#maybe even admire each other but good luck getting them to admit it XD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tiredassmage · 1 year

Note

Tyr x Mia Hawkins! (or, we sort of know how that one goes a little but I wanna hear more...)

The people have spoken! xD @captainderyn and @eorzeashan on the same page this fine evening. This is a good one, I love you both.

(send me a ship suggestion for one of my ocs and I'll give you my thoughts!)

The shorter end of this answer is that, yes, something could have come of this - and what does, by circumstance, is really only a whisper of the potential. It's a passing admiration, which I touch on in a relevant exploration of their parting on Tatooine in this fic (or the ao3 link, for those that prefer).

Mia's letter after letting her go really touches me, tbh.

And, of course, as game events go, all of those things remain unsaid. Nothing really comes of this except Mia having a minor crush for the two seconds she knows this nameless Imperial agent and Tyr wishes her the best of luck - genuinely. He'd never really admit it - one, because Kaliyo would never let him hear the end of it and, two, because it's not relevant given that they never see each other again (for the best, for her. It'd be risky to whatever life she establishes afterwards) - but it wouldn't have entirely been one-sided.

That said, doing something more with this is still kinda lurking in the back of my head.

I'd have to workshop the specifics more to get an actual premise, but one of my pending agent runs is to explore one of the possible editions of this which is Tyr recruiting her to Intelligence. Neither of them are exactly the perfectly loyal Imperial type at the end of the day, quite honestly, so I imagine she resisted the idea at first, but the alternatives were less certain and for sure less appealing because of it.

The other end of this is that Mia's the kind of person that could have convinced Tyr to run away. Maybe not after Chapter Two screws with his entire life and perception of everything ever, or maybe especially because of that. Like I said, the specifics are kind of nebulous still because I haven't seriously worked on the idea, but whether she's certain of it or not, she gets a very genuine look at Tyr beneath Nine, though he's not obvious about it.

There's an earnesty to her that Tyr can't help but be drawn to - and it's that very thing that makes him decide quite early on that she's not a threat, regardless of his initial orders. And he decides with quite a level of certainty that he's going to make sure she makes it through this. He might have chosen this life, chosen Intelligence, but he gets the impression that she's maybe a bit farther in over her head than she ever wanted out of this.

She has the opportunity to run. Tyr's not even considering it when they meet.

I don't... really know how it'd play out since the origin is still so nebulous, but I'd be inclined to think this would be a very slow, very gentle relationship. Sure, the physical crush and attraction may come early, but neither of them are really in a position to act on it - or even desire to, given all the uncertainties of the situation. But I think there's something to how easily and readily they look for the best in one another that could really lead them to something good - something that would give Tyr a reference point, a way to keep his head above water, so to speak, and something that reminds Mia of why this was all worth it, why she's trying and why she's still fighting for this shot at a quieter life.

She's one of the few that sees something other than just a Cipher, so she's one of the extreme few that has a shot at convincing him that there's something else to do with his skills, something more for him to be than this... lack created by giving everything to his work in Imperial Intelligence.

It's more likely to start as a partnership where Tyr teaches her what he knows from being a Cipher. He starts with the desire to help her, to make sure she can protect herself and Mia couldn't help but be surprised by the altruism of it, how he doesn't even question the boons (or lack thereof) of doing this.

I'm not sure if any potential relationship would last insofar as them being a Thing together, but, regardless of any romantic developments, I think they'd stay close friends, always watching each other's backs and there to catch each other when they stumble.

Of course, broadening that to the realm of other like-minded agents and whatnot, undoubtedly part of the reason he ends up with Theron, of all people, is because he feels so seen - in maybe... not what feels like a good way (Stars forbid we admit weakness and vulnerability to anyone, after all) initially, but in an ultimately validating way - with him. Theron's not above or below him, so Tyr isn't wearing a mask of the good soldier or responsible agent or the carefully masked mentor. Theron's an agent, too, just trying to get the job done despite onerous forces such as Saresh, lol.

I suppose we could make a sort of honorable mention to Sanju Pyne from Balmorra in this broad consideration, but Tyr and Sanju are never really more than acquaintances and coworkers. In a "pot calls kettle black" kind of way, Tyr sees Sanju as ultimately too idealistic for this line of work and grits his teeth trying to balance their shared ideals with an intolerance for unnecessary risk for the mission that ultimately just barely works out in their favor and gets them both out alive, if you asked for Tyr's honest assessment of the mission. Sanju's right to try to appeal to Tyr's ideals, sure, but attraction and anything deeper than a potentially already somewhat-jaded Cipher's advice to what Tyr perceives as a potentially less-experienced and maybe even younger operative don't factor into it. Intelligence work has a way of aging its operatives ksksfnlsdfa.

Chance might deserve an honorable mention as a potential friend, too, from Ardun's crew, but, in short, I think Mia's the only one of this streak that I recall a few more sparks flying with.

But it probably takes that kind to really get anywhere with Tyr. His relationships even inside of his crew sort of suffer from the whirlwind that is Chapters 2 & 3 from damaged trust and the need to maintain appearances, so Tyr needs someone that can meet him as something close to an equal for him to really feel any sense of comfort - someone that comes to him with less rigid expectations, otherwise he's liable to morph quickly to meet them.

Him and Lana, for example, would never have worked if any inclination ever existed - largely because he doesn't necessarily trust her until the Alliance is starting to take shape. That first impression and initial distrust (largely, granted, from what he experiences as Nine and not particularly anything of her own doing until Rishi) of meeting her as an agent reporting to a superior sets a lasting tone for their relationship going forward. She's someone he has to play a role with more often than not still (Cipher, Commander, what have you); her confidence in him and his ability to overcome adversity kind of unfortunately reinforces that in ways I think go largely unacknowledged from both ends because Tyr's nothing if not dedicated to the last atom of his being to his work and Lana's is something more akin to a tough love kind of encouragement.

Even his relationship with Shara, after all, is ultimately always kind of touched by what neither of them necessarily see at first as a power disparity in their ranks inside of Intelligence. Theirs wrenches my heart so hard because, on one hand, she knows him more intimately than most, and, on the other, they don't really know that much about each other at all in the end because they always leashed themselves because of their duties. For as close as they do get, it's still ultimately a distraction from their work. A mutually agreed to and enjoyable one, yes, that definitely has its intimacy, but always short of their true, unfiltered honesty.

They maintain its to protect one another, to make the fall easier when it comes.

#answered #ch: tyr #suggest a ship meme #mia hawkins #imperial agent

7 notes · View notes

spiltscribbles · 3 years

Note

57. “Wait a second.. are you jealous?” + Poorly Timed Confession + modern au 😍 pretty please!!!

~Notes: OMFG angel!!! Thank you SO SO much for the prompt<3 You are a complete babe! I hope you like :S It’s cheese, but like also what else would I do? LMFAO XD

Smash Prompt Game | Send Me A Prompt💜 | A Reblog Is Like An I Love You!!

“Hmmm… All right, would you rather, mmm… Smell Borris Johnson’s sweaty gym socks, or snog Professor Slughorn full on the mouth for a straight minute— oh erm, not so straight I reckon on second thought.”

Remus wrinkles his nose at him from across the bed, and clucks his tongue at the awful pun. “You’re unruly.”

“And you’re dodging,”

“Am not arse, I’m just recovering from that very terrifying scenario you’ve spewed out like the sadistic satanist you are.”

“Which scenario are you recovering from though?” Sirius leers, wiggling his eyebrows and jostling Remus’s textbook with his foot.

“I hate that you’re enjoying this so much,” Remus intones in a deadpan.

“Mary John, I’m waiting,” Sirius says with far too much glee.

Sometimes Remus is sure that he hates him. “Fine, the answer is I hate you.”

“Filthy and slanderous lies, Lupin.”

“You’re demented.”

“Five. Four. Three—“

“I won’t choose.”

“See, all I hear is that you wanna get it on with our chemistry professor, you saucy minx, you.”

Remus sniffs. “Better than touching that prick with even a ten foot pole.”

“Mmmm, have I ever told you how hot and heavy I get hearing you talk politics at me?”

Remus throws him the bird, which makes Sirius laugh. Remus can objectively say that Sirius has the most beautiful variations of laughter in the world, and he’d know considering he’s catalogued each one. This version is definitely top three. His care free, effortless laugh when Remus takes him off guard with a snide remark or lowly muttered retort that’s not appropriate for most company— It’s really more of a experience, truly. His breaths stutter out in a lovely staccato, and his eyes glimmer like the sea, and sometimes it feels like the world’s been suspended and it’s only the two of them in that slice of eternity.

Erm, Ah, but yeah…. That only happens occasionally, and it’s only because Sirius is Remus’s greatest friend— has been since the final year of primary school after Remus had moved to the London outskirts from his small, coastal town in Wales, and on first sight, Sirius swung a snowball straight to Remus’s face, which he of course responded to by throwing two more his way, and well… The pair of them were soaking and breathless by the end of it, but their fate was sealed, they were the greatest of friends, and nothing would ever alter that unquestionable staple.

So what if sometimes Remus’s chest thuds painfully when Sirius dimples his way, or Remus only ever wants to talk to him over anyone else— even Lily or his Mam— if he’s had a bad day, or good one, or if something remarkable had happened, or , or… Or whenever really. And there’s absolutely no significance that Remus can’t help the totally delighted grin that splits his face in half whenever he gets a text or snap from Sirius.

None of that is at all relevant.

Sirius is Remus’s greatest friend, and he’d never risk ruining that by allowing some pesky little crush swallow him whole and clammer out his mouth— vulnerable and throbbing in the open space between them. It doesn’t matter if Marlene always makes kissy faces their way, or how James only ever refers to them as a couple, and so what if Peter’s got a pole running that Remus knows basically the whole school is betting on.

