Fall AU: Eragon and Murtagh are brought into the order at the same time, with Murtagh being considered a late bloomer. Murtagh is in a boy's home, which he's always running away from. On one of these stints he meets Eragon, who he at first clocks as a naive and annoying little kid.
Unfortunately for Murtagh, Eragon's social skills are in the negative, so he dismisses Murtagh's thorny attitude and becomes immediately attached to him. Murtagh begins to soften because this annoying little kid is actually wicked smart (in some areas) and cares very little about his social status and past.
Brom finds out about the friendship almost immediately, and just as quickly forbids it. He's completely done with anything to do with the conveniently missing Morzan, and he shall not have his son messing around with Morzan's spawn.
Unfortunately for Brom, Eragon inherited his stubbornness. The two boys quickly develop a system where they can sneak off into the forest and hang out in hidden burrows or caves. Of course their dragons would never rat them out, so their mentors remain none the wiser (for now). The two become lifelong best friends, unaware of the war bubbling up just outside the safety of Du Weldenvarden.
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all i hear are screams (every time i dare to close my eyes)
the thrill of blood comes instantly (there’s only darkness at the finish): chapter 2
read on ao3 along with my main ikio'yth au
tumblr masterlist | one | two | three
cw: canon-typical death & violence, Anakin Skywalker's Tusken Massacre
🌊 30007 AF| Vodran
Tavi has always walked the line between Light and Dark like a tightrope. She is young, still, but her memories span centuries. From the safety of xir egg, xie has felt empires rise and fall. She has felt Light and Darkness come and go, give and take; has heard entire societies slaughtered, has seen new ones rise from the ashes. In the years since xir first Master’s death, xie has become used to the shadow festering at the edge of xir consciousness. Has learned to bide her time, to hold her tongue, to be ready – but waiting.
None of this stops the wave of Darkness, so familiar and so foreign at once, from flaying xem open and laying xem out, gasping for breath, on the red sands of Tatooine, where moments before xie had been crouched above a jungle, watching Wrecker lay charges.
Now, despite the desert around her, she is cold, bone-deep and brittle, unable to shake the feeling of squinting through shadow to see. To see soul-fires snuffed, to see the Force rush, river-rapid, clashing in glowing green, grief-ridden and gutted, and once-blinding blue fading out to blackness and rising instead in red, blood-soaked and burning.
Visions of far-reaching horizons, the stretch of space and time and realities far beyond their own, shutter against the blizzard until xie can see nothing but dying stars – small and large, all broken and bloody and bundled in familiar Tatooine khaki, staining the sand beneath them.
A final, blood-stained sob dies on Shmi Skywalker’s lips and, as quickly as they had vanished, the sparkling stars of the past and the rising suns of the future come flooding back in with the glint of green against sunlit Beskar. The river flows and xie flows with it, dancing with fading flames and singing with soft-spoken streams, weaving among stars that have long since died and those which are not yet born and may never be.
Finally, the present rattles into place, rumbling engines and whispered worry and the scrape of armoured boots against cold metal, as Tavi finds xemself cradled in strong arms on the floor of the Marauder, throat hoarse with screams xie had not even heard, and ahwey prickling against the flood of focused concern.
“Rodia.” The voice she speaks with is barely recognisable as her own.
“We have already set course,” Tech informs xem from the cockpit, as Hunter presses a hydropack into xir hand. “We will arrive by 0400 hours.”
“What the kriff was that about?” Crosshair’s brothers finally tear their gazes from Tavi to scowl at him, where he is draped over the copilot’s chair, all long limbs and lassitude, shrugging as if every being aboard can’t read the line of tension thrumming beneath his skin. “We all want to know.”
“The rest of us know the meaning of the word tact,” Echo counters, sharply, brow furrowed in concentration as he crosses the cluttered cabin with a mug wafting sweet steam.
