#it took me a minute to get it and then i proceeded to snort so hard i choked on my own spit so that was fun

[smoresbythefyresyde]

lee-leaning swytch /j

I. Genuinely had to take a minute with this. Oh my god i might need to use this as a tag

[waitimcomingtoo]

SLUT!

chapter three: you and me would be a big conversation

series masterlist

The next few weeks of your relationship involved a lot of sneaking around.

You didn’t want your reputation to get any worse than it already was and being seen with a guy was definitely not going to do you any favors. To avoid the public scrutiny for at least a little while, you kept your dates to places far from campus or Peters favorite, his dorm room.

“I’m knocking on the door.” Ned said loudly from the other side of the door as he knocked repeatedly. Peter stopped kissing you and picked his head up to look at the door.

“We can hear you, Ned.” He sighed as you slid out from under him to sit up on the bed.

“I am opening the door.” Ned announced and then proceeded to fumbled with his room key for the next few minutes as you and Peter sat in silence.

“We know.” You said through a laugh. Ned finally got the door open but had both hands over his eyes and his room key in his mouth.

“Is everyone decent?” Ned asked.

“Yes.” Peter groaned. “Take your hands away from your eyes.”

Ned slowly lowered his hands and sighed in relief when he saw that everyone was fully clothed. You waved at Ned and he smiled as if just realizing you were in the room.

“Hello Y/n.” He said politely.

“Hi Ned. How was Spanish?” You asked him.

“Muy bueno. Gracias. How was fornicating with my childhood best friend?” Ned asked casually.

“What’s fornicating?” You asked Peter as he burned bright red.

“It means sex. And that’s not what was happening.” Peter said and gave Ned a look that told him to stop.

“Oh, really? Tell that to the hickie on your neck.” Ned snorted. Peter covered his forming hickie and looked at you sheepishly.

“Sorry.” You laughed shyly. “I’m a biter.”

“So I’ve heard.” Ned said as he plopped down at his desk. Your smile immediately dropped and Peter was quick to notice.

“I should go.” You faked a smile and hoped off Peters bed.

“Way to go, Ned.” Peter whispered harshly as you left the room. Peter followed you down the hallway and tugged you by the back of your shirt.

“Wait up.” He said as you turned around. You smiled tightly and folded your arms before looking at him.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry about him. He didn’t mean that maliciously. He’s just a little dumb.” Peter explained.

“It’s okay. Everyone says it. Why can’t he?” You shrugged it off but Peter could tell you were still upset. He pulled you in and hugged you as he pressed a few kisses to the side of your head.

“I wish we had more privacy. Not that it isn’t exciting to make out until we heard the dulcent sounds of Ned fumbling for his room key.” Peter joked. You smiled as an idea came to you and pulled away from Peter a little to look at him.

“I want to take you somewhere tonight.”

“Oh?” Peter raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“Do you have swim trunks?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Meet me at the old brick building at 7. Don’t be late.” You booped his nose and started to walk away.

“What are we doing?” He called after you.

“You’ll see!” You called back.

At 6:51 that night, Peter stood outside the brick building in his swim trucks and a T shirt. He was freezing since it was mid November now but his anticipation kept him warm. You came around the building in an oversized shirt and smiled when you saw Peter.

“You’re early.” You grinned and hugged him.

“So are you.”

“I am. We’re so alike.”

“We’re nothing alike.” Peter laughed as he rubbed his hand up and down on your back.

“Oh, right. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.” You shrugged and pulled him inside the building. You took the elevator to the basement and led Peter by the hand to an indoor pool. Moonlight was spilling in through tiny windows all along the walls, making the pool light up a pretty shade of aquamarine.

“Woah!” Peter gasped. “This school has a pool?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you see this on your tour?” You asked as you pulled off your t shirt.

“I never toured. They were the only other school to give me full ride so this is where I came.”

“Remind me to show you around. After we go for a swim.” You chuckled and jumped into the water. Peter pulled his shirt off but stood nervously at the edge of the pool.