They’re all wrong, Sirius would never, ever feel the same sort of way that Remus does him, that’s downright preposterous and ridiculous and just simply impossible. And Remus’s perfectly content with that very real truth… He is.

Remus is fine with it God help him. So everyone else just needs to but the fuck out of their business.

Besides, this, this right now— Him and Sirius splayed out on opposite ends of Remus’s bed, with Sirius’s feet nudging at Remus’s elbow whenever he’s got a question about there homework, with the window cracked open just so, letting in some of the chilly winter air because Sirius absolutely can not focus if he’s not cold— the fucking furnace— Where Remus can still hear the going ons of his family playing out on the floor below them… This is the most perfect place in Remus’s eyes, and he won’t ever change that, especially not to live out some boyhood fantasy that would never come into fruition in his wildest of dreams.

Remus’s content… He is… He has to be or else he’d lose one of the most vital people in his world.

“You’ve got footie practice after school, right?”

“Mmhmm, you coming to watch?”

“Only if you admit i’m your good luck charm,” Remus sardonically bats his lashes at Sirius as if he was in a mascara advert, and the taller boy blows a raspberry right back at him.

“Nice, real nice. You’re extraordinarily mature, you know that, Black?”

“And sexy, don’t forget that, oh so important descriptor Lupin.”

Remus leans against the locker besides Sirius’s, watches as he trades his current binders for the lot he’ll need for the afternoon, and tries really hard not to stare too longingly at how Sirius’s arm muscles ripple beneath their school’s maroon, uniform jackets in the most delicious of ways. (He hates the fact he’s been dissolved into a starry eyed mess lusting over the star striker, but thus is his fate.)

“I’d never commit such a faux pas, and I’m insulted that you’d ever think as much.”

Sirius sneers at him with a slight shake to his head. “So you coming or not?”

“I’m still contemplating my options,” he preens, but before Sirius could retort, Marlene, megawatt smile and dangerously sharp smirk— swaggers over towards them.

“Good morning my two beautiful chums!”

“What do you want?” Sirius asks before even glancing her way, to which Marlene blinks up at him, faux owlish. “S, I just wanted to greet a couple of my closest companions this lovely December morning,” she defends herself.

“Marls, you’re never this agreeable before noon,” Remus points out hesitantly.

“ And you rarely are even afterwards,” Sirius tacks on.

“Rude,” she pouts.

“Accurate,” Remus pipes in with an apologetic grimace.

Marlene stares them both down for a solid minute before finally relaxing her shoulders, and thrusting out the legal pad in her grasp. “The student council and spirit society are selling corsages for the snowflake formal, and Dorcas has deployed me to get some orders.”

“Whipped,” Sirius teases through a counter-fit cough.

Marlene doesn’t hesitate before smashing the legal pad on his head. “And you traipsing around getting people to buy the tickets for the theatre department last semester even though Re was only playing Mercutio wasn’t you being wrapped around his littlest finger?”

Remus flushes, feeling an unnerving amount of bees stinging around his stomach, and is thankful when the conversation pauses after Sirius casts her a very heated V. “Sod off.”

“So are you guys gonna buy or not?” Marlene huffs, weight slung to her left hip, and arms crossed against her chest.

“I’m a gay bloke, Marls, did you forget that?” Remus pins her with a one eyed squint, and she just scrunches her face up at him, exasperated.

“I’m sure there’s matching boutonnieres.”

“Fine, I just don’t have any school spirit then.”

This time she glares. “Lily and James are Head Boy and Head Girl, isn’t there like an oath between you lot, one for all and all for one, or some rot?”

“That’s the three musketeers,” he says.

“isn’t that basically who you guys are?” She reasons.

Before their wage of words could continue, Sirius just grabs the order form out of Marlene’s hands and fills out a sheet with the flurry of his pen. “Happy?”

“Positively delighted,” she leers, pecking them both on the cheek before strutting off, reminding them of their group study session at Alice’s tonight in her wake.

Sirius shakes his head, reluctantly amused with a grin gathering on the corners of his mouth, but for Remus everything feels like it’s frozen. “You didn’t have to do that you know? ’S not like James is much of a Head Boy anyhow, and Lily wouldn’t have really cared.”

Sirius shrugs, commences their walk to the opposite wing of the school for their shared history class. “Emmy likes that sort of romantical shite.”

Remus sees red, feels his heart lodging in his damn esophagus. “Oh, so— Erm, you’re taking her then,” Remus wonders if his tone sounds as detached as he feels.

“Yeah,” Sirius eyes him, questioning. “She wants that title of snow queen real bad, made me promise I’d campaign with her and the whole shtick.”

“Oh,” it’s like Remus could feel it when he closes off completely, can feel his hopes squashed down and his heart contract and his every organ collapsing in on themselves, leaving him feeling hollowed out completely.

Sirius slows down marginally, eyeing him with a slight frown. “Is that all right? I know you two don’t exactly get along and we were planning to go as a group, bu—“

“It’s fine,” Remus hates how screechy his voice gets, how he feels like he’s about to scream. “You two are a shoe in, no doubt.”

Sirius tries to mirror Remus’s faux excitement with a tepid grin of his own, but Remus doesn’t let him, instead commandeering their typical table on the back row and tries focussing on the thousandth war with France while his world tilts off kilter.

Emmy is beautiful, and popular and her smile alone dazzles the whole room. She’s everything that Sirius should look for in a partner, someone to match his whip lash wit, and his taste for all things exuberant that skirt on flashy, and someone who’s got just as many friends and admirers as him.

They’re perfect and Remus should just get over his petty ass hatred of her, even if he still thinks she can be down right cruel and selective and selfish. Qualities Sirius surely isn’t… But maybe it’s all in his head how she sneers at people who she finds plane, or how she literally guffaws over the misfortune of others. Maybe his perception of how she wields people in like moths to a flame just to get what she wants is all a misunderstanding, or in his head or something.

Maybe all that’s possible, even if Remus seriously doubts it.

But at the end of the day, Sirius loves her— has been basically infatuated by Emmeline Vance since she first transferred at the start of their Freshman year. Sirius loves her, and who ever Sirius loves is merely an extension of him… Right?

Remus just needs to get over it and somehow rid himself of this crush he’s been fostering for so long it’s basically a part of him at this point. Though, he thinks it’d be a lot easier if he didn’t see their faces plastered on posters everywhere the week and a half leading up to the dance— looking like actual royals that would put Will and cate to shame.

“Yo cheekbones!”

Remus starts, swivels around from where he was scratching his pen to paper, finding Sirius— as glimmering and beautiful as always— swaggering up to him, insanely electric smile painted over his face.

“Would you rather eat a jumbo jar of jalapeños without a break, or eat the toenails from someone with athlete’s foot next to your dinner every night of the rest of your life?”

“I thought you were having lunch with Emmy to keep up your royalty status before this weekend?” Remus asks, tacitly side stepping from the horrific images swimming to the forefront of his mind because of his cruel question.

“Now that doesn’t sound like an answer to my ultimatum,” Sirius says in a singsong sort of voice.

“You answer me first,” Remus says airily.

“But I asked first,” Sirius argues haughtily.

“Well both your options would kill me, so I wouldn’t do either,” Remus retorts.

“That’s not how the game works!”

“You’re the one who always says that rules were made to be broken,” Remus says, lofty as all get out,, and dissolves into laughter at the completely cross look Sirius’s giving him.

“You were born to be contrary, weren’t you?”

“So lunch?”

“Got bored,” he shrugs, hopping onto the corner of the desk Remus’s working on. “What you up to instead of eating?”

“My position paper for Model UN.” Sirius smiles down at him, and Remus can’t help the flush that spreads across his cheeks in return. “Not as glamorous as running as Snow King, I know.”

“It’s precious,” Sirius contends, his soft timbre sounding like syrup and his long fingers fluttering against Remus’s skin, pushing back a lock of his ever disheveled, tawny curls in a far to gentle way, and Remus gulps before averting his gaze to break the sudden tautness that’s built between them.

They’ve had so many of these almost moments, ones that Remus’s always treasured but he knows doesn’t mean much of anything at all to Sirius— Sirius who is effortlessly hilarious, and brims with genius and who is so beautiful that sometimes it hurts looking at him for too long. Sirius who has a new suitor at his beck and call on a near weekly basis. But whenever they transpire now, it just hurts all the more because Remus knows in his heart of hearts that they will never lead anywhere, and Sirius is in love with Emmy and Remus can’t let himself float around in this daydream for any longer.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat, shuffles in his seat only slightly. “I’m Algeria so my Mam’s pretty excited about it. She’s been telling me all the stuff Wikipedia’s got wrong and everything.”

Sirius laughs, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Your mother is kinda everything, you know that?”

Remus twists his mouth up, reluctant. “Don’t tell her as much, or else she’ll go on and on how she won Miss Teen Great Britain when she was only sixteen.”

“Hmm, I was wondering where you got that pretty face.”

“You, Sirius Black, can go lick an unwashed arse.”

“You’ll never catch a suitor with that cheek of yours though. I’d work on that, Lupin.”

“I don’t think I could ever win Miss Congeniality, alas.” Remus doesn’t quite catch Sirius’s reply, to busy responding too the text his phone just chirped with instead.

“Mary John, are you listening?”

“Uh-huh.”

Sirius’s brows hike up, flabbergasted smile stretched across his face. “So totally rude! And I came all the way here— to the place where dreamers die— just to spend time with you.”

“Sorry,” Remus gives him an abashed little half grin before setting the phone back down. “’s just Fabian.”