“You all choose to observe it selectively.” Tavi accepts the mug with murmured thanks, despite her sardonicism. Echo huffs, but none of them can argue the point, so they leave xem to xir silence. Let xem wrap both hands around the mug and soak in the steam, listing further into Wrecker’s comforting bulk and finding xemself pulled closer for xir troubles, settled beneath the weighty arm around xir waist. Let her close her eyes, reaching for the dancing glow each of them casts in the Force and finding them reaching back as best they can – campfire-smoke-drifting-towards-stars and puzzle-pieces-slotting-perfectly-into-place and reading-past-curfew and fireworks-lighting-dark-skies and quiet-footsteps-in-a-forest. Let xem drift, for a moment, to those bright lights xie carries with xem – xir rahkadai. Those she brushes past offer concern, mostly, soft and probing against her still-shaking shields, but Nova and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka reach back and cling. Tavi pulls them close, holds them in xir chest as xie opens xir eyes again.
She sips her tea. Swallows.
“It was Anakin.” Echo’s face falls, eyes flying wide in still-sunken sockets. “He… Fell.”
“What?” The question comes gutted and gasping. “Fell where? From what? Are the others–?” Tavi takes another mouthful of tea.
“I don’t think that’s what she meant, vod,” Hunter prompts, gently.
“The 501st remains on Ryloth, as far as I can tell. Anakin was alone in his actions, at least.” The set of Echo’s jaw loosens, shoulders slipping away from his ears. “I don’t know what happened, really. Not everything. But he has touched the Dark. Whether he chooses to walk back from that…” Xie trails off, shiver running down xir spine as xir memory fills with ice and anger and–
Wrecker squeezes her tighter.
🌱 23385 AK| Senatorial Offices, Coruscant
Nova came into existence in the Wellspring of the very Force itself. She has learned and grown among some of the most sacred places in the Galaxy, from Jedha’s kaiber caves to the icy halls of Ilum to the Sacred Spire on Coruscant. They have lived and breathed the Cosmic Force, in all its many dichotomies and dualities, for their entire life. She has seen through the tests of the Cave of Evil and stared down the soul of the Mother herself.
They are still entirely unprepared for the snowstorm that slams into them, pen shattering in their hand. Shards of ice tear through her, sharper than any blade, as Darkness binds around her, blacking out her very senses to everything but the rage – burning, far colder than Ilum’s ice – and the stench of seared flesh. Soul-fires she cannot feed, embers already cooling, too suddenly struck apart for the cosmos to do anything but claim them.
And then, at last, a familiar face. Eyes hollow as the hole through her gut, choking on blood and breath her own son has stolen from her.
The glancing of a green blade is next, then the bright flash of Beskar beneath twin suns, and–
“Your Highness?” There’s a clone crouching before her, frowning, not quite touching her, red-marked helmet tucked beneath one arm.
“Commander Thire.” Even as relief warms brown eyes, he winces at the sand scrape of their voice, one hand flying to the pouch at his belt to pass them a hydropack.
“I apologise for just barging in, but you were screaming something awful.” He rises to his feet and it is only when he extends a hand to help her do the same that she realises she’s fallen. Or, rather, that they’ve blasted the furniture away from them, everything slammed tight against the walls of their senatorial office. The open door is jammed into a shattered chair, where Thire must have kicked it in to gain entry.
“I appreciate you coming to check on me, Commander. I hope I didn’t hurt you in the chaos?” When she reaches for it, his soul-fire furls warm around her, but that tells her little about whether he may have been struck by flying furniture.
A hand lands on her shoulder and she jumps before she even registers that she had heard thundering footsteps, had felt the approach of pricked-ears-sharp-teeth-bared-in-laughter.
“Your Highness?” Fox is frowning, even as they fold into him, burrow their fingers beneath the joints of his armour in search of the warmth he and his brothers radiate. “Nova–” He cuts off with a sigh, clearly gathering he’ll get no clear answers from her as she lets her mind meander back to the Force. To the world-river, wellspring, burbling beneath every breath, every heartbeat, the very stone upon which they all stand.
Tavi reaches, as Fox starts quizzing an equally confused Thire, and Nova reaches back. Lets the cool water of Ahch-To’s waves wash over her – chilled and churning, but not cruel; deep and dark, but still dappled with light; stormy and squalling, but somehow steady. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka join the circle, mugs-of-mirask-tea-on-moonlit-mesas and wind-whipping-through-jungle-trees, and Nova wraps them around her like a cloak as she finally returns to the office, to the two troubled clone commanders and the tiny Jedai master now perched on Thire’s shoulders.
