#<- idea rotation in progress

[wastelandhorizons]

robot womb tattoo

[zondel]

I have to go to the library on Monday to get the next gog book. It's almost the last book which is exciting, because I just really really want to have watership down as my primary read

[bittersweetresilience]

Sooo your guy is Sampo 👀

i DO like sampo but right now my guy is the blond guard dog coded character with a sibling 😌

[no1ryomafan]

My beloved bf gifted me mario wonder for my bday and while this isn’t my first mario game bc I had the one on the ds-just sucked at it lol-im having a blast going through it since I always like playing other plaformers then my usual even if I’m always comfy with Mega Man. However, playing this along with other platformers made me realize mega man misses a common aspect in most platformers: collectibles tied to progression/general items to pick up in stages that aren’t upgrades.

Mega Man does have its fair share of items to pick up but almost always it’s a health or power upgrade. The general structure of Mega Man is less of jumping on enemies like others and more so being strong enough you can take down your enemies with your weapons, the usual challenge comes from fighting bosses without their weakness or tight platforming segments. Not to mention, the entire appeal of Mega Man’s structure is you can do bosses in any order, so having stuff like collecting a object for progression just to access the next stage or area would ruin that freedom. (Also in terms of if mega man would collect coins or rings or gems I’m not sure if that would fit either given he’s a robot… What would a robot collect unless it’s like stated it’s apart of his energy source or something? Or maybe screws? Even though that’s the currency in classic for just buying stuff)

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing since it gives mega man it’s own unique appeal and some people may not like other platformers compared to it-even if I say the challenge universally sticks so others are worth checking out, especially when in other games it’s waaaay easier to die despite how brutal mega man is with lives and Insta kill stuff-but it’s something I noticed when playing Mario and other platformers so I’m definitely gonna be rotating this for awhile.

[superat626]

Observe more of Jhotari.

He's @yunisverse 's!

[amara-scott]

Blanket Game

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x female!Slytherin Reader

Summary: During a Hogwarts "Blanket Game," Y/N is paired with Pansy, Blaise, and Enzo, but when Mattheo joins, he forces Enzo to leave and refuses to let anyone else sit. As the game progresses, Y/N is caught in a mix of teasing, tension, and reluctant conversation with Mattheo, all while Pansy and Blaise watch the drama unfold.

The evening sky was a soft shade of pink as the Hogwarts grounds stretched out before us, filled with students sitting on blankets scattered across the large lawn near the Black Lake. The teachers had decided it was time for a little social experiment—an event to get students to step out of their usual cliques and get to know one another better. Their idea? The Blanket Game.

It was simple enough. Four students per blanket, and every ten minutes, someone had to rotate out for a fresh face. The idea was to mix things up, make everyone interact across house lines. But as I sat on the soft grass with Pansy, Blaise, and Enzo, I wasn’t so sure about it.

“So, let me get this straight,” Pansy said, adjusting herself on the blanket, “we’re supposed to socialize and get to know people we barely care about?” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Brilliant.”

Enzo chuckled, his arms crossed behind his head as he leaned back. “We might as well make the best of it. It’s either this or the library, and I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of books for one day.”

Blaise simply smirked, not really caring either way. “I’m fine with it as long as I don’t have to rotate off the blanket. You’re stuck with me, love,” he teased, throwing a wink at Pansy.

I was only half-listening, my gaze drifting out over the field where students were already mingling. A few were laughing, some were awkwardly standing in circles, and others were already making their way to the next blanket.

The bell signaling the first rotation rang out across the field, and the game began. I glanced at Pansy, who was already grinning as she grabbed a snack from the little pile of treats in between us.

“Alright, your turn,” Enzo said, nudging me lightly. “Let’s see who ends up on our blanket next.”

"What? Why me?" before Enzo could respond, a figure appeared, walking toward us with slow, deliberate steps. Mattheo Riddle.

I barely had time to process it before he was already standing in front of our blanket, eyes scanning the group. The second he saw me, his lips quirked into that familiar smirk—the one that could make anyone lose their composure.

Pansy noticed, and I could feel her glancing between me and Mattheo with a mischievous glint in her eye. But she didn’t say anything. Blaise, ever the observer, just raised an eyebrow but kept quiet. Enzo, however, seemed a little more attuned to what was about to happen.

“Mattheo,” I said, my voice flat, “You’re supposed to rotate off, find people you don't already know.”

Mattheo didn’t even acknowledge me immediately. He was too busy sizing up the group, his gaze flicking over Pansy and Blaise with a brief, bored glance before landing on Enzo. His expression darkened just a fraction, and it was obvious something was about to shift.

"Enzo," Mattheo said coolly, squatting down beside him, draping his arms lazily across his knees, his voice smooth but with a warning edge, "You can leave."

Enzo blinked, clearly surprised, but he didn’t hesitate. He knew better than to argue with Mattheo, especially when that tone came out. Despite their friendship, Enzo understood exactly how far Mattheo could push—and right now, Mattheo was making it clear who he was interested in staying on the blanket with.

“Right,” Enzo sighs annoyed but standing up without a word of protest. He flashed us all a quick, almost apologetic grin. “Catch you guys later,” he said, walking away to find another blanket.

Mattheo didn’t move, still standing at the edge of the blanket, his eyes lingering on me in that way that made my stomach twist in both annoyance and something else I refused to acknowledge.

“Mattheo, you can’t just—” I began, but he interrupted me with a lazy gesture.

“Yeah, I can,” he said, his voice smooth, almost smug. “I don’t see anyone else fitting in here.”

His eyes flicked back to Pansy and Blaise, who were both silently watching, clearly not wanting to stir the pot. Pansy’s lips curled into an amused smile, and she exchanged a glance with Blaise, who seemed very much entertained by the unfolding drama.

“Well, looks like you’re not getting rid of him anytime soon,” Pansy murmured under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear. Her voice was playful, but there was a certain edge to it, almost like she was enjoying watching Mattheo assert his dominance over our little space.

“Fantastic,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “Just what I needed.”

Blaise leaned back, casting a glance at Mattheo. “You know, I should probably leave to give someone else a chance,” he said in a mock-serious tone, but the smirk playing on his lips told a different story. “But, honestly, I’m more curious about where this is going.”

Mattheo’s gaze flicked to Blaise then, and the smirk on his face deepened. “Yeah, don’t bother,” he said coolly, turning his attention back to me. “This is where I’m staying.”

I groaned inwardly. “Mattheo, you’re unbelievable.”

He grinned, clearly unbothered. “You say that like you’re not enjoying it.”

Pansy snorted from beside me. “Oh, please, we’re all enjoying this,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. “Don’t pretend you’re not secretly thrilled, Y/N.”

I shot her an incredulous look. “Pansy, I’m not—”

“Mm-hmm,” Pansy cut me off, flashing me a knowing grin. “Sure you’re not.”

Blaise chuckled softly, but he didn’t intervene. It was clear he was savoring the drama just as much as Pansy. In fact, it almost felt like they were watching a play unfold, and I was the reluctant lead.

“Well, this is fun,” I said sarcastically, trying to defuse the situation. “Now that we’re all settled in… I’m should probably be the next to rotate–” I gestured toward our peers, hoping my attempt to redirect the tension would go unnoticed.

Blaise leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh no, don’t go just yet,” he said, his voice light. “Mattheo seems to be on a roll. You should hear him out, Y/N.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow at Blaise’s comment, clearly entertained by the way everyone was getting involved. But Blaise didn’t seem bothered, merely stretching out a bit further on the blanket.

“Mattheo,” I said, trying to bring the attention back to him, “Why don’t you just talk to someone else? There’s no need to not at least try to socialize with people you don't know.”

He gave me a lazy grin, his eyes gleaming with something between amusement and determination. "Nah, don't want to. You’ll get used to it.”

Pansy let out a little sigh, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “How sweet. It’s like watching two people fight for dominance over a blanket.” She gave a pointed glance between me and Mattheo. “Really romantic.”

Blaise was quick to add, his voice laced with dry humor, “I think you should both just make it official. Save us all the drama.” He smirked, clearly enjoying the discomfort and the unspoken tension between Mattheo and me.

At that, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, even though it was laced with frustration. “Right, because that’s what I need. A public declaration.”

“Not a bad idea,” Mattheo said, looking me over with that same insufferable grin. “You wouldn’t mind if I made it official?”

I shot him a sharp look, finally speaking up. “Mattheo, seriously. WWhat are you doing?”

His grin didn’t falter. “What’s the problem? Don’t tell me you’re actually trying to escape.”

I couldn’t believe him. I shot a glance at Pansy, but she was too busy snickering into her hand, clearly loving every second of this. Blaise, on the other hand, was silently watching us, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I’m not escaping,” I finally said, my voice louder than I intended. “I’m just trying to have a conversation without all of this... weird tension.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. “If you want a conversation, then talk to me,” he said casually. “We don’t need anyone else here.”

I opened my mouth to retort but stopped myself, realizing that was exactly what he wanted. My eyes flicked over to Pansy and Blaise, both of them pretending not to be invested, but their smirks said it all.

“Fine,” I said, giving in with a dramatic sigh. “Let’s talk, Mattheo. What do you want to talk about?”

His eyes sparkled with victory. “Let’s talk about you staying here with me... for the rest of the night.”

I couldn’t tell whether I wanted to smack him or just walk away, but as I glanced at Pansy and Blaise, I realized neither of them was going to help me out of this one. Mattheo wasn’t going to make this easy. And with the way he was looking at me now, I had the sinking feeling he was just getting started.

[alchemistc]

He'd had a dream about this, once. Sweat still cooling, sheets tangled at his feet, a view of Eddie Diaz's bedroom ceiling.

Sue him - Tommy's not the first guy who ever had a raunchy dream about a straight friend. For a few weeks there, both Diaz and Evan Buckley had featured heavily in his rotation. And then Evan had tried to murder his best friend and Tommy had kissed him about it and now...