Sirius’s expression drops, goes inquisitive instead of his typical ebullience. “Fabian? Why’s Fabian Prewett texting you, and why is he,” Sirius crooks his head so he’s able to read the new message that popped up on Remus’s phone’s screen. “Asking about color coordination?”

Remus blushes for an entirely new reason now, one he likes much less. “Ah, he’s the sort to like it when our suits like match, but not in an abrasive fashion, you know?”

Sirius’s face goes scarily blank.

“Your suits? Suits for what?”

“The dance…” Remus says slowly, he’s confused what Sirius’s confused about.

“The dance… Right… I thought you were still going with everyone else?”

“Pff, no way,” Remus scoffs. “Lily’s only pretending to be single, you know how red in the face she gets whenever around James. They’ll end up dancing the whole night away. And with Dorcas running the whole event and Benjy thinking any social function is a plague on society, that’d leave me stuck with Peter and Mary, . And honestly I’ve seen enough of her tongue shoved down his throat for a lifetime.” Remus is only slightly surprised that doesn’t even elicit a chuckle from Sirius, who’s now looking a bit stormy— and he thinks he’ll never be accustomed to his mercurial moods that can change as quickly as the snap of the finger.

“Right… So you’re going with Fabian Prewett… as your date?”

“Yes… Why is that so hard to believe?”

“it’s, it’s not,” Sirius scrambles, suddenly standing up.

“Then why are you being so weird about this,” Remus argues, getting up to meet him at his level.

“Am not!”

“You’re going with Emmy,” Remus reminds him, this edge of desperate.

“I know I am, okay. But you— you—“ Sirius tappers off, eyes glassy and lips parted with words he can’t get out, and Jesus fucking Christ is it weird how for the first time ever their roles have reversed. Sirius can’t put any sentences together, and everything Remus’s been beating down— everything thrashing inside of him— are now burning his throat and warring over who can spill out first.

“What? I’m suppose to stay behind like the pathetic, nobody friend. The guy who’s just there to moon after you while you have an actual life. The Judie garland to your Mickie Roomie!”

“What are you even talking about right now!” Sirius shouts, sounding as torn apart as Remus feels.

“As if you don’t know!” He snarls, collecting his books into his backpack— Suddenly this room feels to stifling. He can’t breathe and it’s too hot and his chest is pounding.

He’s imploding and Remus has no idea how to rectify it.

“Just stop! Remus Stop!”

“leave me the fuck alone Sirius!”

“Why are you being such a prick about this!”

And that, that makes Remus angry, angrier than he’s ever been.

Before he could even think about it for a moment longer, Remus is rounding on him, dashing so close to Sirius that he can taste his breath with how close their faces are skirting against each other.

“I’m in love with you! I’ve been in love with you for forever, and I know that you don’t feel the same way, and I know that you’re in love with Emmy and, and I just know okay.”

“Wha—“ Sirius sputters, looking like a gaping fish. “Wait a second, are you jealous? Of sodding Emmy Vance?”

“Don’t!” Remus practically growls out. "Don’t disrespect me, okay? Don’t pretend that you never knew, or that I was such a good actor. I’ve been in love with you for years and you always knew and Fine, I get it. You never felt the same way, that’s fine. But just don’t pretend as if you never had the choice, don’t make me out as the bad guy for actually, finally saying yes to a bloke who’s actually into me. I need to fucking give up on the premise of us, I need to get over you. So I’m going out with fucking Fabian Prewett and you’re going out with Emmy Vance and that’s that!”

His breaths are labored, jagged and painful, as they race out of him, but Remus can’t move. He’s staring straight into Sirius’s beautiful, gray eyes, and he sees everything he’s always seen there, and hates that this is probably the last time he’ll get to be this close to him.

Not after this.

“I didn’t,” is the first thing Sirius croaks out, broken and helpless. “i didn’t know, Remus you have to believe me— I didn’t—”

“How! How could you not know!” He shouts back, but Remus doesn’t get his answer in so many words, instead he feels it.

He feels it when Sirius clamps his hands on either end of his waste-line, feels it when Sirius smashes their lips together in a cacophony of lips, and teeth and spit. He feels it when Sirius moans in side of him, when his hand moves down, spreads across the width of the small of his back, pushing their torsos even closer. Remus feels it when everything goes into focus, when he takes Sirius into his arms, greedy and excited and disbelieving.

And Remus thinks to all the other times he’s kissed another boy— To this prior weekend swapping snogs with a beaming Fabian in the back of a theatre. He thinks of how there was never anything worth anything when he kissed any of them Because it was all Sirius, always Sirius. And he could try to love Fabian, or some other cute boy, and he tried, and he tried, and he tried, and he gave all he had…but it was never enough, could it ever be enough?

Remus knows it in his bones that it’s enough when it’s with Sirius.

When they finally pull apart it’s difficult to breathe and Remus feels lightheaded and it’s wonderful in the most marvelous of ways.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Sirius says in a whisper.

“Maybe next time give a guy some warning?” Remus can’t help the shit eating smirk that swipes across his mouth and is elated at the adorably cross scowl Sirius answers him with.

“Fine jackass, how’s this for a warning, I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“That’ll be sufficient, I suppose,” Remus goads, laughing against Sirius’s lips when he does just that.

~*~

Sirius ends up winning snow king, but rejects the dance with Emmy, opts to ask Remus to join him instead, as if they were in the middle of some John Hughes movie from the fucking 80s.

It’s utterly ridiculous and overdone and simply way too much— but everyone applauded and cheered and when Sirius kissed him in the middle of it, Remus felt as if his whole body sung with joy.

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #SPILT INK #PROMPTS #I love you endlessly #!!!!

183 notes · View notes

stargnusxcarter · 3 years

Note

I mean if I found that fic ask thing XD. How about 19 for Teslen?

things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

That one's a tough one. I will admit I wasn't sure when to set it or where. But then, where's the fun if we have to be strictly in-canon, right ? So, I thought about it, and here you go: Victorian!Teslen before the Five, and slightly AU.

"Miss Magnus, may I have this dance?" The warm voice resonated near her ear, making her shiver. Helen turned around and flashed a soft smile at the man who had just invited her.

"You may, Mister Tesla." She chuckled, sliding her hand in his as he led them to the waltzing crowd.

"You look ravishing tonight, Helen." Nikola tenderly whispered as they danced around the room. Helen knew her cheeks had probably grown reddish but couldn't care less when he was looking at her with such love and admiration twinkling in his blue eyes.

"Thank you, Nikola. You look good yourself." She replied, winking discreetly. They fell into silence again, simply enjoying each other's presence. His hand on her waist, her hand on his shoulder, their hands linked as he led the dance.

Who could've thought he had learned that waltz only 5 days ago ? Certainly not Helen herself, and she had been the one to teach him. Well, her and one of her maids. After he had built up the nerve to ask if she had already some company for the party.

The ring of the bell startled them both as Helen and Gregory were leaving the breakfast table. Who on Earth would come so early in the morning? They immediately thought about an emergency.

"Doctor Magnus, Miss Magnus," announced the butler as he stepped into the dining room, "Mister Tesla requested a talk with you both."

Father and daughter shared the same puzzled look before Gregory motioned for the old man to introduce their impromptu guest. Nikola barely entered the room, fidgeting with the stem of a single peachy rose he was holding.

"Good morning. I apologize to arrive unannounced and so early, Doctor Magnus, and I promise I won't bother you long."

Gregory dismissed the speech with a wave of the hand and an indulgent smile.

"There's nothing to concern you about, young lad. Perhaps we would be more comfortable in the study."

"Of course. I didn't realize I was interrupting your meal."

"Nonsense, Nikola." Helen chuckled. "We had just finished."

The Magnus joined Nikola at the door, who was still nervously fidgeting the stem of the rose.

"Maybe you would stop torment that poor flower and do what you intended to do with it in the first place, Nikola?"

The question, asked with a fond smile from Magnus senior snapped the young Serbian out of his anxiety and he smiled sheepishly as he offered the flower to Helen.

"It is beautiful. Thank you, Nikola." She whispered, her eyes twinkling. Gregory led the way to the study as Helen slid her hand in the crook of Nikola's elbow.

Once they were seated, Nikola found himself unable to formulate the object of his visit, despite his attempts.

"Nikola, what is the matter?" Helen asked, quite concerned.

"Mayiaccompanyyoutotheballnextsaturday?" He asked in a breath. The two others stared at him with a blank expression.

"Would you mind telling it again but a tad slower, maybe?"

"Doctor Magnus." Nikola inhaled. "I came to request your permission to escort Helen to the ball next Saturday if she accepts my company." He managed to intelligibly say. Silence fell upon the room, until Helen hopefully glanced at her father.

"Well... It seems I wouldn't have a saying in the matter in any case, so, you may go to the ball together, but Nikola will see you home before midnight Helen." The blonde reluctantly agreed to her father's terms, the prospect of spending the evening with Nikola too appealing to refuse it.

"I shall fetch you at 7 sharp on Saturday if it suits you, then?"

"Perfect. That is arranged." Gregory clapped his hand before standing to leave. Taking it as his cue to take his leave too, Nikola bowed to Helen and grazed his lips over her knuckles.

"I'll see you on Monday at Oxford, Helen."

"I will expect to see you first thing at the gates!" She replied with a tender smile. He nodded, smiling too, bowed his head to Gregory, and let the butler escort him to the door.

"Where were you?" He asked when her gaze seemed less distant, despite the fact that her movements were as fluid as usual while she followed his lead effortlessly.

"What do you mean? I am right here with you, Nikola." She gently mocked, knowing what he was asking.