“Come in! It’s not cold.” You said as you emerged from the water. Peter took a deep breath and jumped in, immediately feeling the chill.

“That’s really cold. You liar!” Peter said through chattering teeth.

“I know. I just wanted you in.” You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pulled him into a long kiss that warmed Peter right up.

“Ignore my blue lips, please.” He said once he pulled away.

“It’s okay. You’ll warm up soon. Especially if you keep close to me.” You smirked and wrapped your legs around his waist.

“I can do that.” He replied and wrapped his arms around you. You floated around the pool for a while and engaged in a race or two. After a while, Peter noticed a pensive look on your face and swam over to you.

“What’s on your mind?” He wondered.

“I have to admit something.” You said sheepishly.

“Oh? Spill.”

“When we first started hanging out, I was worried you only liked me because you heard I was easy.” You admitted with a certain sadness in your eyes. Peter made a face that you were crazy which made you feel better.

“No. I had no idea. I just thought you were nice. That’s why I liked you.” He told you.

“It’s been a really long time since someone has called me “nice”.” You smiled and didn’t realize how much it would mean to you to be called something other than a slut.

“You are nice. The people on campus don’t you. But I do.” Peter assured you.

“I know you do. It feels good to be known for me and not for some stupid rumors that people made up.” You told him. You stared at each for a moment of quiet understanding. Neither of you had felt truly seen by another person until meeting the other.

“I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you.” You said quietly.

“I feel that way too.” Peter smiled softly and pulled you through the water to hold you.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You said before pulling him into a kiss. Peter wrapped one arm around your waist and used his free hand to wrap your legs around him. He then slipped his hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. He didn’t know where this confidence was coming but he was going with it.

“Wait.” You said suddenly and pushed him back.

“Sorry. I’m moving too fast.” Peter apologized and put his hands behind his head to keep them off you.

“No, it’s not that. I just think if we get caught making out in this pool we’re not supposed to be in then you’d probably lose your scholarship.” You laughed, making Peter relax.

“Right.” He smiled. “Because I’m poor and smart.”

“We should probably go.” You said and pointed to the ladder to get out.

“Oh. Yeah.” Peter agreed and tried to hide his disappointment that the night was over.

“Together, though.” You added, drawing a smile out of Peter. You dried off with the towels in the locker room before throwing your clothes back on. Once you were dressed, you brought Peter back to your dorm room.

“My roommate went home for the weekend.” You told him as you flipped the light switch on. Peter had never been in your room before so he took his time looking around at all the little things you used to decorate. He noticed your posters and pictures of your friends from high school taped up above your stuffed animals.

“Woah. I’ve never been in the girls dorm before.” Peter smiled as he picked up a plush dog off your bed.

“It’s not that exciting.” You chuckled and snatched the dog from him.

“I promise, I feel very excited right now.” He replied as he sat down on your bed. Girls rooms always smelled so much better than boys and he could sniff out the faint smell of peppermint in the air. You smirked at him and opened the mini fridge to take out a can of ginger ale. You poured it into two little cups and handed him one.

“Clink, clink.” You said and hit your cup against his. In the lighting of your room, Peter was finally able to notice that you weren’t wearing any makeup from the trip to the pool.

“You look pretty with no makeup.” Peter said as it was his first time seeing you undone like this. You laughed as if that was ridiculous and covered your face a little with your hand, which Peter then moved. You looked at him and stopped trying to hide as you no longer felt you had to.

“So do you.” You gently teased him as you leaned in. Peter put his cup down on a nearby dresser and used his recently freed hand to pull you into his lap. He slid his hands up and down your back as you tangled your fingers in his chlorine dampened curls. Something gave you the nerve to push him back into your bed and you both fell back without breaking the kiss. Peter kept his hands in a respectful placement on your hips like the gentleman he was. You pulled away only to catch your breath but ended up getting distracted by Peters pretty face. You traced your fingernail in circles on his cheek and felt him blush under your touch.

“I got pool water on your pillow.” Peter said in a soft voice. You smiled and leaned down to rub your nose against his.