“Your fault this was not.” He had felt it, then. They could, perhaps, have guessed that, by the new grief in those age-old eyes, an aching exhaustion that goes beyond his many millennia of life.
“He was my student.” She had known the threat, had known that if her lessons didn’t stick better than Sidious’, something like this would happen. “I –” Her Jaieh’s gimer stick comes down, hard, over her head, clicking sharply against the glittering hair pieces she’d almost forgotten about.
“His own person he is.” A person she handed a weapon and sent to war. A person she taught the ways of the Force, Jedhan and Jedi alike. “Raised him better you did.”
“I trained him.” They taught him to master the power he’d twisted to this purpose. They helped him piece together the very blade he used to cut down these innocents.
“Skywalker’s grown enough to make his own decisions,” Fox grinds out, grip tightening where he’s still holding them, letting them press close to him, letting them leach his warmth to shake away the bone-deep frost. “He’s been commanding half a kriffing army for long enough.” And that has its own horrifying implications, because they have been letting him lead a defence operation in some of the most volatile areas of the war, but Nova’s head is still spinning, still swirling, and she cannot even steady herself enough to unpack that yet.
“And something tells me if you condoned whatever he did, you wouldn’t have started screaming like that,” Thire adds, quite reasonably. “I don’t think Senator Sai or her aides will be forgetting that anytime soon.”
“He Fell.” The confession drops onto Thire’s gentle good humour with all the force of an anvil. Yoda’s ears droop with the weight of it, as if he hadn’t already felt that soul-rending, world-stopping rage. “He killed his mother.” And that is yet another grief, isn’t it? That the danger he so fatally feared had been him all along. That Shmi gave her death to this boy, when she had already given him her whole life.
Fox pulls them closer, lets them bury their tears in his chest.
Obi-Wan has some of the strongest shields in the Jedai Order. He has fought wars since he was a child, has faced slavers and soldiers and Sith, has woken screaming from visions of blood and death and galaxies burning.
This, though, is a new pain. A Darkness so thick it blacks out the sky, seals the rivers of the world beneath jagged ice. A Darkness so overwhelming that it is only made more sickening for the fact he knows the heart it has rotted open.
The cold is the worst of it, creeping through his bones until his very heart has turned to ice. Ice where he knows warmth should be – blue bleeding to gold, bleeding to red staining stretching sands. Around him, soul-fires snuff – small and large, young and old, with Fates fulfilled and yet to be begun and never to be seen.
Shmi – gentle, kind Shmi Skywalker – throws her body into the path of her own son’s blade, plea catching breathless in her throat as she tucks his target – the child, small and scared and sunshine-bright – behind her. The Darkness snarls – screams – scrambles to seize a soul it could never keep.
Blades burn bright through the shadow, and it falls.
Obi-Wan is on his feet before the fog clears from the Force around him, far before the black dots stop dancing in his vision, already reaching – physically and through the Force, for the murmuring of a sunlit stream, the bright burst of marg sabl at sunrise, for Ahsoka.
She collides with him as they both round a corner, neither of them paying any mind to the panicked clones on both their heels as Obi-Wan pulls her into him, lowers both of them to the floor.
“Tonbrei enoah foh midaial ru enoah dai mifoh'al[1].” The mantra tumbles from Ahsoka’s tongue like it is all that is tethering her to the world. It very well might be.
“Tonbrei enoah kodaih midaial ru enoah dai mikodaih’al[2].” That he can offer. Call and response. Soft and sure, in a way very little is, now. He rests his chin on Ahsoka’s head, tucks her into his hold like he had when she was nothing more than his Jaieh’s newest Ochl’yth, and finds Rex watching him, wide-eyed and worried.
“Jetii’alor[3], sir.” He straightens when he finds Obi-Wan’s gaze on him and Cody shifts from his place at Obi-Wan’s back to join his brother. “She just started screaming. I didn’t see–”
“We aren’t under attack, Commander, don’t worry.” Ahsoka is still murmuring into his chest, voice and heartbeat both slowly steadying. “There was… a great Darkness, in the Force. I’m afraid it is grave news for us all, but not an immediate danger.” A’Sharad had made sure of that, and Obi-Wan can be nothing but glad for it, despite the ugly way his gut twists at treating Anakin – the boy he helped to raise, even through all the salted tea and paint-stained robes – as a threat.