Tommy shifts his weight. Slides his hand across the sheets - Evan's sheets, still familiar even if the location has changed. Christ, why had Eddie never scraped the popcorn off his ceiling? It's an easy job, really, even if it is painfully boring and time consuming, he could -

The hand that curls around his neck, just under his jaw, is light, careful, still possibly covered in Tommy's cum.

"I missed you," Evan says, and Tommy feels the panic bubbling under his skin, a miasma of humming thrumming reminders that this had been a bad idea from the start. That "randomly" running into his ex three shots deep at the bar had been one of his shittier plans, fueled by his own tipsy jealousy at seeing Evan's drinking partner grinning at him for a good hour while Tommy got progressively worse at pool.

He opens his mouth to let Evan down. He can't do this There's no world where this changes anything. For Christ's sake, he'd only done it because the possessive monster inside of him had heard Evan introduce him to Ravi Panikkar as 'my... Tommy' and the rest of his brain had left the fucking building.

"Everything is so screwed, Tommy. Eddie, and Maddie, and - I just. I want to work on this. I want - I know I didn't say it right before, but everything went to shit that day and if we could just..."

He's always done this. Fucked Tommy to the brink of brainlessness and then proceeded to talk a mile a minute like the sex they'd had was inspirational and energizing. Tommy'd been endeared by it from the start. He still is.

He fucking hates that.

"I can - we can go slow. You set the pace, Tommy, I promise."

"Buck," he starts, and everything in Evan shuts down all at once.

He's done a poor job of keeping that line drawn in his own head - all these months later and he still thinks too much about him, still thinks of him as Evan, and it's a shitty thing to do when they're both fully aware that it's something of a treat for both of them - that name that's been mostly Tommy's since the day Buck found himself at the academy with three Evan's and grinned his way through a nicknaming process.

Evan's hand unfurls from its spot, fingers slipping from where they'd been working at his earlobe. He's gone from soft and pliant glued to Tommy's side, to stiff as he rolls away, sheets travelling with him, and Tommy doesn't fight it when they shift free of him, leaving him bare as the day he was born.

At least he's got his trusty fucking walls. Those at least will keep Evan from glancing up and seeing him break his own heart in two twice over.

Evan rolls to a sit, heaves his legs over the bed. In the soft light Tommy can map out the constellation of moles on his curved back as he drops his head into his hands.

The silence is deafening.

"I, uh ... I think you should go?"

Tommy's certain he doesn't mean for it to sound like a question. He's also certain Evan Buckley has never once in his life been anything but a novice at hiding emotion in his face, body language, voice.

He's pretty sure they could do this a hundred times and Evan might just let him.

Tommy doesn't speak as he gathers his clothes. Doesn't speak as he steals furtive glances around the hem of his T-shirt, doesn't speak as he realizes he didn't even make time for cleanup so he's definitely driving home with the evidence of this night still fucking on him.

Evan's still cradling his head in his hands when Tommy shoves his foot into a boot, not bothering with laces because maybe he'll just fucking trip on the curb and fall into oncoming traffic. It might be the better option.

"I'm -."

"Don't," Evan says, just loud enough for Tommy to know he's barking around a phlegmy throat. "This is worse, just so you know. It was already bad, Tommy..."

Tommy expects there to be more, but there isn't anything. Evan's shoulders heave, and Tommy grabs his keys and phone off the side table, and he blinks and he's somehow out the door, eyes stinging and blood rushing in his ears and he honestly shouldn't be driving but he's not gonna leave his fucking truck here.

He's not entirely sure how he makes it home. He comes back to himself with scalding hot water washing away the evidence of his fuck-up, throat sore and jaw tight and his phone blowing up on the bathroom countertop.

He shouldn't feel the vindication he does that at least this time he milked enough emotion out of Evan to make him send fourteen - his phone buzzes again - fifteen texts in a row.

He feels it anyway, and just to dig the knife deeper into his own chest he shuts his phone off for the night the moment he's towelled himself dry.

Tomorrow. He'll figure it out tomorrow.

He's been telling himself that for five months - a year - his whole fucking life. Maybe one day he'll be telling the truth.

[vbecker10]

Hi Neighbor (Part 3)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 (in progress)

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You take Bucky grocery shopping for the first time and you're surprised when he suddenly opens up to you. What might be even more surprising is his reaction when elderly shopper mistakingly assumes you're a married couple.

A/N: This is going to be a multi-part series with a bit of a slow burn between you and your hot new neighbor. I'm not sure how many parts yet but I already have the ending all figured out. I was going to work on something else first but one of my favorite people specifically requested this be next lol. I hope you all like it! 💚

You push the shopping cart through the automatic doors and are closely followed by Bucky. "Produce first I think," you suggest when you see him looking around the large store a bit lost. He nods in response and stays close to you until he sees something that makes him smile.

He wanders over to the large display of fruit and picks up a plum with his vibranium fingers, squeezing it lightly before putting it back down and selecting another one. You watch him for a moment then decide to be helpful and pull a plastic bag from the stand. With a quiet but frustrated groan, you overcome your struggle to open the bag and thankfully he's too focused on the fruit to notice.

"Thanks," smiles at you when you finally hold the bag out so he can add the plums he's picked so far.

"You don't need to buy all them," you giggle when he adds a sixth one.

"I know," he agrees and puts back the one he's currently holding. "I just really like them."

"Yeah, I can see that," you say with a touch of sarcasm. "So, you can feel if they're ripe with your metal hand?" you can't help but ask even though you probably shouldn't.

He holds up his vibranium hand, looking at his palm then wiggling his fingers a little as he rotates his wrist. "Yeah, this is a lot better then the old one I had," he tells you.

"You're real arm?" you ask confused, pushing the shopping cart over to the bananas so you can grab a few.

He shakes his head, "No, I meant the one Hydra made for the uh..." he clears his throat then forces out the next words with his gaze focused on the back his hand metal as it hangs by his side, "The Winter Soldier."

"Oh," you respond, having no idea what else to say.

"Yeah, it was titanium," he explains and you lean against the cart, listening to him quietly. He tries to act like he's searching for the right apple, picking one up then placing it back down gently. You find yourself being thankful the store is nearly empty, shopping late at night has its advantages.

Bucky avoids looking at you while he begins to talk again, "The way they attached it... I could feel it, if it was grabbed or injured because it was connected to my nerves, bone and muscles but I didn't have, what did they call it?" He rubs his metal fingers together while he thinks. "Tactile sensation," he looks up from his hand but still doesn't look directly at you, "So I couldn't really feel anything."

"Other than pain if you got hurt?" you ask and he nods silently.

You wait quietly, watching him think. "It never really felt like that arm was a part of me, it was just some weapon they built for the Winter Soldier," he tries to explain. "I was almost relieved when it got ripped off, as messed up as that sounds."

"It got ripped off!?" you ask, barely able to imagine how horrific that must have felt.

"Yeah, that's a long story but the short version is it absolutely sucked," he says with a light chuckle. "It's not the first time I've lost my left arm though and like I said, it never really felt like it was mine."

You look at him a bit stunned and unable to figure out how to respond.

"This one is great though," he gives you a smile, relaxing more as he talks about his new arm. "The Wakandans made it for me out of vibranium. I forget how many sensors it has but I can feel everything now, even temperature. It's lighter too, even though it's a lot stronger."

"That's really cool," you smile back at him.

"And, it's dishwasher safe," he adds.

You laugh, "Shut up, it is not!"

He laughs and nods, "I swear it is! I used to use the one back at the Tower all the time."

"That's like a million dollar limb and you put it in the dishwasher?" you cover your mouth as you laugh harder.

"On a low setting," he smiles.

"You are so weird," you tell him.

"Yeah, I know," he clears his throat again and you notice he does that when he seems nervous or unsure of himself. "Anyways, I didn't mean to just throw all that out there... trauma dumping by the fruit wasn't really my plan for tonight."

"It's totally fine," you fight the urge to hug him and you're not sure why you resist it. He clearly could use a hug, you think but still you don't move. "I told you, I'm hear to listen and I meant it."

He walks over to stand next to the cart, for a moment it looks like he's going to reach out to take your hand but instead he grips the handle tightly. "Need anymore fruit?" he asks, changing the subject.

"Yep, oh how about those?" you point a few displays over.

"Grapes?" he chuckles when you seem overly excited and follows you.

You roll your eyes and pick up a small bunch to put in a bag for him, "Not just grapes, cotton candy grapes. They taste just like cotton candy I swear."

"Definitely never heard of those," he shakes his head, "But that sounds super weird and unnecessary."

"Of course you've never ver heard of them, it's like you lived in a cave," you sigh then freeze and put your hand over your mouth. I'm an idiot! Holy crap, why did I say that?! you yell at yourself.

"Technically, it was a secret underground military base in Siberia," he says with a straight face.

"Oh my god..." you lower your hand slowly. "I am so sorry! Bucky, I didn't mean that."

"It's fine," he insists, taking the forgotten bag of grapes from you and putting it with the other fruit in the cart.

"No, it's not. That was really messed up, I'm sorry," you tell him.

"It's okay," he reassures you. This time he does reach out to you, his right hand gently resting on your back then moving up and down slowly.

"Are you sure?" you ask, biting you lip and looking up at him.

"I'm sure," he smiles. "Don't even worry about it."

"Okay... but I'm buying you as many plums as you want cause I feel really bad now," you relax a bit and he removes his hand from your back.

He laughs a little, "I guess Sam's right, the whole guilt trip thing works on everyone."

"What do you mean?" you ask him.

"Oh, you know... you feel really bad about saying or doing something and then I get a little apology gift. It's how I got Tony to pay for my apartment," he informs you with a smirk.

"Wait seriously?" you ask following him in shock.

"Yep," he nods proudly. "Pretty much any time Tony says something stupid about my past or the Winter Soldier, which is pretty often, I get something fun like my bike."

"Wow," you laugh. "Really working the system huh?"

"It got me some plums didn't it?" he smiles at you and continues towards the vegetables.

You walk down the cereal aisle, looking for your favorite while Bucky pushes the cart behind you. With a groan, you step up to the shelf, of course it's on the top freaking shelf. Reaching for the box, Bucky chuckles behind you.

"Need help?" he asks.