“It’s okay. I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.”

“I can wash them for you if you want so that you don’t have to sleep on dirty sheets.” Peter offered, giving you an idea.

“I mean, if they’re already dirty, we might as well put them to go use.” You said and leaned down to kiss him again. This kiss was slower and sent butterflies flying into your stomach. Peter picked up on what you were trying to say and felt excitement building up inside him in anticipation of your first time together. You’d never gone further than making out and he was eager to take your relationship to the next level. You could feel Peter pushing your hips down into him and quickly pulled away.

“Sorry.” You said at the same time. Peter could sense you were hesitant to continue so he propped himself up on his elbows to give you some space. You sat up in your elbows as well and gave him a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated. “I know I’m the one that started that but I think I changed my mind. I don’t know if I’m ready to go all the way yet. I’m sorry if I lead you on.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Peter assured you. “You can change your mind anytime you want at any moment you need to. And I don’t know if I was ready for it either. I just got excited.”

“No, I was too. I just don’t want us to move too fast if that’s okay? I don’t want to mess things up by rushing into anything because I really like you and I want us to last.”

“Of course that’s okay. You can always tell me what pace you feel comfortable with. And I really like you too. We can take our time together, okay?” Peter smiled softly at you as he took your hand. You looked at your intertwined hands and realized this was the first time you felt completely safe around a boy.

“You know, Peter, in a world of boys, you really are a gentleman.” You said through a tired laugh.

“Can you tell that to my aunt when you meet her? Because she’s convinced I’m a delinquent since I stopped wearing a belt.”

“I’ll tell her.” You laughed and laid down on your bed. Peter laid beside you and rested his head on your heart. You immediately tangled your hands on his hair and played with it the way he liked.

“She’ll like you. I know she will. I gotta get my two girls together one day.” Peter said in a soft voice.

“I hope she likes me. You were primarily raised by her, right?”

“For the last few years, yeah. She’s the best.”

“I bet she it.” You replied. “It would explain why you turned out the way you did.”

“What do you mean?”’ Peter chuckled and looked up at you.

“I mean you’re so sensitive and caring of others around you. I mean, look at us. You met me on your first day here and decided to tutor me just because you saw a stranger was struggling. And I see the way you take care of Ned. Remember that night he was homesick so you made us all watch that weird movie with the sexy horse from when you guys were kids?”

“Hey, Spirit is not a weird movie.” Peter playfully defended. “It’s an underrated classic with a phenomenal soundtrack.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” You chuckled. “All I’m saying is, she raised you right. In a world of boys, you’re a gentleman.”

“I try to be. You deserve a gentleman.” He said and picked his head up to stare at you. You smiled softly and brushed his hair off his forehead before taking his chin and brining his face closer to kiss him.

“Thanks for being gentle with me.” You whispered.

Peter returned the smiled and kissed you again before resting his head back down on your chest. You played with his hair until he fell asleep and then turned off the lights.

Tag List 💋

@breadglasses @hollandweather @cashtons-wife @scenesofobx @trumanbluee

@classygladiatortidalwave @miwagila @sarcasm-and-stiles @hitoshislut @misspascalpunk

@buckylovinglokivariant @betzabobababi

@eterjas @pleasingregulus @avatarjuno @dreamingofts18 @diorrgrl @anarchistsons

@crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @erule @justsomebodyweird @un06 @tom-hollands-wifey

@bellajg21 @madlyinlovewmattmurd0ck @secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer

@ferrjulie @kitykatnumber @angelayse @cleosertoriooc @iamdedsthingz

@girls-and-guts @tomshufflepuff @lovely-blackinnon @matchafrappeidm

@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kneelforloki @xorderedkaosx @dory-98 @okayiamkassandra

[seuonji]

night shift ★彡 xu minghao

xu minghao x yn ln

彡when yn’s juniors finds trouble with some fellow college mates, yn goes through mountains just to get them justice, even if it means needing to infiltrate and make friends with the most intimidating clique on campus.