“He Fell.” Ahsoka looks up at him, finally, blue eyes welling with tears. “Jaieh[4], he… he killed them. All of them.”
“Leo’ah[5], Padawan.” Obi-Wan smoothes a hand over her head, straightening her silka beads as she goes. “Heleo’ah[6]. I am sorry that you had to feel that, little one.”
“How… how could he?” If he were a more selfish man, Obi-Wan would be glad to hear she is as lost as he is. Instead, all he can do is ache, for the raw pain in his Padawan’s young voice. “They did nothing wrong.”
“His Darkness is not for you to shoulder, little one.” Her eyes press closed, like she’s really trying to swallow that truth. “Anakin made his choices. He will have to live with them.” Rex’s spine snaps straight with an audible crack, jaw dropping open. Cody’s jaw sets, grim and grieving.
“Jetii’alor…” There are no words, are there?
“I’m sorry.” It is all Obi-Wan can offer. “I–”
“It’s not your fault.” Rex is the one who answers, Cody’s hand firm on his kih’vod’s[7] shoulder. Obi-Wan wishes he could believe that. “Sir, it’s not. We all heard you tell him not to go. We’ve all seen you handle his temper.”
“His Darkness is not for you to shoulder.” Cody, in the past three years, has become something of an expert in turning Obi-Wan’s own advice against him. That serves him well, now, as his golden-brown eyes flash with challenge. Obi-Wan’s brow furrows, protest already rising on his tongue, when mirth-joy-winter-sun-through-storm-clouds bubbles up around him, Ahsoka’s sniffling stumbling into snickering in his lap.
“Eno’ah ankai’a kat keelel[8].” Obi-Wan’s ears burn, but he cannot begrudge his Padawan this small joy. “They’re right, Jaieh. Skyg– he’s the only one to blame.”
Obi-Wan finds he cannot bring himself to argue with his Padawan’s quiet certainty. Especially when a gentle push against his shields says the same, sifted through seawater and salt air, as Tavi tugs both of them close.
🐯 30007 AF | Venator-class starship ‘Negotiator’, orbiting Ryloth
Ahsoka is young, but she is strong, and she has seen more than many adults could dream. She has studied the ways of Jedha and the Jedi, has grown up surrounded by some of the strongest and sagest Force users the galaxy has ever seen, has fought for her own life and others’ alike.
She has never felt anything like the stone-cold centre of this supernova. Burned flesh and spilled blood and the acrid salt-sweat-sinking-heart scent of fear sting her senses, but all the shadow offers is rage, raw and ravenous. Unsated by broken bodies spraying sand as they fall, by voices screaming and falling silent, sagging when their souls are severed, like puppets snapped from their strings.
Shmi’s heart is broken and bleeding long before she stakes herself on her son’s lightsaber. The pain of a plasma blade deep in her diaphragm barely registers beneath suffocating sorrow, the grief of a mother who can no longer recognise her son.
A’Sharad’s grief is sharper-edged, cutting as the blade he bears, his rage both righteous and mournful as he raises arms against his brother. Silas and Sabé are each equal parts stern and sorry, even soaked in death and horror as they are. The shadow Ahsoka had once called her brother has nothing but his fury. And it is, as it was always going to be, not enough.
Ahsoka flings her eyes open and her body back to her feet, surging forward into the shadow-fog before she is even sure what she is reaching for.
Jaieh Obi-Wan, of course. Kind and gentle and slowly-steeping-tea-leaves-dancing-steam.
And he is reaching back, hurrying to her as much as she is fleeing to him. They meet in the middle, literally crashing together at a corner, graceless and grieving, and Obi-Wan gathers her up without any hesitation, wrapping her in the warmth of his robes, the scent of mirask tea[9], cloak them both against the Darkness still lingering in the Force.
He smiles at her, when she finds the strength to tease him, like she’s the best gift he could ever find and she sinks into it, folds back into his chest because she knows he’ll hold her for so long as she needs it and reaches out to the Force.