"I was lost in my memories. Last week. Hadn't I teach you, I wouldn't have guessed you didn't know that waltz until 5 days ago."

"Well, I had the best teacher." He winked at her and she chuckled.

They both felt the weight of the disapproving looks on them, but they couldn't care less. Not when it was so natural to be in each other's company, swinging and swirling in harmony with the other and the music. The world had faded away, to leave them in their bubble of joy.

"Nikola, what is wrong?" Helen asked as they were working on a new experiment, and she could tell something was buggering him.

"Nothing, Helen. Don't concern yourself further." He absentmindedly replied.

"Nikola! I can see something is bothering you, and the closer we get to the ball, the lesser you can hide it. Do you... Do you not wish to attend the Ball with me anymore?" She finally asked, ignoring the slight shake in her voice. Nikola dropped everything in an instant and stood by her side, clasping her hand between his.

"Of course not, Helen. I am really looking forward to spend the evening in your company."

"Then why do you seem so tense?"

"I... It is silly, really..." his accent was thicker as insecurity crept its way into his voice.

"Nikola, just tell me, please."

"There will probably be at least a waltz at this ball but... I don't know how to dance waltz." He admitted, dropping his gaze. The laugh he was expecting never came, and when he looked up, he met the softest blue eyes he had ever seen.

"This is not silly, Nikola. And if you don't know the waltz, then I will teach you."

And with that they arranged a meeting every afternoon after classes, and she would teach him the ins and outs of the waltz, from the posture to the way he had to hold her, from the leading to the swirls.

"Helen, I have to ask you something."

"Pray tell?"

"You already know that when we met, I had just arrived in England. I knew no one, and you are the first person who offered me help without expecting anything in return. And for that I am grateful." He swirled her again. "You are the closest friend I ever had, and may I say, the only true friend."

The music stopped before he could speak more and the dancers parted, clapping and bowing. Nikola spotted the doors, wide open, leading to the gardens, and offered his arm to Helen. She took it with a soft smile and they headed outside, sitting on a bench nearby.

"Somehow... Somewhere between your smiles, your courage, your wit, and your eyes, I fell in love with you." Nikola confessed before he could second guess himself. "Helen Magnus, will you accept to be courted by a young Serbian genuinely and completely under your spell?"

Helen stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted, as if she wasn't sure she had heard him correctly.

"Nikola... Are you... Are you asking for my permission to court me?"

"W-well, given we are the only ones on this bench, I would say so, yes." He grinned. "I could always ask the pigeons, but there are none around us."

Helen blinked before laughing at his antics. Of course she should have expected him to use his snark at some point.

"Well then, Nikola Tesla, I will gladly let you court me. But I must warn you, my heart has already fallen for someone."

At that, his smile flattered, his eyes lost their spark of joy and mischief, but he remained still, and put his mask on so fast Helen would have missed the hurt in his look if she didn't know him better.

"Oh, well, I hope he knows his luck and isn't jealous, then." He winked, smiling.

"Well, I'm certain he does. As for the jealousy, I'm not sure we had an occasion to test that theory, but I would say he probably isn't." She replied, playing along. Just to see how long it would take her sweet idiot of a friend to figure out who she was talking about.

"Oh. Someone I know?"

"I'd think, yes."

She took pity on him when he nodded without a word and looked away. Silently, Helen reached for his jaw and turned his face toward her.

"Nikola, the man I'm talking about has the bluest eyes I've ever seen, undisciplined hair, until recently he wore an horrible mustache, and he is the best friend I could ever had. And he just asked to court me and confessed his genuine and complete fall under my spell."

She saw the way his eyes lit up throughout her description, how his lips trembled in a smile he tried to repress, until he was practically beaming at her.

"I fell in love with you, Nikola, and I wouldn't want any other man to court me."

He kissed her knuckles, their eyes locked, before clasping a stray lock behind her ear.

They could've been that happy all along... But a few months later, entered on stage John Druitt, and with him, Nikola lost all his chances of being the one Helen Magnus would choose to share her life...

#teslen #sanctuary #fic ask game #helen magnus #nikola tesla #victorian!Teslen #bad ending #blame it on canon

13 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Good Omens - Starmaker (Rated PG)

Summary: Crowley rushes into Aziraphale's shoe shop right at closing with a ballet emergency. She's in dire need of a new pair of pointe shoes, which she can only get at Aziraphale's shop.

Made by a craftsman who identifies themselves with only a star ... (1451 words)

Notes: I thought I would put a new twist on the whole 'Starmaker' trope XD

Read on AO3.

“Help me help me help me help me!” Crowley begs, racing through the door of Aziraphale’s shop a minute before closing, as is her custom. Crowley doesn’t leave the theater too often unless she absolutely has to, and that’s usually to go home. She can't get away with sneaking down back alleys dressed in a hoodie and a pair of sweats the way other dancers do. At over six feet tall without her pointe shoes, an absolutely unheard of height for a principal dancer in any company, not to mention the Royal Ballet, and with her flame-red locks, she’s far too recognizable despite any of the disguises she tries to employ.

Crowley loves her fans. She wouldn’t be where she is without them. But she’s not a people person. She appreciates her privacy. She despises being bothered outside the theater, away from the shield of the curtain and the stage.

Besides, she’d rather have her favorite shoe fitter all to herself.

“My goodness,” Aziraphale mutters, fussing with drawers of satin ribbons, pretending to be unaffected by the goddess flying down the aisle towards her in desperate yet glamorous despair. “Whatever could be the matter, my dear?”

“Whatever could be the matter?" Crowley mimics. "I’ll tell you what could be the matter! I am set to dance Sleeping Beauty in just under a week, as you well know …”

“As I well know …”

“... and my pointe shoes died! Out of the blue died!” Crowley pulls her broken shoes from out her pockets as proof of her grief.

“Don’t you keep about eight pairs in rotation?” Aziraphale asks, moving on to a basket of elastics with practiced nonchalance.

“Yes, but they’re all scuffed and creased. I don’t want to wear those on stage." Crowley smirks like the brat she is. "I can’t help it if my feet look their best in a new pair of shoes.”

“Doesn’t the theater have another pair for you?" Aziraphale stalls, being of no help on purpose. She has missed Crowley way too much to simply let her jete into her shop and act as if she visits weekly for tea when, in reality, they haven't seen one another in a dog's age. "I thought they must, seeing as you haven’t set foot in my shop for around three months.”

“Oh, they have another pair all right,” Crowley moans, not catching the bitter tang in Aziraphale’s words, “but not my favorite! I need my favorite, Aziraphale! I cannot be expected to dance a part as grueling as Aurora without my …”

Aziraphale gives in. She turns, four brand new pairs of pink satin shoes cradled side by side in her hands like a beloved set of quadruplets. “Are these what you need?”

“My shoes!” Crowley cheers with an exhalation of relief, scooping the shoes out of Aziraphale’s hands and hugging them tightly to her bosom. “How ever do you manage to get a hold of them when no one else can? And four pairs!? You're a miracle-worker! No! You're an angel! That's what you are!”

“Every fitter stocks certain shoes," Aziraphale says, fighting the rush of red to her cheeks. "Supply and demand and all that. You’re the only dancer I know who buys these, and since you're local, for now, I keep them in stock.”

“But they're literally impossible to get a hold of!” Crowley lights gracefully onto Aziraphale’s fitting chair. It's actually an elaborate, gold-scrolled throne - a chair of significant opulence that Aziraphale keeps on hand to make her clients feel appreciated. But with its high back and red velvet cushions, it suits Crowley most of all. “I’ve been looking online everywhere for a pair!”

“You wound me!” Aziraphale gasps, pulling up a pillow and taking to her knees to fit the ballerina. Not that it’s necessary. Crowley has been coming to Aziraphale’s for these same shoes since they showed up in her shop over a year ago. From that moment on, they were the only shoe Crowley would wear. They’re her Cinderella slipper. She barely has to put in any effort, and they do exactly what she needs, each brand new pair responding as if she’s been wearing them for a day of classes.

If Crowley didn’t know better, she’d say they were made to fit her feet perfectly and her feet alone. But that's ridiculous. Each make of pointe shoe suits a variety of dancers. Still, Crowley has never met another dancer who wears them.

“You should have come to me first!”

“Don’t take it personally, Aziraphale. It’s always good to have a backup supplier, what with the state of the world today. You understand, don’t you?”

“Alas, I do," Aziraphale admits sadly, slipping off Crowley's flats and sliding her feet into the satin slippers. "There. How do those feel?”

“Oh, they’re heaven! Simply heaven!" Crowley stands from her seat and rises to her toes, admiring the way her feet look in brand new shoes, even with her legs hidden by baggy practice pants. "So incredibly soft! Like dancing on a cloud! And to think, each pair will last me two, three weeks at least! I don’t know what kind of magic this maker wields that he can create a shoe that lasts me more than a day, especially with all the partnering I’m doing. Why, I’ve been known to break other shoes in around two hours!” Crowley lifts one foot up and peeks at the virgin sole. She reaches down, fingertips tracing the indented star on the center above the brand name. “Star," she says reverently. "Did you know they’re the only maker that doesn’t have their picture on the Freed website?”

“So you keep telling me,” Aziraphale says dryly.

“Do you know who he is?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh come on! All of you fitters know the shoemakers, don’t you?”

“Yes. But not this time, I’m afraid.”

“I’m dying to know what he looks like. To put a face to the shoes, so to speak."

"Does what he looks like matter so much, my dear?" Aziraphale gazes up at the statuesque ballerina looking down in Aziraphale's direction to admire her shoes. She only has eyes for them. Aziraphale sighs.

Same planet, but two completely different worlds.

