#and I think the pink is my second favourite colour after green

[awkwardauthorwrites]

What If (You Were Made For Me)

Word Count: 6.2k

Themes: pining, angst if you squint, two idiots in love, fluff

Summary: Halsin realises he’s in love with his best friend, Tav

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol. Like one swear word. I almost made myself cry writing this. 

(I haven’t written since The Devil Doesn’t Bargain, please be nice. BG3 and specifically this druid has me in a chokehold, your honour I love this man, I am feral for him, he consumes my every waking and sleeping thought)

Halsin watched Tav from across the campfire, his brow furrowed as she spoke to Astarion with a smile on her face. She had been avoiding him recently and no matter how hard he wracked his brain, he couldn’t seem to put a finger on why. It had started small, with going on supply runs with anyone except for him until she gradually stopped training with him, she steered clear of his favourite parts of camp, and eventually it built up to her making excuses to not spend any more time with him than completely necessary. The explanations she gave always sounded sincere, but it had all been happening for weeks, and now there she was, sitting on the opposite end of the campfire instead of next to him and laughing and talking with Astarion.

He felt himself begin to frown as Tav gave Astarion a playful shove, a laugh escaping her as the rogue tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders to pull her back in. He watched with bated breath as Tav’s eyes lit up when Astarion held his hand out in front of her again, slowly showing her how he twirled a coin in between his fingers and how to make it look like it disappeared with a flourish. Halsin couldn’t understand it - it felt like only a few weeks ago that Tav and Astarion had regarded each other with cool indifference, but ever since the days they took to recuperate she had practically been glued to the rogue’s side.  Tav took the coin from Astarion and attempted the sleight of hand herself, her face one of pure concentration. She made it to the final turn of the coin before she fumbled it and it slipped from her grasp, a low groan slipping from her as it fell to the floor.

Halsin didn’t want to admit how he was feeling as he watched them interact, but he hated it. His chest felt tight and his gut rolled with anger and jealousy. Especially when Astarion leant in to murmur something in Tav’s ear, his voice too low for Halsin to hear what he had said to make her face flush the most delicate shade of pink. She laughed again and shook her head, her nose wrinkling the way it did when she found something unbelievable. She nudged Astarion again, softer this time as he scoffed and stood up, stretching her arms above her head as she let the pale elf know she would be right back before she wandered into the treeline. Halsin watched her disappear from sight and wanted nothing more than to follow her and ask her what had happened, to figure out when everything had changed between them. The thing in his chest clenched tighter at his heart with every second she was gone and he was torn between waiting for her return or going after her. 

“You know,” Astarion drawled, breaking Halsin out of his thoughts. “You can go after her, if you’d like.”

“And you can mind your own business,” Halsin snaps back, feeling unlike himself as he glares at the rogue. “She’s more than capable of taking care of herself, especially when she’ll only be gone a few moments.” To his credit, Astarion doesn’t flinch at the druid’s harsh tone or at the way his eyes flash gold in warning to reveal the beast that is itching to be released.

“Oh?” Astraion smirks, his fingers twirling the coin Tav had been holding earlier with practised ease. “With the way you’re acting like a scorned lover I never would have guessed. Green may be your colour but jealousy doesn’t suit you.” Halsin’s fists clench by his side and before he can even think about what he’s doing he’s stood from his seat and stalking his way across to Astarion, his jaw tight with anger and annoyance. The more rational part of his brain is telling him to calm down, that he can’t beat Astarion to a pulp just because he had struck a (annoyingly accurate) nerve, but the bear inside him is fighting its way out and wants to - 

“Halsin,” Tav’s voice rings out from behind him, her tone sharp. He stops a few steps away from Astarion and turns to face her, his ire slowly seeping away as he looks at her. She looks equal parts confused and concerned at his out of character anger, although she also seems to be a little annoyed with him too from the glare she’s giving him. “I don’t know what Astarion said to piss you off, and I’m sure he deserves the punch you’re about to give him, but why don’t we leave the violence for the near daily threats we face, hm?” Her eyebrow is raised and she looks less than amused at the scene in front of her while Astarion dramatically places a hand on his chest, feigning outrage at her words.

“I…I apologise,” he mutters, embarrassment settling in his gut at his behaviour. He risks a glance at Astarion, who is watching him with vague interest and a hint of a smirk, before shaking his head and turning back to Tav. “I don’t know what came over me.” Her gaze softens as he looks back at her and she takes a few steps forward until she’s right in front of him, standing closer than she has been in weeks. Her hand grasps one of his fists to loosen his body language and she gently tugs at his sleeve.

“Come take a walk with me.”  It’s not so much a request as a demand as she lets go of his sleeve and takes his hand in hers and begins to pull him away from the campfire. Astarion begins to whistle the tune for a bawdy ballad and without missing a step Tav leans down to grab a rock and throws it at his head. She doesn’t stop to see if it hit him or not (because of course it didn’t, thanks to his ability to uncannily dodge every blow that comes his way) and leads Halsin into the treeline, ignoring how loudly Astarion is laughing behind them.

“What’s happening? Is something wrong?” Her touch is like magic, and if he didn’t know any better he would think she’s cast a spell on him with how fast the tension leaves his body as he wraps his hand around hers. All the anger, the annoyance, the jealousy that he had been feeling earlier fades away as she pulls him deeper into the woods until they come across the small river they use to wash up in. 

“You tell me,” she says, letting go of his arm once they reach their destination. She turns to face him, a fire in her eyes as she crosses her arms and looks up at him. “You’re the calmest person I have ever met. So tell me why you were about to swing at Astarion with more anger than I saw you direct at Minthara when she tried to raze the Grove to the ground.”

“Astarion-” Halsin breaks off, feeling slightly uneasy with the glare she’s directing at him. He had seen her use the look more times than he could count, but it was never directed at him. “It was nothing. It was stupid.”

“Clearly it wasn’t nothing because you looked seconds away from shifting into your bear form and ripping him to shreds,” she snaps. Halsin’s head dips down and he runs a hand through his hair warily as her tone suddenly makes him feel like he’s a boy all over again being chided by his tutors. Tav sighs and she steps forward slightly, her hand brushing his. “Look at me,” she says softly, the anger draining out of her voice. 

Halsin lifts his head fractionally to look at her and sees nothing but kindness and concern in her gaze. Her expression is soft as she steps closer, and he itches to pull her into his arms and never let go but he can’t. He can’t because she is his closest friend and he doesn’t want to scare her away and despite believing the heart should be able to roam free he isn’t sure if hers belongs to Astarion or not and he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. 

“What did he say?” Tav asks again, her voice gentle. “I’ve never seen you that angry before, Hal, so it can’t have been stupid.” Halsin’s heart thuds in his chest as she steps so close he can feel the heat from her body, and the way the nickname she’s given him rolls off her lips makes him want to fall to her feet and beg for forgiveness. 

“He called me a scorned lover,” he mumbles angrily, turning away from her again. His face feels hot under her gaze and he doesn’t have it in him to watch her reaction as he repeats the rogue’s words. “He insinuated I was jealous of him because you’re spending more time with him than me.”

“Oh.” Tav blinks, clearly not expecting that answer and stumbles back a few steps, her teeth tugging at her lower lip in a nervous habit that set Halsin on edge every time she did it. “So you...you were going to hit him? Because he made some false, asinine insinuation that he and I were together and I had tossed you aside?” Halsin can’t tell if she sounds angry or not and he’s suddenly apprehensive at replying to her. He can usually read her like the back of his hand - and she can do the same for him - so why couldn’t he tell what was running through her mind right now?

“Is it false?” he asks, turning to face her again, his voice quiet. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, you’ve been spending your time with him. How could I not think that?” Halsin knows he’s said the wrong thing the minute the fire flashes back in her eyes and she steps closer to him again, her finger prodding him in the chest as she speaks. 

“So what if I was seeing him? We’re not together Halsin, we never have been. You don’t get to throw punches at every person I meet just because I spend a little time with them!” Her voice rises steadily as she speaks and she turns her back on him and takes a few steps away, a hand running through her hair in frustration before she whirls back to face him. “I’m not seeing Astarion, by the way, and not that it matters, but I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

“So why not me?” he blurts out, his eyes shining gold in suppressed rage. “Why is he the one you spend your time with and not me? Why does he get to steal you away from me? Why can’t I be the one to make you laugh for hours and be the sole recipient of your affection and time?”

“You-” Tav lets out a hollow laugh. “You’re joking, right? I’ve waited months - months - for you to stop looking at me like a child that needs protection. For you to look at me the way I’ve wanted you to since the moment we first spoke properly at that party after we saved the tieflings and the Grove. And now you start acting like you want me back?” She’s not shouting, but every word has Halsin flinching as if she had. “Now that I’ve finally decided I shouldn’t pine after you anymore because I’m nothing more than your best friend and you’ll never look at me the way I want you to?”

“You…” Halsin can feel his heart pudding in his chest at her revelation. He feels like someone has just yanked a rug out from underneath him and he’s free falling, but at the same time his heart soars knowing she feels the same way as he does. That she wants him just as much as he wants her. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you just tell me?” He reaches out so he can touch her, so he can hold her. “I never thought…I didn’t want to let myself hope-” 

“How could I tell you?” She steps away before he can touch her and he swears his heart cracks as her eyes go misty and tears begin to well up. “You’re my best friend, Halsin. How was I supposed to tell you that somewhere along these months of travelling you’ve tripped me up and I’m head over heels in love with you?” The tears fall down her face and she wipes at them angrily. “How was I supposed to tell you that after you slept with someone else only a few days after I drunkenly came onto you?”

He feels his heart shatter at the sight of her tears, as he vaguely recalls the evening she’s talking about. They had stopped for a much needed break at a tavern and every single one of them had gotten ridiculously drunk as they unwound for the night. She had come up to him, her face red from either the alcohol or nerves and had run a hand down his chest in a way that set every nerve of his alight as she seductively murmured in his ear and asked him to join her in her rooms for the night. He had declined, even though every part of him screamed not to. He didn’t want her to regret things in the morning when she woke and had a clear head, he didn’t want to put their friendship at risk like that. A few nights later in the same tavern an elven warrior had come over to him when they were all significantly less drunk and had barely finished propositioning him before he whisked them away to a room for the night. 

“Tav,” his voice is hoarse and he feels like someone is running a sword through him. She never brought up asking him to sleep with her in the following days and he had assumed that meant she was embarrassed or didn’t remember doing it. When the elf had come up to him later and asked the same from him he never stopped to think about how it would make her feel. How it would look to anyone else. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asks eventually, “because you’re in love with me?”

“Yes,” she takes another step away from him as he tries to get closer. “I’m not proud of it, and seeing your face drop every time I made an excuse not to be around you felt like someone was shoving a dagger into my heart,” she puts her hand to her chest, the tears falling freely down her face now, “but I had to do it. You…you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more and I couldn’t be around you because it killed me to know you would never feel the same. The final nail in the coffin was when you slept with that elf. They were fucking stunning and I knew then you would never want me like I want you.”

“How can you say I don’t want you like that?” he rasps. “Have you not seen the way I’ve looked at you? Do you know how much effort it took to resist you?” He tries to inch closer to her, his body screaming to wipe her tears away and pull her into a tight embrace. 

“Congratulations, would you like a medal?” Her tone is sarcastic as she slips away from his touch yet again. “Well done on showing some restraint with me when the Oak Father knows you’ll fuck anyone else with a pulse.” Her breathing is heavy as she glares at him in equal parts anger and heartbreak. “You thought Astarion and I had something going on and you almost ripped him to shreds. Imagine how it felt for me, watching you take someone else to your bed.”

“You’re right,” he admits. “How many times have I done this to you? How many times have I pushed you away, assuming I know what’s best for you when you’re more than capable of deciding yourself who you want to sleep with. Who you want to be with.” He takes a deep breath and he lowers his walls so she can see just how much she means to him. “You’re everything I want - everything I have ever wanted. And you always will be.” His words have the opposite effect he was hoping for and she sinks to the ground, a gut-wrenching sob leaving her as she covers her face and begins to cry. 

He falls to his knees beside her, his arms reaching out to pull her into his embrace and tell her just how in love with her he is, but he hesitates inches away knowing she will only pull further away from him if he follows through. His hands land uselessly at his lap and he feels his own eyes burn as tears threaten to well up at the sound of her anguish. He blinks them away, he hasn’t earned the right to be upset, not when he’s hurt her so deeply. 

“I understand if you don’t believe me,” he says instead, his voice low and full of emotion. “If you tell me to leave right now, I will. Or if it will make you feel better to yell at me some more I’ll stay and take it. I’ll do whatever you want - whatever you need.” He pauses, hoping the words he’s about to say don’t hurt her further. “Please believe me, Tav.”

“Would you have told me?” she asks, her voice thick with tears. “If you hadn’t thought I was with Astarion, would you have ever told me?” She looks up at him and her red-rimmed eyes only cleaves his heart further in two. “If you didn’t think my heart belonged to somebody else would you even have realised how you feel about me?” He pauses as she speaks; he doesn’t want to lie to her, but he knows in his soul she won’t be pleased with the answer he’s going to give her. 

“No,” he whispers eventually. “It took seeing you with him to realise I was in love with you, and I wish every day that I hadn’t needed that reminder. I should have seen it the moment we met, the way you made me feel…” He lets out a shaky breath and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m an idiot.” Tav inhales sharply at his words and nods to herself, her jaw clenching tightly as if she’s trying to stop herself from falling apart again. 

“Well, you won’t hear any arguments from me.” She looks up at him for a few seconds before she looks away again, tears welling back in her eyes as she stands up. “I’m tired. I’m going back to camp.” She doesn’t ask him to follow her, but he does anyway, stumbling to his feet as he follows her back through the trees. He walks in silence by her side as she leads them back to camp, his body heavy and his mind spinning. The one person he wanted in the world was right next to him and he had never felt so far away from her. They return to the camp and all eyes are on them, especially when they take note of the tears that have yet to dry on Tav’s face. 