She finds Tavi, first, because xie is reaching – bright as the sun sparkling on white-capped waves. Obi-Wan, of course, curls around them both like a shield. And Nova, star-bright-kaiber-cave-dark-stretching-space-between, right there at his side. Then Cody, sun-warm-steady-as-stone, and Rex, water-wearing-rock-rushing-river-rapids. The rest of her found-brothers are familiar flares of colour, vivid and unwavering around her – Kix and Helix, curled together in a peaceful sleep rare for wartime medics; Fives and Jesse and Hardcase and Hevy, undoubtedly plotting something that will disturb that peace; Waxer and Boil, stumbling their way through Numa’s language lessons.
She feels the world shift, watches the Force-river run around them as her Jaieh lifts her like she is still a youngling. Watches Rex’s river run, rough and rapid, but slowing as Cody steadies him, sun warming snowmelt streams. Feels the Tavi’s sea storms slow, lightning giving way to pyrotechnic colour. Sees the space between Nova’s stars fill with stretching roots and muddy paws. Weaves herself in amongst Obi-Wan’s seeping steam, settles them both sunrise-soft.
“Tamah uu nev valrael kodaih, im nev xariel[10].” She opens her eyes to see her Jaieh blink down at her, something like amazement stirring in sky-blue eyes, and she finds herself smiling. Sad and scared and sorry, but smiling. “Right, Jaieh?”
Dai Bendu; I am one with the Force and the Force is with me
Dai Bendu; We are one with the Force and the Force is with us
Mando'a; Jedi leader (an alternative title to "General" chosen since the Jedi are not acting as the Republic's military in this universe)
Dai Bendu; Jedi Master
Dai Bendu; I know
Dai Bendu; I'm sorry (a strong apology)
Mando'a; little sibling/little brother
Dai Bendu; he is (definite, permanent) your heartsong/soulmate
also known as Jedhan tea, mirask is a type of tea made from native Jedhan herbs; it is both Nova and Obi-Wan’s favourite – for both its flavour and its healing & energising properties
Elain lays out a tiny little pumpkin with two bigger pumpkins as a way to tell Azriel she's pregnant but he doesn't get it. Happy Fall!
Ship/Trope: Elriel x pregnancy announcement (modern au)
A/N: This prompt makes me want to cry tears of joy. Happy Fall! I hope you like it!
T/W: none
Elain looked at the little table she had sitting in the entryway. She had arranged the pumpkins in at least thirty different ways, finding flaws in each arrangement, but finally settled on the way the pumpkins were lined now. With her head cocked to the side, she sighed.
She had tossed in some flowers, making the pumpkins pop among the baby's breath and broomcorn. If she hadn't been so nervous, she would have thought the display was cute as hell. Yet, she felt nauseous as every long, agonizing second on the clock ticked by.
Azriel should be home any minute.
She wished he would hurry.
Elain typically considered herself a pretty patient woman. But now? Every second that passed made her anxiety grow. She had only found out the news the day before and she had been planning to tell him that night, but he had gotten home so late from work and she was already asleep by the time he rolled through the door. She figured that this announcement should be more than a simple roll over in bed and muttered, "Hey, I'm pregnant."
Being the first of October, Elain had recently gone on a pumpkin rampage. She had gone to the pumpkin patch, Azriel in tow, and filled a wagon with pumpkins of all different shapes and sizes. The three she had chosen went from one of the biggest, to one in the middle, then the tiniest one she had gotten to place in the arrangement on their kitchen table.
For now, the three pumpkins sat together on the entryway table. The biggest one to represent Azriel, the mid-sized one to represent herself, then the tiniest to represent how their love had come together and made something far more beautiful then her mind could comprehend.
Elain had just sat down on the couch when she heard her husband's car pull into the driveway. She was instantly on her feet, checking herself in the half-bath's mirror, then waiting by the front door to see his reaction when he caught her display.
The front door opened.
Azriel stepped inside.
And he instantly froze, staring at Elain who was waiting in the foyer, wearing the cutest of dresses with a smile on her face.
He blinked. "Hey."
"Hi," she beamed. "How was your day?"
"Good," he said, slowly, setting his keys down on the table by her pumpkin display. "Yours?"
"Good," she said, a little too quickly. He went to step further inside but she blocked his path. "Do you notice anything different?"
Azriel's eyes grazed down Elain's body. "Um...new dress?"