"Well, no ..." Crowley says, a tad unconvincingly. "Still, you don’t think he’s like one of those scruffy, beer-drinking, pot-bellied Minotaurs that make the other Freed pointe shoes, do you?”

“I’m not sure.” Aziraphale stands and puts her pillow away. This part of the fitting process always ends the same, with Crowley gushing over the skill and artistry of some unseen craftsman.

“Maybe he doesn’t put his picture up because he’s devastatingly handsome, and he can't stand the attention," Crowley says dreamily, extending an arm over her head, which makes her look twice her height. "I know what that's like." Her pouty red lips pull down at the corners, her love-soaked expression turning sour. "Or maybe because he’s worse than the others: three-feet tall, pot marked cheeks, and only four teeth.”

“Who’s to say it’s even a man, my dear?” Aziraphale gestures for Crowley to retake her seat so that she can sew on her ribbons. Ballerinas normally do the work themselves, but Crowley claims Aziraphale has a special knack for it. Crowley will sew her own ribbons and elastics on in a pinch, but she much prefers the way Aziraphale does it.

And Aziraphale only does it for Crowley.

“Oh, if only." Crowley slides back into the chair and pulls her pant legs up to her knees, exposing her legs all the way to her calves. Aziraphale catches a glimpse of Crowley's toned legs, her shapely calves, and her heart skips a beat. Aziraphale sees gorgeous legs and feet all day long, but Crowley's are exceptional. They're a masterpiece, sculpted through hours of practice and performance, but also luck and phenomenal genes. "But odds are slim," Crowley continues, rolling her ankles to see just how beautiful her feet look in her shoes at all angles. "There are so few female shoemakers in the ballet world. But it would be amazing." Crowley sighs. "Well, whoever he … or she … is, they’d better not think of retiring any time soon. When they make their last shoe, I’ll dance my last dance. I can't even think of dancing in anything but star shoes.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Aziraphale reaches into her basket of ribbons for the matte ones Crowley favors, carefully hiding a special leather stamp, one she’d carelessly left out on her work table where anyone could see.

One in the shape of a star.

“I'm sure that if they ever heard that, they'd make your shoes till the end of time.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable wives #ineffable lovers #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

47 notes · View notes

darling-cas · 6 years

Text

All Is Well: Feysand

TOG/ACOTAR Christmas Fic Co-written with @aelin-and-feyre

Summary: It’s a special time in the Night Court, being the Winter Solstice and the High lady’s birthday. Too bad Rhys is nowhere to be found. CANON.

Note: How about something fluffy and little hearted after all the heartbreak from yesterdays chapter XD This girl is a total gem, such a little sweetheart! It was such a pleasure to get to work with her and I had soooo much fun! Also, the fact that we got to write Feysand together made it that much more amazing, LOL! Thank you again, darling, for agreeing to do this with me. I’d work with you again in a heartbeat!

All Is Well Masterlist

——————–

Waking up without Rhys’ arms wrapped tightly around her was definitely not Feyre’s ideal way of starting her day.

The moment her eyes fluttered opened and she didn’t feel his warmth, panic took hold. She sent a message down the bond, and though she did relax when she felt his reply, letting her know he was okay, confusion lingered. She expected an exclamation, anything telling her what he was up to, but she got nothing. Even when she bombarded him with questions as she got ready for the day, Rhys would simply stroke the bond but offered nothing else.

She didn’t expect this. Sure, maybe he had some Winter Solstice plans to take care of before this evening. But she still didn’t expect Rhys to be gone so early on today of all days.

Not that Feyre put much thought into her birthday anymore. What was the point when you were an immortal fae? But given the fact it was her first official birthday with Rhys, she would have liked him to be here.

After one last failed attempt to get Rhys to talk—she sent him an image of her as she changed into her simple yet ravishing deep purple gown and all she got in return was deep chuckle and loving stroke on the bond—Feyre made her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs of the townhouse.

“Happy birthday!” Elain all but jumped out of her chair the moment Feyre entered the kitchen area. She almost fell backward as Elain engulfed her in a hug, unable to stop a smile from forming.

“Thank you, Elain.” She said, returning the hug before they pulled apart.

Feyre took a moment to glance around the kitchen. But aside from Elain, Nesta was the only other person in the room. She was sat at the table, breakfast before her, legs and arms crossed. When her eye caught Feyre’s, she offered her the smallest smile and a nod.

“Happy birthday, Feyre.”

“Thank you.” Feyre returned the smile, joining Nesta at the table covered in food. “Where is everyone?”

Nesta and Elain shared a quick look before the former shrugged.

“The boys left early this morning, I believe,” was all she said on the matter, which simply confused Feyre even more.

But before she could ask any further questions, Elain clapped her hands together.

“We’ll talk later.” She smiled brightly. “For now let’s eat, it is your birthday breakfast after all.”

Feyre’s gaze turned towards Elain. “You made all this for me?”

“Of course,” she gestured to the food in front of Feyre. “Now eat.”

The most gracious smile appeared on Feyre’s face, one that Elain returned. And there was no further room for discussion as the two oldest Archeron sisters dug in, Feyre not far behind them.

It was delicious breakfast. The cooking skills Elain had been working on had clearly improved since the last time she cooked. And between the talks and laughter, Ferye almost forgot about her disappointment from this morning, about Rhys being gone.

Almost.

“Feyre!” Mor came barging through the front door just as the sisters finished eating, her smile blinding. Feyre stood up from her chair just in time for the blonde beauty to crush her in a hug. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you.” Feyre couldn’t help but laugh before Mor pulled back, deep brown eyes sparkling.

“Are you ready?”

Feyre tilted her head to the side in confusion. “For the Solstice? Mor, I don’t need to start getting ready–”

Mor’s musical laugh cut her off, ringing throughout the room. “No silly. I’m taking you out for the afternoon. For your birthday.”

“You are?”

“Yes! Now come on!” Mor grabbed her hand, all but dragging her out the door. Feyre had just enough time to thank her sisters for breakfast before she was out in the blinding mid-morning sun.

Mor led her through the town streets, their arms linked as they went. They ventured passed townsfolk getting ready for the Solstice: stringing up decorations and lights, setting up tables and music, chatting and laughter, so relaxed, so carefree, amongst one another. And Feyre smiled a genuine smile at each and every one she passed. Some of them even stopped the wish their High Lady a happy birthday, which warmed Feyre’s heart as she thanked them.

It was a beautiful day, the perfect day for the Winter Solstice and to be out shopping. Mor dragged her from store to store, took her out to lunch, laughing and talking without a care in the world. It was refreshing to see, especially after the everything they had been through with the war.

The only thing that would have made it better was if she got to see Rhys.

Throughout her day with Mor, she kept sending him messages and images—she thought she had him when she sent a picture of her in some lingerie she tried on, but no luck. He still wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t tell her what exactly he was up to. And as she and Mor walked back to the townhouse to get ready for the celebrations, Feyre couldn’t help but let the realization set in.

Rhys forgot her birthday.

She tried not to let the hurt and frustration settle in too deep as she hugged Mor goodbye, thanking her for such a lovely day.

“It was no trouble, Feyre.” Mor smiled. “You deserved a day out. Besides, it is your birthday.”

The smile on her own face became just the slightest bit forced as Mor gave her a kiss on the cheek before turning on her heel and walking out the door.

With a sigh, Feyre glanced around the empty townhouse before she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom, where she knew Nuala and Cerridwen were waiting to help her get ready for the celebrations today.

She didn’t even bother to call down the bond as she pushed open the door, giving Nuala and Cerridwen a strained smile.

They dressed her in a gown of shimmering dark blue fabric, the neckline a plummeting deep v-neck while the sleeves flared out at her wrists. It was a breathtaking gown, one fit for a queen. But Feyre couldn’t truly admire its beauty, not when her heart felt so heavy.

Nevertheless, she held her head high, making light conversation as Nuala and Cerridwen put the finishing touches on her hair and makeup. She was High Lady after all, she didn’t want to show how deeply Rhys forgetting her birthday truly affected her.

‘And it is affecting me… much more than I would care to admit’, she couldn’t help but think once Nuala and Cerridwen were gone and she was fully dressed, standing in front of the full-length mirror.

“You look ravishing, Feyre, darling.”

Whirling around, Feyre almost couldn’t believe her eyes. She had been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn’t even felt Rhys show up. But there he was, a smug smile on his lips, hands in his pockets, dressed to match her gown.

He looked as handsome as ever.

“Where have you been?” Feyre demanded, eyes narrowed as she took a step towards him. She wanted nothing more than to run in his arms, but her irritation halted her.

“That’s not important right now.” Rhys waved her off, his eyes running up and down her body before his gaze met hers. “What is important is how striking my queen looks tonight.”

The intensity in his eyes, the way his tongue licked his bottom lip slightly, caused her to shiver. The bond between them grew more intense, Rhys sending waves of pleasure her way. But Feyre held her ground, stopping in front of Rhys and raising an eyebrow.

“Rhys–”

“All in good time, darling.” It was the mischief in his eyes, the twitch of a smile, that caused all frustration to melt away as Rhys leaned forward, placing the most cherished kiss on her lips. “For right now, it’s time to celebrate your first Winter Solstice as High Lady.”

Rhys offered his arm to her and Feyre couldn’t help but roll her eyes, even as she looped her arm through his.

“You shut me out. For the whole day.” She remarked as they made their way down the stairs. She may not be as frustrated anymore, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

Still, she didn’t dare bring up her birthday.

“I’m sorry, love.”

“Don’t apologize.” A sensual smile pulled on Feyre lips as she met Rhys’ gaze, caressing the bond between them. “You’ll just have to make it up to me later.”

