What do you think lazy Sunday mornings would be like with Finn/Rey/Poe?
General Organa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Rey.”
There was a profound and deep silence in the hangar, interrupted only by the intermittent beep and whir of mech droids, doing their daily maintenance on the other x-wings. Leia sighed.
“Rey, I can see you.”
Very slowly, the rest of Rey’s head appeared over the edge of the cockpit. “Good morning, General,” she said with a sheepish smile.
“I was under the impression that I ordered you, along with Commander Dameron and Lieutenant Finn, to remove yourself from duty for the next three cycles before you dropped dead of exhaustion,” Leia says dryly. “Am I mistaken?”
“So either you ignored a direct order from your commanding general, or you’re not working on an x-wing at,” Leia idly checked her chronometer, “seven-hundred hours.”
Rey’s expression was doing something complicated, torn between amusement and vague embarrassment. “In my defense, General, I had to be awake much earlier on Jakku to beat the sun and the other scavengers. It’s simply habit by now.”
Leia snorted. “Also, you thought that no one would be around to notice your flagrant disobedience.”
“No, I’m sticking with my first answer,” Rey said firmly.
“And Commander Dameron and Lieutenant Finn? I suppose they’re still asleep in your quarters, since neither of them share your desert upbringing.”
It was funny to watch Rey school her face into blankness. “Of course, General. Why would they disobey an order from you?”
Leia did laugh at that. “Remind me to get someone from Intel to teach you how to lie convincingly. After your temporary suspension is up,” she added pointedly, when Rey perked up. “Go to bed, Rey.”
Honestly, Leia could forgive everyone who had assumed Rey was Luke’s daughter. They pulled the exact same face whenever they were annoyed, and just barely refraining from whining about it.
(Maybe it was a Jedi thing.)
Leia wandered into the command center without looking up from her datapad. It always benefited her to get through the previous day’s transmits before first shift began in earnest; otherwise she would be dealing with the backlog all week.
She marked a message from the ambassador to Brindisi for further follow-up and hummed, pleased. “If I look up and either of you is standing at the command console, I will have you dragged to medical and personally ensure that Major Calonia doses you with a sedative.”
There was a pause, then a flurry of datapads being gathered up and frantic whispering, the ping! of a file being saved to the console. A very quiet, “go, go, go,” along with boots scuffling on the duracrete.
When Leia looked up, there was no one in the command center except her, and the fading after-image of a holo battleplan. DAMERON, CMD., FINN, LT. obligingly blinked on the screen for a moment before it went dark.
Leia smiled slightly to herself, and went back to the transmits.
The next morning, she found Finn reorganizing the storeroom. At six hundred twenty hours. “That is on-duty work, Lieutenant,” she said, almost startling him into falling off the ladder. “And I’m fairly certain you are currently off-duty.”
Finn’s blank expression was much better than Rey’s. “General, with all due respect, is there any way I can convince you to sleep in an hour or two?”
“Funny,” Leia said. “That’s what I was going to ask you.”
Rey had updated the software for all the droids in the maintenance bay at some point during the night; it was time for Leia to call in the big blasters.
…….unfortunately, “the big blasters” were on their eighth run-through on the x-wing simulator. Leia watched Poe dispassionately, noting that the first run-through was timestamped 00512. “General!” Poe said, after he completed the run, and tugged his helmet off. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were there. Something I can do?”
“No,” Leia said finally. “No, just letting you know that your suspension is up tomorrow. Please be aware that if you, Rey, or Lieutenant Finn ever show up incapacitated to the point of being unable to fulfill your obligations again, I will take drastic measures.”
He regarded her warily. “May I ask what those are, General?”
“I’ll personally shove a sed-pack up your ass, Dameron. Or worse,” Leia said, cocking an eyebrow at him, “I’ll make all of you talk to a minder until you stop waking each other up with your nightmares.”
Poe, like Rey, has never been a very good liar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, General,” he says, fitting the sim helmet back over his head. His next words are muffled—”But I’ll take it under advisement.”
okay but i know a lot of people are on the knight jeremy train, but hear me out for a second
one of the youngest kings out of the current kings to rule. he may not know a whole lot, but he tries his best to learn all he can so he can run a successful kingdom. who always puts his people first and is one of the kindest rulers. who creates beautiful buildings and structures either for people to live in or to decorate the kingdom. who is fair and kind and courageous. a man who is a nightmare on the battlefield and can destroy armies with little effort. a man who charges into battle with hell’s fire in his veins. who, after every battle, weeps for the lost lives and goes to the homes of the knights who gave their lives to say his condolences to the families, should their families be alive. a king who gives it his all to protect everyone, even if they have committed crimes.
literally just give me king jeremy who tries his best and is always optimistic and trying to make his kingdom a welcome place for all to come to.
