in the farmers house:

and ohhhhh my god those little plushies are just the cutest thing I've ever seen!! I'm excited to see if they are buyable from one of the booths in town or if it is part of the prize for winning the contest

competition: mistria's next top animal

having a competition is such a fun concept for a town festival! there are two categories it seems; large animals and small animals. I think it would be fun if there were specific categories to submit for like best products or best dressed.

I wonder what the qualifications are for winning the competition. for the spring festival, you need 50+ breath of springs to beat Celine and win first. for a competition like this I'm assuming the factors will be heart levels and potentially tier level. it would be cool if there was an added mechanic to like train for the competition but I don't think that will be added. most likely it will be heart levels.

I also hope that we get a visual for the competition itself like if it's a race or a little cutscene of the judges looking at all the animal contestants. I just think that would be so cute and would add a lot into the immersion of it.

anyway that's just some ramblings about what I'm thinking about after seeing that teaser, if y'all noticed anything that i missed lmk!! I'm so excited to see how this festival will work!

[eddiediaaz]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any tips on how to color the flashbacks in the begins episodes, because they have that weird green tint that's so hard to get rid of? Would really appreciate any advice you had! Love all your gifs :)

hellooo! that is really nice of you to say, thank you <3

yeah flashback scenes in 911 can be tricky to color. i don't know why they made the el paso flashbacks look so drab, or the hershey flashbacks so glowy and green lol. anyway, i have two flashback examples on how to go from this:

to this

steps under the cut (:

CURVES

the first thing i always do is usually use a curves layer to white balance the colors automatically. it can be quite handy, but it's usually not enough. it can be a great place to start though. on the top right you can click the 3 lines menu and choose "auto options..."

then you can play around with the different settings in the algorithms section, and the snap neutral midtones. there's usually one that's better, so i just toggle between them and choose which one looks best.

if the auto settings don't work well for your shot, you can always do this manually with the black and white droppers with a curves or levels layer. becca/@yenvengerberg did a great tutorial on it here (in the step one: curves section)

both gifs with curves auto color correction:

as you can see it brings the colors in a more neutral zone and less saturated, but the coloring still needs more editing.

COLOR BALANCE

i used a color balance layer to bring back some warmth into the eddie gif. i started by giving it a bit of red in the shadows, then with midtones and highlights, i simply played with the sliders until i got something i liked (knowing i'll grade the colors more specifically later).

CHANNEL MIXER

for the maddie & buck gif, i wanted to reduce the yellow/green tint. i needed to add some blue to counter the yellow and channel mixer worked better than color balance for this one. this channel mixer tutorial by kate/@aubrey-plaza goes into so much depth, much better than i ever could, but here's how i did it:

SELECTIVE COLOR

my favorite and most used layer! i use it all the time. for the eddie gif, i wanted to make it warmer and less drab. i always start with deepening the blacks, then i want to make sure the skintones are good with the reds and yellows.

then the rest is mostly small adjustments to my liking, especially with cyans, blues, neutrals. this particular gif doesn't have a lot of blue tones so it doesn't change a lot tho haha

selective color results for eddie:

then for the maddie & buck gif, i went pretty much in the same order: blacks, skintones (reds and yellows)

then blues, cyans, neutrals:

maddie & buck selective color results:

FINAL TOUCHES

now that the gifs are color graded, what's left is to add final touches, aka more vibrance, contrast, exposure, etc etc.

for the eddie gif i added these layers

here's the layer order and final result:

for the maddie & buck gif, these are the layers i added:

and the layers order and final result for that one:

that's it, i hope that helps a little!

there's also this great tutorial by ace/@ajusnice on how to color yellow tinted shots, it's a great reference.

[shippingmyworld]

on the subject of tigerghost song recs may i suggest o sol e a lua by pequeno cidadão 🤲🤲the song itself is in portuguese so i went off the english tl of the lyrics but its so them coded

Okay, so I can totally see how the song is tigerghost coded (especially given how I like to hc Danny as the hesitant one).

But also...hear me out.

Based on how I interpreted the lyrics, I actually see the song as a metaphor for Danny's relationships. Specifically, how grayghost would eventually transition into tigerghost. I'm basing this off of several different translations of the song, but I'm pretty sure this is the gist of it:

The song is all about how the Sun is overflowing with love and willing to give everything about itself to the Moon. But the Moon isn't willing to commit itself to the Sun and wants to be independent of the Sun, rejecting the Sun's proposal of marriage. This plunges the Sun despair, causing it to freeze over. As the ice melts, the Sun floods the sky with its tears. Then, the very last verse of the song is sung in a different voice. This new voice gives reassurance to the Sun, that rejection isn't the end. The proof is in the fact that the Sun still holds enough warmth inside itself to melt away the ice. Yes, the sky may be darkened by the Sun's tears, but someday the Sun will find someone that can match and is deserving of the love that the Sun has to offer. This gives the song a happy ending.

In that way, I believe Danny to be the Sun and Valarie is the Moon and that the last verse sung by a different voice is Manny.

(Also I'm gonna hijack this ask and word vomit about my hc for Danny's past relationships real quick below the cut cus holy shit did this song resonate with my imagination and it's been on loop in my Spotify lol)

SO, armed with that knowledge, I'm here to declare that I believe that Danny fell HARD for Valarie. Like, completely over the top, nearing comical levels of tomfoolery in love with her. Just look at the ferris wheel scene and IMAGINE the amount of effort that must have gone into pulling that off (ignore the fact that Technus was prob responsible in canon).