They came to a stop in front of the door. Rhys turning towards Feyre, violent eyes darkening.

“And how exactly would you like me to make it up to you, Feyre?” He purred, closing the distance between them so their chests were touching.

Feyre could feel her heart start to race, blood turning to fire as Rhys brought his lips to her jaw. He kissed his way down her neck, leaving a trail of flames in his wake. As he nipped at the sensitive skin right under her ear, Feyre couldn’t help but moan, already wanting more -

Rhys chuckled at her thoughts as she arched her throat to him.

“Later, love,” he teased, breath hot on her neck. Feyre couldn’t help but groan in disapproval as Rhys pulled away, eyes sparkling like a starry night. “For now, we celebrate.”

Feyre took in a deep breath before taking the smallest step backwards. She straightened out her dress, trying to calm her thoughts, as Rhys reached for the door. But he didn’t open it. Instead, he turned his gaze to her, the mischief in them greater than ever.

Feyre tilted her head to the side, hair falling over her shoulder as she raised an eyebrow.

“Whats going on?”

But Rhys didn’t answer. His smile simply grew, eyes shining brighter than the night sky as Feyre stood by his side. And with one last longing look, Rhys pulled opened the doors.

Feyre took one step out the door before she froze, eyes wide.

Screams and shouts of HAPPY BIRTHDAY drifted towards them as all of Velars gathered on the street outside the townhouse. There were cheers and whistles—mostly from Cassian who was standing off to the side to stand along with the rest of the Inner Circle. Balloons were released into the air, confetti rained down on them from high above. The sight was unlike anything Feyre had beheld in her life.

She was completely and utterly speechless.

“Our High Lady’s birthday is on the longest night of the year.” Rhy’s breath tickled her neck as he came up behind her. “If that doesn’t call for a grand celebration, I don’t know what does.”

With her heart in her throat and tears in her eyes, Feyre turned towards Rhys to see an expression that held only love and adoration.

Rhys placed a lingering kiss on her lips, returning the love as he mumbled into her lips,

“Happy birthday, Feyre darling.”

Everything was going exactly as he had planned, a perfect party for his most perfect wife on her first birthday while they are together. It had been painful to walk away from her this morning—sleeping so peacefully with her hair splayed out along the pillows, a small snore coming from her lips. Rhys had wanted to crawl back under the covers and hold her all day, to celebrate her birthday with just the two of them and worship her as she deserves to be worshipped. He had been planning this party for months now though, and knew that his family and probably the rest of Velaris would riot if they didn’t get a chance to celebrate with their High Lady on the most special day of the year.

So, Rhysand had left his sleeping mate with no more than a soft kiss on her forehead and silent promises for worshipping that night. He spent all day coordinating, making sure Elain was set with her breakfast and that Mor knew exactly where to take her to avoid the places where the party was being set up. He enlisted the help of his brothers to each take a section of the party grounds to prepare, and the citizens of Velaris were more than willing to help out in any way they could. Feyre had already been helping to plan the Solstice party, Rhys just made a few tweaks in the decorations.

When he had come to collect her, seeing her in the shining gown with its sinfully low neckline, and after a whole day worth of dirty—and appreciated—images that told him exactly what awaited him under the dress, Rhys’ resolve had nearly crumbled. He almost took her right then and there, the party be damned, if it weren’t for Mor’s incessant pounding along his shields, reminding him that the whole city was waiting and wouldn’t accept whatever excuse that was beginning to form in his mind.

Now, with his arms around her waist and seeing that shining smile on her face, Rhys knew he made the right choice. She looked so happy. He could see relief and wonder blazing in her eyes and he felt minorly guilty that he had ever made her think he would forget this most important day.

“Never in a million years would I forget the day the Cauldron blessed the world with your presence.” Rhysand assured lowly in her ear as the music began and their family started to make their way through the crowd towards them. “Tonight is the longest night of the year, and we have until the sun rises to dance, drink, eat, and revel. This celebration is as much about you as it is about the Solstice, so let’s go have some fun.”

Feyre’s smile widened impossibly at his words. She placed a chaste kiss on his lips—one that promised less chaste kisses to come—and pulled him towards the throng of High and lesser Fae alike, all joining the festivities.

They met the rest of the Circle a little farther in, both Cassian and Azriel enveloping Feyre in bear hugs as they wished her a happy birthday.

“What do you think High Lady?” Cassian puffed out his chest proudly. “The Rainbow was the section I got to coordinate. Did you see the strings of Iridescent Nightshade?”

Feyre glanced up to admire the rows upon rows of purple flowers that seemed to glitter and shine against the darkening sky.

“They will provide a soft violet glow later on in the night,” Rhys explained when confusion crossed her face. “Their pollen also has the tendency to drift down and coat the people dancing under them, allowing them a dusting of shine as well—not that you need any help in that department.” The High Lord honestly didn’t think he would ever get tired of Feyre’s blush, at least not in this millennia.

“Thank you, Cassian, they’re beautiful,” Feyre turned around slowly, taking in the banners, streamers, artwork, and costumes. “It all is.”

Cassian beamed. Amren shoved past him and gave Feyre her friendliest smile. “Another year of life, congratulations, I suppose.”

Mor nudged her with an elbow and Amren shot her a dirty look.

“What? I’ve had more than five thousand birthdays, she’s not all that special,” she muttered, but she did hand Feyre a gift nonetheless—a pearl and diamond bracelet that had spots for charms to clip onto. Rhys grimaced, hoping Feyre didn’t question how there were no charms that came with it, at least not until he could give her his present.

Feyre thanked Amren profusely and the tiny Fae waved her off with another rare smile and disappeared from view, but not before pressing a small, square box into Rhys’ hand behind his back. He slipped it into his pocket while Feyre talked to Mor and her sisters, praising them for hiding the secret so well.

Rhys kept a hand on the small of Feyre’s back as they walked through the rejoicing crowd toward the main square. Friends from around the city wished Feyre many happy returns as she passed them and his mate took them in stride, smiling and hugging and shaking hands where appropriate. Rhys couldn’t help but stroke the bond with pride at how far she had come since she became his High Lady only half a year ago.

The main square was the new home of an enormous Yulemas tree which towered over the surrounding buildings. Feyre gazed at the huge pine in disbelief, eyes widening as she saw that the light coming from it was not a reflection for the thousands of ornaments hanging from it’s branches, but from the thick shining trunk deep within, giving the entire display a feeling of surrealness.

“The square was Azriel’s job to prepare,” Rhys explained. “He loves Yulemas and got a little too excited about the decorations. He hauled this Lumetto Pine all the way from the Illyrian Steppes. He’s very proud of it.”

“He should be,” Feyre agreed, “It’s absolutely astounding.”

For a moment, Rhys wished that his brother had been there to see the amazed expression on her face.

“Are the stars different on the Solstice?” Feyre wondered idly, her face tilted up to the sky. Her hair was already starting to collect dust from the NightShade, casting her face in a violet glow—Rhys honestly didn’t know she could get more beautiful, especially after he had seen her on Starfall.

He turned to gaze at the sky with her, their hands still intertwined. “They change throughout the year. With each passing season, a new set of constellations appear.” He pointed to a cluster of stars. “See the circle and then below it the rough shape of wings?” Feyre nodded. “That constellation is called Amren.”

“You’re kidding,” Feyre accused.

Rhysand laughed. “I am not, the ancients thought that Amren was some kind of angel at first, a creator of the Cauldron come down to smite them—they weren’t far off.” Feyre jabbed him with her elbow and he pointed to another grouping. “That’s the Bogge.”

“It doesn’t even look like anything.”

“Exactly.” He felt Feyre shudder against him and remembered her story from the Spring Court. He cringed and tried to find another constellation to distract her.

Feyre pointed to two closely linked stars, both much brighter than the others. “What are those?”

Rhys racked his brain. “I’m—not sure what those are.” He squeezed her hand. “Do you want to name them?”

Feyre shifted her gaze to him, her eyes full of love and warmth and gratitude. “They are the High Lord and High Lady of the sky,” she proclaimed finally but did not remove her gaze from his.

He smiled softly. “Sounds perfect.”

With a content sigh, Feyre looked around the gathering, smiling at different faeries. “It really is breathtaking. I think I want to paint this later.” Her eyes caught on the huge Yulemas tree in the distance. “Do you think we could get a better look? I need to see it closer if I’m going to get the texture just right.”

Rhys gestured for her to lead the way. “You’re twenty-one now,” he commented as they walked through the crowd. Their joined hands swung between them, Rhys’ thumb stroking the ring on her finger absently. “How do you feel?”

Feyre thought about it for a couple moments, then picked up a wine glass from a passing caterer. She took a sip.

“Wine doesn’t taste any different,” she observed, then grabbed a hors d'oeuvres from another tray, eating it thoughtfully. “Neither does food.”

Rhys watched her, amused, when she turned to look up and him and gestures him to lean forward. He obliged and she kissed him chastely.

“Hmmm, yeah that’s pretty similar to yesterday as well.”

“Sure you don’t want to try again?” Rhys asked, already leaning towards her again, just the little taste of her on his lips leaving him wanting.

Feyre shook her head and leaned away, resulting in a pouting mate. She laughed.

“Overall, I feel pretty much the same, although there’s one other thing I need to test—but it’ll have to wait until we’re alone,” she trailed off and slipped her hand from Rhys, leaving him speechless and immobile as she twists through the crowd to the tree, her mate staring after her and trying to put together a coherent sentence.

She’s only twenty-one. They have hundreds, thousands more years together. More birthdays and Yulemases and Solstices. More nights beneath the stars with their family—a family that will hopefully grow. The High Lord’s grin was blinding as he makes his way to where his wife stands, examining the ornaments and lights on the tree.