Astarion sits up as she walks over to him and throws her arms around his shoulders and begins to sob into his shirt. The vampire clearly doesn’t know how to react, but after a moment he wraps his arms back around Tav and holds her close, walking her away so that everyone in camp isn’t privy to her breakdown. Halsin bites the inside of his cheek and looks away as Astarion does what he can’t and comforts Tav as she cries. He knows now that she doesn’t have romantic feelings for the pale elf, but that doesn’t stop his chest from clenching tightly as Astarion’s hands rest on her waist and run through her hair comfortingly. 

“You’re an idiot, you know,” Shadowheart sidles up to him, her tone dry. She has an unamused expression on her face as she stares up at Halsin, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Karalch gives her a gentle nudge and offers Halsin an apologetic smile. 

“I know,” he agrees instantly. “I want nothing more than to give her the comfort he’s providing her right now, and it breaks my heart that I’ve caused her this much pain without even realising it. Seeing Astarion hold her like that…I wish it was me, but I’m glad she kind find some solace in someone here.”

“She doesn’t love him, you know. They’re only friends.” Shadowheart nods her head towards Tav and Astarion. “He’s been trying to help her catch your eye for a while now.” Halsin blinks, the information catching him off guard.

“Astarion is trying to help her?”

“And you,” Shadowheart turns her head to glare at him. “Astarion has been trying to help her with her confidence so she could test the waters and flirt a little with you. And then you had to go and reject her when she finally tried to tell you how she felt only to sleep with someone else a few days later?” The cleric looks mad now, and Halsin has no doubt in his mind that if they were in a more secluded part of the camp she would be yelling and cursing him out for treating Tav the way he had. 

“Nothing I say will ever be able to erase what I did, no matter how much I wish it could.” He lets out a sigh and looks over at Astarion and Tav again. The rogue has pulled her across the camp to her tent and through the open flaps he can see she’s lying down on her bedroll, her head in Astarion’s lap as his fingers run through her hair. “How long has he been trying to help?”

“Does it matter?” Shadowheart asks, her tone sharp. “You never even looked twice at Tav until you thought Astarion was interested in her. No one wants to be made a choice after they become unobtainable - or in this case assumedly unobtainable.” There’s a soft expression on Astarion’s face as he comforts Tav, one Halsin has never seen before. For a split second he wonders if she’s better off without him in her life, whether that’s as a friend or more, but the selfish part of him can’t bear to leave her. 

“Just give her some time, soldier,” Karlach steps forward, ignoring the glare Shadowheart shoots at her. “She’s hurt, it won’t do any good to speak to her right now, you’ll only push her further away. Give her a few days.” He gives Karlach a nod and looks back over at the campsite, wanting to disappear into the trees and give Tav the space she clearly needs, no matter how much it will hurt him. 

Shadowheart and Karlach walk away, leaving Halsin alone again. He watches Astarion cup Tav’s face in her hands and wipe away the last of her tears, muttering something he’s too far away to hear before he kisses her on the forehead. Tav lets out a weak laugh and shakes her head, and the scene grips Halsin’s chest painfully tight. He shakes his head and walks back into the treeline, his eyes glowing gold as he shifts into his cave bear form and darts into the woods.

*

One Week Later

Halsin trudges back into camp, feeling weary and more than a little exhausted, and is a little surprised to see everything is still in its place and the group hasn’t moved on without him. He shifts back into his elf form, shuddering slightly as his body protests and walks towards his tent,  giving awkward smiles and nods to Gale and Jaheira, who wave in greeting at him.

“Hey, soldier!” Karlach grins when she sees him, raising her tankard of ale in greeting as she bounds over. “Welcome back, it’s good to see you.” For a moment it looks like she’s about to pull Halsin into a hug, but decides against it at the last minute. She watches his eyes dart around the camp, no doubt looking for Tav or even Astarion, and his hopeful expression falls when he sees neither. “She’s in town gathering supplies,” the tiefling lowers her voice considerably so no one can hear them. “We’re running a little low after she all but forced us to stay here and wait for you to come back.” Halsin looks at her in surprise, but she just shrugs as if she hadn’t said anything and takes another sip of her drink. 

“I assume Astarion has gone with her?”

“You assume wrong.” The white-haired elf walks by, a book in his hands. “I’d say it’s good to see you again but…” Astarion grimaces and takes in Halsin’s dishevelled appearance. A week of wandering through the woods as a bear has left him looking more than a little worse for wear, with dirt and dust covering him from head to toe, and what felt like a small bird’s nest worth of twigs tangled in his hair. “You look like shit. You should get cleaned up before she’s back, the gods know she’ll only be more upset at you dragging yourself back here looking half dead.” He walks away and settles outside his tent, sipping idly from a glass of wine as he continues to read.

“Wyll went with her,” Karlach fills the awkward silence. “We needed a lot, so he’s gone to help her carry everything.” Her gaze softens as she looks him over, taking note of his tangled hair and the dust on his clothes. “She’s missed you, you know. She’ll be glad you’re back.” Halsin feels something in his chest loosen at the words and he hopes the barbarian is right. 

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“Soon, probably. I’m not saying Astarion was right but uh…you might want to consider getting cleaned up before then. No offence,” Karlach wrinkles her nose playfully and Halsin can’t help but let out a quiet chuckle, the sound foreign to his ears. He runs a hand through his hair, wincing as he catches on a large knot and lets out a quiet sigh. The thought of Tav coming back to see the state he’s in pushes him to move, and he mutters a quick see you later to Karlach before making his way to his tent to grab some clean clothes and his supplies. 

He’s soon down by the river, trying not to think about the last time he stood there and the heartbreak on Tav’s face as he strips down and scrubs the week in the forest from his body and his dirty clothes. He pulls more twigs and leaves out than he thought possible and it isn’t long before he’s walking back to camp, a towel slung over his shoulder and his now cleaned and dry outfit in his hands while he wears fresh clothes. Karlach is still drinking when he returns, her feet propped up on a bench as she basks in the sun, Shadowheart curled beside her as she sips from her own goblet. 

“Halsin?” He would recognise her voice anywhere. He turns around to see Tav a few feet away, a large supply pack hanging from her shoulder. It falls to the floor with a thump as she takes a hesitant step forward. “Is it really you? Are you back?” Her voice is as soft as a whisper, and he barely registers as Wyll picks her discarded pack up and walks away, giving them both some much needed space. Halsin feels like his heart is caught in his throat. All at once he wants to pull her into his arms, he wants to fall to the floor in front of her and beg forgiveness, he wants to hide from her again but he also wants to yell from the mountains that he loves her and will do anything to fix what he broke. 

“Oak Father’s blessings, Tav,” he places his fist on his chest in greeting, his voice hoarse. He takes a small step closer to her before hesitating. He wants her to decide where they go from here. She is all he wants, but he doesn’t want to push himself onto her. He doesn’t have time to finish the thought in his head before she’s dashing across the camp and throwing herself at him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders tightly, her legs dangling because of their height difference. Her head is buried in his neck and for a moment he forgets how to breathe let alone hug her back. He’s stunned for a few moments, and more than a little relieved that she hasn’t outright told him to shove off, and his arms wrap around her waist, holding her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice catching in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t reply, and instead she holds onto him a little tighter and he can feel the collar of his short go damp as she begins to cry silently. His eyes slip closed as he pulls her closer and he wills himself to keep it together as he uses one of his arms to grip her legs, prompting her to wrap them around his waist so that they aren’t dangling in midair. He presses a kiss to her forehead, his heart stuttering as she doesn’t pull away or snap at him not to touch her and he’s only vaguely aware that the rest of the camp is being ushered away by Shadowheart and Karlach so the pair can have their moment. Once everyone has disappeared, Tav pulls back and steps out of Halsin’s arms. He itches to pull her back but the glare she’s sending him makes him reconsider. 

“Don’t ever do that again!” she snaps, pushing him slightly. She doesn’t do it with enough force to move him, but surprise and confusion flits across his face. “You can’t just disappear like that for a week, Halsin! No one knew where you were, you didn’t leave a note - what if something had happened to you? How was I supposed to know you weren’t hurt or captured or even dead?”

His mouth flops open uselessly at her reprimand, an apology on the tip of his tongue that suddenly feels unbearingly inadequate. He can see it on the exhaustion on her face, in the dark rings under her eyes. He thought leaving and giving her some space was the right thing to do, but just like when he had slept with that elf he hadn’t stopped to consider how it would make her feel. At the time he didn’t think she would care he was gone - she was an inconsolable wreck when he left - he hadn’t realised that Tav, let alone anyone else, would have no way of getting into touch with him while he was away. The silence between them is so loud that his ears ring, and yet he still can’t find the words to say. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover the pain he’s put her through.

“You’re… you’re not hurt, right?” she asks, the anger leaving her voice as she stares at him, assessing him for any damage that she can’t see. He tries to respond with a quip or a clever comment, but he can’t. The guilt weighs too heavy on his heart right now.

“My pride, perhaps.” He offers her a weak smile as she scrutinises him. “I didn’t mean to worry you while I was away. I just wanted to give you some space.” She opens her mouth to reply but it seems it’s her turn to be unsure of what to say. She wraps her arms around her waist and looks around at the now empty camp and tilts her head towards the unlit fire. 

“We should probably talk. I promise I won’t shout and poke you this time.” A weak smile falls on her lips as she makes her way over and sits down on one of the logs. Halsin gives her a weak smile and follows, sitting on the tree stump opposite her. He has so many thoughts rushing through his mind, so many things he wants to say to her, but when he opens his mouth to say them all that comes out is an incoherent mumble followed by a low sigh. 

“I don’t know where to start, either,” she laughs nervously and runs a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry for how I reacted last week. I didn’t mean to explode on you. It’s not an excuse, but I was just so hurt and angry and I felt a little betrayed and…I’m sorry.”

“I deserved it.”

“Maybe,” she gives him a faint, teasing smile and he feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “Hal…” She hesitates again, chewing on her lower lip. “Did you mean what you told me? When you said I was everything you want and that you-” she breaks off, her face flushing, but the words hang in the air. Did he mean it when he said he loved her? His face softens and he nods. 

“I did. I meant every word and I still do.” His voice is soft as he slides into a seat closer to her and holds a hand out in offering. He’ll let her decide if she wants to take it. From here on out she makes the calls on where they stand. He can live with being just a friend to her if it means having her in his life. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way about me anymore, given all that’s happened, but I want you to know.” She fidgets in her seat and her face turns the most enticing shade of pink as she places her hand in his and squeezes gently. Halsin has to struggle not to pull her onto his lap and wrap his arms around her, but he reminds himself that she’s in charge here. 

“I meant what I said too. Somewhere along the way while we’ve travelled I...I just fell so hard and fast for you. You mean the entire world to me, Hal. I don’t know what I would do without you.” She swallows and looks up at him and how did he ever think she didn’t have feelings for him when she looked at him like that? He was blind to have not seen it before. “I’m not going to lie, it stings that you only wanted me after you thought I was taken by someone else. But...I’m selfish. I love you, Hal. I-I’m putting my heart on the line here, I want to be with you. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine.”

“Tav,” he whispers, pushing himself to his knees in front of her. “My heart does not stir easily, but…” he pauses to let out a quiet, warm chuckle. “I feel like it never truly started beating until I met you. Nature outdid itself with you, and the Oak Father will have truly blessed me if he allowed you to be by my side. My heart is yours, as is every other part of me.” Tav lets out a breathless laugh at his words and sinks down so she is also kneeling in front of him, her hand winding around his shoulders so she can fiddle with his unbound hair. 

“And mine is yours,” she murmurs, a smile flitting across her face as his hands come to rest on her waist. He pulls her onto his lap like he’s wanted to since he first realised he had fallen for her, and he’s rewarded with a beautiful blush and coy smile.

“You’re all I want. I don’t even want to look at anyone else but you.” He leans in, his lips brushing across her jaw softly before he places a kiss on her cheek. “My love, my heart, my soul; they’re all yours.” Her breathing hitches and her fingers tangle themselves in her hair in response and she leans in, her lips a breath away from his

“Halsin, may I kiss you?”

“I was hoping you would ask.” He closes the gap between them, his lips brushing hers tenderly once, twice and a third time before he grips her hips and kisses her like he’ll never have the chance to again. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling of her hands in his hair, or the sweet sounds she makes as he pulls her impossibly closer, but he relishes the feeling all the same as they more than make up for their lost time.

[mazeinthemiroh]

hi lovey can i request a reader starts freaking out about ateez members new hair color/ hair cut and how they’d react to it!!! ( can u also use blueberry joong, halazia silver hwa, pink mingi BECAUSE IT WAS SUCH A DRASTIC CHANGE, and oreo sannie (his best hair and yes i’m manifesting it comes back for the new cb hehe)

i also never asked this before BUT WHO IS UR ATEEZ BIAS I WANNA SPAM U W VIDEOS AND OR PICS OF THEM LLS AND TY

ateez when their s/o reacts to their new hair colour

genre: fluff and crack tbh :33

word count: 0.8k

warnings: none

a/n: MY ATEEZ BIAS IS HONGJOONG EEEEEEE AND MY SECOND BIAS IS WOOYOUNGIE <3333 THANKS FOR ASKING. also, just for the record, yes blue hongjoong has taking over my life and yes i cried when i found out he dyed his hair blue again like what was that, i was such an emotional wreck and for what. anyways ENJOY

hongjoong

"KIM HONGJOONG"

hongjoong thrashed his head around when he heard your loud voice, a grin now plastered on his face.

he laughed before you almost full-on tackled him to the ground due to the force of your hug.

"you didn't tell me you were gonna dye your hair!!"

all hongjoong felt he could do was chuckle, finding your reaction adorable.

"do you like it?" he asked in a shy voice, but the grin on his face showed he already knew the answer.