Teenage Danny was a big-hearted goof, and this was his first real relationship so he wanted to give it everything he had. While he technically dated Paulina for a bit, he doesn't count it since she was possessed by Kitty and the second half of the relationship was him just terrified about her revealing his secret (queue trauma). For Valarie however, she'd gone on casual dates and been in a few semi-serious relationships with other people in school before she started dating Danny. While she found Danny's affections to be endearing at first, he ended up being far more clingy and needy than she was comfortable with. Which meant that the honeymoon phase of the relationship faded a lot faster for her than it did for Danny. Even though it was technically a mutual breakup in the show, I like to imagine that the breakup hit Danny a LOT harder than he ever let on.

Then as time went one, Danny continued to square off with Valarie in his ghost form. And during every encounter he had to listen to her shout insults and just plain vile things at him. It was a complete 180 from the image he had built up of her in his head. It became more than a little jarring to say the least. As the mental damage built up, Danny started to make bad decisions.

Specifically, he noticed Sam held an inkling of romantic affection for him. So, thinking he could rebound off of her to get over Valarie, Danny forced himself into liking Sam in a romantic way as well.

I believe that Danny and Sam's relationship lasted for like 4 months, tops, following the end of the show. Sam would realize that her love for Danny was platonic and not romantic. Danny would be racked with guilt for harboring feelings for Valarie while dating Sam, thus never able to develop true romantic feelings for Sam. However, neither of them really knew how to broach the subject of breaking up; Danny had only ever been dumped before and Sam really didn't want to see her best friend hurt so she spent far too long trying to figure out the best way to go about it. This ended up causing the both of them a lot of frustration about the relationship, until they ended up in a shouting match over something small that resulted in them both revealing that they were thinking about breaking up.

Afterwards, Tucker had to deal with the fallout for a few weeks. He ended up incidentally playing mediator between the two because they refused to be in the same room with each other (not because they hated each other, but because they felt guilty about it). Tucker quickly got sick of not being able to mention Sam to Danny or Danny to Sam, and concocted a stupid but simple plan to lock all three of them in the same room together so that Danny and Sam could talk it out. It worked, surprisingly, and the trio went back to being the best of friends (there were a few bumps in the road and awkward silences to get around but they got back to their old hijinks eventually).

Following his breakup with Sam though, Danny became much more guarded with his affections, and who could blame him? Every time he gave his heart out to someone, Danny ended up hurt. Whenever Paulina returned his feelings, it was because she'd been possessed and it caused his secret to almost be exposed. Valarie, who Danny considered his first love, hated half of who he was and had decided that her hatred for Danny Phantom was more important than her affection for Danny Fenton. And Sam was a case of misplaced feelings that almost resulted in Danny losing a core part of his support network.

So several years went by, and Danny convinced himself that the platonic love he got from his friends and family was enough. Then, a certain charming Mexican dropped into his life and made him start to questions everything 🐯👻

[avatarwithin]

spicy headcanon asks | @sangreprince

these replies are specifically for the post canon + canon divergent verse dynamic between our muses ( korra and zag! )

Where are your Muse’s most sensitive erogenous zones?

　Korra is generally not very sensitive anywhere due to her late and little exploration, rigorous training and trauma. However, as she has heals and gains comfort, she becomes more sensitive. Her most sensitive zones are the sides of her ribs and waist, her lower abdomen along the v-line, her neck and at the corners of her jaw, if touched in a specific way.

What’s one thing that never fails to turn your Muse on?

　Usually Korra is rather reciprocative when she's attracted, so just simple initiation would likely have success. In more detail though: among physical features she finds the chest very sensual, and more abstractly she's drawn to intent, especially if it's intricate and smoldering. Confidence is also very important. The perfect concoction would be a combination of the above, more flirty attire donned along with delicate gestures that speak loudly. It's when she can read the decadence in her partner's eyes and feel it in their touch, unspoken -- her familiarity is in loud and direct dealings, so more soft and subtle advances get a stronger reaction out of her. Bonus points if her partner holds her waist and speaks in a low voice and watches her like they only see her ; she'll be very flustered lol.

What are your Muse’s thoughts on oral sex?

　For the longest time, she found oral awkward, due to how incredibly intimate and vulnerable she finds it. Her stance on it depends on the dynamic, but generally she tends to lean into it a lot more if she feels some level of reverence or protectiveness in relation to her partner. If such a dynamic isn't present, she'll be more likely to have trouble opening up and settling into a comfortable dynamic regarding it, which is the case with Zag ; she finds herself on pretty even ground with him and they're so similar it's sometimes like looking into a mirror, which throws her off a bit. Their friendship is so close to buddy-like sometimes and yet incredibly deep and natural, seamlessly bound to this magnetism between them ; it's a bond she's never experienced before, and needs time to adjust and understand what she feels. Before this happens, she tends to dance around the idea, especially of more dedicated sessions.

What are your Muse’s thoughts on anal sex?

　Her interest wanes at light teasing.

What are your Muse’s top 3 kinks?

　This varies between masculine and feminine, but on the masc side she would find edging, oil and rough sex interesting. She also finds total darkness very sensual and particularly enjoyable every now and then, due to the same reasons she is sensitive to softer and intricate advances.

What are some common words or phrases your Muse says during sex?

　Korra likes to say what she thinks, mostly! Usually it's things like compliments and it's so hot when xyz or xyz feels so good. She also tends to swear.