It was, but she shook her head. "Look again."
Azriel huffed a laugh before looking around him. "Uhh...babe, I'm sorry, but I'm so tired. I have no idea."
Elain's smile faltered. "Are you sure?" She gestured to her pumpkins, hoping to make it painfully obvious.
Azriel stared at the pumpkins for a few seconds before giving her a smile. "Oh, of course, you put out the pumpkins. They look great, babe."
He went to step further inside but Elain blocked his path, once more. "Is there anything that you notice about my pumpkins?"
Azriel's sleepy smile wavered as he looked at the pumpkins, once more. Elain could tell that he was trying his best, even after his long day at work. "They're....all....round?"
"No. Well, yeah, but look at the sizes--"
"They're all orange," he stated, gesturing to the pumpkins with a hand on his hip. "I mean, that's nice--"
"I'm pregnant," Elain blurted.
Azriel froze, eyes darting to Elain. For a minute, they watched one another in silence. "What?"
"I'm pregnant," she breathed, eyes welling up with tears. "That's what the little pumpkin was supposed to represent. A baby, Az, I'm having a baby. We're having a baby."
Azriel's eyes fluttered to the pumpkin, then back to Elain. "We're having a baby?"
Elain nodded as her tears welled and spilled over, onto her cheeks. "Yeah, we're having a baby."
She feared his reaction as he said nothing but then he stepped forward and took his wife into his arms, sweeping her off the ground. Spinning her around, he peppered her lips and neck with kisses as she laughed, her arms around his neck.
Once he set her back on the ground, he leaned back, eyes lined with tears. There were very few times that Elain saw Azriel get emotional: at their wedding the first time he saw her, every year on the anniversary of his mother's death, and now. A tear fell down his cheek and crossed the smile that was beautifully displayed on his lips.
"You're sure?" he whispered, and Elain's heart beat a little bit faster as she nodded. When he kissed her this time, it was soft and sweet and gentle. "You have no idea how happy I am."
"Me too," she promised, and Azriel looked back at her little pumpkin display with a smile before brushing her hair back and holding her close against his chest.
Elain could see it, could see the future. A baby, half her and half him, with two loving parents that would do anything for them. Azriel would be a fantastic father, Elain had no doubt. She couldn't wait to watch him fill that role.
Completely forgetting his exhaustion, Azriel led Elain further inside and to the couch, where he pulled her onto his lap and they talked about that future that would soon be theirs.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"met at a pumpkin patch fighting over the same perfectly round and picturesque pumpkin"
warnings: swearing, fluffery
masterlist || ao3
“you hand over the pumpkin and i won’t punch you in the throat.”
“adam, look at that one!”
hailey stumbled her way across the muddy field (of course it had to rain the night before they went to the pumpkin patch). she nearly tripped, but she ferociously made her way to the perfectly round pumpkin she spotted yards away.
“oh hails, wait — i think that’s —”
she heard adam yelling something in her direction, but she barely minded as she dove to grab the pumpkin. his words quickly made sense when she found another set of hands on her pumpkin.
“oh, sorry, but this pumpkin is mine.”
her tone was polite, but slightly clipped as she attempted to pick up the pumpkin. it happened to be heavier than expected, so she grunted when her body ended up careening forward instead.
the stranger smirked in her direction and at her obvious lack of balance. “actually, i’m pretty sure i was here first.”
hailey straightened up, arching an eyebrow at the pure attitude in his tone. she wasn’t expecting a fight, but it had been an especially long ass week, so if he wanted an argument, he sure as hell would get one.
“no,” she snapped, “i spotted it from over there. i called it, from over there.”
he dug a hand into his front pocket, rocking on his heels in amusement. “right. so, you weren’t actually here first.”
“but i called it!” she stomped her foot in anger.
his smirk widened, if possible. “listen, i’m sure we can work something out.”
“yeah, i’m sure we can,” she snorted, “you hand over the pumpkin and i won’t punch you in the throat.”
“are you threatening me?” he inquired with a raised eyebrow. “i’ll have to warn you, though. if you do punch me in the throat, you’ll probably be charged with assaulting a police officer.”
hailey frowned. “you’re a cop?”