"you're so sexy i can't believe i'm dating you" you gawked at his electric blue hair and ran your fingers through it as he laughed at your comment.

seonghwa

seonghwa couldn't help but blush, growing a little shy at your overwhelming amount of compliments.

"this might be my favourite hair colour yet!" you said, eyes fixated on the top of his head.

"you said that about the last one," seonghwa replied with a deep chuckle, finding it endearing about how excited you got with his new looks.

"i know but still," you said, sifting your hands through his silver hair in admiration.

"well you better get used to it because in a few months, it'll be gone," seonghwa teased, knowing this would annoy you.

you pouted with wide eyes. "hey don't tease me like that!"

yunho

'i promise you will like it :D'

that was the text yunho had sent to you regarding his new hair colour. of course, he didn't tell you what colour it would be because he's a huge tease and wants to see your first reaction for himself.

so, when you were waiting at home for him to return, you heard the front door open and close.

"y/n?" he called to you as you sprung to your feet, intrigued by what he came home with. and you weren't disappointed!

you let out a squeal as your eyes landed on the mint green hair on your boyfriend's head. he grinned shyly, "it's for our new summer concept."

"i love it!"

yeosang

yeosang couldn't help but feel your intense gaze on him as you stared for what felt like 5 minutes.

"y/n, you're staring," he said without looking up from his book.

"no i'm not."

"yes, you are."

"well can you blame me?" you said defensively.

his recent, freshly dyed hair was all you could think about recently. blond. and it was certainly his colour. you couldn't help but gawk at it.

yeosang looked up before looking back down, smiling shyly after his own gaze met yours. he never realised how much you would like his new hair colour until now.

san

"you look so tasty"

san gave you a side eye and a smirk at your comment. chin in your hands, you sat and admired your boyfriend's new hair colour. it was your favourite one yet, if that was even possible.

"you're crazy, you know that?" he chuckled, placing a hand on your leg before focusing his attention back on his phone.

"ow!" he exclaimed when he felt you bite him on the shoulder. "what was that for?"

"don't blame me, it's your oreo hair." you teased and shrugged, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

"i can't believe you," san shook his head, but he can't help but smile at the attention you gave him. he couldn't help it.

mingi

"so when you said pink, what shade did you mean"

"huh?"

"you said the next time i dye my hair, i should dye it pink."

you were currently on your way to meet your boyfriend, staying on the phone with him so you could find each other in a busy area of town.

"any shade of pink you want, i guess" you giggled at the randomness of his question.

"will this shade do?"

in the distance, your boyfriend stood out like a pink flower against the greyness of the world. he had a beaming grin on his face and he watched you gasp and run towards him.

"it's perfect!" you say, jumping into his arms.

wooyoung

wooyoung would giggle uncontrollably as you continued to watch his halazia fancam.

"i mean it's just so red" you kept saying out loud, eyes focused on the screen before you.

"you know you don't have to keep watching that when you have me right here," he whined as he nudged you, starting to want more of your attention.

when you didn't acknowledge him, he snatched the device from your hands and turn it off.

"see, you have me now, in real life, with my new hair" he beamed and you rolled your eyes at his childishness.

"you better dance for me then, tomato boy" you teased, snorting as you watched his jaw drop.

"the audacity!"

jongho

your dramatic reaction to jongho's new hair colour was not shocking.

considering he only ever had black or different variations of brown hair, no one could blame you for completely freaking out when he rocked up with RED.

red. hair. who would've thought?

"did you change your lockscreen to me?" jongho asked as he chuckled, looking at your phone.

"and my homescreen. and i have a photocard too," you proudly showed off the photocard of your boyfriend with red hair.

"such a dork" he rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but be flattered by your support.

[itsanidiom]

15 DAY BL CHALLENGE - DAY 9

Most Visually Pleasing Love Scene

This is so hard...I like all the love scenes...and I usually save these posts for my friday #hœ q hahah ANYWAY...

You'd think I'd pick The Sign, right? While I do think the love scenes are GORGEOUS, I actually don't LOVE a few things about them. First off, the purple non-diegetic lighting makes it look too FANTASY and takes me out of the reality. Second, in the shower love scene (the one that isn't in Tharn's head lol) there is this one shot that they repeated. That repeat takes me out of it a bit too. Sorry if you didn't notice it and now you will every time you rewatch.

ONE MORE AGAIN~ lol it's a nice shot but whoever edited the scene does annoyingly use it twice...

LAST THING I SWEAR! Unfortunately the pixelation is also such a mood killer. They did a better job on the third love scene (first non imaginary one lol) using TACTICAL OBJECT PLACEMENT. I much prefer that to pixelation.

If they'd made the colouring more natural, didn't pixel censor, and didn't repeat shots, The Sign WOULD HAVE HAD my favourite love scenes hands down, for sure.

SO MOVING ON! My completely unasked-for complaints about The Sign's OTHERWISE STUNNING Love Scenes aside, that leaves me in a toss up between two scenes...it also makes me think maybe I have a thing for mirrors and bathrooms because my top two are:

The KinnPorsche Mirror Handjob

I know I'm more of a VegasPete stan when it comes to KinnPorsche, but THIS SCENE! Oh my god...it is so gorgeous. See, as much as I complain about the coloured lighting in The Sign, I think KinnPorsche did it better. I prefer the diegetic lighting in KinnPorsche. Like this is a club bathroom and it has green lighting. It makes the scene more REAL and not FANTASY without sacrificing that cool green lighting. It also really hammers in the jealousy after Kinn caught Vegas with his man. I think there's a whole breakdown somewhere about the meaning behind colours and the reflection in this scene, but I just love being able to see Kinn's expression at the same time as Porsche's while they're facing each other like this. It's gorgeous.

Speaking of mirrors...

The My Beautiful Man Bathtub Mirror

Okay so the conversation that happens right before this aside—because omg Kiyoi's cnc kink is too real lol has someone written that fic? asking for a friend...—KIYOI'S LITTLE CHEEKS! They are SO PINK. I just love how he like literally asked for this and then he's all shy and embarrassed and he doesn't usually take baths so YOU KNOW he was already turned on and over heating and he spins toward the mirror but then he just has to look at himself while Hira starts touching him and...[becomes rubber ducky]

[middenway]

The colour of Turning Red – Part 1

Turning Red is among my favourite Pixar films. This weekend I finally got to see it on the big screen and I just want to talk about something I really love about it—the way it uses colour to communicate its story. The key colours to watch are red, pink, and teal. Red is the colour of the panda, the unrestrained self. Pink is a muted version of this, a lightly curated version of the self, and teal is the restrained version of the self. This is how Meilin is introduced, all in pink; she's comfortable with who she is, but there's still a level of curation.

Did I say all in pink? Not quite. There is conspicuously a teal hairclip restraining her hair. And that's very important, because the hair is very important in this film too... but we'll get to that later.

Very early on, the film starts to establish teal as a kind of "responsible" colour, with Mei bragging about being practically an adult as she boards the bus, which is predominantly teal, and then she sits down to do her homework.

Note how in that second image how the bus's seats are pink, but all of them are up or hidden in shadow except for Mei's. She a hotspot in the centre. Also note that her homework book is teal.

At the opening title, Mei's by herself and unrestrained, so obviously the lighting is pink.

When Mei arrives at school, the overall palette is teal, but with pops of colour. This is a place where she has to curate her identity a bit, but there's still room to be a freer version of herself.

And here are her colourful friends, Miriam (green), budding goth Priya (yellow), and Abby (purple).

You'll note that Miriam is green, very close to teal, but distinct from it. There's a good reason for that and it speaks to her relationship with Mei. She's Mei's best friend, but she curates herself for her. After all, she thinks Mei's a little brainwashed, but she wouldn't say that to her face.

And then there's Tyler, coded purple, which is not traditionally a masculine colour, a hint about the self that he's hiding from everyone, and why he's jealous of someone like Mei who can be a fuller version of herself. Note that the basketball court, the space most associated with him at the school, is also heavily defined by teal.

OK, on to the flute scene!

This is the scene where I fell totally in love with Turning Red. The energy here is fantastic. Note how saturated Mei's pinks are here. They are so close to red.

Here's Mei leaving school...

...notice how pink begins to dominate the palette more. She's freer here, more herself when she's alone with her friends. Now's a good time to point out the gentle pastel lighting in Turning Red. It's a comforting look, and the contrast gets ramped up in moments of heightened emotion.

When we get to the Daisy Mart, we see Devon. This character is a budding story element, so the interior is teal, because it's a place where Mei would curate herself more, but we get pops of pink on Devon, a hint at how this character is going to evolve in Mei's eyes. (But mostly this location is coloured teal because of the role it plays later.)

OK, this is off topic, but I love this face.

4*Town fantasies are obviously very pink and very saturated for obvious reasons. Fun fact: Domee Shi calls this scene "Man Mountain" (from the director's commentary).

Another aside, but I love the way Miriam, Priya , and Abby often move as a unit. Each has their own distinct visually identity and quality of movement, but in most scenes they function almost like a single character, expressing slight variations on a central emotion.

How could anyone not love the lighting choices when Mei is presented with the 4*Town's '99 Australian Tour CD?

Now we get to the panda temple, and I love this because it's a combination of red and teal. It's important to understand that teal is not a bad colour in Turning Red. It is a perfectly valid way to express yourself, but it's not right for everyone.

The temple also is a space where Mei is curating herself for her mother and visitors to the temple, but in she can also let other aspects of herself come out, and we see that in the way she has fun with her mum while sweeping. It's a really cute way to express this duality.

Note the mirrored colours in Mei and Ming. Mei is all pink with a hairpin that's teal, while her mother is all teal with a red pendant... That red pendant is a really big part of Ming, but we'll go into that later. (Also, I love the round shapes of Mei against the sharper lines of Ming.)

Now we go to Ming's home, which is a mix of teals and pinks, but it's mostly white. This means that it takes on the colour of the lighting, so that in different scenes this space serves different functions. Jin, Mei's father, is likewise predominantly white, reflecting his mild character and role as a neutral party.

Then we have Mei in her bedroom doing her homework. Note that this is her room and yet it is almost completely teal. There as just a few spots of pink, like the heart, the discman (which is playing 4*Town music). This is an environment where she's the ideal good kid doing her homework.

This is also a good time to note the relationship between the music and the colour, because all the self-expression here comes out in how her movement is defined in relation to the music. But she's wearing headphones. This aspect of herself is internalised.

The animation in this shot was the best animation I saw in 2022. The little jaw movement from Mei before she says "fine" is so great. You can see the competing versions of self as confronts a side to her that's unfamiliar and intense.

Notice the shift in the lighting here. Warm lighting coming up from the page. It makes no sense literally; it's completely subjective lighting.

And I'm bumping up against the image limit, so to be continued in Part 2.

[geminiwritten]

game night ; bones

fandom: star trek

pairing: bones x reader

summary: after accidentally injuring yourself, you refuse to go to MedBay before attending a games night with the crew and your favourite grumpy (and very jealous) doctor

notes: this is bad!!! i am very sorry!!! i didn’t want to abandon it, so i forced myself to finish and it took several days, it is very disjointed, but i hope readable? let me know what you think!

important -

in this fic, the crew play pool (or billiard) but i am australian and to avoid confusion (because we probably play it differently / wrong, and i am not a professional lol) here are some notes:

the balls with the band of colour (more white) are called ‘bigs’ and the full colour balls are called ‘smalls’

you get a second shot if you sink one of your own balls

your opponent gets two shots if you sink the white ball

word count: 5363 (oops)

“Shit,” you snatch your hand away from the machinery in front of you, shaking it as if the movement would rid you of the hot stinging sensation spreading through your fingers. You look at your gloves and curse again, finding all four of the material fingertips burnt through.

“Are you okay?” Clarke, one of the newer lieutenants on board, asks as he approaches your workbench. He’s very handsome, with sandy blond hair and bright green eyes, there were five people in this room alone that would sell a kidney for just one date with him. You, on the other hand, had forgotten about his existence less than ten seconds after he handed you the tool you’d asked for this morning.

You snatch the gloves off and stare at the hot pink flesh of your fingers, “Fine, just frustrated.”

He gingerly grabs your hand, turning it toward himself, “come over here, you need cold water.”

He tows you toward the large trough across the lab, where a spread of tools and parts were waiting to be washed or drying out on the nearby benchtops. You spot a small square contained with several labels reading ‘KEENSER’S LUNCH – DO NOT EAT’ in a variety of languages, and you can’t help but giggle. The little alien was yet to find out that it was best friend Mr. Scott always stealing his food.

Clarke turns on the faucet and checks that the water is cool before pulling your hand under it. You only realise then how close you are to him, and that his eyes aren’t just green but have little flecks of gold in them, and that there are several sets of eyes glaring at you from across the room.

“Thanks,” you say, though you can’t help acknowledging the fact that you were more than capable of doing this by yourself.

“I’m no doctor,” he chuckles softly, “but you should probably go to MedBay.”

Your heart feels like it flips in your chest, sending a woozy amount of blood to your head and undoubtedly turning your cheeks pink. “I-I think I’m good, but thanks again.” You pull your hand away and dry it gently on the front of your uniform.

“What’ve ya done now’?” Scotty asks, walking toward you with a comical amount of greasy fluid smeared across his face.

“Nothing, just accidentally-”

“Touched a soldering iron,” Clarke interrupts, and though you know it’s out of concern you can’t help the indignant scowl that settles between your brows.

“I’m fine,” you say.

Scotty glances at your hand, and instead of expressing concern his lips curl into a cheeky grin, “think ya need to go to MedBay, angel.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Clarke do double-take at the affectionate nickname.

“No, I’m fine,” you repeat.

“I can take her?” the lieutenant offers, at which your frown deepens.

“Can I just go back to my quarters?” you ask Scotty, “I just need a plaster.”

Scotty nods, “it’s well past ya finish time anyway.”