masterlist

#7 7th chance! | #8 wasted times! | # 9 yn’s boyfriend!

notes: there’s a writing part after the cut! <3 (1k words!)

you turned your phone off and redirected your attention to minghao and his friend that tagged along who’s name was…kwon soonyoung? you were mildly acquainted with both of then due to chan’s dance club but other than that, you really have never had a conversation with them so the walk to icey milk was ought to be interesting.

when they first approached you, minghao was quiet and cold as ever. perhaps that was just his default character. soonyoung on the other hand greeted you with such friendliness that it shocked you.

now you three were on the sidewalk making your way to icey milk.

awkwardly, you were walking beside minghao.

soonyoung walked on a faster pace so it were as if he was leading you two.

“so, what’s it like being vice yn!” soonyoung turned around, walking backwards as he asked.

you giggled at his eagerness, you’ve never met someone so interested in the role of a vice, “well, i kinda just do whatever the president tells us. but there is times i get to boss people around aswell.”

“you boss people around?” minghao suddenly chirped in.

“hard to believe?” you titled your head.

“not really,” he faced to the front again.

“i’ve always wanted to get acquainted with you guys, you all seemed like fun but i was scared it was prohibited.”

you held back your laugh, from the corner of your eye, you saw minghao doing the same. “like we’re celebrities or something? come on, it’s really nothing like that, we’re all students just like you,” you casually responded.

you caught the attention of minghao while your attention was on soonyoung. today he realised, you probably aren’t the snob-could be apart of the mean girls trio-obnoxious-not humble type of person he portrayed you be in his head. you were pretty decent and he could see himself being alone in a room with you without going insane.

but what was he thinking? it’s only been a 2 minute walk so far he could only judge so much.

“so i could totally just try and be friends with the student council?” soonyoung continued his questions. that one kind off took you aback, did he have some sort of student council addiction, why was this man so invested. but perhaps this interest could be an asset to you.

“of course! we don’t bite. actually jeonghan might but he’d only do it as a joke,” you joked.

“who’s jeonghan?” soonyoung tilted his head.

minghao snorted out a giggle, “so much for wanting to be friends with the student council.”

“ouf,” you blurted almost letting out a loud laugh. jeonghan always swore everyone knew who he was, you wish you caught what soonyoung said on tape.

you proceeded to give brief descriptions on everyone from student council but before you knew it, you reached icey milk. you parted ways with soonyoung. you think you made a good impression since soonyoung insisted that you and him should hangout again. that felt like an accomplishment!

soon enough, you and minghao went to the back to start work.

-

it was a slow day seeing as it was a weekday which allowed you and minghao to focus on training more today.

he trained you in ice cream scooping, the right way to wash the dishes and since icey milk also sold milkshakes, minghao was able to train you on that aswell.

“so that concludes your training, anything else just ask me,” he had a slight smile on his face.

you let out a breathe thankful for the zero mishaps that happened that day.

“thanks, mind if i take a break?”

“not at all, go ahead”

you were able to confide in the space of the employee room to text seungcheol. afterwards you shut your phone tired of the situation but laughed cause it was pretty funny.

you had your earphones in and looked up into the ceiling, letting your playlist run wild.

few songs had passed and you heard someone walk in. you lowered your volume down just in case someone spoke.

unbeknownst to you, minghao walked in and caught a glimpse of the song that was playing on your phone. it was showcased on your lock screen and he pointed it out.

“hey, you listen that artist too?”

it took you a bit too long to realise he was talking to you but you pulled out one of your earphones and you peeked at your screen. an artist song was playing, an artist you swore only you listened to. “yea, holy shit i’ve never met someone that knew them.”

“yea, they’re kinda underground.”

“i like them that way,” you giggled.

he had the same smile on his face as he laughed, “me too.”

huh, you two finally agreed on something.

he sat infront of you, going on his phone aswell.

this was your chance.

“did you hear they’re coming to town this year?”

“huh they are?” he placed his phone down giving you his full attention.

“yea! i mean it’s not a huge concert, it’s more like a live house but, would you go?”