“detective,” he replied coolly.
hailey narrowed her eyes, thoroughly unconvinced. she was beginning to think he was just saying that so she didn't knee him in the gut and run off with the pumpkin (adam was fairly used to her antics and he’d be ready with the getaway car). “i don’t see a badge or gun.”
“well, we’re in a field with children,” he answered slowly, motioning around him, as if it was common sense. and hailey could admit it was, but she’d never show defeat to a stranger. “plus, i can handle myself without a gun.”
hailey raised her eyebrows; seemed kind of braggy, but his attractiveness made up for it. she took a moment to take in his vibrant green eyes, the freckles littering every visible part of his body and wait — is it weird that she’s kind of attracted to his bare forearms?
“you still don’t have a badge,” she sassed, trying to get out of her own mind. she was trying to steal this man’s pumpkin, not jump his bones. although, that didn’t sound like the worst idea either.
he stared at her a moment longer than necessary. she didn’t know it, but he was checking her out, just as she had done to him minutes earlier. there was something about a woman threatening physical violence that did it for him. “it’s in my car,” he said slowly.
“convenient,” she snarked, bending down to grab the pumpkin. she fully expected its entire weight this time, but didn’t expect the stranger to set his foot on top of it so she couldn’t grab it. she straightened her posture, shooting him a venomously annoyed expression. “let. go. of. my. pumpkin.”
he smirked, “no.”
“what the hell is your deal?” she exclaimed in frustration. “I just want this pumpkin! i don’t want that one, i definitely don’t want that one, i want this one!”
“like i said before, i’m sure we can work something out.”
she placed a hand on her hip. “well, can you work it out faster? i have places to be and people to see.”
that was a lie. she had nowhere to be and the only person to see was adam, who happened to be observing amusedly from a few feet away.
“can i get your number?”
“what?”
“i’ll give you this pumpkin, hassle free,” he started, (even though he’d hassled the hell out of her already), “if you give me your number.”
hailey stopped her ministrations. “my number? you want my number?”
“yeah,” he shoved his hands in his front pockets.
“i’m going to be honest, this seems like a trap,” she narrowed her eyes in his direction. he looked amused. “i need some reassurance. what’s your name? badge number? district?”
his eyes squinted adorably. she was the tiniest woman he’d ever seen, but she was lit like a firecracker. “my name is jay halstead; badge number is 51163 and i’m in the 21st district. is that enough information for you?”
“should be,” she replied nonchalantly. “listen man, i just really want this pumpkin. it’s been a bad week, and this pumpkin will make me feel better.”
a slow smile spread across jay’s face. “you can have it. but i want to take you out.”
“out where?”
“you can’t be serious.”
hailey blinked; was she really that clueless? yes. the answer was yes.
“oh, like you actually want to go out with me? like physically go out?”
jay let out a chuckle. “yeah. is that alright?”
“well, i mean, sure,” hailey shrugged. “you just saw me freak out over a pumpkin and you still want my number, so you obviously already know how deranged i can get.”
jay raised an eyebrow, bending down to pick up the pumpkin and hand it to her. she teetered under its weight and he found it adorable. “no, i really just saw a woman that knows what she wants and fights for it. although, you should probably stop threatening cops.”
“i didn’t know,” she mumbled under her breath.
“your number?” he prompted and because she was busy carrying the heavy ass pumpkin, she read it out to him along with her name so he could add it into his phone. he was sporting a large smile, bordering on a smirk. “thanks for this.”
she grinned in response. “thanks for the pumpkin.”
“i’ll see you soon, hailey.”
with that, he walked away, joining a group of ridiculously attractive people. hot people always rolled together; how annoying.
“hailey anne upton, what the hell was that?”
she turned in adam’s direction, spotting his cheshire grin.
“i honestly couldn’t tell you. i lost my shit over a pumpkin and somehow this hot detective wanted my number.”
“who knew you had such game?” he smirked. “not me. because you don’t, not at all.”
hailey rolled her eyes, shoving her perfectly picturesque pumpkin into his arms. “yeah? well, kiss my ass ruzek, because this girl has got a date!”
and so, there started the story of jay halstead and hailey upton.
🎃
this has super similar vibes to my latest one shot tehe but what can i say??? i’m a sucker for hate to love fics