Feyre smirked up at him when he got to her and he had half a mind to winnow them back to their room and show her something to smirk about. But he doesn’t because there is still a heavy weight in his pocket.

“I haven’t given you my present yet.”

The High Lady looked around at the magnificent dance party. “Isn’t this my present?”

“This is Velaris’ present,” Rhys corrected, “This is from me.”

He pulled the square box from his coat pocket, the one Amren had retrieved from the jeweler this morning, and placed it gently in his wife’s hand.

She opened it carefully, the sounds of the party fading into the background as the two of them stood there under the endless night.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she murmured at last.

With great care, she lifted the small crystal heart from the box. Its delicate fractured shape glittered in the glow of the Iridescent Nightshade, casting small, dim rainbows along the surrounding surfaces.

“It’s a charm for your new bracelet,” Rhys explained, taking the box and slipping it back into his pocket. He proceeded to help her fasten the bauble to a vacant link on the circlet. “I vow to get you a new one for every year we are together.”

Feyre glanced from the bracelet to Rhys with a playfully concerned look. “I don’t know if this bracelet is big enough for all those charms.”

The High Lord shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “I guess we’ll just have to make it work. Together.”

“Together,” Feyre agreed, linking her arms around his neck with a happy sigh.

Rhysand leaned in, his eyes flicking between his mate’s eyes and her mouth. “Happy Birthday, darling.” He whispered.

“Happy Solstice, Rhys.”

“And Merry Yulemas to all.” And as his lips finally met hers, Rhysand knew that this would undoubtedly be his favorite time of the year, for the rest of their many, many more years together.

434 notes · View notes

k-renne · 6 years

Note

Hello! I love your writing and I was wondering if you’d be able to write a college AU with Ben Solo where reader is a fellow student that works in the library and Ben has the hugest crush on reader but they’re completely oblivious to Ben because they didn’t think it was even in the realm of possibility for someone like him to them. Then maybe Ben finally has the guts to confess his feelings and they’re all fluffy with each other xD

ahh this is so cute i just had to write it! thanks for inspiring me i needed something like this

Ben peered up from behind his book, trying to get a discreet look at you. Without realizing it, he sighed wistfully admiring you as you pursed your lips. He was so lost in his thoughts as he looked at you that he didn’t even realize the book was sliding from his grasp, only the loud slam of the thick text against the table woke him from his thoughts. It echoed in the quiet library, pink dusted his cheeks as people turned to stare at him.

For a moment, you looked up from your work to see where the noise came from and you met eyes with Ben Solo, probably the most talked about guy on campus. His mouth parted slightly as if in shock, before he quickly looked back down at his book. You thought nothing of it, turning your attention to the student standing in front of you.

Ben let out a shaky breath as he brought his pen to his lips, he had to stop doing this to himself. Libraries where for studying, not for checking out his crush. It wasn’t his fault you always where working when he decided to come to the library, he couldn’t help but become distracted by you.

It wasn’t always this way for Ben, he was never the type to crush this hard on someone. He didn’t even realize you were a student here, and once he did he couldn’t stop noticing you. He still couldn’t believe he had completely missed you, like you were always in the corner of his eye but he had never taken the chance to look in that direction.

He still often thought of his first interaction with you, it was brief but it left a lasting impression.

He was running late from class, just his luck on the day of an exam too. He was oblivious to those around him, nerves clouding his mind. He ignored the people who greeted him, brushing them off with a wave of his hand. If he didn’t make it he was going to fail, he couldn’t be late. Fuck did he hate 8ams, why did he do this to himself?

As he wasn’t looking where he was going, he didn’t realize he was walking straight towards you as you quickly stopped to tie your shoe.

Oof, Ben tripped over you, landing right on top of you. He heard a shriek from under him as you felt just a huge mass pressing against your chest. You didn’t know what it was, but you couldn’t breathe.

“Ah shit, fuck-” Ben cursed. Damn, at least he had landed on something soft. He lifted his head to see just what it was, “Shit,” He whispered, eyes going wide as he saw your sweet face inches from his. This was so embarrassing, not only was he going to be late but he had just so happened to trip over the cutest girl he had seen in his life, making a complete fool of himself. His shirt was inside out, he hadn’t gotten the chance to shower so he had terrible bed head, he was just a mess all around.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” Ben rushed out, picking himself up off of you. He helped you pick up your stuff as you caught your breath. “Fuck I’m going to be so late,” He shook his head.

“You have a class at 7am? Isn’t that a little early?” You ask. You’d never heard of classes running that early.

“What no, I have an 8am,” Ben furrows his brows, he was getting confused.

“Well then, you have plenty of time,” You smile at him, chuckling as you realize his mistake. At Ben’s confused expression you further explain, “Yesterday was daylight savings, the clocks turn an hour back.”

“You’re right! I completely forgot, oh my god thank you!” A big smile graced Ben’s face, maybe he wasn’t fucked after all. “Hey uh, by the way what’s your name I don’t think we’ve met?” He asks, handing over the last of your things.

“It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Ben tests your name on his tongue, it rolls off his lips smoothly. “I’m Ben Solo.” He adds.

“Oh I know who you are, see you later Ben,” You smirk at him, walking off. Ben stares dumbfounded as you walk away. You knew who he was, and he didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing as he had a certain uh reputation on campus. More so, he wished he had known you.

The more he noticed you, the more his feeling grew. At first eh didn’t recognize it, he thought it was just residual embarrassment. That fluttery feeling in his chest was unfamiliar, as well as the blushing. He didn’t even think he could do that.

He also couldn’t believe that you hadn’t noticed his extremely obvious crush on you by this point, how often he stared at you in the library or the countless pointless questions just to hear the sound of your voice. He just hoped he wasn’t being a creep, that was the last thing he wanted. He liked you a lot, and for the past few weeks he had been trying to confess but he could never get himself to do it.

You’re such a coward, he thought. He had never had problems with girls before, not when dates with him were so coveted. He knew plenty of girls would only dream of calling him their boyfriend, he was quite the catch. He had a winning smile, he was charming, athletic, and an interesting person too with maybe just a little bit of arrogance. It had worked for him so far, but he couldn’t seem to charm you.

It was because you didn’t realize that Ben was flirting with you, as you believed he was just like this with everyone. “Hey Y/N what are you doing tonight?” Ben would ask.

“Studying,” You replied, not realizing that you were rejecting what would be him asking you out on a date.

“Oh yeah, me too,” Ben’s shoulders dropped, another failed attempt. He should just be more direct, but no one really did it that way these days. Maybe you really were just rejecting him, maybe he should just accept it by now.

Ben gathered his things along with his broken pride, dejectedly walking out of the library.

Though you didn’t realize you were the cause for Ben’s sudden downcast demeanor, you did notice that he seemed depressed. It was pretty hard not to, with how much his presence lit up a room. In fact, his glumness was starting to worry you.

You didn’t know if it was the right thing to do and you hoped you weren’t being too intrusive but you decided to at least try and brighten his day a little, because he had certainly brightened many of yours. You quickly drew a cute little picture, writing “Don’t worry there will be brighter days ahead! But if you need a hand, I’m right at the circulation desk,” You signed your name and quickly dropped it off at the table he was sitting at.

What? Was that a puppy, where did this even come from? Holy shit, Y/N! This had to be the cutest thing he has ever seen, maybe he was wrong about you it seemed like you really did care for him. Well, he certainly had to take advantage of the circulation desk today.

“Ben, what’s up what do you need?” You smiled at him, he seemed like he was doing better already.

Alright, time to turn on the charm. You can do this Ben, you can get the girl. He placed his forearm on the desk, leaning closer towards you, a perfect cocky smirk on his face, “Well, I think I need a date with you, tonight,” Ben purred.

Your heart raced, did he just? Did Ben Solo just ask you out? “What?” You said. That sure deflated his ego, still this time he promised himself he wouldn’t give up.

“I want to take you to dinner tonight Y/N, of course only if you want to,” He says it more softly this time, looking down at his hand.

You’re flabbergasted, “Why? I don’t understand,” This was completely out of character, there was no way Ben would ask someone like you out, you couldn’t be his type.

Ben’s hands were shaking, “Because I like you Y/N, a lot.” He admitted, face turning red as he confessed.

Oh. Oh my god, he just said he liked you. This was so sweet, “Okay, I’ll go out to dinner with you.” You nod.

“You will? Really?” Ben’s eyes light up.

“Yes, I get out of work at 5,” You grin.

Ben cheers to himself internally, “Great, I’ll meet you after work.”

“It’s a date.”

Ben took a deep breath as he walked away, unable to wipe the grin from his face. Now he just had to get ready, this needed to be perfect. The question was, flowers or chocolate?

#ben solo #ben solo x reader

108 notes · View notes

cutegirlmayra · 7 years

Note

Feel free to reject this if it's too much but would you be willing to write a fic of Amy going into labor and giving birth to her and Sonic's child(ren)? Obviously you don't have to show anything just the situation if you want.

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh….hmmm…. eeeeerrr…. yyyeaaah, I think I can do a hospital AU, but… maybe not ‘giving birth’ if that’s okay XD Thanks for letting it be up to me :3

MAJOR AU ALERT - lol

Sonic dashed through the hospital at lightning speeds, as a woman at the counter’s hair spiked back, before she looked annoyed at the surprised action and pulled her hair down. “Mr. The Hedgehog?” She typed on her computer. Her voice was barely even above a normal speaking tone, as he suddenly zipped back into view, twiddling his fingers rapidly in a rhythm on the counter.

“Hi, Amy, which floor?”

“Calm down, sir. Deep breaths.”