When was your Muse’s ‘sexual awakening’ and what happened? (With Zagreus specifically)

　With Zagreus specifically, the moment Korra first found him sexually attractive was when she met him, simply due to him being her type. However, the moment she was really hit with a concrete desire for him would be a moment after their friendship and her sentiments have had some time to simmer. Their friendship begins at a time where she's careful and a little walled off romantically, so even though the attraction is obviously there, she'll ignore and resist it first, scared of making a rash decision. The desire would surface after growing steadily in reassuring and recurring companionship, and it would be in little things while spending a lot of time with him ; admiring his form and movements, his power and prowess, the way he handles things in his hands, the sound of his voice, basking in the warmth of his friendship and the common physical affection / low touch barrier between them.

[astorythatwritesitself]

For Adrian/Thane!

❤️ Who is the more romantic one? Do they wish their partner was more romantic?

💐 What’s their favorite “domestic bliss” moment? Do they cook/clean together? Do they like to go out shopping together?

💜 How do they silently show love or affection towards the other?

And @aceghosts

❤️ Who is the more romantic one? Do they wish their partner was more romantic?

Tough call, because they're both sentimental romantic dorks xD Like, outwardly? Half the Normandy crew's losing their shit (out of earshot ofc) that the scary assassin is the sort of sap who memorizes a favorite drink or will leave flowers, most of them would say Thane is the more... obviously romantic one. Thane would not necessarily disagree, but would deeply argue that nearly tearing oneself apart at the molecular level to avenge his dead wife puts at least a few points Adrian's way. (As does the poetry and music...)

In any case: they're both quite content with what the other has to offer, as is everyone else around them because anything more would be insufferable :D

💐 What’s their favorite “domestic bliss” moment? Do they cook/clean together? Do they like to go out shopping together?

Differs! Adrian would absolutely say cooking: Like. She has, historically, managed to fuck up the likes of MREs, so getting to advance to 'can grill a cheese without setting off smoke alarms' is one of those delightful little milestones that becomes even better when it's shared with her boyfriend, y'know? But beyond that... it's the sort of domestic moment Thane thought he'd never have again, and the sort Adrian never even contemplated getting to really have. The warmth as things cook, the scent and taste of the ingredients, catching up on the day or singing or just working in companionable silence is... so far removed from so much of the rest of their lives. For Thane, it's a second chance and a return to what he loved, but for Adrian... it kind of becomes a major distinction between two phases of her life, even more so than literally coming back to life lol.

Thane, meanwhile, would be hard-pressed to name anything more specific than 'time together'. He's used to solitude and had pretty much accepted his time with Irikah and Kolyat as a tragic blip in what was meant to be a lonely life. Finding anyone else was never even a consideration let alone a hope- so it's those quiet moments he treasures most, just simply being /together/.

💜 How do they silently show love or affection towards the other?

H a n d s

No but seriously they are so touchy - not much overt, especially in public, but it gets. Obvious lol. Quick touches to the arm or shoulder, linked hands. (And one that... Thane didn't quite consciously pick up on doing, Adrian straight up did not catch, but /so many other people did/ and it Sparked Some Rumors: Thane would kind of keep positioning himself just behind & beside Shepard in sort of a bodyguard way more than general squadmate follow lol.)

💛 What are their favorite activites to do together?

Cooking (particularly in the AU take on 3), reading, biotic sparring & shooting are definitely up there. I also imagine, in the 'congrats living is harder than dying' AU, they take up gardening and just find a lot of contentment in that or like, hiking together - spending time outside in a non-combative way xD

🍿 If they had a movie (or other fiction) couple equivalent, what couple would it be and why?

... yeah i got nothing for this one the tired sleepy is winning and apparently i have never seen a movie or read a book to draw a comparison from xD

🤍 What is their favorite or most admired quality in the other?

For Adrian - Thane's ability to accept things. That he could live through so much tragedy and still like... live, without it eating at him every waking moment; even when he shakes off the passive calm... he's still leagues ahead of her, in being able to face up to a situation as it is and not be shaken half to pieces from fear.

For Thane - Adrian's passion. Even though they met at about her lowest point - she loved so much and so /deeply/ - even if she didn't care for her own life, she cared for everything around her enough to keep trying, instead of simply shutting everything else out.

🍬 Who is their biggest supporter (friend, family, etc)?

Tough call xD Though I feel Chakwas and Mordin would be up there, and as far as my canon goes, were the first to pick up on anything (quite literally in Mordin's case), and were quite supportive - they're the ship doctors and had to deal with Adrian and Thane quite a bit beyond the usual injury patchups, so they got a unique little view of just how positive an effect they had on each other - /and just how much the pining fucked with them/ xD 

[adeadhorse]

Zoey? I know she isn’t the best but not all bad lol (002 ask meme)

pretty obvious how you feel about her as a character but i am just curious for headcanons

lol

How I feel about this character:  I do not hate her - hell, as a kid I used to like her (mostly because JL was pretty). I think people enjoy hating on both her and JLS a little bit too much, like the whole "everyone treats her like she's perfect" not really?? That basically stopped in S2, and then her bad behaviour basically just goes uncommented on. The main issue I have is how unequal her relationship with Chase is, and even then compared to Lizzie and Gordo (very clearly the blueprint for this show, especially in S1) Zoey seems absolutely infatuated with Chase compared to Lizzie's very platonic vibe. She's mostly fine in S1, and really she's fine in any episode where she's shown to actually care about Chase as a person.

But the rest of the time she is incredibly rude, and a lot of that is because JL is incapable of bringing any softness or warmth to her as the show goes on, so you get one designated "Choey" episode where she acts like she likes him and then the next one she's completely contemptuous; sometimes this is even scene by scene. That's not completely her fault, she is the most underwritten character because female protagonists in Dan's shows rarely get quirks which is what he thinks characterisation is, but it does make episodes centered solely around her boring at best and actively aggravating at worst.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:  Chase.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:  ...Lola? Michael? Also Chase because they're bffs?