You smile politely at Clarke before turning back to your workstation and haphazardly untying your apron with one hand. Scotty begins packing up your tools before you can, and you know it’s his way of showing concern, but you still frown.

“I’ll see ya later, then?” he says as you turn to exit.

“Tonight?”

“Game night,” he replies, “the capt’n got that old pool table in workin’ order, remember?”

You vaguely remember being cornered by Jim yesterday afternoon after yet another lengthy shift, and being ordered to attend a night of drinks and shenanigans since the ship was going to be in friendly space for the next few days.

“Right, uh, do you know who else is coming?” you ask.

Scotty’s grin returns, “the usual.”

You narrow your eyes and open your mouth to demand he elaborate when Clarke cuts you off, “did you say a pool table? I love that game, my dad had one when I was little.”

“Oh, then you should come along lieutenant,” Scotty says, “the more the merrier.”

Your head aches with the effort that it takes not to roll your eyes. “Great,” you say, “then I’ll see you both later, now if you’ll excuse me, I need to shower.”

You reach the turbolift and step inside, thanking the universe for its speed when you arrive on the upper-most floor containing crew quarters in less than a few seconds. The familiar corridor leads you to your room, where you sigh dramatically as you kick off your shoes and wrestle out of your red shirt. Your hand stings when you step under the hot water of the shower, so you have to hold it out while you awkwardly wash your hair and body. Sitting on your bed in only a towel, you rummage through your personal medical kit for some plasters to wrap your fingers. You try desperately to recall even an ounce of your first aid training but unfortunately, there was always one huge distraction that prevented you from ever learning anything when it came to medical training. A distraction that happened to be the very doctor who was attempting to teach you.

You lay in your towel for longer than necessary, flipping through data on your PADD and absently watching the time until you decide to get dressed. Eventually you pull on a pair of denim shorts and an old Starfleet Academy shirt before snatching a hair tie from the table beside your bed and slipping into your sneakers. The crew commons are located only two floors above you, where the rec rooms resides behind the huge cafeteria and kitchen. You can hear the sounds of laughter and conversation before you even reach the end of the corridor.

“Look who finally decided to join us!” Jim exclaims the second he spots you; his steps are unsteady and his grin is wide, he’s already very tipsy.

“Hey Captain,” you giggle, “you look merry.”

Nyota bounds toward you and wraps her arms around your neck, “oh, thank goodness you’re here, I’m losing.”

Behind her you can see the pool table situated between the bar and a cluster of low, blue sofas. “Nyota Uhura losing a game? That’s unheard of.”

“I know,” she gasps, handing you a drink, “now catch up and let’s kick some butt.”

Before you can take a sip, Jim hands you a small glass of clear liquid, “first, you have to do a shot, it’s a rule.”

You roll your eyes before swigging from the little glass. It burns your tongue and the back of your throat, spreading a fire through your chest as it descends to your stomach. “Holy shit, what is that?”

He chuckles, “no idea, something Chekov picked up a few planets ago.”

You cringe and down half the bottle of your drink in an attempt to quell the burn.

“Y/N!”

You tip the bottle back down and find Clarke standing right where Nyota had been. “Hey,” your voice is raspy, still recovering from the shot.

He chuckles, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, that was just-”

“I know, the captain made us all do one when we got here.”

Jim grins and smacks a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, “you didn’t tell me you were making friends down in the engine room, angel.”

You roll your eyes once again and swap your now empty bottle with the full one in Jim’s hand, “maybe you should stop talking before I stick a pool cue up your ass, Captain.”

His eyes narrow at your sweet smile, “we’ll see who ends up with a pool cue up their ass tonight.”

“Gross,” you giggle as he turns around, and you follow him toward the pool table with Clarke in tow.

Sulu, Scotty, and Keenser are surrounding the table, arguing about whether or not Keenser was cheating while a couple of Nyota’s friends watch in amusement. Chekov is seated on one of the low sofas along with three other young lieutenants you’d only met once or twice, and Spock is standing alone by the back wall, no doubt assessing the physics of the game in front of him. Your heart practically leaps into your throat when you spot the doctor, sat on a barstool beside Spock with his arms crossed over his chest and the usual frown set between his brows.

Your feet forget how to move in coordination and you stumble forward, but Clarke is quick to catch you. His arms wrap around your shoulders and steady you before helping you upright. “Thanks,” you say, as you look up to find his green eyes much too close for the second time today.

He smiles boyishly, “you’re a little accident prone, aren’t you?”

You nod and brush yourself off, glancing over his shoulder at the stool beside Spock, now empty.

“Come on, angel, stop flirting and let’s play,” Jim calls, now in possession of the pool cue Sulu had been holding.

Keenser hands you the other cue when you reach the table, before turning back to Scotty and launching right back into their argument.

“Hey,” Clarke says, still beside you, “I’ve been meaning to ask, why does everyone keep calling you angel?”

Sulu stops in his pursuit to the bar, with a wide grin stretched across his lips “because have you ever seen anyone who looks more like they fell from heaven? She’s gorgeous.” He stops to kiss your cheek and take the empty bottle from your hand. “Another?”

You nod, “thanks, Sulu.”

“Well, that is true,” Clarke’s cheeks turn a pale shade of pink, “you are gorgeous.”

Unsure of what to say you simply smile and step up to the table, watching Jim arrange the balls inside the plastic triangle. “Are you sure you know how to play, angel?” he smirks.

“Are you sure you know how to play, Captain?”

He lines the white ball up with the chalk marker and gestures to you, “ladies first.”

You poke your tongue out at him before taking your stance and leaning over the table. As you place your hand on the felt to line up the cue, pain ripples through your fingers and you can’t help but cringe.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asks again, and you begin to wonder if those were his first words.

“I’m fine.” You regain your focus and bite your cheek to ignore the pain in your fingers, and when you draw the cue back to take the shot, you notice blood seeping through the plasters. Oops.

Despite your injury, you break the triangle perfectly and the balls scatter across the table. One finds its way into the corner pocket, eliciting a cheer from your audience of crewmates and a little squeal from yourself.

“Suck it, Kirk,” you move around the table, “smalls are mine.”

You position yourself for the next shot, stretching onto your toes and leaning halfway across the table in order to properly reach the white ball. You draw the cue back just as a figure steps into view on the other side of the table, your heart leaps once again and your aim falters. The cue hits the ball way off centre and sends it wobbling across the green felt. “Damn it.”

Jim chuckles, “what happened, angel? Your first shot was so good!” His eyes dart from you, to the doctor, and back.

“You suck,” you say, stepping back and holding the cue upright.

With everyone watching Jim’s move intently, you take the chance to glance at your fingers. Pain is pulsing steadily through your hand, nothing excruciating but certainly uncomfortable, and blood blots the white plasters.

Clarke moves to your side once again, “do you need to go to MedBay, or we can ask Dr-”

“Seriously, Clarke, I’m fine,” you say, “I don’t want to bug Dr. McCoy on his night off.” You look over at the man in question, his expression grumpier than usual as his eyes bore into you, but the moment you meet his gaze he looks away. In fact, he turns his entire body and moves toward Spock, who is standing quietly beside Nyota.

“You’re up,” Jim says, drawing your attention back to the game.

You struggle to focus on your shot, your mind replaying the doctor’s face over and over, and wondering why he could possibly be angry with you. It was strange that he hadn’t come to see you yet, to talk to you, it has been a while since you’ve all hung out together like this and you miss him.

You take your shot and somehow sink a ball, and on your second shot you manage to position the white ball in the most inconvenient place for Jim. “I think I may have underestimated you,” he says as he steps forward, wearing a smirk.

After offering Jim a brief but cheeky grin, you decide to make the first move with Leonard. Not in that way, though you did wish you could, but you decide to approach him first and find out if he really is angry with you and if so, what the hell did you do.

You first retrieve two drinks from the bar before sliding up beside him, once again seated in the bar stool beside Spock. “Hey McCoy, thirsty?”

Relief washes over you in a big hot wave when he looks up and his expression breaks into a grin. You’re positive your cheeks have turned beet red, but you don’t care, Leonard McCoy is grinning at you as if you’re the sole reason for his happiness and that’s enough to make you dizzy. Could you imagine if you actually did kiss this man, or sleep with him? You’d probably going into cardiac arrest. Good thing he’s a doctor.

“Hey, angel,” the nickname from his lips is so different than from anyone else’s, and it makes your heart thump even louder in your ears. He takes the drink from your hand and his fingers brush yours, making you wince. His face falls, immediately wondering if he had done something more than take an offered drink or if you were just uncomfortable with his touch – which hurts to think –, but then he notices your plaster-wrapped fingers.

“Y/N,” his voice is a warning, and the fact that he’s using your real name is enough to make you cower... and turn you on a little bit, but that’s something to unpack later.

You hide your injured hand behind your back, “Doctor.”

He stands from the stool and easily towers over you as you begin retreating toward the pool table. “What did you do to your hand?”

At that moment you hear your name called from behind and thank the universe for its timing. “Nothing, Doctor,” you reply, “now if you’ll excuse me.”

You turn quickly and begin hurriedly assessing the arrangement on the table before electing to stay on the side of the table with your back to the grumpy doctor. You bend over and try not to cringe when you position your injured hand on the felt, but the pain is only brief before you realise that you’re fully bent over right in front of Leonard. You’ve dreamt about this more times than you care to admit.

Deciding that you’ve already dug your grave, you might as well lie in it too, you arch your back and stretch a little further, feeling your shorts ride up your thighs. You draw the cue back and take the shot, sending one of your balls and one of Jim’s sailing into opposite corner pockets.

Jim chuckles, “thanks for that, angel.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, as you step around the table.

You can see Leonard now, and his face is a mask of practiced calm, but you know him too well to believe it. That man is undoubtedly flustered. You try not to giggle audibly as you lean down to take your second shot, but the distracting doctor clouds your mind and your aim is completely ruined. The white ball sails across the table without hitting a single other ball.

“Fuck!” you exclaim, at which everyone laughs.

Jim smirks, “what’s wrong, Y/N? Distracted?”

It takes all of your self-control not to throw the pool cue javelin-style across the table. “Get on with it, Kirk.”

You want to talk to Leonard again, but you can feel the plasters on your fingers growing damp with blood.  He was always weird when you got injured, almost panicky despite being a doctor who deals with literal catastrophes on almost a daily basis. You didn’t doubt he would shred you for hurting yourself and not going straight to MedBay, though in your defence you definitely didn’t think the burns were bad enough to blister and bleed.

“Did you want a few pointers?” Clarke asks, almost startling you with how suddenly he’d appeared beside you.

You frown, “with what?”

“The game,” he gestures toward the pool table.

“Oh, uh,” the lieutenant looks like a puppy dog, with wide eyes and a small pout, practically begging you to find him attractive. There are two women across the room wearing matching piercing glares, and you can’t help feeling obliged to accept his help. “Sure.”

He beams with self-confidence and follows you around the table as Jim announces that it’s once again your turn. Thankfully, most of the group has begun to lose interest in the game, settling back into the sofas or going to retrieve more drinks. You can even see Chekov and Sulu playing an intense game of Jenga at the bar.

“Okay, so you want to get a little lower, get your eyes in line with the shot,” Clarke says in your ear, and you start to wonder if this man has any sense of personal space. “Relax a little, you shouldn’t have to arch your back so much.”

You can’t stop yourself from giggling as it bubbles up, but Clarke pays no mind as he practically smothers you with his body to ‘help’ your game.

“Come on, angel,” Jim chuckles, “stop flirting and get on with it.”

Your head snaps toward him and if looks could kill, Jim would be a pile of ash on the ground. At the same time you look toward your captain, Clarke moves your arm to take the shot, since he’s practically controlling your body right now. The aim is way off with you once again distracted, and the white ball haphazardly knocks into a few other balls before sinking into a pocket itself.

You stand abruptly and take several steps away from Clarke. “Damn you, Jim, that’s completely your fault,” you say, pointing at the table.

“Hey,” he puts one hand up in surrender while the other holds his drink, “there were two people controlling that shot and neither of them were me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Clarke says, “I didn’t realise you weren’t ready, that’s totally my fault.”

You wave a hand, “don’t worry about it.”

Eager to shake the lieutenant you rush to the bar to get another drink, where you coincidentally find your favourite doctor. “Bones,” you greet him again, holding your injured hand behind your back.

He nods, handing you a bottle before taking an unnecessarily large step back, “so- uh, you and that lieutenant, huh? Jim didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

You begin shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence, “no, no, I- um, I’m not dating that guy, at all. Actually, I barely know him, he just started kind of following me around today, and it’s really weird but I’m too polite to tell him to leave me alone, that’s it.”

Bones frowns, “oh, well- I mean, it’s not really any of my business, so you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Oh,” you nod once, “noted, sorry.”

His words weren’t cruel but you couldn’t help from hearing a bitter undertone. Something about the way he spoke made you feel stupid, and almost irrelevant, like he asked you a question just to be polite and there you were ranting and raving like an oversharing child.

“Wait, Y/N, I didn’t-” his words are cut short, but by what you don’t know as you were already halfway back to the pool table and halfway through the drink you’d only just received.

Jim quickly notices your frown and stops you before you can get to where the white ball is. “Are you okay? What did he say to you?” he asks.

“Nothing, I was just rambling,” you reply, “and I could tell he was getting annoyed so I left him alone.” You wave your hand dismissively, which somehow actually gets Jim to shut up, because he freezes mid-thought and doesn’t move to stop you from walking past.

You drain the rest of the bottle in your hand and discard it on a nearby table before getting ready for your shot. You lean over the table and rest the cue on your hand, the slight amount of alcohol you’ve consumed is only making your aim a little wonky, but you confidently draw the cue and strike the white ball. Shockingly, two of your own balls manage to find the same pocket and sink with a satisfying clunk.

“Did you see that?” you exclaim, turning to Jim only to find him staring blankly at the tabletop. “Are you absolutely stunned at my incredibly skills?”