He slammed his hands on the counter, and leaned forward, eyeing her with widened eyes before doing as she said, clearly not wanting too though.

“LOOK. Just saved the world, you’re welcome.” he gestured his hands out to her, but clearly was antsy. “And I just received word that, TA-DAH! Today’s the day! Really? Bad timing! So I zipped through the remaining bots, told Knuckles and Shadow to handle the clean-up duty, HAD to do my hair cause let me tell you… oil? Is NOT grease. Okay? Does nothing good for your hair.” he suddenly calmed down, putting an elbow up on the counter as the woman gave him a dead-pan expression.

He then chuckled a moment before seeing no reaction from her, just a slow blink, and he quickly grabbed the corner of the counter and smashed him head in it, before looking up again, “JUST TELL ME THE ROOM NUMBER!” he reached forward, desperate.

“….ID, please.”

“AHHHH!!!”

-Room-

“Tails.. he’s not here yet.” Amy took deep breaths, as Tails was pacing, seeing he wasn’t here yet either.

“Yeah,… Yeah, I know.” Tails worriedly picked up his pace, his tails slightly spinning behind him, as a nurse came over to Amy.

“It’s time to check.” they warned her, as Tails quickly left the room.

“Ugh! I’m gonna kill'em!” He tensed his hands and held them out, flexing and bending his knees slightly, before Sonic’s blue blur passed him. “Ah… H-HEY! You! Guy whose suppose to be having his first baby soon!” Tails cried out, as Sonic zoomed back, carrying valentine’s day gifts as Tails looked confused.

“…I thought she’d hate me, so I brought appeasements.” He admitted.

Tails just stared at him, before the nurse came out. “Not quite yet.” she smiled, and then walked out.

Tails bolted in, and ran to her bedside, with Sonic tagging behind for once.

“Are you okay!? Need more water?”

Amy nodded, before looking to Sonic.

“Hi.” he nervously held the gifts behind him.

She gasped, “Sonic! Oh, you made it!” her arms came up, before both Tails and Sonic helped her down again.

“Amy! Easy there!” Tails warned.

“Yeah, you’re about to pop!” Sonic teased, as Amy wrapped a hand around his neck faster than a cobra, and pulled him down next to her.

“ACK! Breathing! Not! Possible!”

“Haha, turning blue, Sonic?” Tails joked, mocking slightly as he laughed, as Amy held him tighter and tighter…

“Uhh… Okay, Amy. He’s cheeks are literally turning blue!”

“Never be this ‘almost’ late again.” She warned, and let him go, as he fell to his knees and gripped the side of the bed, breathing once more in heavy gasps.

Tails twirled his tails and leaned up, hovering over to see if he was okay.

Amy smiled as Sonic threw up a ‘thumbs up’, stating he’d be more careful next time.

“Well, what have we here?”

The three’s heads shot up to the Doctor coming in, as Sonic straightened out too.

“Hmm….” the doctor, being called in by the nurse, looked over her charts. “You aren’t quite ready yet. But we should give you more fluids. Will be any time now.” he turned and winked to Amy, then looked to Sonic.

“…Sonic?” he looked to his clipboard.

“Heh, the one and only.” Sonic stepped forward, trying to get back his ‘cool vibe’ and folded his arms, winking to the Doc.

“…Yes, well. You should refill her water then.” he gestured to the jug. “Most husbands do, instead of having their best man get it.” he then gestured to Tails, nodding to him with a fake smile and then walking out.

The whole group held their peace.

Sonic groaned and took the jug, feeling called out. “I’ll be right back…” he grumbled and sped off down the hall.

“…Tails? Do you think Sonic’s mad at me?” Amy looked up to Tails.

“What!? Of course not, Amy! After all, you convinced him to have a kid. I don’t think any other woman in this WORLD could have done that!” Tails smiled, and patted her head. “He was right to marry you.”

She smiled, loving the praise before she felt her stomach kick and pain seared up her spine. “AH!” she gripped her stomach, and then Tails’s hand.

His eyes suddenly widened, before tears sprang out, and he whined; leaning down, he held his hand to the side of the bed, clinging to the bar. “OOOOWWWWW!!”

The Nurse suddenly turned around, shocked, and looked under the cloth.

She popped her head out with a goofy grin, “Opps! Miscalculated! This things coming out right now!”

“NOW!?” Tails freaked out, trying to get Amy to let go, but she now had a death grip on his hand. He kept trying to move away but she would fling him back. He tried to tug and reach for something to the opposite side of him to hold onto, but she threw him back into the bar of the bed, almost knocking him out.

“SOOONNNICCC!!!” Tails shouted out, his hand going numb. “THIS IS NOT WHAT A WING MAN MEANS!!!”

Sonic whistled a relaxing tune as he filled the jug by a water fountain.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Now, both Amy and Tails were screaming their lungs out. Tails tried to look away as more nurses came in, and the Doctor with a mask tied around his face, tugging a glove down.

“Allllright, prepare to engage.”

“I’m too young!!!” Tails cried out, bending to a knee and crying along with Amy.

Sonic walked casually down the hall, still whistling, before seeing a baby stroller and stopping, smiling warmly at the baby, before it threw it’s binky at him, and he looked unamused.

“BREATHE. BREATHE.” A nurse told Amy, as both Amy and Tails breathed in sequence.

“Now, PUSH!!!” the nurse’s voice suddenly dropped a few octaves.

Amy squeezed tighter on Tails’s hand as he pushed to try and get away from her.

“Good! Rest.”

The two let go of their struggles, both for different reasons, as Tails wiped his forehead, as a nurse wiped Amy’s.

Sonic picked the binky up and gave it back to the kid, smiling kindly, as if no hard feelings, before the baby spat and coughed up some yuckies, and Sonic once again looked way done being nice.

“Contractions are becoming more regular and frequent, sir.”

“All systems operational.”

“We’re coming into stand-by mode.”

“Go, go, go!”

Suddenly, the entirety of the room looked and acted like a military operations base in a small submarine.

“We’re losing air flow!” A nurse turned to the doctor, as he looked sternly to Amy, seeing her breathing wane.

“I won’t lose her!” He turned dramatically to another nurse, “Get her on oxygen! I want this baby out by sunrise!”

Tails looked to a nurse working to the side of him, leaning over and trembling from pain in his now completely numb hand. “Please… heeelpp.” he fell at her feet, reaching over the table she was working on before she walked away, not seeing him and too focused to notice.

“Noooo…” Tails followed her and fell again, before Amy ripped his hand up, holding him right next to her face.

“You… get… Sonic… here… NOW.” her eyes shifted to demonic, as Tails leaned away, scared out of his mind, but she let go of his hand, and clang to the bar.

“Aw… haha… free! I’m free!” Tails held his poor hand and then felt himself, realizing he could go, and dashed, before he felt zipped back by her side as she gripped his tail and pulled him again.

“DON’T…COME… BACK… UNTIL… HE’S…. HERE.”

“PUUUUSSHHH!!” the same manly nurse voice woman shook her fist up, as Amy squeezed down on Tails’s poor tail, making him lean up and howl, crying profusely from his eyes.

Sonic admired a painting for a second, tilting left and right to get a better look at the abstract, and slowly placing a hand up to his chin. “Hmm…”

Tails came racing down the hall like fire on his heels, before seeing Sonic and skidding to a halt, his jaw hanging as he saw Sonic just…. STANDING there. and gestured to it, “What… ARE YOU DOING!?”

“I think.. it’s a chilidog.” Sonic pointed to the painting, as Tails only took a second to look at it, and then Sonic went back to his deep thought, before shrugging it off. “Ah, well. This Picasso stuff is all marshmallows and spring flowers to me. Anyway, how’s Amy doing?” Sonic placed his hands on his hips, as Tails shook violently, then finally burst in a shout.

His shout carried over to Amy’s current situation, shouting as well, as Sonic burst open the door.

“AH SHOOT!”

“SEE!?” Tails gestured both hands out.

“No wonder you looked like you just came back from war!”

“Yeah, and now-” Tails stepped back, before using both hands to push Sonic through the door, as he stumbled, falling towards Amy. “TAG! You’re in!”

Amy gripped his hand.

Sonic’s eyes widened, and he mirrored Tails, leaning with a hand holding the side of the bed for support. “AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

“Good luck!” Tails saluted, grinning like a free man, and then slammed the door.

After a little while longer… the screaming ceased… at least… from Amy’s side it did.

“Prepare for landing… that’s it… that’s it… we’ve got the package, over. The plane has landed.” The team all sighed as if they’ve won the war, and shook each other’s hands, as the Doctor stretched his hands out, and then began to smack the baby’s bum like an African drum.

When the baby finally cried, the nurse swaddled it up and cleaned him, and then turned to the three exhausted soldiers, all sprawled out on the bed, but Amy looked surprisingly well for the endeavor, once she saw the baby.

“It’s as healthy as heaven, Miss The Hedgehog.” The nurse passed the baby to her, as Amy held the baby close, hearing it’s cute cooing.

“All that… all that, for a little coo.” Tails was sprawled on a chair near the bed, as Sonic was sprawled with his head to the side of the bed, before looking up.

“Good Chaos…” Sonic’s eyes widened at the baby. “It’s…”

“Beautiful~” Amy cuddled it, as Sonic dropped to his knees.

“It looks just like-!”

The baby’s face turned to the camera, a normal hedgehog except for a mustache, as it laughed manically in it’s coos.

(Okay, I had fun with that one xD this is for giggles, if you couldn’t already tell, haha! I hope you laughed as much as I did!)

#sonamy #sonic au #tails #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #eggman joke #lolololol #sonic prompt #sonamy prompt #this was just for fun.

20 notes · View notes