My unpopular opinion about this character:  I think the most unpopular opinion would be that I wrote a 21k fic from her perspective because I could have done that for an interesting character.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I will say it again, we deserved more jealous!Zoey and also probably pining!Zoey.

My OTP: Chase/Zoey.

My cross over ship: Frankly I don't even really want her in this show let alone another one.

A headcanon fact: Every headcanon I've ever had has gone into what I've written, specifically if there is anyone in the sun because even when you go off of canon there isn't a whole lot there. But you specifically asked for headcanons so I'm just going to list some things that hopefully constitute as such and aren't just thoughts:

I think I hc her as being on the grey ace/aro spectrum so a lot of the dates she went on, especially in high school, were more out of a societal expectation than true desire. Either that or the Catholic guilt is very strong.

I usually don't have Chase and Zoey being together around college, partly because a lot of stereotypes about high school couples, but also because I think they needed to grow as people and fall in love with each other as adults. Part of this is politics, because I think Zoey would have been quite conservative (both in a "I am going to get married at 23 and have 2-3 kids" way and a "fiscally I am a Republican" way) meanwhile Chase is like "here is why Reaganomics has always been a scam". She grows out of it though.

Zoey doesn't get jealous 99% of the time but the few times she does it's Quinn levels of "I will zap you with a laser/stab you with a fork" etc. She also does occasionally get nauseous over the idea of Chase having been with other people, in that "I can't believe you existed romantically with other people before me" way. She is specifically annoyed that her first time was with Chase and his first time was with Rebecca even though she's let the balloon thing go.

I have a half-baked fic/TV season idea where Zoey and Chase have a teenage daughter and Zoey quits her job as a fashion designer to instead teach at PCA. It is a deliberate subversion of "the gang ends up teaching at PCA" trope because I don't especially like it, and the main reason Zoey did it is because Maddie is a complete daddy's girl and Zoey is trying to connect with this child that is way less like her than she expected or wanted.

None of these headcanons have been fun lol uhh...Zoey was fully in love with Chase by Goodbye Zoey because otherwise why is she crying over him and going to England to spite him, and the show probably wouldn't have done the weak ass "I could be" had Sean stayed on. You could even argue she's in love with him around The Radio which is why she a) takes him overreacting so personally and b) gives the radio back even though he's been a dick because at that point the idea of him not being her best friend is kind of unthinkable, so she stops caring about being right.

In general I think being right/the moral high ground is very important to Zoey and how she perceives herself, as is being able to fix things, so letting herself be wrong and letting herself 'fail' around Chase is always a testament to how much she loves him.

[alittlecherrylemonade]

bath tub thoughts time.

It’d been awhile since I noticed. Idk if that means it’d been awhile since it happened or if I haven’t been looking bc of all the doubts and insecurities. but you gave me the Look again last night. the love look. it’s still not the intense one, the bursting-to-say-it one. weirdly, it was closer to the long term one. the “you’re mine, that’s so dope” variety. you came over with a present that’s very not my taste but I liked anyway bc the snow globe rose made you think of me. and you joked about my blanket I’m working on being gay and I thought you were roasting me but then your uncultured as revealed that you now assume that any kind of colorful collection is gay because of me. and how you know I like a lot of color. which is true, but not an observation I had made about myself. and also, kinda made me sad before all that because I made that and you didn’t even care. and we got dinner with my bestie and his girl and before they got there and then right in front of them and then again when we were on my couch after you walked my tipsy ass home, you looked at me all soft and lovingly. I know ny bestie noticed. and he probably noticed me looking all soft at you too. because I did. he’s gonna roast me about that later I think. I doubt he noticed me rubbing your leg because I figured you might be anxious and also it for sure was my damn turn thank you very much but also that was definitely the most expensive dinner bill we’ve had lol. it’s also the first time we’ve had five cocktails between us though so that makes sense… might actually let you get the next two like you said. brunch this morning at our fav spot, so that’s one down.

but last night, before we even walked down to the restaurant you gave me the Look. and something clicked in me. I saw you sitting there, looking at me like that, and I was like “he loves me.” and it wasn’t even scary. it’s like I’ve been knowing. even though you don’t say crazy shit anymore, like what a future together might look like or how falling for me feels. all the doubts about your feelings for me just faded, with your head tilted to the side, asking me how I liked my rose snow globe because you’re trying to figure out my tastes.

all the doubts, gone just like that.

it’s not forever. they’ll be back. they always are. I’m realizing now that’s why both other times I fell in love, it took a minute. it took rejection, pushing the person away, shutting myself out of my own heart, before I could own it. the doubts, the insecurities. but I watched you curl up between my legs and use my thigh as your teddy bear and, for a minute there, I knew. but it begged a few questions. because that’s how I am. because I had just gotten fresh perspective from the goons.

is this how I wanna be loved?