“probably not, it would cost money i can’t spare,” he looked defeated.

your eyes grew bigger from the reality check as your plopped back into your chair, “that’s true.”

“i mean, we could just take the cash from the register and go,” he shrugged his shoulder and joked.

you let out a laugh, he was capable of making jokes? you swear he was a robot. “that’s genius actually!”

“let’s plan it out then,” he said with such seriousness it didn’t seem like a joke anymore.

you enjoyed the conversation, just as you were about to prolong it, the chimes rang as the front door opened, alarming you two that there was a customer.

minghao instantly stood up to attend to them as you followed behind. as he opened the door, he whispered to you, “here comes our money for the concert!” he did a small jazz hands gesture before returning back to his employee mode. you watched him at the side and quietly let out a sigh of relief.

maybe you could enjoy working around him.

funfact: when yn went back home they searched up the meaning of the song wasted times. they could see some correlation and they definitely didn’t let him breathe because of it.

taglist: @weird-bookworm @kissesfrmwonwoo @haecien @amxlia-stars @addyanm @anemoiant @kokoiinuts @leewonkyeom @silver-liner @zzenkha @buffhoshi @woozixo @porridgesblog @ilovehimyourhonour @koala-wonderland @bangantokchy @limbomoon @som1ig @imprettyweird @hyelium @sikuthealien

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[starqueensthings]

Dork Love: Part Four

chap1 | chap2 | chap3

Pairing: Tech x GN!reader (can be read as ND!Tech x ND!GN!reader if you squint)

Summary: never thought I'd see the day, but here is the final part of Dork Love! Things happen, questions are answered. I won’t say any more for fear of spoiling things. Make sure you’ve read the previous three parts before proceeding.

Rating/WC/POV: Teen+ readers, but no real warnings. 7847 words (I hate myself too, don’t worry). 2nd POV but from Tech’s perspective.

A/N: thank you to the always lovely @staycalmandhugaclone for proofreading, and for reminding me that unstiflable, as much as I’d like it to be a word, is not LOL like “so fetch” it just ain’t gonna happen!

That autonomic demand to narrow his eyes was irrepressible, and the onslaught of light pouring in through the open door dazzled him to near paralysis as he stood in the shadows, pistol raised and poised to fire blindly if or when the situation required. But even through long lashes near-opacifying his vision, Tech’s astute mind instantly noted the familiar, swaying cadence of the figure stepping through the threshold, its movements much less hurried and frenetic than his sergeant’s broad-shouldered, deliberate strides would have been as he hastened to provide backup. In that subsequent second, as Tech’s eyes screamed in protest and the alleged assailant stepped delicately atop that worn wood floor, a cresting wave of unadulterated relief and realization crashed into his heaving chest and forced the bated breath from his lungs.  

“Thank the Maker,” he exclaimed as he attempted to swallow the panic that had taken up residence in the back of his throat. 

His feet took him urgently toward you, stowing his pistol in it’s holster with a deftness that his trembling hands should not have possessed, and the now-redundant flashlight fell with a thud to the floor, spinning away to uselessly brighten a forgotten corner as he closed the space between you and flung his arms around your shoulders.  

The startled gasp that escaped your lips at the unexpected movement went ignored. He spared no consideration for the way your arms balked against the restriction of his unexpected embrace; your choked and stuttered demands for distance and clarification registered even less in his mind than your obvious sense of alarm. He would explain after… He’d offer a million apologies in just a minute… What mattered most to him in this second was that you were safe— you were there in front of him unailed, injury free and not bludgeoned to death by the bloodied hammer still imprinted in his mind's eye. 

“T— Tech?!” you stammered, the futile attempts at tugging your arms free creating barely enough leverage to tip your head back and peer upward at your captor. “Is that you? What— what are you doing here?” 

“You are alive,” he spoke, seizing the brief opportunity that your acknowledgement presented and retightening his grip around your shoulders.

“Of— of course I am?” you answered, the snort of incredulity almost completely muffled by the power of his embrace as you slowly reciprocated his affection by encircling his narrow waist. “How did you get in here?”