Request: Hi ! I love your stories ! Do you think I can request a Bucky x Reader, where she has a 6yo son and he is Bucky’s but he doesn’t know ‘cause of HYDRA capturing him when she found out she was pregnant & they haven’t seen each other since, please?
Grant Barnes ran around the park, squealing alongside all the other children. Their mothers watched them from afar, all smiling and cheering their babies on. Some of them even had fathers watching them proudly, their eyes twinkling happily and their heart full of joy. And then there was (Y/N) who was sitting on one of the benches furthest away from the playground all by herself. She had no ring on her finger, no man to kiss her cheek and call her beautiful, she had no husband and Grant Barnes had no father. Perhaps six or seven years ago he had one but that felt like a century ago, a century ago the war ended, a century ago when every woman stopped at the stations to pick up her man, when every wife presented her child to the recently returned soldier but that hadn’t been (Y/N)’s case. Rather than go and pick her lover up from the station she had sat at home, breast feeding her brand new baby boy.
"Momma!“ Grant yells as he approaches his mother, all smiles and giggles despite the sweltering heat of Brooklyn. "Will you come play with me?” (Y/N) smiles as she reaches out to ruffle Grant’s hair, a small, disbelieving chuckle falling from her lips.
“Baby, don’t you want to play with the other kids?”
“No mommy, I want you to come play with me,” Grant tugged on (Y/N)’s sleeve, persistent in his choice. (Y/N) chuckles as they stand up, much to Gran’ts delight as he squeals happily.
“What do you wanna play baby boy?”
“I wanna play soldiers!” Grant exclaims innocently, his eyes shining with excitement. (Y/N) sighs softly as her heart aches, the memories of Bucky slowly surfacing. She had managed to keep them down, try not to dwell on the thoughts of her long lost lover but it was always inevitable- there was always something that would remind (Y/N) of Bucky. The bitter scent of coffee in the mornings, a poster for a new science convention, the smell of fresh sheets, the warmth that would surround (Y/N) every time she climbed into bed; there was always a bit of Bucky in everything, even if he never really was there.
“Okay, who do you wanna be?”
“I want to be Captain America!” Grant shouted, beaming from ear to ear. Little did Grant know that he was actually named after the man himself, (Y/N) had figured Bucky would have wanted their baby boy to have something to do with Steve and since- well, since he wasn’t around anymore the least (Y/N) could do was name her child after him.
“Okay Cap’n,” (Y/N) salutes their baby boy, smiling when he giggled with excitement. “Where’s our first mission?”
“Over in Germ-Germ-Germ-”
“Germany?” (Y/N) suggest lightly, laughing when her son beamed at her.
“Yes! In Germany,” He slurred the word a bit, making his little facade even cuter.
“Well Cap’n, I don’t see a plane anywhere, how do you suppose we’re gonna get there?” Grant hums, stroking his chin in thought before jumping excitedly at an idea.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind carrying Captain America to battle,” Grant suggest, his blue eyes shining up at (Y/N) with child like hope.
“Captain,” (Y/N) placed a hand over her heart, sniffling softly. “It would be my honor to carry you to Germany,” And with that (Y/N) slides her arms around her baby boy, marching him across the playground and to a nearby tree or as Grant called it- Germany. Grant squealed in delight as (Y/N) made airplane noises as she all but charged for the trees, more than delighted to make their sweet baby boy happy. All the other mothers and fathers stared at (Y/N) distastefully but she didn’t care, not when Grant was laughing hysterically and having the time of his life. (Y/N) could only have wished that Bucky was here to see him…
~70 something years later~
Bucky looked down at the file in his hands, about the life he had left behind. There were pictures of (Y/N), looking as beautiful as he remembered her but there was someone else…a little dark haired, blue eyed boy who looked like the perfect combination of Bucky and (Y/N).
“His name was Grant,” Fury mutters from his seat, his eyes glued to Bucky’s hands clutching the folder. “(Y/N) named him after Steve,” Bucky gulps, reaching out with a hand to run his fingers along the photographs of what should have been his wife and baby boy. “She found out she was pregnant the day you fell of the train,” Bucky sighs shakily, throwing the folder to the side as he rubs at his burning eyes. He’d left an entire life behind, he’d left behind (Y/N), the love of his life, he’d left behind his family, he’d even left behind a baby he didn’t even know he had. “It’s not too late y’know,” Fury states as he grabs the folder, tucking all the papers and photographs back into manila folder gently. “We’ve kept tabs on Grant over the years…he’s in a home Bucky,” Bucky looks up at the older man, gulping once again. “He’s losing his memory so I suggest that if you wanna meet your kid you better do it now,”
And that’s how Bucky ended up where he was right now, standing in front of a white haired nurse in some retirement home.