god we could. we could do this. we could fall in love and build a future together. that’s a real possibility. but does that future have what I need? because that soft little gleam in your eyes doesn’t change the other stuff. you avoid hard conversational topics. I need to be able to have those, especially with a romantic partner who has specifically asked to be the one I turn to when I’m having a hard time. hard times mean hard conversations sometimes. I need someone with a curious heart. someone who wants to ask questions. someone who wants to know me deeply. but you’re scared to know you deeply. I get that now. but babe… what kinda love could this be without that? surface level, shallow. I wanna feel it in my bones. and I know we’re older now. I know we’ve both been single for a long, long time. we forget. the fire doesn’t devour forests anymore, it warms the hearth. but even with that warmth radiating from you, I could go cold. hell, you don’t seem to want my warmth. yours is enough for you. that’s why you’ll drop the thread of conversation to go back to your stories or topics or switch altogether. it’s your comfort zone. you don’t wanna step out of it. you want me to step in. but that’s not how it works. we either both step out of our respective zones to find a comfortable spot to sit together or at least a hand to hold through the discomfort… or we end. and that’s kinda what I think it’ll end up being. we’ll fall apart because you want me in your world, but you don’t wanna be in mine. and it’s actually sad because it’s not even born out of narcissism. you know what you know. you know how you feel about yourself and your life. and anything that could bring any of that into question is a threat. and it’s not even me that threatens you, it’s the fear that I won’t fit the mold. it’s the fear that I make you look twice, get out of the bubble. I love to see the world from different perspectives, but that terrifies you. because you don’t know the world. you know your corner of it. giving up that blissful ignorance… god it would be hard. it’s honestly just… innocence. and white knuckling the shit out of it.

and this is the part where my mind gets accusatory. and it could be right, you could just be a self-centered childish fuck. but I gotta see this possibility too. that it’s just fear. and if it is, you’ll have two choices. conquer it. be brave, the way you have asked me repeatedly to be. sometimes the exact ways you’ve asked me to be, with vulnerability. sometimes in ways I couldn’t even relate to. be brave. or, alternatively, lose me. it wouldn’t be the end of the world. we’ve both been through sad break ups. and it would be so sad. honestly, I don’t wanna think about it because it makes me sad. but what’s sadness? for me, compared to a life of giving you what you want and need without getting that myself… I’ll just have to be sad.

because I need and deserve things. someone I can talk to about anything who actually cares to hear it and invests in the conversation. sometimes it’s talking to a wall and if you truly don’t care, you shouldn’t be here. but if it’s not knowing what to say, learn to speak. because I also need strong communication skills. it’s not just that I need to tell and receive feedback about my feelings, I need you to tell me too. without running from them. and I need more time. god I need more of your time. yeah okay you’re an introvert. me too. but when it’s safe? it’s not supposed to be draining. if you need this much time away from me, it’s not sustainable. if you need this much time away from me, why not go ahead and stick with the original plan to buy that land off your parents to build on? why are you house shopping for a future you don’t really want me in? I know you do, but where’s my time? where’s my proof? it’s all just an idea in your head and you haven’t stopped to consider my ideas.

you ask me to tell you what I need, but you don’t give it. ask me to talk to you, but become a stonewall when the topic is too hard or not related to you or us. you want to know what I like, but then don’t do anything with that information.

which brings me to two things, actually.

I need a partner who is invested both in my sexual pleasure and safety. and tbh, the lack of this is making me lose my ability to invest. because it’s just not reciprocated.

I do not care about gifts. one of my friends made a point that this might be the way you show affection and I kinda blew it off because it wasn’t like you’d been showering me in presents. but then you brought the rose globe. which is endearing as fuck but… I’d rather have a better reason for the second pillow on my bed. I’d rather have your time. your conversation. your lil snores and cuddles. and I know that’s rooted in other shit. of course I’m kinda adverse to gift giving when I watched my broke ass parents sacrifice everything for big Christmases when I would’ve rather had my dad at my chorus concert. my affection can’t be bought. it can only be earned. I don’t want a fucking Christmas present, I want a cheesy ass mistletoe kiss or a couple hours driving around with your hand on my thigh while we look at lights.

and thinking of my parents… you gotta consider me, as an entity independent of you, more. because I’d told you a couple times about my family Christmas being early and you still asked me again to go on that damn cabin trip with you next weekend. and when I reminded you… you said you’d just take another friend. which is fine, whatever, spend a weekend away even though they’re our only time together, during the holidays which are hard for me, during an event I’ve invited you to. just don’t ask me to do anything for Christmas with your family. honestly, just make a google calendar to let me know when you’re available to be my boyfriend at this point. that shit hurt my feelings tbh. it’s like object impermanence specific to me. and I’ve been spending so much time debating about “too soon” in my mind but tbh? the way you were looking at me? no, I should be considered at this point. I should be a priority. but you’re your only number one. and that’s fine, but if that’s the only way you can be, you should be single.

I think you love me. but I don’t think it’s how I wanna be loved. in fact, I think it’s more a love for what I mean to you than a love for me, as a person. and that isn’t what I need. babe, I can’t stay for that. because I’m in this relationship too. and i promised myself a long time ago that, feelings aside, I wouldn’t stay when my overall happiness wouldn’t be higher than when I’m alone. and if this trend continues, I won’t be happy. I really wanna be happy here. because I was looking too.

[kingkunigami]

I'm not sure if this counts as a thirst but I'm obsessed with fighting and making up as a trope, especially with characters that might have trouble apologizing—I think Barou + Raichi immediately come to mind?

I love thinking about other characters in that trope as well [like how Bachira (my fave) or Shidou might react differently], but I'm currently mulling over Barou and Raichi specifically.

imo, Barou would be more stubborn with thinking that he's right, whereas Raichi would have a faster period of extreme reactivity that immediately melts into guilt or regret once you two part ways post-argument.

It would take a little more to push either of them to reach out and apologize first (though I think if you were the first to reestablish communication, they'd both try to show that they were sorry through actions). Maybe having you go radio silent for a couple more hours might do it.

I think Barou would struggle with words, so he might default to "acts of service" type behavior, perhaps trying to fuss over you the next time he sees you.

I can imagine that Raichi would eventually attempt to apologize verbally, he would just be shit at it—but you can feel the sincerity behind his jumbled words, and that's what really matters.