"I've got it," you tell him and stretch as much as you can, lifting onto your tip toes and holding the shelf with your other hand.

"I can see that," you can hear the smirk in his voice while you struggle. After another moment of you pretending you'll suddenly get taller you feel his chest pressed lightly against your back. "This is getting sad," he laughs as he grabs the box easily.

"I had it," you tell him with a huff when he steps away to add it to the cart for you.

"You could just say 'thank you'," he smiles when you fold your arms across your chest.

"Aww, such a gentleman," an elderly woman says from half way down the aisle.

You both look towards her. "Thanks ma'am," Bucky responds politely with a smile.

"I wish I had a sweet, young husband like you," she laughs and you giggle knowing Bucky is older than her by at least twenty years. She continues, "You're such a cute couple."

You blush furiously at that and Bucky laughs quietly, his hand settling on top of yours on the handle of the cart. "You hear that sweetheart? She thinks we're cute," he says to you and you can barely believe how easily he's going along with this.

"Can borrow your husband, dear?" she asks you and points to something well out of her reach on the top shelf. "I can't seem to reach anything in this store lately."

"Oh, of course," you smile and push him gently towards her. "Go ahead handsome."

Without complaining, he walks towards where she is pointing. You notice he keeps his metal hand tucked away in his pocket and only uses his right hand to reach for the box.

"Thank you young man," she says excitedly and grabs onto his forearm tightly. It's clear she doesn't recognize him but it's also obvious she isn't going to let him go anytime soon. "I need a few more things, you don't mind do you?" she asks and he looks over his shoulder at you for help.

"You can keep him as long as you'd like," you laugh and wave at him when she pushes the cart further away from you.

(A few days later)

"Hey," you wave at Bucky when he opens his front door and you walk up the sidewalk from your car.

"Hi sweetheart," he responds, locking his door.

You sigh and look down, trying to hide your blush by pretending to be annoyed. "Don't you think that joke has run its course?" you ask him, walking up the few steps while he waits on the stoop.

"Nope," he smiles, lifting his backpack onto his shoulder.

"Look, babe..." you decide to throw in an awkward pet name to see how he likes it.

"Babe?" he practically cringes and you feel like you made a good choice.

"... it's not my fault the first woman who's hit on you in a century was half your age," you say sarcastically.

"Okay, there are so many things wrong with what you just said." He laughs and runs his metal fingers through his long hair then his smile fades, "Wait... how old do you think I am?"

You laugh and shrug despite knowing exactly how old he is, "Not quite ancient but pretty close I think, right?"

"Wow, thanks," he laughs, shaking his head. His phone beeps and he checks the message with a sigh, "Sorry to cut this short but I've got to go, work thing."

You jokingly ask him, "Going on a secret mission tonight?"

He smirks, "You know I couldn't tell you if I was."

You continue to smile but suddenly feel worried for him as he walks towards his bike. "Bucky," you call and he turns back to look at you. "Be safe."

"You don't need to worry about me sweetheart," he says with a wide grin as he starts the bike.

"I'm not," you mumble to yourself when he waves over his shoulder at you.

Covering your mouth, you hide a yawn then lean forward to stretch before laying back down on the couch. You pick up your phone, 1:32 am. Letting out a little groan, you place it back on the coffee table and try to focus on the end of the movie.

There's only fifteen minutes left, you think, then I'm going right to bed. Unless he's still not home yet. No, no, I'm not staying up just because he's still out at his 'work thing', whatever that means. This is stupid, I've been trying to watch this movie for weeks, it has nothing to do with Bucky, you argue with yourself about why you can't seem to go to sleep despite being absolutely exhausted.

You sigh deeply, holding the small pillow tightly against your chest as you yawn again when you finally hear Bucky's front door opening. Grabbing your phone, you can't help but open the camera app and check the video from moments ago. A wave of relief washes over you when you see him unlocking his door then pausing as he smiles and gives your camera a little wave.

You giggle and turn off the movie, you'll need to rewatch the last half hour tomorrow but right now it's time to go to sleep.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did ❤️❤️ Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[nahoney22]

Congrats on the followers id yet again like to throw in another request please?

growing up I had difficult with reading or learning to read in general. I was wondering if you could come up with a slight angsty and fluffy fic of tech trying to teach reader (fem) to read? Maybe he’s not patient, makes a very tech-like comment that reader overhears that upsets her which sucks because she really likes tech? ❤️ thank u ☺️

🌊 Reading Between the Lines

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 6.1k

🫧 Plot: When Tech finds out you’re unable to read, he makes it his job to teach you. But after a comment to Echo, you think maybe he’s not the teacher for you.

🫧 Warnings: Safe for work, fluff and angst. Female reader, reader is unable to read. Tech makes accidental inconsiderate comments, comfort, play fighting, omega playing match maker, idiots in love trope, first kiss, reconciliation.

🫧: authors note: thank you @forbiddenwaves for this request and the kind words. Thanks for messaging me so we can work on this togther too. Enjoy 🤍

“Now, attempt the next word.”

You stared down at the datapad, the symbols swimming on the screen under the shadow of Tech’s tall frame. The sun beat down on your shoulders, and you bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to get this one wrong.

“Erm…”

“That is incorrect,” he stated before you could even finish.

Your brows furrowed. “I haven’t given you an answer yet,” you muttered, sharper than you intended. “It’s… con… cot…”

“Corellia,” Omega suddenly answered cheerfully from your other side as she bounds over.

You slumped with a groan, just as Tech gave a frustrated exhale.

“Omega,” he said, tone reproachful, “if you provide the answer, she will not learn.”

Omega winced, looking between the two of you with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry,” she said, eyes softening as they met yours.

“It’s alright,” you sighed in defeat. “I think I’m done for today. Besides, we’ve got to help the locals soon. That is why we’re on this rock after all.”

Tech folded his arms across his chest, expression unreadable behind his goggles. “We’ve scarcely covered anything of substance.”

“It’s been almost two hours,” you pointed out, rising from the crate you’d been sitting on, legs stiff. You turned to face him, half your features obscured by the harsh sunlight. “I need a break.”

He didn’t argue, but the way he took the datapad back from your hands with just a bit too much stiffness told you he wasn’t thrilled. “Very well. We’ll resume this evening.” Then, turning to Omega: “And I would appreciate no further interruptions.”

She nodded silently.

As Tech strode toward the ship’s gangplank, Omega reached for your hand, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. “Hey, you got the first two letters right. That’s progress!”

From halfway up the ramp, Tech’s voice floated back over his shoulder. “Technically, it is not. Especially considering we’ve made no discernible advancement in two full rotations. And the fact that we just returned from a mission on Corellia should have made that word obvious.”

Then he disappeared into the ship.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Not unless you wanted to cry out of embarrassment.

Tech didn’t mean to be cruel because that isn’t in his nature. But he didn’t realise how much weight his words carried and how easily they upset you.

Omega was still watching you, lips pressed into a tight, worried line. “You’ll get there,” she said gently. “It takes time, that’s all.”

You exhaled slowly, wiping the back of your neck, now sticky with sweat and heat. “Maybe. But right now… it’s not looking great.”

It had been Tech’s idea to take on the responsibility of teaching you like it was a personal mission ever since the squad had learned that reading Basic wasn’t just a struggle for you, but a near impossibility.

Though, Wrecker and Echo did tell you that they were impressed since it never hindered any mission and they never noticed it being an issue for you.

At first, you were excited. One being that you could finally be able to read a sentence clearly for once by being taught by a complete brain-whizz and two, getting to spend some one on one time with Tech. Because well… you liked him. A lot. You had welcomed the chance to be near him, maybe even impress him.

But now? Now you just felt like dead weight.

These lessons had been going on for a while now and every time you thought you were making progress, he corrected you. When you think you have gotten the hang of it, your hope is snapped like a thin wire. And even though his tone was rarely harsh, the impact landed just the same.

You weren’t sure how much more of it you could take before you self imploded.

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When a few hours had passed and you were covered in dried mud, scraped hands and aching shoulders. Just a small testament to the day’s work. The mudslide had hit the outskirts of the local settlement hard. Homes had caved in, supplies were lost. You, Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega had been on the ground all afternoon, helping wherever you could.

And for a little while, it had helped. Being useful. Doing something physical. Something that didn’t require datapads or deciphering Tech’s disappointment.

Wanting nothing more than to jump onto the Marauder to have a wash, as you climbed the Marauder’s gangplank with your limbs heavy and clothes still damp, the sound of your name halted you just short of the open doorway.

“She’s trying, Tech,” Echo said from inside, his voice low but firm. “I don’t think you realise how hard this is for her.”

“I am aware,” Tech replied curtly. “But effort without measurable progress doesn’t change the result. If she cannot fathom basic reading material after this long, I fail to see the point in continuing the same method.”

Echo exhaled, clearly trying to keep his patience.

There was a pause, and then Tech added:

“I don’t understand how someone who can’t read was cleared to be in this squad. It’s inefficient.”

You didn’t stay to hear more.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your breath sharp in your throat. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and grabbed a datapad left near the hatch—someone’s, anyone’s—and turned sharply on your heel, boots pounding against the ramp as you vanished.

Inside the Marauder, Echo’s head turned toward the hatch, catching the blur of movement just as it disappeared.

He frowned. “Was that—?”

“Likely Omega,” Tech said without looking up from his datapad.

Echo didn’t answer. He stared at the doorway a moment longer with a small sliver of doubt.

Then he reached over and plucked the datapad from Tech’s hands.

“There’s nothing wrong with the material,” Tech started, instinctively straightening. “It’s relevant—”

Echo held the pad up and squinted at the screen. “You gave her an economics summary on Corellia’s supply line recovery?”

Tech blinked. “It’s context-based learning. The vocabulary is advanced but rooted in familiar scenarios. Planet names, trade metrics…”

Echo cut him off, reading aloud in a dry tone:

‘Blah, blah, blah… Corellia’s industrial sectors yielded a net increase of 17.3% in hyperlane freight throughput.’

He looked at Tech. “You do remember she’s a beginner, right?”