“Damnit, Y/N,” Leonard says, startling you as he appears beside you and grabs your hand.

You wince as the sting from the pressure and movement ripples up your arm, and only then do you notice that the plasters are completely soaked with blood. “Oh,” you frown and inspect your hand, “that’s weird.”

“What the hell have you done?” he pulls your hand closer to his face and gently prods your middle finger.

You gasp, “ouch!”

The doctor’s frown deepens, and he turns to his best friend, “game’s over, she’s coming with me.”

Despite the situation, Jim still smirks, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winks as Bones rolls his eyes and tows you out of the room.

You’re a little too scared to speak as he rushes you down the hall and into the turbolift, but as the doors slide closed you realise that he’s basically been holding your hand this whole time. You try desperately to rationalise with yourself and remind yourself that he’s a doctor and your friend, and he’s just doing his job, but the stupid butterflies in your stomach continue to flutter restlessly.

“How did you do it?” he asks, his frown finally softening.

He’s standing right beside you, touching you in several places and your brain struggles to function. “When I fell from heaven?” you ask, and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or nerves, but you start giggling.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, but you can still see a tiny smirk underneath his hand. “No, angel, I’m not hitting on you right now, I need to know how you hurt your hand.”

“You’re not hitting on me right now, but you will later?”

Bones freezes, his expression torn between frustration and amusement as he considers whether or not the alcohol is influencing your words or not. “If you tell me how you hurt yourself,” he says, “I’ll flirt with you later.”

You grin, and it almost knocks all the air out of his lungs, “promise?”

“I promise.”

The lift’s doors ease open and you recognise the familiar MedBay as Doctor McCoy leads you toward it. It’s quieter than usual and you realise then that it’s actually been a while since anything had gone wrong or blown up. Jim really is getting good and being captain.

Leonard sits you on an empty bed, a hand on each shoulder, as he drags one of the medical carts over with his foot. “Do you want anaesthetic?” he asks.

You scoff, “it’s just a burn, Doctor, I’m not going into labour.”

He chuckles as he begins to unwrap the blood soaked plasters, “so it’s a burn?”

“Yep, soldering iron.”

“Why weren’t you wearing gloves?” his frown returns, “I’m going to kill Scotty, if he-”

In your lightheaded stupor, you press your free hand to his cheek and whisper, “I was wearing gloves.”

“What? Then how did you-”

“Don’t know,” you shrug, “this stupid part has been breaking every a week for almost three months, and every time I have to fix it, it just gets more and more stubborn. It doesn’t want to fuse together.”

“What part?” he asks as he sets the bloody wraps aside.

You glance down at your hand and see nothing but swollen pink flesh and blood; if you were sober, you’d probably have passed out by now. “One of the little filtering chambers from the main deuterium pipeline.”

“Deuterium?” he repeats, angrier than before, “Damnit, Y/N.”

The next thing you know, he’s pressing you back until you’re lying on the bed. A nurse hurries over at his call and then there’s a hypo in your neck. The room starts to blur, but the doctor remains in perfect focus as you fight your heavy eyelids, willing yourself to stay awake.

“It’s okay, angel, you’ll only be out for a minute,” he brushes your hair off your face as you finally lose the fight with the anaesthesia.

Your hand still hurts when you wake up, and you have to blink a few times to get your eyes to focus. The spinning in your head hasn’t stopped and when you sit up to see the grumpy doctor, you still want to giggle. “Hey Bones,” you emphasise his nickname, and you can swear you saw his scowl falter.

“You practically poisoned yourself,” he shakes his head as he carefully packs his equipment away, “deuterium is deadly in the best of cases, but in the bloodstream? You’d have been dead in a day if you didn’t bleed out first. Did it not concern you that the blisters were bleeding? I mean, sure blisters bleed occasionally but not that much, angel.”

Your desire to giggle is dampened and you swing your legs over the side of the bed so you can shuffle closer to the doctor. “I’m sorry,” you say, “I honestly didn’t think about the deuterium contamination, which makes a lot of sense because the filtering chambers are usually one solid piece, not two halves, so whoever installed that is going to get their asshole rip-”

Bones’ laughter stops your rant, and you’re forced to marvel at just how gorgeous this man really is.

“If I knew it was serious, I would have come straight to you,” you say as he helps you off the bed. Your feet are only a little unsteady and your head still dizzy, but that you blame on the ridiculously handsome man in front of you.

“I told you it was serious,” a voice calls from the corridor, and you turn to find Clarke entering the MedBay.

“Great,” Bones mutters, dropping something metal onto the metal tray and making a loud clang before wheeling the cart away.

Clarke walks right up to you and grabs your hand, “how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you pull your hand back, “like I’ve been telling you all night.”

He chuckles, but it’s awkward, “you’re lucky Dr. McCoy is so good at his job.”

You don’t see it, but you hear Bones scoff, and that’s when your foggy brain finally manages to put two and two together. You almost gasp, but quickly mask it with a deep breath. He’s… jealous.

“He is the single best person aboard this ship,” you say, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in your cheeks. If it wasn’t for the alcohol still coursing through your blood and probably a little of the anaesthetic, you know you’d never have the guts to be so forward.

“The single best?” Clarke asks. You almost feel sorry for the guy, attempting to remain light-hearted as if he could convince himself that the way he saw you looking at the doctor was something platonic.

“Single best,” you repeat, at which Bones can’t help but smirk.

Clarke chuckles awkwardly again before gesturing toward the turbolift, “did you want to go back? The others are still playing and I’m sure they’ll be excited to see you’ve survived.”

“I guess,” you look back at Bones, “are you coming?”

He nods, “yeah, I’ll just finish packing up here. You two go ahead.”

Clarke tugs on your hand and you reluctantly follow him into the corridor and toward the lift. The doors open and you step inside, subtly pulling your hand out of his and trying to create more of a distance between the two of you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again.

You sigh, “yes, I am. I just-” he looks like a puppy dog, and you almost feel ungrateful for what you’re about to say. “Clarke, you’re really cool, and I’m sorry if I have completely misread the situation and if what I’m about to say is totally wrong, but I’m just not into you the way you want me to be.”

His face falls, and guilt washes over you, but then the doors of the lift begin to beep angrily as you stand between them preventing them from closing.

“Y/N, I-”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt him and step back into the corridor, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The doors close and the lift begins its ascent. You take half a second to swallow your guilt before turning around and practically running back to the MedBay. Bones is almost exactly where you left him, though instead of cleaning up the mess he’d made while helping you, he was leaning against the bench with his face in his hands and letting out a long sigh.

“Am I that exhausting?” you ask.

He startles, but a smile quickly breaks across his face when he sees you, “you scared me, angel.”

“Sorry,” you cross the room as you speak, “I just couldn’t leave you to clean up after me, it didn’t seem fair.”

He chuckles, but its short, “what about your boyfriend? I don’t want to ruin-”

“Gross, no.”

“No?” he frowns.

You shake your head, “seriously, no, he’s not my type.”

“You have a type?” his lips quirk into a smirk.

“Yep,” you’re standing beside him now, facing him and leaning your hip on the bench, “I prefer brunettes.”

He rubs a hand down his face, as if trying to wipe away his grin, “well, I’m sure there are plenty of willing brunette lieutenants down in engineering.”

“Not my type either,” you say, unabashedly studying the doctor’s profile as you stand so close.

He chuckles, properly, and it makes your stomach flip, “so lieutenants aren’t your type?”

“Not that part,” you reply, “you said ‘willing’ but my type is more unwilling. You know, the avoidant, sarcastic, grumpy type.”

He sighs again, as if it’s taking all of his strength to remain composed, but he finally turns to you and you can feel his breath on your neck as he speaks. “Is that so?”

You nod, “yep, and you know what else?”

You’re both leaning in, and the air between you is electric. “What else, angel?”

“I’m a sucker for doctors.”

That’s enough for Leonard. He closes the distance before you can take a breath and presses his mouth against yours. It’s rushed, but sweet, and your bodies snap together like two magnets. Your arms wrap around his neck as his circle your waist and squeeze, making your heart race impossibly fast. When you pull apart, reluctantly, your vision blurs and your head spins, and you realise that the only reason your still standing is thanks to Leonard.

“I’m a sucker for accident prone engineers,” he whispers.

You giggle, “is that so?”

He kisses you again, several times, before kissing each of your cheeks and moving your bodies so that he is trapping you against the bench, turning your giggles into almost uncontrollable laughter.

“Did you still want to go back to the others?” he asks, pressing his body against yours in the most delicious way.

“I can think of about ten other things we could do,” you bite your lip.

“Really?” he kisses you again, “because I can think of about a hundred.”

END.

[iprobablyshipit91]

Magical Blooms

Genre: romance / mutual pining / fluff

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none I think?

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Square filled: Flower Shop AU

SPN Masterlist

My first ever Dean Winchester fic and I’m terrified. Please let me know what you think! Also, all the flowers used at each part of the story are used for a reason…

This wasn't a big deal. Nope. No. Not at all. Not in the slightest. Actually, it was the exact opposite of a big deal. An insignificant speck if you will. And one that certainly hadn’t even registered on your radar. After all, there was a flurry of customers walk through the doors to Magical Blooms each and every day, and quite a number of these were regulars. Just because one of those regulars was an undeniably gorgeous man that flirted shamelessly, owned more flannel than you thought possible for one person, had adorable bow legs, and the most captivating green eyes that you had ever seen was most certainly not a big deal. And just because he was inexplicably absent today after you’d seen him every Friday without fail for the last six months was also not a big deal. It's not like you had really noticed anyway, having spent the morning softly singing Christmas songs along to the radio whilst putting together a similarly themed bouquet with holly, pine, and red chrysanthemums. And okay, maybe you were secretly hoping he would love said bouquet, but that also wasn’t a big deal. You just liked to please your customers. And anyway, all of this had to be no big deal whether you liked it or not because he had a girlfriend. A girlfriend that he came and bought flowers for weekly without fail, coming into the store and carefully choosing something different and unique rather than having an easier standing order. You couldn’t decide if he was completely in love or just an incredibly attentive boyfriend. Either way, you couldn’t let it be a big deal.

He had first rushed in to your little shop at the end of May and purchased a beautiful and remarkably expensive bouquet of white roses. You couldn’t help but drink in the way he had looked in a dark Henley, red plaid button down and jeans, shaking yourself a little to ensure you weren’t just gaping as he paid with his card. The small smirk on his face before he hurried out told you that you might not have succeeded as well as you’d hoped.

The next week he was back much to your delight; his dirty blonde hair gorgeously disheveled and green eyes sparkling at you the second he walked in. After casually browsing the shop he made a beeline towards you.

"Which of these do you like better?" he had asked as he approached, one hand holding yellow carnations and the other deep pink gloxinia. You put the pen down on top of the order form you’d been failing to fill out for the last ten minutes and forced yourself to go into professional mode. You were used to helping guys pick flowers; just because this one looked like a damn Greek god didn’t stop you doing your job.

"They are both great choices. Are they for a special someone? Or maybe a special occasion?"

"Well sweetheart, I guess I would say they’re for a special someone." he smirked, wetting his lips with his tongue and you couldn't help the way your heart beat a little faster at his deep rumble.

"Okay, well what sort of flowers does she like? Or does she have a favourite colour maybe?"

"Uh…" he faltered.

"Or he." You quickly amended, hoping you hadn't offended him. His eyes bulged a little and you were sure the flowers weren't for a man. You couldn't help feeling a little pleased.

"No." he shook his head, looking a little flustered. He took a deep breath. “No. I…" But his answer was cut short by the sharp call of Rowena, your interfering but well meaning boss and the owner of Magical Blooms.

"Y/n!"

"Excuse me just one second," you told him before meeting Rowena at the door to the back room.

"I don't pay you to flirt with customers now do I dear. I don't care how attractive they are." You felt your cheeks heat up at the volume of the older lady’s Scottish brogue. There was no way he hadn't heard her.

"Rowena!" You whispered indignantly. "Don't be embarrassing. He is buying flowers for his girlfriend!"

"Well that is a damned shame" she whispered back with a mischievous smirk, her eyes darting over to the perfection still stood at the counter. “Because that man is delicious." You rolled your eyes. You had a strange but very close relationship with the older woman having worked in her shop since you were a kid. From the way you spoke to each other though people wouldn’t have known. Most of the time your conversations sounded more like arguments. You spun on your heel with Rowena calling with a smirk "Remember I won't hesitate to fire you!"

You heaved a sigh, biting your lip to stop the retort that was brewing. Instead you made your way back to the handsome customer, plastering on a smile to cover the fact you were positive he had heard every word.

"Sorry. My boss." You rolled your eyes again.

He laughed; a deep sound that struck you low in the stomach and sent your heart into overdrive once again. "I understand, Sweetheart."

You shot him a grateful smile, keeping eye contact longer than was necessary. The green captivating you completely.

"So…do you know what flowers your girlfriend likes?" You asked again, desperately clinging on to your professionalism.

He shook his head a smirk on his handsome face. "We have only just met."

"Hmmm…." You thought briefly, glancing between the flowers. "I would say most women would probably pick the carnations out the two. They are a pretty safe bet."

He nodded but looked at you thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes, like he was trying to read your expression. "I asked which you liked better though, and you prefer the pink ones, don’t you?"

You tried to hide your surprise that he had noticed your preference for the gloxinia. You frowned and his smirk grew, his eyebrow rising mischievously.

“Yes, I just think they’re beautiful." You said honestly with a shrug. With a satisfied nod and a breath-taking smile that lit up his whole face, he quickly returned the carnations to their place.

"Gloxinia it is then!" he said; his smile boyish and utterly adorable.

You grinned back helplessly as you reached for the flowers in his hand and firmly ignored the hum of electricity in your body as your fingers gently brushed.

"My name is Dean." He said as you rung up the bouquet.

"Y/n."