Disclaimer, I think I have a problem where I project a level of idiocy onto every character I like... lol. They're always slightly more moronic or pathetic in my head than I think they are in canon.

That said, I think Raichi might cry a little if you stay mad at him even after he tries to apologize. Just a couple angry tears, and he begins to try and write a draft for a better apology so that you'll be happy with him again.

Ahhh I definitely agree with you! (And I love my men pathetic just for you too!)

Barou — I think pride gets in the way a lot when it comes to apologising, so a lot of the time Barou is stubborn enough to stay silent until you extend the olive branch. I think deep down he knows it too, knows he doesn’t have to worry because even if he’s really pissed you off, you’ll be back in his arms soon enough. That isn’t to say he doesn’t have his way of apologising— he holds you a little tighter, presses a kiss to your temple as you cuddle together. No words need to be exchanged but you can feel the warmth radiating from him and the tension slowly leaving his body that tells you he’s happy to have you back on side. Gives those long, lingering, sloppy kisses after like you haven’t kissed in months.

Raichi — I feel like at first Raichi is combative and stubborn. He can easily go a couple of days without talking to you, he’ll just surround himself with football. But that’s not to say he isn’t reading over your old texts each night and looking at selfies you have together. It’s what prompts him to make contact— he’s got absolutely no shame in going up to you or texting you “are you gonna apologise/are you gonna talk to me?” And it seems rude and distasteful, but it really is his way of saying I miss you. If you tell him no or ignore the texts he just becomes more agitated, enough to swallow his pride as he decides to apologise in a mumbled tone that’s full of sincerity. Like you can just feel how sorry he is through his eyes, and the way his head hangs low, a hand on the back of his neck. You can see the sniffle threatening to break through as he fights to hold back tears— Just accept it and give the poor boy a kiss, he misses you.

Bachira — breaks easy. He doesn’t do those psychological warfare games, and he’ll quickly beat himself up about the argument especially if you’re ignoring him. The poor boy doesn’t want to be alone, so even if the fight was his fault he’s doing the “are you mad at me?🥺” thing, and of course you are. But he’s quick to apologise and it’s always sincere. He hates being without you for too long, and would rather extend the olive branch to have you back on side because his worst fear is losing you. You’re instantly scooped into his arms as he clings to you like his life depended on it, smothering you in kisses.

Shidou — And you mentioned Shidou! I feel like he would deliberately try to wind you up even more, a coy smirk on his face as he makes whatever the argument was about worse, just because he likes how pretty you look when you’re angry. “Aw, come on, babe. You know I was just jokin’—” but it’s his tone that has you seething as you contemplate blocking his number. But he’s quick to reign you back in when he can sense you growing cold, weaving his forearm around your neck as he pulls you against his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he cages you in with his arms. Even if you try to struggle he’s like “Sorry, baby. You know I am, right?” And you hate it, because he makes it so hard to be mad at him when he looks down at you with his pretty eyes and gives a smile reserved just for you.

[callmegkiddo]

Heehoo x reader lol

I know that's you, Alex- (@alexpangender) I remember you distinctly agreeing with the old man how simpable Heehoo is- fine-

You were out in the woods of the Ego manor. You were the personal assistant of the house. Helping cook, clean, and do other things for certain Egos who had difficulties doing it.

Dark had specifically hired you due to your level-headedness and how easy it was to get along with you. You were thankful for it, but having this job was a bit of a hassle, especially since the only other non-ego residents were kids and 1 (2 technically) other adult.

That other adult was Dexter Blair. He was the adoptive father of all the kids and your coworker. He was an awkward individual who had caught feelings on nearly every Ego in the manor. You sympathized with the man as he got fired, then rehired after this revelation.

He had a lot on his plate, helping Dark with lawsuits. But he was able to sustain himself and his 15+ kids without problems.

You might be asking yourself, why were you out here in the forest? Well, you were here to give Heehoo his yearly vaccination. They were Doctor's orders, as Dr. Iplier had to keep an eye on the DA and the still-sick G.

Who is Heehoo? He's an animalistic ego, a version of Annus during one of the various videos of Unas Annus.

You sighed as you imagined the possible struggle you would have to deal with. But you kept pushing through the bushes and holding the vaccine kit Iplier had provided.

Just as you were about to turn a corner to the usual Egos hideout, you heard rustling from a distance. Freezing up, you look around, scared. "Ay, w-who's there?" you stammered over your words. You held the kit tightly, raising it as a weapon.

Some bushes near you rustle violently, shaking as if a strong breeze had hit them. You shrieked a tad till a head popped out from the leaves. It was Heehoo!

You groaned face palmed, the Ego crawling over on all fours letting out grunts as if to show his amusement.

"Dammit, Heehoo! Ugh, get over here, you big lug. I have a vaccine with your name on it," you grumbled. The Ego flinched and crouched closer to the ground. As if ready to pounce, all you gave him was this stern look.

He gives up on the attack, offering his shoulder to you. You cackle lightly as you take out the syringe. "Hehehe, victory is mine!" and with that, you first disinfected the patch of skin before injecting him with the vaccine. He whimpers a bit as it stung.

You disinfected the skin again before covering it with a cotton ball. You secured a cotton ball over the bleeding spot using medical tape.

"All good, buddy," You informed the Ego. He looked down at his now patched-up arm and frowned. You frowned in return, "Don't you fuckin dare," he falters at that. Sighing, you sit on the ground next to him, contemplating what to do next.

Heehoo seemed to have plans, though. He had laid himself on the ground and plopped his head onto your lap. He cuddles into your stomach, finding your warmth friendly and comforting.