Tech’s jaw twitched. “Comprehension improves when one is challenged. It’s a proven learning model.”

Echo just stared at him, then gave a slow, knowing smile. “Right. You’re not making it harder so you get more time alone with her or anything.”

Tech shot him a glance. “That’s not what this is.”

“Mm-hmm.” Echo folded his arms. “Just a coincidence you give her material most cadets wouldn’t see until advanced training. And you happen to offer to teach it… one-on-one.”

Tech didn’t answer. Didn’t rise to the bait. But he also didn’t correct him.

You wandered until the forest opened up into a small clearing just outside the village, where a fallen tree had settled along the edge like a broken bench. The air was still, heavy with the scent of wet ground and crushed foliage. You dropped onto the moss-covered trunk, the datapad still clutched in your hand.

For a moment, you just stared at it—its dull, lifeless screen reflecting your muddied reflection back at you. You pressed the activation switch, but the interface was already unlocked. Swiping clumsily, you tried to navigate to something, anything. Maybe one of those Corellian reports Tech was so convinced would teach you context. But the layout made no sense.

Your thumb hovered. You tapped wrong. Backed out. Tried again.

Nothing worked.

And with every failure, that old, tight feeling started rising in your throat like a scream.

Calm down. It’s just a datapad. It’s fine.

But your hands were shaking now, the letters blurring into meaningless shapes.

You grit your teeth, jabbed the screen once more and when it brought up another menu you didn’t know, you let out a rough breath and flung the datapad down into the grass with a thud.

Slumping off the log, you slid to the ground and pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your forehead against them. You didn’t cry. Not really. But your eyes stung. Your chest ached. You were so tired of trying. So tired of hoping and for what? To be called inefficient?

Minutes passed. Then, from somewhere beyond the trees, you heard your name being called.

Your stomach twisted. You knew that voice.

You inhaled slowly through your nose, forcing down the storm of frustration that still bubbled beneath your ribs. You didn’t want to talk to him but you figured that avoiding him now would only make things worse.

“I’m over here, Tech,” you called out, keeping your voice level.

He appeared between the trees moments later, his eyes scanned the clearing until they landed on you, standing now beside the log.

“You wandered off,” he observed plainly. “Omega was not certain where you’d gone.”

“I needed some air,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual.

He took a step closer. “Are you ready for your lesson?”

Your gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m… I don’t want to do another one today.”

Tech blinked, thumb pressing beneath his chin in that thoughtful way he always did when evaluating something... or someone. “Lack of practice results in insufficient performance.”

“Yeah, I get it.” You rubbed your arm, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not in the mood to do anything else today. I’m… tired.”

He studied you, his brow furrowing faintly. “I suppose that is reasonable. You were engaged in extensive manual labor for most of the day. Very well. We will resume tomorrow.”

He turned to go but you spoke up, “I don’t want to do it tomorrow either.”

He paused mid-step, looking over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised. “And why are you putting off your studies?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You wanted to tell him. Wanted to throw his words back at him, cut him open like he’d done to you without even knowing. But what was the point?

“I just need a break,” you said instead, keeping your voice even as you play with your fingers.

“We have plenty of free time to continue—”

“I said I wanted a break, Tech,” you snapped, your arms folding tightly across your chest. Your shoulders stiffened as every nerve seemed to buzz.

He blinked again, head tilting slightly. “Your tone suggests there is something else bothering you.”

You looked away, lips tight. “Or someone,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“I’m going for a wash,” you said instead, ducking down and snatching up the datapad you’d discarded. You moved to step over the fallen log and held it out to him without looking.

He took it from your hand, confusion still etched into his features. “Were you just using this?”

You let out a tired sigh. “Tried to.”

The next morning passed slowly, the heat thick and relentless even in the early hours. Yourself and the others helped out in the village again —carrying supplies, sorting debris, fetching water—but your heart wasn’t in it today. Your hands worked on muscle memory whilst your mind is elsewhere.

You’d been quiet. Too quiet, apparently because Omega had noticed.

You were sitting beneath a large tree at the edge of the village, the sun flickering through its canopy, offering shade as a gentle breeze stirred the leaves. You were tracing random patterns into the dust with the toe of your boot when Omega plopped down beside you.

She offered a bright smile, hugging her knees to her chest. “Feels nice to be helping people, huh?”

You nodded in reply, smiling faintly. “Yeah.”

She watched you for a moment, rocking slightly as she stared out at the village. “You seem kinda quiet today.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just tired.”

Omega leaned her shoulder into yours, playfully and soft. “You didn’t even complain when Wrecker gave you that heavy crate. That’s how I really knew something was up.”

That got a small chuckle out of you.

She tilted her head. “You and Tech didn’t do your lesson this morning.”

You grimaced before you could stop yourself. “I don’t want to do them anymore.”

Her brows knitted. “Why not? You were doing good yesterday. You almost had Corellia right!”

You stared down at your hands, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt. “I just… I don’t think I can learn from him.”

Omega blinked, surprised. “Did you tell him that?”

You gave a little shrug, not looking at her. “Not really.”

She fell silent for a moment, thinking. Then, in a hopeful voice, she offered, “Maybe I could help?”

You looked up at her, surprised. “You?”

She nodded eagerly. “Why not? You already got the first letters down before I ruined it yesterday.” She says, “And I bet I could make it more fun than Tech.”

You hesitated at first but truthfully, it was the first time since yesterday you didn’t feel like a complete failure. Omega’s eyes were wide with hope and something that felt a lot like belief.

You smiled, a little uncertain, but it reached your eyes. “Alright. Let’s try it.”

“Great! Stay here!” She shot to her feet before you could ask what she needed.

You expected her to run into the Marauder for a datapad but instead, she ducked underneath the ship’s hull and rummaged around in the loose red soil.

A moment later, she returned triumphantly holding a thick, crooked stick like it was a prized trophy.

“No screens today,” she grinned, “just dirt!”

She crouched low beside you, and with one sweep of her hand, cleared a wide patch of dust between you. Then, with careful, deliberate strokes, she began to write out the alphabet.

“You ready?” she asked, smiling up at you.

You nodded and leaned in beside her, cross-legged.

“Okay. Repeat after me.” She tapped each letter as she said it aloud, slow and clear:

“A… B… C…”

You followed, stumbling a few times, but she didn’t mind. She would just start the whole thing over, patient and gentle. You did it again. And again.

And again.

And again….

Then she covered some of the letters with her hand and pointed to a random one. “What’s this one?”

You hesitated. “Uh… F?”

She shook her head. “Try again.”

You frowned, staring at the rest of the row, mentally replaying her voice in your head. “...G?”

“Yes!” She beamed. “Now this one?”

You pointed. “P?”

She giggled. “That’s a Q. Close though!”

With every repetition, you felt something shift. Like you were actually getting the hang of it.

You started getting more right. You hesitated less. By the time you went through the whole alphabet again, she sat back with a triumphant smile.

“Alright,” she grinned, handing you the stick. “Your turn.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I want you to write my name.”

You laughed nervously. “Omega?”

“Yup! Easy, right?”

“Uh… sure.” You crouched again, stick poised awkwardly in your hand. “Okay… O.”

“Perfect!”

“...M.”

She paused. “Hmm…”

You glanced up as she was pulling a face, lips squished to the side with one eyebrow raised. A funny way to say ‘try again’ without being harsh.

You looked back at the row of letters, furrowing your brow. “Wait… no. That’s N. This is M.”

You corrected yourself and carved it into the dirt.

“Nice!” she beamed. “Keep going!”

It took a few minutes, a few wrong turns, but eventually, you finished all five letters.

“O-M-E-G-A.”

She stared at the letters in the dirt, then at you with wide-eyed glee.

“You did it!”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Not forced. Not faked. Just real, honest pride.

“Yeah,” you whisper, sitting back. “Guess I did.”

Over the next few days, Tech noticed a pattern.

Every time he approached you about resuming your lessons, you deflected. A quick, polite excuse here. A firm “not today” there. Sometimes you didn’t even look at him when you said it.

At first, he chalked it up to fatigue. You’d been helping the villagers every day; moving debris, rebuilding homes, lifting spirits. But then he started noticing something else.

You were still learning. Just not with him.

From a distance, he saw you under the same wide tree where Omega first brought the stick and drew the letters in the dirt. She was sitting beside you, her arms moving in animated gestures as she pointed at something in the soil. You were watching her, laughing. Your smile was so bright it nearly startled him.

He tilted his head, hands folded behind his back as he watched the exchange from across the field. You used to smile during his lessons too. The first day, you’d grinned when you got your first word right.

He remembered it well.

In fact… he had the recording saved. Privately.

He’d downloaded the footage from his goggles later that night, under the guise of reviewing your reading pattern. But really, he’d wanted to see your smile again. The way your eyes lit up, the little wrinkle in your nose when you laughed.

But slowly, through each lesson, that smile faded. Replaced by hesitation. Then frustration. Then silence.

And now you were smiling again. Just not at him.

That afternoon, while you were away with Hunter and Echo, Tech approached Omega, who was fiddling with the stabiliser plate under the Marauder’s wing.

“May I speak with you for a moment?”

Omega blinked up at him, wiping a bit of grease from her cheek. “Sure!”

He adjusted his goggles. “It’s about her… reading progress. Has she been improving?”

Omega lit up. “Oh yeah! She’s doing so well. She even wrote my name in the dirt without help the other day!”

He nodded slowly, filing away the information. “I see. That is… impressive.”

Omega tilted her head then shrugged. “She said she might try reading a ration label next.”

Tech blinked. “Ration labels?”

“Yep! Said she wants to know what she’s eating before Wrecker makes her try it.” She giggled, then paused. “Why? You don’t think she can learn from me?”

“I did not say that,” he replied quickly, perhaps a bit too stiffly. “I merely did not know what… qualities you might offer that I lacked.”

Omega gave him a long look, then shrugged. “I guess I’m just more fun than you.”

Tech frowned. “Most likely.”

She smirked, but then the teasing faded, and she turned more serious. “She didn’t stop lessons with you because she doesn’t want to learn. She just… got upset.”