That visit was just the start and you very quickly found that you looked forward to your Friday shift more than any other. Each week Dean would walk around the shop in his flannel shirt, examining all the available arrangements and then ask for your input and opinion. There was always a smile and usually a wink or flirty comment too and you couldn’t help how quickly he became your favorite customer. As the weeks went on you eventually started talking about other topics. You learnt early on about Dean’s pride and joy; a sleek black Impala that he affectionately called Baby. It almost frightened you how soon the hum of the engine became familiar to you as you eagerly awaited his next visit.

In late July he told you that he would be gone for two weeks while he visited his younger brother in California, pride once again colouring his tone. You had been taken aback at how much you had actually ended up missed him in that fortnight and realised just how important his visits had become to you. Remembering his girlfriend however you mentally scolded yourself and forced your thoughts elsewhere. But then Friday had rolled back around and he was there, almost first thing, in relaxed jeans, his favourite red plaid button down and damn it if your heart didn’t do a flip just at the mere sight of him. There was an eagerness to his expression that made you think that maybe, just maybe, he had missed you too.

"Welcome back!" You smiled despite the promises you made to yourself to take a step back. To not let yourself fall for someone who was already taken.

"Thanks sweetheart! It's so good to be back," he said as he closed the space between you. "I, er, well I brought you something." He pulled a small wrapped box from his pocket. You looked at it quizzically. "A gift, for my favorite florist." he explained. "I saw this and, well, it made me think of you."

Your eyebrows shot up; you didn't know what to say. After hesitating a moment too long he shook the box slightly for you to take.

He waited patiently, rubbing his jaw with nerves, as you unwrapped it. It was a dainty gold necklace with a small primrose pressed in glass dangling from the middle. It was beautiful and so very thoughtful. "Dean… wow. Its wonderful. I absolutely love it." You smiled up at him shyly and you saw him visibly relax as he beamed back.

"I could er, help? Put it on I mean. If you wanted me to?”

You nodded, passing him the necklace before turning slowly and moving your hair out of the way for him. You steadied your breathing as best you could, feeling your heart pound in your ears. His warm fingers brushed softly against your neck as he fastened the clasp and you felt yourself shiver involuntary. You looked back over your shoulder to him, his hot breath tickling your neck from your proximity yet he didn’t step away and you found you couldn't move either. You were trapped in a space full of his smell, his body heat, and your own thudding heart.

"Y/n. I…" Dean began only to be interrupted by the thudding of the shop door as a frantic customer came barrelling through. The spell you were both under immediately broke and you stepped away, breathless and eager to get rid of the interruption. But after fifteen gruelling minutes of helping debate the merits of pink roses over red; Dean motioned that he had to go. It was only later that night that you realised he hadn't bought any flowers.

The beautiful gift and his lack of purchase had filled you with a strange hope. Had he perhaps broken up with his girlfriend? What would he have said before you got interrupted? Would he have asked you out? The questions plagued you all night and into your shift the next day. Your fingers toying with the trinket around your neck constantly as your thoughts wandered to Dean. You were still brooding over the possibilities as you helped your best friend Benny pick out flowers for his anniversary.

"These are perfect as usual! What would I do without you, Sugar?" Came his Southern drawl as he wrapped his arm around you and kissed your head affectionately. You rolled your eyes at his antics when you suddenly noticed Dean in the middle of the door way, your heart soaring at his unexpected appearance. You smiled brightly but he didn’t return it; a strange, sullen, look on his face. You stopped yourself from frowning and turned back to your friend; eager for him to go so you could speak to Dean alone, preferably before Benny realised who he was as the embarrassment opportunities would be just too great for him to pass up.

“So, I’ll see you this weekend?” You say, remembering Andrea had invited you and some other friends over for dinner.

“You will indeed,” he replies easily, pressing another kiss to your hairline before retreating out the shop, the door thudding behind him.

You turned, your eyes searching the shop for Dean. Benny is long forgotten as your mind turned towards finally finishing your interrupted conversation. He was studying a wall of flowers, half turned away from you.

"Hey!" You said a little breathlessly as you reached him. "I’ve been expecting you." He turned with raised eyebrows "I mean, you know, since you didn't, er, buy anything yesterday." You gave a small smile as your stomach erupted with butterflies. Your fingers latch onto the cool glass of your necklace, the necklace he had just given you the day before, for reassurance. "The…uh… hyacinths are fresh." You gestured awkwardly at the yellow flowers in front of him. “Or I have some marigolds you might like?” You were hoping this would be it, that he was going to turn around and tell you he wasn't here for flowers. That actually, he no longer had someone to buy flowers for. Instead he sighed and pouted. "Yeah, the hyacinths are fine."

You nodded, feeling your heart sink like a stone. Ever the professional though you gesture to an arrangement. "Is this one okay?"

"Sure." He grabbed it without even really looking and swiftly walked past you, heading to the register. Silence reigned as you rung him up. Instead of bright eyes and friendly banter there was a crease in his brow and a slight frown. It was the first time you remembered feeling uncomfortable around Dean and it felt so wrong. Your mind floundered for conversation topics. You paused before handing him his receipt.

"Dean. Is everything okay?"

He finally looked at you, and flashed half-hearted smile that looked more like a grimace at best. "I'm fine, Sweetheart. Just a lot on my mind."

"Oh, sure." You replied stiffly as you handed him his receipt. He took it and turned to go. You felt a weird constriction in your throat; the meeting had not gone as planned. You grabbed at your necklace and just as he placed his hand on the door you called out. "See you next week?"

You meant it as a goodbye but you could hear the question in your voice as clear as day. He paused, tossing you a look back, and his face broke into another small smile, though this one was much more genuine. "Of course, Sweetheart. Next week."

The next week came and he appeared and things went back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. You talked and flirted and he bought his flowers. You never took the necklace off and felt sure he must have noticed, though he never once mentioned it. You tried not to be disappointed, you tried to be satisfied with your relationship, limited as it was, and enjoy the moments you shared. Mostly you succeeded. Sometimes you couldn't help yourself and tried to pry information about his mysterious girlfriend.

"So, you two must have an anniversary coming up soon?" You asked one day in early November as he contemplated some red carnations.

"Huh?" he turned in confusion.

"Well, when your first came in at the end of May you said you had just met someone. So your six month anniversary as a couple should be coming up." You rushed to explain yourself. You glanced shyly up when he didn't immediately respond. He had a wicked smirk plastered on his face.

"Why, Sweetheart. I didn’t realise you monitored my love life so closely."

"I don’t.” You quickly covered with a roll of your eyes. “It's just my job to remember this kind of stuff. That’s all.”

“Right,” he said disbelievingly, the mischief never leaving his eyes. “And how do you know that we would even celebrate such a minor anniversary? That’s very chick flick.”

You scoffed. "Please. Dean you are such a hopeless romantic. I’d put money on you celebrating any anniversary!"

"I take offense at the idea that I am hopeless or romantic!" He points his finger at you.

"Oh come on! You literally come here to buy flowers for her every week! How much more romantic can you get?"

"Yeah well, perhaps I only come to see you." he shot back, the teasing words sounding oddly serious with his tone. You meet his gaze and find yourself unable and to look away. The moment stretched on before you finally bit your lip and turned away with your heart thundering in your ears. It was only later that night while you pondered what he could have meant that you realised he had, once again, avoided telling you anything about his girlfriend.

You thought about his words often as you absently clutched your necklace. You wondered what he had meant and if you were crazy to think he had meant anything serious.

Benny had caught you in just such a moment of contemplation last week.

"Hello! Y/n! Anybody home?" He called snapping you back to reality.

"Sorry what?"

"What is up with you today, Sugar? It’s like your not even here." Benny asked.

"It's Friday." Rowena responded from her perch behind the register. You shot her a dirty look.

“What’s Friday got to do with anything?” Benny asked, still looking confused.

“Loverboy is coming today."

"Don't call him that." You groaned as Benny perked up at the same time and asked “Loverboy?”

"Well, what should we call him?" Rowena smirked wickedly.

"Nothing! Because he is just a customer. We aren’t dating. We aren’t lovers." Rowena just raised her eyebrows, smirk unwavering and you threw your hands up in exasperation.

“Hold up,” Benny interrupted. “Is this the mysterious Dean you mentioned a few weeks back?”

“Indeed,” Rowena supplied as you pinched your nose in frustration.

“Yes, but he’s just a friend and he has a girlfriend. There’s nothing there.”

“But you like him, Honey. I can tell,” Benny points at you.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel, he’s got a girlfriend Benny. I can’t forget that.”

Benny clucks his tongue sympathetically and pulls you in for a hug.

“Can I…”

“You’re never meeting him,” you interrupt quickly, knowing exactly what your friend is going to ask.

"Actually if you stick around you are guaranteed to meet him." Rowena pointed out unhelpfully.

You pull away from Benny annoyed. “Are you still here?” You grumble to your boss. She just smiles in response and makes her way to the back room.

"That settles it. I’m staying until he shows up." Benny declares and you know better than to argue with him.

"Fine. But if you embarrass me you can find someone else to help you with Andrea’s Christmas present!"

You didn't have to wait that long; fifteen minutes later Dean came sauntering through the door. He was dressed in his usual shirt and jacket combination and of course your traitor heart sped up at the sight of him. Benny had kept out of sight as you helped Dean choose a bunch of snowdrops. He then pounced before you could move to the register.

"Y/n, do you think Andrea will appreciate this bouquet?" He rounded the corner and then gave the biggest look of fake surprise as he pretended to see Dean for the first time.

"Oh, I’m sorry, Sugar! I didn't know you were with a customer." He said with mock surprise. You barely contained your eye roll at his ridiculous antics.

You forced your tone to be bright. "No problem. Dean this is my best friend Benny. Benny, yes I’m sure your wife will love those.”

"Best friend? Wife?" You heard him murmur before Benny began speaking again.

"Me and Y/n go way back. She always knows just what my Andrea will love."

You glanced at Dean and was pleased to see a wide, goofy, grin plastered to his face.

“She always picks out the best flowers,” he agreed.

There was a pleasant pause and then Deans phone rung. He apologised and quickly walked out of the shop to answer.

"I can see why you like him Honey, and he certainly has eyes for you." Benny smiled as soon as the door closed.

“Oh, stop it,” you attempt to brush it off although you hear Rowena’s voice drift out from the back saying “I told you so!”

Dean stuck his head back in. "Sorry. Sam emergency, I’m going to have to leave town. Can I pay for these when I get back?"

"Of course! No problem."

"Thanks. See ya next week?"

You had nodded, already looking forward to next Friday.

But next Friday had come and gone and Dean had not shown up. Which, of course, was no big deal.

"Did I miss Dean today?" Rowena asks offhandedly.

"No. He didn't come in." You try to match her tone.

"Really? Well that is good news."

You jerk your head up in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Well dear, if he isn't buying flowers maybe he’s broken up with that girlfriend of his. Which means the two of you can finally stop making eyes at each other and go out."

You feel a thrill in your heart but reply sarcastically. "Please. If Dean was interested in me I think he would have made a move long ago."

Rowena’s reply was only a knowing smile and a short "Mmm-hmm".

You try not to get your hopes up. You fail miserably.

An hour later, Rowena is gone and your closing up the shop for the night. The lights are off as you pick up your keys when you hear a tap on the door. You turn around expecting a desperate customer and gasp when you see Dean grinning back at you.

He looks just like he always did; hair disheveled, a flannel shirt layered over a black tee, and just enough scruff on his face to add to the whole rugged look he had going for him.

As you walk through the darkened shop with only the street light shining through the windows you feel a mix of nerves and excitement at his arrival after Rowena’s earlier words. You unlock the door and let him in. Cold air sweeps in and you convince yourself that is why you shiver and not because of his proximity.

"Sorry, I hope I'm not too late. I only just got back into town." he says.

You shake your head. "No, it’s fine. I was just leaving." There is a pause and you realise how much more intimate the shop seems in the low light. In the shadow you can't quite make out his eyes, but he’s staring at you. "I was beginning to think maybe something awful had happened to you."

"Like what?" he asks, his teeth flashing in the dark.

"The flu, a car crash, an alien invasion?"

He shook his head. "None of those things could keep me away." His cold hand reaches out and toys with a strand of your hair. You don’t understand how such a simple gesture could suck the breath from your lungs and send your head spinning.

"Rowena thought… well that maybe you might have broken up with your girlfriend." You bite your lip, afraid of his answer.

He chuckles. "Well it seems both you and Rowena were wrong." Your stomach drops and you step back, your hope shattering and walls around your heart flying up. You wish he hadn't shown up at all now. At least then you could have had one night of blissful fantasy.

"I see. I..uh… I need to get going." Your voice dull. "Maybe try the grocery store. I am sure…"

'"No. Y/n. You don't understand." he interrupts, his hand rubbing his jaw. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"What? Since when?" Of all the things you thought Dean might say this was not one of them.

He grins sheepishly, dips his head and rubs his neck. "I never even had a girlfriend. The first time I came in I was in a hurry, getting flowers for my friends wedding. I wanted to ask you out but I didn't have time. So I came back and I had it all planned. I was going to have you pick your favorite flowers and then give them to you and ask you out. But then Rowena threatened to fire you for flirting and I…"

"But she didn't mean that!" You interrupt, your mind reeling to make sense of his story.

"I know that now! But I didn’t then and I was worried. I didn't think you would want to date me if I got you fired. So I let you think I had a girlfriend and kept buying flowers just so I could spend time with you."

"That's…that's ridiculous."

Dean chuckles. "That's what my brother said when I explained everything to him in August. So I bought you the necklace and I was going to tell you everything. But then I saw you with Benny and I, well I thought he was your boyfriend."

"Benny is married!" You protest.

"Again, I know that now! But you two seemed awfully close and maybe I was a bit blinded by jealously." Dean ducks his head and shuffles his feet. "But I didn't want to stop seeing you. So I settled for spending a few minutes with you each week, even though I thought you loved someone else."