“I’m uh- I’m looking for a Grant Barnes?”
“Oh! He hasn’t had visitors in years…”
“Yeah uh- I’m a distant cousin, thought I’d come see him for a bit,” The nurse smiles, clutching a clipboard to her chest tightly.
“That’s so sweet, he’ll be glad to see you. He’s in room 303 by the way, just down the hall and to the left,’ Bucky gives the nurse a light smile and a polite thank you before he walks down the hall, stuffing his hands in his pockets. All around him the sounds of beeping machines and oxygen tanks filled the air, leaving his heart aching at the thought that his boy- his own damn child- was one of the poor sickly elders here.
Bucky’s feet stop abruptly in front of room 303, the door decorated brightly in pink and red hearts, each one stating something wonderful about Grant- about his son. With a shaky sigh Bucky knocked his knuckles on the door, waiting for a nurse or someone to let him in.
“Come in!” A sweet female voice called. Bucky gently opened the door, poking his head inside the hospital room. There were two people in the room, an elderly looking man who once looked as though he had been beautiful but age had slowly withered away that beauty and a young female, perhaps around the age of twenty, sitting directly across from the man. “Can I help you?” She asks, smiling at Bucky sweetly.
“Uh yeah- um, I’m here to see Grant Barnes?”
“That’s me,” The old man smiles, gibing Bucky a small wave. “What can I do for you sonny?” God- his own child was calling him son and if that didn’t sting Bucky didn’t know what did.
“Um-” Bucky looks down at his hand sheepishly, biting his lip in thought. He hadn’t really thought of what he was going to say when he finally met his own flesh and blood, he thought he’d chicken out and leave before he ever even met his son but now he was here, standing right in front of him. “Was your father James Buchanan Barnes?” The elderly man loses his smile, his face taking on an ugly kind of glare.
“What do you want to know about my father?” Bucky sighs again, raking a hand down his face, one that looked almost like his own sons expect much, much younger.
“I have a little problem you see- I’m James Buchanan Barnes,”
Explaining his situation to his son had been hard, he was almost thrown out of the building until Bucky began to tell Grant things about his mother that no one except himself could know. From there it had been a bit choppy, his son was in shock, as was Bucky, but slowly they opened up to each other and now here they were- talking about (Y/N) as though it were the most normal thing in the world.
“You shoulda seen her,” Grant sighs, his eyes twinkling as he looks at the ceiling. “She was so beautiful, all my friends liked her,” Bucky chuckles, smiling so damn widely he was surprised his face didn’t bust in two.
“She was gorgeous,”
“And strong, so strong,” Grant whispers, breathing out heavily. “She got a job after you- after you died,” Grant hesitates to say the words, almost reluctant to admit that his own mother was dead. “She worked long and hard hours just to provide for me. We were poor but that never stopped her- we may have been low on money but you can bet your bottom dollar that she would find a way to make me and the neighbor kids desert,”
“She always was so generous,”
“She was the best mom anyone could ever ask for,” Grant smiles a little, a small, tender little thing that had Bucky wondering just exactly what Grant was thinking.
“I wish I could have been there-” Bucky sighs, his heart suddenly sinking. “I wish I could’ve seen your first steps, or heard your first words, I wish I could have seen you on your first date or watch you walk down the aisle-”
“That doesn’t matter now,” Grant smiles, reaching over to take Bucky’s metal hand in his own, withered one. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters to me…It’s nice to finally meet you Dad,” Bucky smiles, chuckling a bit even with the tears burning at his eyes.
Why does everyone always point out that auston is mexican? It shouldn't be more important than his hockey
because he’s the first. first #1 draft pick from the desert and the first mexican-descent hockey player to be drafted as #1 too. and there are gonna be kids from arizona and kids of his heritage that see him play amazing hockey and realize that this is a game that they can not only play, but excel at too.
for every ethnic/regional group there’s gotta be that one person who chooses and fights to go through all that adversity to pave the way. for those little tiny desert/heritage kids who will buy their first skates today and think, i wanna be auston matthews when i grow up. and they’ll see that it’s okay to be a little different when it’s for the game that you love.
we roast auston lots bc of his weird fashion choices but personally i couldn’t be prouder of him, i think in spite of all this media he’s still that mexican-american kid from a place where nobody plays hockey. it can’t have been easy to be the kid that’s a little different from everyone else, but he’s made it his own and he’s represented his home and his heritage very well i think. he’s a great role model for those kids and he deserves that recognition.