Tech’s brows drew together. “Upset? With me?”

Omega nodded, biting her lip. “She told me that she heard something. Well, she overheard you. You were on the ship talking to Echo about her.”

Tech’s mind reeled back. He’d said many things to Echo over the course of those conversations—some blunt, some logical, most private. “I did not say anything bad.”

Omega gave him a tight look. “You told me that she heard you say that it was ‘inefficient’ for her to be on the team because she couldn’t read.”

Tech opened his mouth, paused, then exhaled sharply.

“Ah,” he said at last. Perhaps that came out harsher than he intended.

He hadn’t yelled at you. He hadn’t scolded you. He never once implied you weren’t trying. But now, playing back through someone else’s voice, his words sounded callous.

Omega watched his face, seeing the moment it clicked.

“If it makes you feel better,” Omega started softly, “She doesn’t think you meant it, but it still hurt her. That’s why she’s been sad.”

Tech’s voice was quiet. “I see.”

Omega studied him for a beat. “You really didn’t mean it?”

He hesitated but only for a moment. “No,” he said sincerely. “I believe I was frustrated with myself. Not her. And the lesson was overly advanced. Echo pointed that out.”

Tech sighed through his nose, adjusting his gloves. “I believe I may have allowed my feelings to affect my judgment.”

Omega looks startled. “Your feelings?” She teased.

He looked away. “It is irrelevant.”

But Omega was already grinning. “You like her.”

He adjusted his goggles again, silent but not dismissive.

“I knew it.”

Tech rolled his eyes but then a thought clicked. “Did she inform you of anything else she heard? Possibly regarding my… feelings?”

Omega shook her head, “Nope, but maybe you should speak to her about that to her face.”

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

You sat by the old log again, your knees tucked up loosely and your fingers picking at a loose thread on your pants. The sun had started to shift, casting longer shadows across the clearing. Omega was supposed to meet you soon and today's lesson would be under the trees for a change of scenery. Actually she was the one who suggested it, thinking you might like some quiet after spending so much time helping the villagers.

A twig snapped in the distance, and you smiled softly. "Omega?" you called, turning your head toward the sound.

But when the figure stepped through the trees, your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t Omega. It was Tech.

He moved towards you, eyes scanning the area until they landed on you. His expression was neutral and composed. Then, you swear that his gaze softened.

You scrambled to your feet, trying to act casual even as your stomach twisted. “Oh—uh, is Hunter looking for me? Do I need to head back to the village?”

Tech shook his head, stopping a few feet from you. “No. The situation there is under control. Echo and Wrecker are assisting, and Omega is occupied with another matter.”

You hesitated. “…So… you’re here instead of her?”

“Yes,” he said plainly. “I thought it appropriate that we talk, also.”

Your stomach sank a little, and you dropped your gaze to your boots, toeing the dirt. “I, um… I’m sorry I didn’t come and tell you I was dropping your lessons.”

“There is no need to apologise,” he replied, his voice measured but… gentler than you expected. “In retrospect, I recognise that my methods were poorly suited to your learning stage. I attempted to teach you material that was far too advanced, and for that, I take full responsibility.”

You looked up slowly, your throat a little tight. “I don’t think I’m ready now either,” you admitted, your voice low.

“That’s perfectly alright,” Tech said simply. “I did not come to resume formal instruction. I only wish to observe what Omega has already taught you.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. His shoulders weren’t tense, and there was no datapad in his hands. He looked reasonably patient which wasn’t what you had been used to.

You still hesitated. But then, he smiled and Maker, your knees almost crumbled beneath you. Curse him for being annoyingly adorable.

“S-sure,” you stammered eventually, barely managing a nod.

He stepped forward and sat beside the log without another word, resting his arms on his knees. You sat back down with him and instinctively held your hand out, ready to ask for the datapad, but Tech gently shook his head.

“Omega mentioned that using the ground has helped you more visually. I see no reason to change a method that has been working.”

You blinked at him, genuinely surprised. “You’re… being very lenient.”

“I’m being adaptable,” he corrected, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile again.

You couldn’t help but return a small one of your own. “Alright… what would you like me to do?”

Tech reached into one of his belt pouches and pulled out a long, clean stick—clearly chosen specifically for this.

“Please write out the basic alphabet for me,” he said, offering it to you.

You took it and then you turned toward the dirt, drew a steadying breath, before lowering the stick.

Crouched beside the alphabet you'd just drawn in the dirt, Tech had his hands loosely clasped together. He said nothing as you finished the last letter, and though a part of you itched for his input, he simply observed in silence.

You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

After a moment, he reached into one of his belt pouches again and carefully pulled out a folded stack of flimsi. “Omega prepared some simple quotes,” he explained. “Short phrases. Easier to process at this stage than full documents.”

He handed them over, and you took them carefully, the thin sheets a little crinkled at the edges from being carried around. You glanced down.

The first said: “Wrecker is loud.”

You gave a small huff through your nose.

The second: “Hunter smells like the forest.”

You smiled faintly. You could hear Omega’s voice in your head. As you read them out, slowly but surely, you see Tech nodding beside you with each word you get right.

The third said: “The moon is big.”

Tech, predictably, cleared his throat. “Technically, that is a misleading generalisation. There are thousands of celestial bodies classified as moons, and their size varies depending on the system. Some are smaller than a standard transport—”

You didn’t look up, but your smile widened all the same. You could practically feel the lecture coming.

You kept reading, fumbling only on a couple of the trickier words. The pace was slow, but steady. You were halfway through the last sheet when Tech said, quite suddenly:

“I’m impressed.”

You paused.

Your eyes stayed on the flimsi, but your expression changed. His voice had been gentle, even sincere—but for some reason… it didn’t land the way it used to. Not like before, when any praise from Tech would have lit you up inside.

You slowly lowered the flimsi. “You don’t have to lie to me,” you murmured.

Tech tilted his head slightly, brows drawing together. “I am not lying. I am genuinely impressed by how quickly you’ve picked up the basics. Your progress is tangible.”

But still, you didn’t look up. The compliment just didn’t feel real. Or maybe it felt too late.

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

“It has come to my attention,” he begins carefully, “that you may have overheard a conversation I had with Echo… a few days ago.”

You went still. Your grip on the flimsi tightened slightly. It was not something you wanted to talk about but supposedly getting it out in the open was better than letting it tear you up inside. And judging by Tech’s quieter approach, it was tearing him up too.

You gave a single nod, still not meeting his gaze. “I don’t want to be inefficient to you.”

Tech didn’t respond right away.

Instead, you felt the flimsi gently slip from your hand. He set them then shifted, turning his body slightly more toward you.

You let out a slight exhale when you felt his hand brush against your wrist. Just a light, uncertain touch that was enough to draw your attention.

You turned toward him slowly, sitting up straighter.

“Your strength,” he utters quietly, “has never been in what you already know… but in how determined you are to learn. That’s something even I struggle with.”

You stared at him, lips parted slightly. Your cheeks prickled with heat at the unexpected praise. He didn’t sound like he was saying it just to fix things, he genuinely meant it. “And I am sorry for what you heard. I often say things without thinking of the possible repercussions.

“…Thank you,” you reply softly, voice barely louder than the breeze through the trees.

Tech’s hand withdrew from your wrist, but his gaze lingered, as if searching your expression for more unspoken feelings. After a moment, he cleared his throat gently and adjusted his posture.

“Would you like to resume your lessons with me?” he asked.

You looked at him, your heart still thudding a little too hard. But this time, the words came easily, bright with something lighter than before.

“Yes,” you say quickly, with more eagerness than you meant to let on. “I—I’d like that.”

A flicker of something passed over Tech’s face. Maybe relief. He reached beside him and picked up the remaining flimsis from the small stack, selecting a fresh one before handing it over to you.

“Then let us continue,” he said, voice returning to that familiar cadence you knew; firm, but encouraging.

You straightened up and took the flimsi with both hands, your eyes scanning the first line.

“Wrecker… eats… all… the rations.”

Tech gave a soft snort. “That one may be based on an actual occurrence.”

You smiled and read on. The next was simple too, and the one after that. Occasionally, you stumbled. When you did, Tech didn’t chide—he simply leaned in, pointing softly to the word with a gloved fingertip, his voice low and patient.

“Try this syllable first—yes, exactly. Now the next.”

You did your best to focus on the letters but it was difficult. When he leaned that close, all cognitive thinking was out of the window. His shoulder brushed yours now and then and you could smell the faint metallic tang of his gear, mixed with the sharp scent of oil and a tinge of light sweat. However there was something else entirely him. Every time he moved nearer, your stomach fluttered like a startled flock of birds.

You were just getting into a good rhythm when you picked up the next flimsi from the pile. you could tell even before you started reading that this one was Omega’s doing.

Still, you gave it your best shot.

“Tech… has… fe-…”

You frowned, squinting at the next letters.

“Fe-el… fe-lin… no—”

Your voice trailed off as Tech suddenly reached forward and plucked the flimsi right from your hands, holding it out of view with alarmingly fast reflexes.

“That one,” he said stiffly, “was a mistake. Omega must have included it by error.”

You blinked at him. “I was just starting to get it. I saw both our names.”

He faltered. “Yes, well. She must have been… testing your recognition skills.”

Your frown deepened as you leaned slightly, trying to peer around his shoulder. “What did it say? I recognised ‘Tech’ and my name. But not the rest.”

He looked mildly horrified, holding the flimsi higher as if you might leap up and grab it. “It was… structurally inconsistent.”

“…With what?”

“With the lesson plan.”

You raised an eyebrow, slowly. “So it didn’t not say something?”

Tech cleared his throat, looking up at the sky as though he might find a convenient distraction there. “We should return to the prior reading. I believe you were progressing well.”

Your lips twitched. Despite the warm burn in your cheeks and the racing questions spinning in your head, a flicker of amusement bloomed in your chest. Because Tech was very clearly flustered.

And for once, you weren’t the only one stumbling over your words.

“I believe we should return to the lesson,” Tech resumes, voice slightly higher than usual as a flush creeps up his neck.