"That sounds familiar." You reply. You know exactly what he means because it is the echo of your own heart.

Dean steps closer his hand reaching for your cheek. "Really?"

You nod and lean closer, your heart threatening to leave your body. "Yes. Dean I…" But Dean doesn't let you finish. His cool lips find yours in a gentle caress. He pulls back his breath hot on your cheek.

"Sorry I just, I've wanted to do that for six months." You grin and grab his shirt. Pulling his lips back to yours, eager to taste and claim. You melt into each other, your heavy breathing and occasional moans filling the dark shop. You grip his hair and he caresses your neck. You slide a hand to his chest and he pulls at your hips. When you break, gasping for breath, you both smile.

Dean tucks a stray hair behind your ear. "Can I buy you dinner?" he asks, still a little breathless.

He comes into the shop the next afternoon.

"Are you coming in on Saturday now?" Rowena asks with narrowed eyes.

"Well actually…" Dean begins, scratching behind his ear.

"Dean, what can I help you with?" You appear a broad grin lighting your face. Rowena shrugs and leaves you alone; thinking that if the boy doesn't make a move soon she might have to ban him from the shop.

Dean shoots you a smirk. "I was hoping you might have some mistletoe. With Christmas being right around the corner and all."

"It's your lucky day. I think we have some in the back." You nod your head and Dean follows you to the back room, a bounce in his step.

Rowena doesn't bother to mention that there is no mistletoe in the back room nor does she comment on your disheveled state when you finally emerge empty handed twenty minutes later.

[timchalamet-devoted]

It's not really my thing...(part 2)

A/N: here's part 2, I'm not sure how to feel about this one, but I hope you like it 🫶

Summary: After meeting Timothée at a hockey game in New York, you are invited to dinner with him, and learn that you have a lot more in common than you initially thought.

Pairing: fem reader x Timothée

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Part 1 ~ Masterlist

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You were now sitting across from him, only a couple of inches away from his face.

He had proposed to go to a restaurant with the most magnificent view of the city.

He mentioned that it was one of his favourite places in New York, and thought it would be the perfect place to take someone as special as you there.

In no way did you think you were 'special', but you were beyond honoured. Although, if you were being honest, you weren't sure if you believed that someone like Timothée could ever think of someone like you as anything extraordinary.

You stared right into his green oceans, mesmerised by how the colours danced within them. You had dreamt of this moment for as long as you could remember, although to be fair, not even in your wildest dreams would you think it could become reality. It was more a crazy fantasy than anything else. You had always imagined yourself confessing your admiration, love even, as soon as you had the chance, to ensure that he knew. You thought you'd immediately start gushing, stumbling over your words, as if you were going to ran of time at any second. And yet, here you were; frozen to the spot, at an absolute loss for words. Your mind was racing, desperately trying to form a sentence, searching for something to say - anything to break the silence.

However, you also took this moment to fully comprehend the situation you were in: you were just invited to dinner by Timothée, and now you sat in his presence, just across the table, admiring his godly features just as you had many times before through his photographs. You still couldn't quite grasp the idea.

It must have been a good couple of minutes before you worked up the courage to speak up.

' My heart's beating out of my chest '

* way to go, y/n, really *

You observed as his cheeks turned a slight pink and a soft giggle escaped his lips. You yourself were positively sure that your face was a bright red, but you had to admit his reaction to your comment made your stomach stir.

' Well, I'm flattered, and I could say the same thing '

As he said it, he looked you straight in the eyes, eager to express that he meant every word.

You were completely unable to form a reply, so you simply grinned back like an idiot. He seemed to like it though, as he grinned right back.

The candle that stood in the middle of the table, illuminated his face, creating a golden glow that seemed to radiate from his skin. You were transfixed.

It took some time, but after a while, you were conversing just as you had previously at the stadium. It was just as easy to talk to him as they said it would be: he listened fully, giving you a hundred per cent of his attention, and you never ran out of things to say.

You found out more and more about him, getting closer than ever before. He shared his favourite films, books, songs but also some of his deeper thoughts and inquiries, amazing you with his stories. You learned that you had a lot more in common than you realised, as though your minds were one. You felt entirely comfortable in each other's presence, and the space between you felt natural.

It was magical, truly. It was as though you had known each other all your lives, conversation flowed, and you laughed your hearts out, a feeling of freedom possessing your body and soul. You were nothing short of ecstatic and saw that he was too.

Needless to say, this was only one of many nights out with Timmy.

[according2thelore]

tag game!

thank you for the tag, @pookeenpie!

charlotte:

Do you make your bed? absolutely not—I always run out of time in the morning 💔

What's your favorite number? 8! it’s very round and symmetrical so it’s a vibe

What is your job? I’m in sales ✊

If you could go back to school, would you? no—I’m finally free 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

Can you parallel park? nope! I learned how but promptly forgot that wizardry—idk how lizzy does it 😭

A job you had that would surprise people? I worked at a luxury spa for a hot second 🧎‍♀️

Do you think aliens are real? yes, but not in a flying saucer way—maybe microorganisms?

Can you drive a manual car? no (dean would be ashamed)

What's your guilty pleasure? I love the apple snail egg crushing tiktoks….too niche?

Tattoos? only one really fresh one—I got it with lizzy a few weeks ago!

Favorite color? pink!

Favorite type of music? gay girl pop 🤩

Do you like puzzles? after wresting with a 1000+ piece one this week…no 💅 (yes)

Any phobias? any of the creepy crawlies, being in the middle of nowhere, sleep paralysis, home invasion, carbon monoxide poisoning…I could go on lol, I’m an anxious gal

Favorite childhood sport? gymnastics (I was awful at tumbling but loved burrowing into the foam pit)

Do you talk to yourself? yes, but only if I’m upset ☹️

What movies do you adore? the eras tour movie is on at all times now that I don’t share a living space with lizzy 🤭

Coffee or tea? coffee runs through my veins 🧎‍♀️

First thing you wanted to be when you grew up? a fairy or a mermaid 🧜‍♀️

lizzy:

Do you make your bed? yes! i try to everyday.

What's your favorite number? 18 or 54. long story.

What is your job? pestering charlotte

If you could go back to school, would you? i am in school now! i'm getting a degree that rhymes with schecoming a schmocter

Can you parallel park? yes! charlotte has been in the car with me while parallel parking, so she can attest to my deftness and skill. my old car was pretty damn long and i had to park that puppy everywhere.

A job you had that would surprise people? hmm...TA? my students said i was pretty great!

Do you think aliens are real? yes but mostly just like amoebas and things...if we got something bigger then it's not in this solar system.

Can you drive a manual car? ...naur... :(

What's your guilty pleasure? none of my pleasures are guilty? i don't think? i play the ukulele and that has a lot of Cringe Culture pointed at it right now so maybe that?

Tattoos? i got my first one with charlotte like two weeks ago! :) no, they're not matching ones.

Favorite color? red or yellow! they are happy colours :)

Favorite type of music? i gotta go indie or folk? but i can pretty much listen to anything and like it except extreme metal, jazz, or most post-2001 country

Do you like puzzles? yes!!!!! i LOVE puzzles!!! i listen to audiobooks and use a puzzle app on my phone. but my favourite types of puzzles are word puzzles--i tear up a crossword.

Any phobias? spiders and the unknown void of death. wahoo!

Favorite childhood sport? i only ever hated the sports i played as a youth. so i'm going with dodgeball? or volleyball?

Do you talk to yourself? yeah sometimes i'm writing a scene in my head and i say dialogue out loud on accident. but if i'm alone sometimes i'll narrate what i'm doing.

What movies do you adore? It's A Wonderful Life (1946), The Road to El Dorado (2000), Your Name (2016), Pride and Prejudice (2005) [i know i just alienated some people there], Star Trek: Into Darkness (2013) [but really all of AOS], and Notting Hill (1999) [i could go on forever i love movies]

Coffee or tea? tea! mostly black tea--green tea makes my tummy hort

First thing you wanted to be when you grew up? probably a princess or astronaut? or pop star? the classics.

tagging: @animangalover15 @pregnancykink @majordemonblockparty @samisadeangirl @incesthemes

as always, this is completely optional! <3 just for fun!

[loveregrown]

I forgot to do this until I saw that Clari did but I was tagged by my dears @valentinesweetheartspecial & @yisanged 💗💗

Last song I heard: Let's go to bed - the cure Fav colour: There's too many for me to pick one. So many colors are my favourite in the world. Maybe pink, green & brown right now, but also red & cream. Last watched series: Given with Vinvin... to be honest, I'd like to get back to it. Spicy/sweet/savoury: Sweet! I have such a sweet tooth to the point that I act unwise if I don't get something sweet in every day and sometimes the sweet thing I eat isn't the exact sweet thing my body was craving and it isn't enough! I guess savoury second. Relationship status: Taken and wifed up with the cutest boy in the world! Last thing I googled: "psychically" to see if I had spelt it right because I always doubt myself with every word in the world. Current obsession: … i don't know, laying in my bed I guess (┬┬﹏┬┬) & Tsumugi. Last thing I read: Well, I've been thinking of reading jack and the cuckoo-clock heart after watching the movie which was so good. Something im looking forward to: Hanging out with my friends & loving the world I forgot to change this

If the person reading this wants to do it, you can say I told you to ♡

[belphegor1982]

Fic Stats Meme

Rules: Give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and your fic with the least amount of words.

I was tagged by @strivia - thanks a lot!

• Most Hits: Fairy Tales and Hokum (The Mummy series) (3,033 hits)

I was really surprised by that, but I guess I shouldn't be? I always take for granted that my most "popular" fic on AO3 (and probably FFnet too) is Villains (my "the Flash's Rogues react to the events of the JLU Cadmus arc finale" fic) - but it's a one-shot, while FTaH has 24 chapters and is 162k words long. Hopefully it means people come back until they have finished reading it?

• Second Most Kudos: Reading the Colours (TMNT 2012) (220 kudos)

Aww 💜 I've seen vowels with the same colours since before I can remember (like, for me "A" is red, "E" is pink/purple, "I" is yellow, "O" is blue and "U" is green and I have no idea why) I and I thought that might be a good trait to give 2012 Mikey.

• Third Most Comments: Valse à trois temps (The Mummy series - ish, pre-canon) (51 comment threads)

Oh man, that's the biggest surprise?? But again, when I think about it it's not; it's 14 chapters long and the same three people left a comment on each chapter (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH). But still - I always think nobody's ever going to read this story. It's not true: three whole people did 💖

• Fourth Most Bookmarks: Culture Shock (TMNT 1987 & TMNT 2003 crossover) (62 bookmarks)

I was going to say "this one's special" but they're all special in some way ^^ I both loved and was frustrated by the Turtles Forever giant crossover film, and after watching a few 1987 episodes I wanted to do these little guys justice, a bit. Also it was fun to get into 2003 Donny's head. He's my favourite turtle after 2003 Mikey :o)

• Fifth Most Words: Pirouette (The Mummy series - ish, pre-canon) (16,376 words)

Ah, yes, the thing that was supposed to be a 2k or 4k words one-shot and that's it 😄 Since a lot of my one-shots average at 10k words I'm not surprised to find this one here, tbh.

• Least Words: technically, Scar Tissue (Critical Role - Vox Machina campaign), because since it's a comics it clocks at a round number of 0 words :D But barring this and the podfics, then it's Onomatopoeia (Justice League Unlimited) (236 words)

That was probably the shortest of my JLU one-shots that didn't make it into the "Snapshot Collection", well, collection. Just a conversation between Shayera and Diana about Looney Tunes cartoons characters and their new(ish) colleagues :D

Tagging @tinydooms, @thisstableground, @radarsteddybear and anyone who wants to do this!

[mk-wizard]

Disney Fan Theory: Goofy Goof and George G. Geef

Hello, friends. While I am not big on modern Disney, I still love classic Disney and my favourite character is Goofy. I even enjoy his animated shorts in my adult life. However, I noticed with time, tons fan theories about this character, his history and family tree have come to light. In fact, I have one of my own that I want to share. Before throw it out there though I want to describe Goofy Goof’s character and history vs. George G. Geef’s.

Goofy Goof (the definitive version) is a sweet to a fault, kind and jolly klutz with a heart of gold and tends to have these bouts of wisdom. His sense of style and demeanor is endearingly nerdy and his trademark accessory is his green hat though there are times he doesn’t wear it. His first pet was a grasshopper named Wilbur though it can be assumed that he passed away. Sometime after that, Goofy got married and had his son Maximillian Goof who is more commonly known as Max. Tragically, Goofy’s wife died in a car accident while their son was a still a baby and raised him alone since while taking in his second pet a cat who he named Waffles. By the time Max was about eleven, Goofy moved to Spoonerville and right next door to the Pete family. Considering Waffles is not in the picture when Max is older, it can be assumed that the cat passed away. Later on when Max moves out for college, Goofy also got his own college degree at long last and has gone through many odd jobs over the years. In present day, Max is eighteen while living alone and Goofy has adopted his third pet being a kitten named Mr. Pettibone. Goofy is also officially in a relationship with Clarabelle Cow.

This brings us to a lates 50s to early 60s version of Goofy: George G. Geef. It’s very clear that George is a Goofy, but not THE Goofy. George is still clumsy, whimsical and even makes Goofy’s trademark sounds especially his laugh. However, his personality is much more serious, he has a bit of a temper, he has a slight ego and he is not above doing selfish things like gambling in secret. However, he is ultimately a good person and his sense of style and demeanor has much more finesse than Goofy does and he works in a office to this day. George does not have his two teeth exposed, he has a flesh coloured face, a black nose and black hair with black ears which he usually styles to be hidden most of the time while his body is flesh coloured all over. When George was single, he took in his first pet which a puppy named Bowser who eventually grew up and was pretty naughty. Later on, George got married (and it can be assumed that by then, Bowser passed away as he is not in the picture) and eventually had a son named Goerge G. Geef Jr. who everyone calls Junior. Like George, Junior styles his ears in such a way that they are hidden, he has a flesh coloured face and a flesh coloured body. However, his nose is pink and his hair is red which are traits he inherited from his mother. When Junior got older, the Geef family took in both a cat and a dog though their names were never specified. It is also hinted that George’s marriage got a bit rocky at one point as Mrs. Geef began to flirt with other men, but soon after, it was hinted that they worked things out and are happily married while Junior is as last seen in elementary school.