Chuckling, you lay a hand on his head, brushing your fingers through his surprisingly not-as-messy hair. Though it was extremely greasy. You stay there for a bit, letting the sounds of the forest echo around you.

This was nice… It was calm, an exact contrast to the manor…. You should visit him more often…

[tomb-bloom-noctem]

I didn't intend to go into the Midnights album and find a song and apply it to sonic characters but here we are so let me just say it: Lavender Haze is a Blaze the Cat romance song, specifically it's her perspective.

I feel that regardless of who you're shipping her with (Silver, Sonic, Amy, etc, literally any of them works with this I think) the song captures her mindset. Yes there's the whole lavender/purple/Blaze is a purple cat thing which yes that's what initially made me think of it. But lyrically that's what actually sold me on the idea after the surface level purple comparisons.

I been under scrutiny

You handle it beautifully

All this shit is new to me

-

All they keep asking me

Is if I'm gonna be your bride

The only kinda girl they see

Is a one night or a wife

-

Surreal

I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal

The 1950s shit they want from me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

That lavender haze

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

-

The lyrics are simple and mostly repetitive throughout the song but for all the "rumors about us" and the "safety I have with you" feelings it evokes feels perfectly like Blaze. She is a princess after all and we've frequently had her mention needing to exert control over herself and her emotions. And a kingdom would certainly put all her actions especially in regards to having a lover under scrutiny and rumors going wild. But Blaze just wants to have this thing between her and her lover, keeping it a "between us and no one else" thing and enjoying the warmth of being in love with someone. Staying in that lavender haze together.

This probably isn't very coherent lol but hopefully my point gets across.

[spencersawkward]

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

[a-libra-writes]

okay so like what i thought of was basically it’s a stark reader(robb’s twin) like in the hc, BUT up until theon left to go recruit his father they had a kind of unspoken thing going on and we’re clearly in love with each other just neither one had the guts to say it(theon would even pick out whores specifically bc they looked like the reader) and so(like in the hc) roose bolton captures her and their direwolf at the red wedding to marry her to ramsay. who subsequently becomes slightly(but let’s be honest this is ramsay) obsessed with her, and one day her direwolf makes its way into the kennels only to find and lay next to theon. it refuses to come out and even snarls in a protective way if someone tried to get theon out of the kennel. the servants decide that the best way to get the direwolf out is with its owner, reader and theon have a ready reunion and he kind of snaps out of reek for a short period of time. butttttt then ramsay gets jealous and chaos ensues :))))) hope you like it!!!! yeah it is kind of based off of the hc you did lol

first of all how dare you anon???????? i thought about this ask way too much today and it HURTS

So lets start with this. Theon was ten when he was taken from his family, he’s witnessed his home be invaded and the castle walls destroyed. Heard about his older brothers being murdered. May have seen their heads on spikes. Taken from his sweet mother, and older sister, probably didn’t see his uncles and father??? there sure as shit weren’t any nice goodbyes.

Yes Ned didn’t approve of this whole thing, but he saw it as a better alternative to another war coming up. Robert saw it as mercy; he wasn’t destroying the whole Greyjoy line or burning their keep to the ground.

So with all of that, he arrives in Winterfell, where it’s freezing. Travelled with the man that may have led to the deaths of his older brothers. Meets this man’s wife, who clearly isn’t happy he’s there. And meets this man’s children, who are young and just staring at him and his strange clothes. 

Now that we’ve got that out of the way....

I really like Theon and Robb’s friendship, and how it almost progressed to the level of Jon and Robb’s brotherhood, but not quite. I think that’s because he’s older by several years in the books, and while Jon is “at least” Stark, Theon is not. He’s a hostage. A potential danger. Catlyn likely doesn’t want her oldest anywhere near him but if Robb is going off to play with the Ironborn boy, why can’t Y/N? She’ll sneak out if she has to! She wants to talk to him and ask him questions. He’s annoyed by a stupid girl trailing him around, and tells her as much. 

I like to think they have an annoying sibling relationship for a while, and Y/N is very fascinated with him, but she also has a great deal of empathy because she starts to realize his situation. She’s still a child, but she knows he was taken from his family and struggles to understand why her father would do that. Ned tries to explain it to her, but I think it’ll always feel wrong to her, so even if Theon teases her and she teases back, she’s always nice to him even when her mother tries to discourage them socializing.

And of course, my favorite trope.  They get older and start to realize feelings, she grows into a beautiful lady and still wants to hang out with him and Robb. She still smiles at him during feasts and comes to watch him practice at archery and still glares at anyone who dares insult him. “You’ll do well to keep your words to yourself, especially where it pertains to matters you don’t understand,” She’ll sneer at lordlings who come in to gawk at the Ironborn. Theon loves it when she talks “like a lady” to annoying guests and lords. She speaks far more casually with him and her siblings. 

His crush is intense!!!! It’s so much. It hits him early and puberty + Theon brain just makes it worse. Like you said, he absolutely picks whores that look similar to her - I HC he generally seeks whores at an early age bc 1) thats just an OK thing to do for young men in Westeros and 2) he’s really lacking in physical affection and acceptance in general. 

He has no chance with a Lady Y/N Stark. Not a single fucking chance, but he still daydreams. When he was younger especially, when he hoped the Starks would accept him, when he thought he’d never return home - maybe they’d see him like a son, maybe, if he was good. Maybe if he was good enough, she’d ... but no. That’s all pipe dreams. The older he gets, the more he knows it, but knowing doesn’t help the bitterness.

I think it’d be even worse if Y/N saw him in a more romantic light than a familial or platonic one. The yearning. The pain!! The shared glances after touching each other’s hands, wondering if the other person knows or cares as much, but never knowing for sure because how the hell can you ask that? How would it ever be appropriate? 