You bit your tongue on a grin, letting him have the diversion. For now.

“Fine. But I’ve been struggling with something.”

Tech adjusted his goggles, “Yes?”

“It’s the ‘oo’ sounds,” you said, fiddling with the stick in your hand. “Like… how do I know if it’s pronounced like in ‘book’ or ‘moon’? They look the same to me.”

“Ah,” Tech said, pleased to be back in familiar territory. “That is a very common challenge, even for native speakers of Basic. It is primarily about memorisation, but there are contextual cues…”

He gestured as he spoke, one hand drawing invisible words in the air, the other occasionally flicking toward the dusty alphabet he'd helped you draw earlier. His brow creased adorably in concentration, and it was then that you realised you’d stopped listening to the explanation. Completely.

You were watching him . Watching the way he talked, how his whole body became animated with his words.

It hit you all at once. That same warm flutter you’d felt during your very first lesson with him. When it was just you, and him, and a thousand ways he accidentally made your heart beat faster.

“Tech,” you cut in suddenly, blinking yourself back to focus. “What did Omega write?”

His hand froze mid-gesture. Slowly, his eyes widened behind his goggles. “I… do not believe that is relevant to the lesson.”

Your eyes narrowed with a teasing smirk. “That wasn’t a no.”

He shuffled slightly, edging away as if he was guilty of something.

That was all the confirmation you needed.

You lunged.

He yelped in a surprised sort of way as you dove over his lap, trying to reach the hidden flimsi. “This is not going to help with your literacy!” he protested, trying to fend you off with one arm as he reached behind him with the other.

“Oh, I think it might,” you laughed breathlessly, dodging his elbow and scrambling after the paper. “Consider it a very interactive learning experience!”

“I must protest—!” he began, but you’d already tangled yourself half across him, your fingers grazing the edge of the flimsi just before—

He rolled.

One quick movement and your world flipped, quite literally. Your back presses into the warm ground as he pinned you there. Tech hovered over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other knocking the flimsi just out of reach again.

You stilled.

He stilled.

Both of you froze in the silence that followed, hearts pounding. It wasn't from the mock wrestling, but from the fact that now Tech was so close. His goggles were slightly askew, and the wild fluster in his expression was undeniable.

Neither of you spoke. Not at first. Your hands were still tangled in the folds of his armour, his knee pressing into the dirt beside your hip, his weight above you holding you firmly in place.

“…This is also not helping with your literacy,” he said finally.

“I really didn’t mean to upset you,” he then speaks quietly, breath catching halfway through.

Your own voice was soft when you answered. “It’s okay. I’ve had two really good teachers.”

The wind picked up gently, brushing strands of hair across your face, and carrying with it the flimsis that had been scattered beside the log. You didn’t even notice them dancing away at first, neither of you willing to look anywhere else but at each other.

Your gaze broke from his however when a pale scrap fluttered to the ground just beside your hip, its scrawled ink catching your eye.

And you read it aloud before you could think twice.

“‘Tech has feelings… for…’” you read slowly, your breath catching, “f-for… y-you.”

Silence followed.

Tech didn’t speak.

Didn’t even correct your pronunciation.

Instead, his eyes dropped from yours, and you watched as the heat crept up his neck, blooming across his ears. He cleared his throat, the motion stiff and unconvincing. “That… appears to be the one Omega wrote.”

Your heart thudded. You didn’t know what to do at first or what to say. You had dreamed of hearing those words, but somehow reading them yourself felt like a different kind of victory.

Slowly, you reached for the hand he’d braced beside your head, your fingers brushing his. There was hesitation in your touch, and something in it made him glance up, brows drawn.

“I have feelings for you too,” you said softly, carried on a nervous breath.

He stared at you with those beautiful wide eyes, clearly stunned. “You… do?”

A warm laugh slipped out of you. “I do.”

And before you could say anything else, before you could even process the shift in his gaze, Tech slid an arm around your back and pulled you upright with unexpected, fluid strength.

You gasped as you landed squarely in his lap, eyes wide, your hands flying instinctively to his shoulders. “Tech!” you squeaked.

But his hands found your waist, firm but gentle, grounding you again.

He was impossibly close now. Goggles still a little wonky, breathing slightly elevated. “I believe,” he starts softly, “I no longer require you to read aloud whether I may kiss you.”

A grin tugged at your lips, heart hammering as your fingers brushed the curve of his cheek and then carefully fixing his goggles. “Well,” you murmured, barely more than a breath, “I don’t mind at all.”

The kiss met you halfway, tentative for a moment, then deepening with quiet certainty. His lips were soft, tasting of sunlight and stored-up longing, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck like you were something rare, fragile and cherished.

And as the trees whispered overhead and a forgotten scrap of flimsi fluttered past your boots, all thoughts of lessons, of hesitation, of past hurt all melted away.

The lesson was over.

But something else had only just begun

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez

[callsign-rogueone]

a fair trade

aaric graycastle / cam tauri x reader (sunny!!!!) words: 1.2k 🏷: progressing through the beginning of IF! this one has a lot of transitions and jumps between scenes, which is my least favorite thing ever, and a major reason why it took so long, but I wanted to show these two interacting every day and slowly becoming friends, so here ya go! the next chapter will be so much better and much longer, I promise 🥺

It’s incredibly strange to be standing in this corner of the gym again, in the same spot where Nadine had died, and Violet nearly had too, avenging her. You’d never seen that much blood before in your life – but now it’s gone without a trace. Had someone knelt there last night and scrubbed it away, or had it been erased with magic? Which option is worse? 

Aaric appears at your side, speaking softly so as not to startle you. “You’re fast, and you’re smart, but at some point you’re going to have to throw some punches,” he prods. 

That’s fair. You’re the only one of the group who hadn’t made any offensive moves in your assessment match, and the last to find a partner to fight with today. 

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. “I’ve been dreading that part, honestly.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got. Just a basic stance, first.”

You nod, settling into a position that looks something like what you’d seen Imogen do earlier — she’s probably a good bet to copy.

He shakes his head. “Your feet need to be farther apart. And if you tuck your thumb in like that, you’re going to break it. Here.”

He steps forward and adjusts your fist — not missing your inhale of discomfort as his thumb presses against the swollen joint of your ring finger. He pulls back immediately, offering an apology and adjusting the technique. “Sorry. You should be fine to just keep it loose like that, as long as you adjust the impact point — what part of your fist is going to hit your target."

Another nod.

"If you just do... this," he explains, carefully reaching out to rotate your wrist to the side, careful not to put any pressure on the bandage there, "then you can make an impact with your pointer and middle finger. It won't be as effective, but it'll work until your hand heals."

Realistically, it won't — it hasn't shown much improvement since March, and the burn doesn’t help things either — but he doesn't need to know that.

"Don't worry about it too much," he offers, sensing your apprehension. "You’ve got more strength in your legs, anyway.” 

———

Being assigned breakfast duty means fewer hours of sleep, but you’re used to being up this early, anyway – you’d be going to bed at this hour, if you’d stayed in Calldyr City, just dragging yourself into the bathing chambers to hose off the sticky feeling of the ale you’d been serving, and the unwanted attention you’d been paid.

Someone is waiting for you outside the girls’ dorms; Aaric. He looks a little shy, shifting his weight awkwardly as he speaks – at a whisper, considerate of those who have been afforded the precious extra time to rest. “I saw you got breakfast duty, too, so…”

You give him a warm smile. “Glad to have a familiar face around. Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

It’s evident that he hadn’t thought this part through. “No, actually. But it can’t be far from the mess hall, right?”

You just hum in reply, nodding down the hallway. “Good place to start.”

He’s right – there’s a little door you hadn’t noticed by the serving line, propped open for you. You can already smell the bread baking, hear the pleasant bustle of a fully staffed kitchen. Not too different from home.

....

You turn to grab another potato, your eyes catching on the one Aaric is holding -- it's mangled, cut in odd places, yet somehow still holding onto half of its skin despite him having hacked at it for a good two minutes.

So there is one thing Aaric Graycastle doesn't excel at, after all -- one thing you could help him with. But you’ve never been the type to offer unsolicited advice.

Aaric is nice, though, and he’d given you so much advice on fighting, so he probably won’t be offended if you return the favor. It's a fair trade, or close to it. Still, you choose your words carefully. “Have you ever peeled a potato before?”

“Once,” he answers, a slight blush on his cheeks. 

You cross over to his side of the table, grabbing one yourself along with a short knife. “You’re digging in too hard, and taking the meat along with it. You need to hold it more flat, and scrape, to take off just the skin. Like that,” you say with a smile, finishing yours and adding it to the bowl.

“How are you so good at this?”

“Years of practice,” you answer. “My best friend is — was —  a kitchen maid. I used to sneak downstairs to help her sometimes.”

“For once you’re done with those,” the cook announces, dropping a crate onto the end of the table with a thud. “Cored and quartered.”

“Whoa.”

“That is a lot of strawberries,” he agrees.

“It must have cost a fortune.”

His head tilts. There had always been strawberries, and a variety of other fruit laid out for every breakfast, more than they’d ever eat, but he’d never considered the cost, or what became of the leftovers. 

Thankfully you continue the conversation for him, a fondness in your eyes. “We bought a whole pound of them for my birthday once. We were going to try to make them last, but they were gone by dinnertime.”

He just offers you a smile and a soft laugh, returning his attention to the vegetables.

———

“I am a god among men,” Ridoc announces, grinning from ear to ear from where he kneels over Sawyer, the executive officer pinned underneath him in what looks like a very uncomfortable position.

“Yeah, and I’m the next queen of Navarre,” you quip over your shoulder. “Saying it doesn’t make it true.”

Aaric’s heart nearly stops. He can’t help but imagine you dressed in the fine silks of the royal court, bejeweled and shining, crowned in gold, seated beside him and Halden at his father’s dinner table — a beautiful but miserable existence.

This is better. This feels right, seeing you in the sleek black of the rider’s quadrant instead of yards of stiff brocade, being able to hear you laugh and joke like this rather than sitting quietly for the rest of your days like an ornamental vase.