Now... I know the Disney wiki lists these two as being the same character, but I don’t I need to explain how that doesn’t make any sense as I don’t even need to list how different these two are. However, Disney insists that these two exist in the same universe and in the same timeline.

I know there is another fan theory out there that states that the Goofy who is Max’s father is actually George’s son grown up, but I think I don’t think that’s likely. While I can confirm that people who are redheads or blondes in their youth can wind up as brunettes in their adult life, I don’t think Goofy is Junior grown up because his last name is “Goof” not “Geef” and he’s too proud of his dad and family in general to be the type of person who changes his last name. Also, when he talks about his home life and childhood and all flashbacks of his youth indicate that not only was Goofy very different from Junior, when it was the 70s, Junior was a child while Goofy was a teenager.

This brings me at long last to MY fan theory to what Goofy and George are to each other. I think George is Goofy’s uncle. Specifically, Goofy’s grandfather is the brother of George’s mother meaning that they are also separated by a generation. Goofy did mention that he had a big family that was close nit. I say this because the timeline makes it so that it makes sense this way and because this is the only sensible way Goofy and George can exist at the same time while still both being Goofys. In fact, I don’t think a lot of the Goofys are the same person, but that’s a theory for another day.

Anyway, that is just my fun little theory, What is yours? Thank you for reading and as always, stay safe.

[mi5016jesspark]

colour palette

choosing a colour palette

After reflecting on my very first initial character design attempt, i had thought more purposefully about the colours that i used. i then limited the colour palette as i worked on the second design attempt. This smaller colour palette of 5 colours seemed to work well together! The two colour palettes are very similar, this is because i felt like i had hit the jackpot with the colours i had chosen, however felt as if they needed some minor adjustments. I felt as if the brown could be deeper, to enhance the range in tones. I brightened up the orange to make it stand out more. i kept the pink the same as it was only displayed in the eyes and minor changes weren't necessary. I also kept the yellow the same as i felt like it fit the rest of the palette. I also warmed up the beige-ish colour to a more pink-ish tone.

arrangement test

I have seen similar processes within character design portfolios and advice videos. This step is to determine colour arrangements and to further ensure each step of the character is thought out. This step is in my character design process is again assisted by Iris Muddy. "it is important to think about grouping elements together and how to use these groups purposefully." as explored previously, i wanted to employ the 60-30-10 colour palette arrangement.

Orange body base

The orange base matches the wings of Atlas moths however feels almost too overpowering.

Brown body base

i feel as if the brown base allows each colour to work harmoniously, more so compared to the other combinations.

Yellow body base

The yellow base colour doesn't match the other colours, it being the centre point doesn't allow for harmony

Beige body base

the beige base almost reminds me of sphinx cats, not the vibe im going for

Pink body base

the pink just doesn't lend itself to the overall aesthetics / vibe of an atlas moth. Looks a little sunburnt due to the shade of pink

narrowing it down

I went through all of the colour combinations and colour coordinated each one. Red meaning scrap, yellow meaning i liked / wasn't sure and green meaning i loved / wanted to explore.

I like the idea of the wings being orange as Atlas moth wings, although made up of many colours, are mostly comprised of orange. However this beige colour reminds me of Siamese cats and the yellow just doesn't fit the vibe i was going for.

getting closer to the atmosphere i wanted, however still just doesn't fit what i envisioned.

The beige on the face and hands just feels too plain, there is something just off with this and i cant place it.

the yellow just doesnt seem to suit the vibe i was going for when used for the main body

The Is colour palette just feels too bust for what i was going for. the colours are too bright and don't reflect an atlas moth.

These two are my favourite colour concepts. The overall atmosphere of these two palettes is what i was looking for, I chose the one on the left as an Atlas moths wings are mainly orange, this stays true to the inspiration while exploring my own ideas.

[k00294094]

Ceramics Finished Pieces

The tones of cream, distressed brown and chocolate brown help to accentuate the intensity of the folds.

These pieces resemble the texture of paper as it in crumpled up, similar to the rigid surface of plastic after being scrunched up. I found that after glazing and a second firing these fragile pieces were strengthened.

This is one of my favourite pieces. The imprints of a plastic bag created shallow rigids along the surface of the clay that the purple paint settled in. I then used a wet sponge to water down & remove any pigmint around these marks.

I wanted the colour of this piece to be a lighter shade of baby pink, but I found that the glazing and firing of the piece gave it an almost flesh-like appearance, which I found interesting. As a result, it reminded me of the microplastics within our body systems hidden beneath our skin.

I love how this firey-orange was enhanced after the glazing process, giving off a strong sheen similar to the shiney appearance of bright coloured plastic. I placed the piece on an aluminium-like material that compliments this piece really well.

This brilliant-blue textured piece looks almost sea-like in its appearance, reminding us of the areas of 'plastic-soup' in our oceans. The 'Break Free from Plastic' initiative is a global movement to demand massive reductions in single-use plastics and to push for lasting solutions to the plastic pollution crisis.

I think these grey & sage green coloured pieces best resemble the folds and crevices of an upright plastic bag. I am so delighted with how these pieces turned out and above all held there shape. I felt the clear plastic packaging and cut up 7up bottle sit well along side these pieces, creating interesting visuals.

[unit2beth]

For the first version I used pro markers. I got the colour palette from the package of a game of checkers from the 1920s. I like how the yellow bad green look together and I feel like I wouldn’t usually have picked that colour combination. After using pro markers though I wasn’t too happy with the shade of yellow as it was too bright. So I went over it with a white coloured pencil to make it more pastel.

For the second one I used gouache paint. I really like how this one turned out because it is simple but effective. I changed to yellow to a blue just to see if it would look any better. And I do think I prefer the blue. However I didn’t pick it for my final collection because I prefer go the media I used on the first version looks. I did also use coloured pencil on top of the gouache just to help enhance the details.

Originally I wanted each circle to be a different colour and all the colours to be scattered randomly throughout the dress. However when I started using the water colour I found that it would look more elegant if I did more of a gradient down the dress. I wanted the watercolour to run more freely so I firstly covered the design in just water before blobbing the watercolour on top of that.

For the second version I decided to do a college to help me achieve something similar to my original idea. However I decided to go with a monochrome colour scheme. I love how all the different textures look together as I used some shiny and some plain papers. I also added some details with a blue posca pen.

I wanted to experiment with using shiny silver foil and I thought this would be the perfect design for it as it is the most fun one. I kept the design quiet simple by just adding one colour to make the silver standout. My favourite part is the shoes.

I then decided that I wanted to experiment with inks. I only own two different coloured inks so my colour palette was very limited. However I still made it work. However I do think this version is a bit too simple for my liking. I did end up using some watercolour to make the skin colour more natural instead of vibrant pink.

I was very excited to add media to this design because I knew that I wanted to use my new shiny watercolours. I wasn’t expecting much from them but they actually worked very well. I used them around to emphasise details on the skirt. I really wanted to see how much detail I could create with just using watercolours and no pencils. And I think it went quite well as I managed to create a texture on the skirt.

The second version of this design is done with pro markers. I love using pro markers but it is sometimes hard because it limits your colour options. I used a more funky colour scheme of purple and green. I tried to blend the markers by continuously layering the darker and lighter shades over each other.

[citrinae]

closer.

zoro x reader

contents; you kiss zoro under the mistletoe. sfw, pining, gn!reader, wc: 595.

The closest your lips found themselves to Roronoa Zoro’s was in the back of a cramped pub where he could enjoy the liberty of being at a distance from the rest of the crew and you really just felt the need of a glass. You can’t recall exactly how it happened, but you could see a pushing elbow there, a spilt drink somewhere else, and before you’d notice you were grabbing Zoro’s shoulders for balance. A knot in your throat, sweat bobbing on his temple. You haven’t spoken about that night ever since. Rather, you chose to keep the memory stored away in a convenable fog of bickerings and caustic exchanges. Like adults do. 

And Zoro’s lips coil into a sneer now as you shove a wet towel—your towel, that he's used—into his eyes. 

“How was I supposed to know that?” It sounds genuine. His chest is bare and gleaming with muscles that still press into each other after training. 

You stare at him, incredulously. “You could’ve asked? I hung it there to dry, Zoro.” 

“Wash it again, then.” A shrug, veins cutting into bicep as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “Big deal.”

“This is definitely not the point,” you press on. “You took my towel without asking. Because it just happened to be there.”

“I think you care too much about a damn towel,” he says, and it sets a fire in your cheeks as he does. 

Your inhale is shaky. “Well I think other people’s belongings are more important than your training,” you hear yourself say. 

Zoro opens his mouth, then stops. Seconds pass. You watch his collarbone as it rises and falls with his breathing; he is strength and discipline. Like a jaded Mars deciding the fate of a coliseum battle he folds his arms together in search of a response. And you, all fury and grit, mirror the gesture in anticipation. 

Leaves tingling your nose. You look up. Anger melts then into a laugh in your throat as you come to stare at the mistletoe hovering above your heads—green and red and ending into a fishing rod that stretches itself too long to have been bought from a regular market. Usopp. 

Slumped somewhere across the handrail, jacket and gloves on, one of his favourite hats covering a good shade of his face. 

“Just kiss already,” his voice shoots from the other end of the rod, with a sigh and an eye-roll that you know is there despite not being able to properly see it. 

Thin ice. This is walking on thin ice. Wind sweeping through the silence and into your clothes, your eyes guide you back to Zoro, doubtful and hesitant, rather choosing to focus on the number of breaths crossing you than the pink colouring his cheeks and nose. And there are three, four, five of them before parting your lips. Seven before pressing your fingers into fists and eight before stopping time. 

Zoro’s kiss is all warmth and comfort and something else you cannot quite name, but feel, deeply, thoroughly, even more so when his hand finds your waist and pulls you closer to his figure. He tastes salty with a bead of sweat gathered just below his bottom lip. After you pull away, there's a blissful dizziness enveloping both of you, and you almost ignore the theatric “how come you've never done this for me?” pitched towards Usopp's direction. 

“Fucking idiot,” Zoro's drone fogs the winter air. He's smiling. 

“Yeah,” and you cannot help but smile back. “He's an idiot.”

[lily-patent-pending]

Tag ppl you wanna know betteeer

Tagged by: @gracelikesfries (i copy pasted your post to use as a template and i'm terrified i'm gonna somehow post it before i'm finished typing ._.)

Last song: "Sweet Hibiscus Tea" by Penelope Scott. i tend to listen to albums or songs on repeat a lot when i first find them, and that's what i'm currently doing with The Junkyard 2

Favorite Color: pastel pink, but mint green is a close second! (the only hex code i know by heart is #00ff7f, which used to be my favourite colour. that's the shade picture below, although now i prefer a slightly more blue shade. maybe #00ffb3

Currently Watching: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic; i don't really watch shows (since i don't have a TV and i don't have access to any streaming service... and i'm too afraid to pirate stuff >.>) so it's kind of a lie to say i'm "Currently Watching" anything except like, YouTube series. but i watched the first episode with some friends a while back and i really enjoyed it, and i'd like to watch more with them sometime. i also started watching Ben 10 with a different friend over Summer, but neither of us are great at following up on stuff so that fell through.

Last Movie: i watched an outdoor screening of Back to the Future recently. the movie was good, if a bit weird (i've seen it before as a kid but i forgot that Libyan terrorists were a major plot point??? or that his mother kept trying to seduce him???) but i didn't bring a coat and i was freezing by the end of it.

Currently Reading:

Non-fiction - i don't really read non-fiction, and to be honest i can't think of one that i'm reading currently off of the top of my head. but i'd like to read The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green. i've read all of his other novels and listened to all the episodes of The Anthropocene Reviewed podcast, just haven't gotten a chance to read the book yet.

Fiction - i got a copy of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow for Christmas that i've only recently started reading (i tend to not read for months at a time and then plough through a whole book in a weekend, like i did with Will Grayson, Will Grayson). i'm not far enough in to give a solid review. i'm also reading Dying to Know You with a friend, which is nice :)

Sweet/spicy/savory: Savoury, although i also like sweet stuff (and i have a pretty high tolerance for what i'd consider sickly). i can handle spice fairly well, but i don't necessarily enjoy the sensation by itself.

Relationship status: single and unsure if i'm even interested in a relationship. i don't really have a solid idea in my head of what would differentiate a romantic relationship from a platonic one, either.

Current Obsessions: i have a few long-standing ones (namely Pokémon, Undertale, and FNaF) that come back with a vengeance every so often. last week i went into a frenzy and wrote a 50+ slide presentation about shiny Pokémon, and i've been watching a lot of FNaF and Deltarune theories - i'm really interested in seeing what different conclusions people come to.

Last googled: i specifically didn't Google to find a picture of my favourite colours until after writing this section... and then proceeded to search "my little pony friendship is magic" to make sure i had the name of the show right (with the punctuation and whatnot). uhh the last things i looked up on my phone were "dialog" and "dialogue" (to see if they were different words or just a color/colour situation) and "i'm going to buy an absurd amount of orange juice".

Currently working on: uhhhh ummmm... i'm... making a slideshow on the story of FNaF ? and, y'know, starting university, i guess. idk, mostly just taking stuff as it comes at the moment.

i'm gonna tag @funnydogy because we're mutuals but haven't really interacted (and yet your posts about sans the skeleton eating cigarettes have affected my everyday life) and @scrampton because you also reblog posts about sans eating cigarettes. what's up with that?