There’s so much to this. Ramsay just adds a dozen layers of angst and complications 😂

Obviously Theon’s betrayal and “death” would break her heart, among other things. The war is not kind to the Starks. She has a lot of pain by the time she’s married to Ramsay. 

Also YOU’RE BREAKING MY HEART like the idea of her direwolf sniffing out Theon, even after all that, or just seeing him and instantly curling up. Theon’s half asleep, half delirious, but he feels the warmth of the fur and for a wild moment believes it’s Grey Wind. He feels the wet nose on his face and the wolf gently licks his wounds. This isn’t the hounds that snap at him and bring their fleas. The wolf curls up with him, and it’s probably the most peaceful sleep Theon’s had in months.

Later Y/N realizes her direwolf has been gone for hours and searches for it in a panic. She doesn’t want to go into the dungeons, she hates them, hates the sounds and the smells coming from them, but she doesn’t know where else to look. She’s sick to her stomach wondering why her wolf is down there, what if Ramsay -? No. He wouldn’t... would he?

And yes, Ramsay’s men have been trying to get Theon out per their master’s orders and can’t. The direwolf refuses. Theon has to crawl out on his own, all bones and scars and scabs and wounds, and the wolf sticks to his legs. Shows its teeth to anyone even looking at him. That’s when Y/N hears the commotion and comes down, she has no idea who this old man is - then... Recognition. Terrifying, heart-wrenching recognition.

When she holds him, she’s not sure who falls down first. It could be either of them; Theon from weakness and shock, her from heartache and relief. And he’s Theon again. He says his name, and her’s, and it’s hard for him to think straight and get the words out. But there is I’m sorry.

She demands an explanation from Roose. There’s no point in hiding it now. And she turns on Ramsay for it, and lord knows he won’t feel guilty about it. I feel like Theon would get slightly better treatment now, both because the direwolf is at his heels as much as Y/N’s and now she has a close eye on him. If anything else happens, she’s going to raise hell in the Dreadfort. All the anger and fire and outrage has been stoked again. Ramsay is not pleased with any of these developments.

And yeah if she and Theon had romantic feelings, this is about to get much more complicated :^)

[tachiisms]

Hold up, I'm only just now realizing this, Siri Tachi went undercover and did all that as a PADAWAN? I mean I guess she's from the pre-clone wars era where padawans could go still into their late twenties before Knighting but damn!

yes, so as far as we know, Siri went undercover while she was a Padawan. (she was 23* when she went undercover, so she was younger than Obi-Wan was in TPM when he's still a Padawan.)

I say 'as far as we know' because like I mentioned in the post that I'm assuming is what prompted this, the 'cover' that Siri would be able to fall back on if anyone ever found out her name, was that she left the Order as a Padawan. here's the passage from Path to Truth where Obi-Wan is narrating to the reader what happened when Siri left the Order two years prior to the events of this book:

"Her loyalty to Adi Gallia was unquestioned until they had fallen into a severe disagreement. Adi Gallia was known for her intuition, but not necessarily her warmth. She had taken the most severe path a Master could — she had cut loose her Padawan without recommending her for full Jedi status. Furious, Siri had left the Temple abruptly. Obi-Wan had tried to find her, but she had cut off any contact with the Temple. She had wandered the galaxy. Without her Jedi family, without any ties, she had fallen into bad company. And now she was using her skills to work with Krayn. It was an astonishing transformation, but Qui-Gon had taught Obi-Wan that he should not be surprised by the dark forces that battled within every being. Siri had battled her dark side and lost."

sooo yep! Padawan. (since as said in the previous post, I find it highly doubtful that there would have been any secret Knighting before she left, especially since she wouldn't have been able to secretly take the Trials before she left or anything.)

*I say 23 because that's what all the context clues point to except one, which personally I think is just a math error (which Jude and her editors have from time to time when listing specific numbers in time jumps lol). all context clues (except that one) point to Siri having left to go undercover right around the time of the Phantom Menace. the one that doesn't fit is that there's a prequel that says it takes place when Anakin is 7, and then a "six years later" time jump, which would mean that Anakin's 13, four years after The Phantom Menace, but that doesn't make sense with everything else we know, which is: -- Obi-Wan narrates that Anakin doesn't know that Zora used to be Siri and that Siri had been a friend of his, and everything we see of Anakin interacting with Siri/Zora is that he doesn't know who she is/has never met her -- Adi says that it's taken her two years to get to the level she's gotten to as Krayn's second in command, so if she's been undercover for two years, but there have been four years since TPM, it seems extremely implausible that Anakin wouldn't have met one of Obi-Wan's oldest friends (and at one point while Siri and Anakin are locked up together after he blows her cover he comments that he thought she hated Obi-Wan, based on the one interaction he'd seen, so he clearly has no idea that they'd been friends) --Siri takes Ferus Olin as her Padawan after returning from her undercover mission, and Ferus is a year/year-and-a-half-ish older than Anakin, and since canon at that time was that Initiates had to be chosen as a Padawan before age 13, if Anakin's 13 in Path to Truth, then Ferus would already have aged out or had a different Master and there's absolutely no indication of that anywhere in any of Jedi Quest or Last of the Jedi (whereas if Anakin is 11 in Path to Truth, then Ferus is 12, and Siri still has time to pick him when she gets back)

so it seems pretty clear that either the initial age of 7 should have been 5, or that the 6 years later should have been 4 years later, and that that was just a math error.

anyway that's probably way more than you were looking for here but this is what happens when you ask me questions! :)