Your boot connecting with his stomach and his back hitting the floor snap him out of his daydream, and knock the breath from his lungs.

Your eyes widen as you realize what you’ve done. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he wheezes, cheeks reddening as he takes your outstretched hands and lets you haul him to his feet — it takes a considerable amount of strength. “That was good.”

You can’t help but smile a little about your small victory, the only time you’ve bested anyone in combat, though you know he was definitely going easy on you. “Maybe one of these days, I’ll really win,” you laugh. 

He sounds considerably less winded as he speaks again. “We’ll get you there.”

You blink at the words he chose – not you’ll get there, but we. He’s invested in your success. That’s the squad mentality, you suppose. It’s odd, but not unpleasant. 

———

“I didn’t even know I had muscles in some of these places,” you groan, folding your arms on the table and resting your head on them. 

Visia pats your shoulder gently. “That’s good – it means they’re growing.”

Your response is muffled, but universally understood by the rest of the group, who are all similarly exhausted after a full week of Rhiannon’s extra training sessions. 

All except Aaric. “Eat,” he encourages. “It’ll help.”

[noyasmashing]

hellooo, i don't know if you do requests but ive been REALLY wanting to see this fiction come to life:

frat boy suna x nerd reader. they meet at a frat party when reader joins the blunt rotation going on. as things progress, suna enexpectedly gets the best sex he's ever had after being ridden on by the reader for the first time.

me oh my, this idea has me foaming at the mouth, thank you for the request ;3

Dom!reader x Sub! Suna

CW: p in v sex, unprotected sex, smoking and alcohol, degrading (slut is used a lot), cream pie, nudes?? (reader takes a pic of suna at the end)

The bass thumped through the air, mingling with the buzz of voices and laughter. Amidst the lively crowd, you stood slightly out of place, clutching your drink and feeling a bit overwhelmed by the pulsating energy around you. As a dedicated nerd and bookworm, social gatherings like this were definitely outside your comfort zone.

You watched from a distance as a group of slightly familiar college kids passed around a joint, their laughter echoing over the music. One of your many tipsy friends giggled noticing your stare. Firmly gripping your wrist as a smile tugged at her lips, “You want a hit?” She asked playfully, forcing to two of you to the small group gathered by the sofa.

“Heyyy, do you guys mind if we join?” She asked without a hint of nervousness, while you stood there, rather awkwardly.

One of the well known Miya twins immediately began flirting with your friend making you scoff. Looking at the sea of faces, one of the guys, with a mop of dark hair who you could have sworn was on the volleyball team caught your eye.

"Come on, [Name], loosen up and take a puff!" your friend encouraged, nudging you forward. Taking the half-smoked roll into your hand and feeling its warmth, you gently pressed it to your lips and sucked in.

After inhaling deeply, you briefly shut your eyes to savor the drugs effects before reopening them to meet those familiar yellow ones through your lengthy lashes. After passing the joint to the random person next to you, Suna spoke up in his usual monotone voice.

"I haven't seen you around before. You new here?" His eyes held a hint of curiosity as he glanced at you. You shook your head,

"Nah, I'm just don’t see the fun in parties," you replied, a smile forming on your lips, but it's not the usual grin Suna witnesses on the faces of the girls he typically charms. It's the type of smile he recognizes on the court, one that spells trouble.

"I'm Suna. And who might you be, baby?" he introduced himself, switching to his typical flirty voice - the one he reserves for girls. It's a tone that never fails to drive them wild and have them begging for him to fuck them in a matter of seconds.

But you, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes at his rather forward question, tipping your head back to finish off your drink before wandering off, hopefully to find something better to do.

You glanced over to see your friend practically making out with Osamu, already feeling ready to head home since you had plenty of homework to finish. As you put on your jacket and headed towards the door, you suddenly came face to face with the familiar dark-haired boy.

"Ready to leave, baby?" he asked, his well-built figure leaning towards you. You couldn't help but let out a laugh, a faint blush appearing on his handsome face.

"Why would I ever let you near me with that over used, excuse for a dick? I have no interest in dirty, worthless sluts like you."

"What did you just call me?" However, his reply lacked any form of retaliation. In fact, he sounded rather turned on.

You flash that menacing smile once more, leaning in closer so he could catch a whiff of your strawberry perfume. Slowly and deliberately, you repeat your words to him,

"Dirty. Worthless. Slut."

You tried to blame it on the weed, you really did, but you knew one hit couldn't have caused this. You found yourself sitting on his meaty thighs, his sweaty palms gripping your waist tightly.

Your lips crashed against his, his tongue exploring your mouth eagerly. Breaking away for a moment, he panted heavily while you smirked down at him.

"You're such a slut, Rin. Are you really going to hook up with someone you just met?" You scolded seductively. The heat in the room seemed to swell, making the atmosphere even more charged.

Despite your harsh words, Suna's body reacted to your degradation, thrusting up for more friction. He had been with countless women before, he watched squirm on his cock, and it bored him. He wanted something more, you were a challenge he couldn't resist.

You laughed at his pitiful state as he whispered, "I want to fuck you so badly." He couldn’t resist the embarrassment, hiding in the crook of your neck, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Maybe I'll let inside me if you're lucky," you teased, feeling his cock throb against you in response. But he wasn't about to give in so easily.

"Your the one who wanted to sit on top of me!" he argued, pulling away to meet your intense gaze. His brash words causing you to clench around nothing.

"Shut up, slut. Good boys don't speak unless I say so, got it?"

Your hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it and unzipping his baggy jeans. You could feel Suna's hips twitch as your hand brushed over his hard erection through his boxer briefs. He knew he must look pathetic, his cock eager and leaking precum, but he was finally turned on for the first time in awhile, and at the mere words you spoke.

Without even bothering to remove your skirt, you pushed your soaking wet panties to the side, ready to take his aching member inside you.

"Wait," he stammered, looking up at your half-lidded, seductive gaze that intensified his desire. "Don't we need..."

Instead of allowing him to finish, you lowered yourself onto his throbbing shaft, causing him to throw his head back with a moan. You attempted to laugh, but it emerged mostly as heavy pants of pleasure.

"Hmm. I don’t know you would worry about that sort of thing, I’m on birth control." you reassured him, though it diminished him slightly. Despite this, he couldn't help but thrust into you eagerly.

You mocked his helpless state, lifting your hips before swiftly driving them back down, fully engulfing him inside you.

"Aww, my little slut, you're getting excited, aren't you?" you taunted, maintaining your aggressive rhythm, which left his knuckles white and the tops of his ears red. He had never imagined his body would respond so intensely to something so humiliating. Yet here he was, already on the brink of climax.

"Y-yours?" he questioned at the possessive nickname, struggling to hold back his pitiful whines.

"That really does turn you on. I can feel you pulsing inside me," you replied, feeling his cock brushing against your tight walls, eliciting moans from both of you.

You placed your hands on his shoulders firmly, gaining more leverage to bounce up and down rapidly.

His face displayed intense pleasure, with half-lidded eyes, an open mouth filled with drool, staring up at you desperately.

Suna's heart raced so fast that he felt lightheaded. His back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure continued to crash over him.

"Let me come inside you, please. I-I want to fill you up," he desperately begged, his voice cracking with shameless desire.

"Alright, whore, I'll spoil you today, but don't get used to it," you coo’d, coaxing his orgasm out with steady, harsh thrusts that had him moaning loudly, oblivious to the people in the next dorm trying to sleep. He was too far gone to care, the sensation of filling you up while being degraded overwhelming him. Tears threatened to fall from his lashes as he whimpered even more.

You, too, felt the coil of pleasure unwind as you rode his trembling cock, releasing sharp grunts atop him.

You let him stay inside you as he recovered from the intense pleasure that overwhelmed him. Quickly you reached for his phone on the bedside table while his eyes remained closed, unaware of your actions. But the flash of his camera made those pretty eyes snap open in surprise as you captured a breathtaking photo of the scene before you.

“Send that to me, kay?”

Maybe parties weren't so bad after all, especially when they ended like this.

[jjwolves]

You know what? Lemme add onto the mythical creature readers and request Ena x a Phoenix Reader! Round out the cats and wolves and horses with a bird; particularly a bird that is frequently reincarnating and/or on fire.

AETHER PORTAL ⋆.ೃ࿔ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔ ݁ ˖*༄

What: ENA the Worker X Phoenix Reader

Who: ENA the Worker from ENA Dream BBQ (By Joel G)

How Much: ~1100 Words, ~6 Mins

Credits: Image Banner -> Joel G, Divider -> @thecutestgrotto

Warnings: None

You weren't sure at first that ENA should know about your special ability. It's not that she hasn't seen weirder or anything like that, but. While death carries far less weight than the permanence of alteration and transformation in this world, it can still be a pain that really sets you back. Everyone's looking for efficiency, time saved from having to navigate the afterlife, and your special power has been used and abused before as such. You don't think that she would, but you really don't want to gamble on ENA learning about this and taking your enhanced immortality out for a test drive. Not that you have much opportunity to hide it if you're going to shield her from a pixel-perfect lasso grenade dropped by a particularly violent customer. You just moved on instinct, shoving her out of the way and tanking the incoming cut-and-paste. Yeah, even something like you would be sliced to ribbons, but a blaze of glory like the glow of morning fever meant you could rewind moments forward and be fine. ENA was standing still at the edge of the crater you moved her away from.

You're hoping that you two can just continue on without mentioning the incident, but ENA doesn't seem to be able to parse the invisible lines you've inaudibly drawn for this conversation. "I must say, I am quite thankful for you steering me away from my brush with termination." Here it comes, like always. Hey, can you die for me some more? But she says something differently than expected. "Let it not be said that I'm an unfair partner. Next time you're in mortal danger, I'll be sure to parallel park." That's an odd way of saying it, but you think she means she'll die for you. It's a lot scarier hearing such a promise be directed to you, especially from someone as special as ENA. Bur she's quick to reassure you. "Your display was quite beautiful, you know. We ought to make a logo, but that's neither here nor there. What I mean to say is, while mine might not be as new of a model as yours, I have a similar business strategy, you see. If there's trouble, I owe you a check." ENA's head subtly motions to a broken mannequin, one of several you've seen on the road. Your flames burn low and vivid with rumination. Was ENA like you? Was ENA offering to die for you?

One day, you two are running late for the half-quarterly meeting that the Company has whenever someone finds a half-quarter. (They're pretty rare, after all.) ENA seizes your wing and drags you into a jog, but a few minutes into it, it's clear that you two aren't getting there in time. There's too many ghosts standing about in lines to the various stands near here to make much progress on foot. You have an idea, but you don't want ENA to freak out about it. "Be more specific, feathermind! We don't have time for shadowy subtext, so cut to the point before we get canned!" You oblige and fly into the sky with ENA in tow, who gives a surprised yelp and makes sure to hold onto her hat. Your passenger is looking pale, but you're pretty sure that just means she's going to yell. You say that you hope she isn't scared of flying--it's the only way you two are gonna make it. "Haha! Scared of flying?! It should be scared of ME! I hope gravity has a good lawyer, because I'm comin' for EVERYTHING!" She starts off the flight boisterous, but a short while after liftoff, the height becomes less exciting and more serene. Striped cones rest atop spike-edged clouds, ever rotating like painted drills digging into the atmosphere. Your flames don't burn ENA, despite the bright and colorful streak they leave in the sky behind you. They curl around her and warm her. She sighs and shifts her weight, and suddenly the meaning of the hug that she was using, you assumed, to keep herself from falling had shifted along with it. You felt ENA give a sigh. One of annoyance? Of relief? You couldn't say which one it was. You couldn't say which one you were hoping for, either. "Permission to speak on company record, chairman?" You chuckle and say yes. Oh, how delightfully her she always is. Her softer hand of the two rubs some of your feathers under her thumb to really feel them, wind pulling them back as your flight continues. "I believe I'd like to invest in your beautiful world of nitrogen. Could I have your whole supply? I know we have the meeting, but--oh! Maybe we could schedule it!" You fire burns a little brighter, a little warmer. There's nothing to say except that you have a window open, and that you'd like that.

You're not really sure what this is. ENA calls it a meeting, but the way her eyes sparkle as she clings to your wing and blushes deeper into her colors makes you think that it's a date. That and the aviator goggles made from eldritch treebranches. She hurries up to you, striking several odd poses before finally chuckling with confidence, "Tell me it's true! The day of our merger in the sky is at hand, yes?" Well, that's pretty early, isn't it? You two could spend the first part of the date doing other stuff, and then you could fly later, you explain. ENA is pretty set on it though. "NOOO! Flying first! I got goggles and everything. Do you know how much I have invested in this part?! Five." You don't ask "five what"? With how serious she seems, it's best if you just let her have her way.

ENA lets out a hearty laugh as you dive through clouds and loop around fatigued angels who don't have enough coffee in their systems yet to give you a moral lecture. You think you're falling in love with different parts of her every time you get to see this side of her. She has a distinct, hearty laugh when she's having fun--not a squeal or a snicker, but a "HA HA HA" that she puts the whole of her lungs into. It makes you want to earn more of it from her. Like an outside incentive. It can't last forever, at least not this part; you'll both have to return to your job, of course, where you often fall into pits and get melted before having to emerge back into the world again. But you'll always meet in the future, over and over. The moment may yet die but it's also soon to be reborn, blazing. And if that's not the nature of the world as is, well... ENA will call some people and circle back on that.

A/N: I had a funny idea where ENA tried to mix drinks with the reader's flames to create different colors (like how copper burns green) but I thought about it and... That really feels more like something Taski would do than ENA. Hmm... Ideas for later. Honk.

A/N: This fic traveled years to find you, and now it's here.

[menlove]

people loooove to douse very conservative and classist ideas in progressive language to make it palatable like. i s2g if I hear One More Person being like "ummmm if you're not financially well off yet you don't deserve to have kids that's abusive and neglectful" I may actually lose my fucking mind. no, growing up poor isn't great! it sucks sometimes! but that's not bc your parents should never have had children, it's bc we live in a shitty classist society like am I losing my mind? when did saying "poor people shouldn't have kids and only rich people should reproduce" become a bog standard leftist take? like think about what you're saying for even Two seconds. what you're saying is that poor people should die out. sit with that. think about the types of people that have money. think about the types of people that don't. rotate in your mind who you're saying shouldn't reproduce. shut the fuck up.

[applecranberryjuice]

They could have solved this sooner if any of them bothered to look at a calendar

Hear me out

Ninjago doesn't have the best track record with dates (Wu's lifetime...) and I don't expect DR to be any better at it. But rewatching the season I realized the fact that when Lloyd narrates, he mentions being "alone for weeks" and, in the carnival, recalls not being around many people in a while, nailing down how he was secluded to the monastery during those weeks he woke up alone. This is fine, typical Lloyd behavior, just that when Nya encounters Cole, he says years. Lloyd has no reason to lie, he doesn't have to make it seem like he was less time around so if he is not lying, and he truly was weeks alone, while Cole spends years lost after the merge? What happened?

And Nya and Kai! Kai woke up early enough, and in the bounty! to be able to map and travel a big part of the new land and try to find his way back, we don't know his side, but considering he pretty much arrived and then left again, had he entered the monastery before? I do believe he was longer out, awake and traveling. Nya also mentions having traveled before encountering the cranglings-- and she was on foot, she's resilient and strong, but for how long can you travel unknown terrain without a vehicle and survive it.

The idea of time getting messed up is plausible, other than reality coming undone and messing up every physics law-Cole is hanging out with what seems to be a kid formling, whose realm is confirmed to move differently time-wise, how could two different time progressions reacted to each other? How did that affect dates? Growing rates? So interesting.

I want to know if dr is planning on going somewhere with this, if not, then it'll be one more concept I'll rotate in my brain like a skewer, its such an interesting concept to me

Its also free trauma for the ninja! Win-Win

[vaspider]

so

I was sitting around thinking about disability and the queer community and how like… our persistence and our existence is so rarely looked at as being as beautiful as it is? and I rotated that idea in my mind and thought about how visually beautiful braille is when you see it printed out, when you look at how the light falls over a printed page.

the things we make are beautiful.

so here's where I am right now:

the starts of the lines are staggered & it reads LGBTQIA+

whereas this one says PROGRESS:

anyway i said i was done making patterns for our summer collection but i guess I lied? gotta finish the variants on this after i have a snack

[lucy-literates]

Across the Paddock

A/N: Thank you to the 300 people who voted on the pole, there were a lot more votes than I thought :) It’ll be a fluffy little fic - thank you the person who commented for requesting fluff.

My inbox is always open if there’s something you’d love to see 💌

Synopsis: You and Lando lock eyes across the paddock, and he just knows that your the one ☝️ (based on the Melbourne GP cuz I’m going next year)

Albert park was loud with life, spectators eager for the media day, the garages finagling plans, drivers waiting to slide into their cars, constructor admin wandering the park, looking the lucky pair to give garage passes to. You and (best friend) have been waiting to go to the Melbourne GP since the year before, meticulously planning and saving, organising outfits and transport to make those four days easy as can be.

You and your best friend fly out the Monday before. The flight was smooth, hotel is swanky, and the clubs are full of sound and colour. Thursday rolls around, media day. You situate yourselves in the crowd closest to the main stage, the perfect view of all the drivers. The crowd laughs along as drivers make jokes and do challenges. Then come McLaren and Williams, Lando and Carlos acting like old friend reuniting. The flys past in a blur, as does Friday with FP1 and FP2.

Saturday is qualifying. The crowd is bigger and busier and the weekend progresses. The crowd cheers as Lando secures P1, the first race of the season and he’s already leading. The celebrations fly by as the wait for Sunday begins.

Race day arrives! You and your bestie make your way towards the grand stands, getting ready for the driver parade. The drivers all pile on top of the bus, waving as they go around the circuit. You managed to get right up again the fence, waiving and cheering as the bus goes past. Your eyes catch Lando’s.

His eyes go wide, while you feel a little bolt of electricity pass through your spine. Your eyes stay connected as long as possible, even as the bus follows the turn, he rotated his body to keep his even on you until they move onto the next part of the circuit.

There’s something about those bluish green piercing yours that you can’t get rid of, the bolt of electricity you felt when you connected. Something funny happened. “What was that?” Your best friend asked. “I have no idea” you answer in a haze, still processing when you just felt.

The cars were lined up, mechanics doing their last checks, ready to take the covers of the wheels. The drivers were taking a moment in the calm before the storm. Your best friend wanted to get closer to the starting line, you refused, wanting to stay where you had locked eyes with the British driver.

The clock struck 2, wheel covers removed, lights counting down to the formation lap. Its lights out and away they go, the cars took off. Your best friend kept your eyes on the screen after losing sight of the cars. The crowd gasped as Izack spun off the road.

After it was announced that the race would be delayed for 10 minutes, the cars returned to the starting line, the mechanics returned, and the tyre covers were put back on. The camera on the screen followed Hadjar as he left the track, catching up with Lewis Hamiltons dad. The announcement to resume the race was heard. Wheel covers removed, lights counting down, the formation lap started again.

52 laps later

Lando raced through the finish line first, Max came in 0.8s later, George in 7 seconds behind Max. You and your best friend cheered for Lando. You stayed throughout the trophy ceremony and wandered about afterwards.

It was decided that you and your friend were going clubbing after the race. You get out around 11pm, hitting up a couple bars before deciding to visit a club. You walk into some killer beats, only to find Lando Norris up in at the DJ's table, in front of the entire club.

You and your friend elbow your way up to the barricade at the from, hoping he will look out and spot you. Luck was on your side. Lando looked out, his piercing eyes meeting yours for the second time that day. He got the DJ to take over, jumping down to mingle in the crowd.

You and your friend made your way to the bar, in need of a drink. You felt a warm shoulder settle next to yours, you turned your head, being met with those bluish/green eyes. "Nice to finally meet you, love"

A/N: Should this have a part 2? Or, should I do a "Day in the life of Lando's girlfriend"? Vote below!

*Part 2