But your behest for an explanation once again failed to pull even a fragment of reasoning from his lips, that brilliant mind utterly failing in its feat to process the emotional undulation of your perceived murder, and he hung his head silently into the gap above your shoulder, greedily breathing in the same scent he’d spent countless mornings trying to imagine were in the bunk next to him.

“This doesn’t look like any ‘perilous and life-threatening event’ that I’ve ever been a part of.”

Hunter’s amusement, while somewhat muffled by the modulator in his helmet, was entirely apparent in the small chuckle that followed his quip. Tech snapped his head toward the door, the intrusion he’d utterly forgotten was on its way taking quick advantage of the adrenaline still doping his blood and setting every inch of his akin aprickle. Yet… having your form pressed against his in that quiet moment of long-anticipated reacquaintance had embedded him with a need for you equally as powerful, and releasing you from his clutches felt oddly like he was willingly permitting a limb to depart his body.

“Who— who are you?” you voiced as you turned toward the door, shielding your eyes with the same hand that had last been the recipient of Tech’s converged affection.  

“Hunter,” the sergeant chirruped, boots treading thoughtlessly atop that trail of morbid, red breadcrumbs as he crossed the room and extended a hand. “Glad to see you’re not dead.” 

“Why would I be dead?” you asked as you shook his hand, a very potent confusion still swaddling every word that left those lips.

“Good question,” Hunter chuckled, tipping his head forward slightly to pull that painted plastoid bucket from his head. “Can’t say I have an answer. Tech was losing his marbles about a limp fickle tree or someth—?” 

“Ficus,” Tech interrupted, feeling a fresh surge of embarrassment rise to his already heated cheeks. Those frenzied emotions… the atypical and unbridled panic from mere minutes ago was being quickly usurped by a coursing regret for the composure he’d altogether abandoned the minute your safety was in question. 

He cleared his throat and shifted his goggles on his nose, shying away from your inquiring gaze as it returned to him. “My apologies for the infiltration,” he continued, readjusting his helmet needlessly under his arm. “My brother and I returned with every intention of completing the required electrical repairs, only to find the premises looking uncharacteristically derelict. Regrettably, I had no means of contacting you, so I permitted myself entry hoping to affirm your safety, or collect clues to identify the assailant.”

He chanced a glance in your direction; the way your wide eyes darted intently yet curiously back and forth between his instantly threatened to steal the justification still poised on his tongue, and watching your lip disappear between your teeth saw the battle against that  implacable itch to reach for your hand vigorously resurrected. 

“There was undeniable evidence that harm may have come to you,” he offered, reaching instead for his datapad and tipping the screen toward you. “My scanners indicated blood of a human origin splattered in several places, with a significant percentage of it congealing atop the handle of a hammer still perched in the sink. Objectively, all access points to the establishment appeared to have been boarded to prevent any external supposition, eliminating any obvious need for an investigation. Your beloved flora was presenting with several signs of neglect, and I noted a discarded caf beside the computer that my scanners confirm has been sitting undisturbed for nearly two dozen rotations.”

“Ew, what?!” you exclaimed as your expression shifted abruptly from concern to disgust, nose scrunching as you peered over your shoulder toward the counter.

“Is that what that smell is?” Hunter queried under his breath, his throat bobbing heavily as if trying to steel himself against the cresting heave in his stomach.  

But the notion of the abandoned dish and its putrid contents didn’t befuddle you as it had Tech, instead he watched your eyes soften and roll before an incredulous scoff huffed from your nose. 

“Figures,” you groused with a small shake of the head. “He has the wherewithal to put a bloody hammer in the sink but not the dirty mug.” 

Tech paused, your grumbled words failing to establish even a scrap of sound reasoning in his already overladen mind, and the slight cock in Hunter’s brow as he turned to glance inquisitively at his brother clearly indicated he was equally as confused by your insufficiently explanatory grievance.  

“Who’s ‘he’?” the sergeant asked on their behalf.   

“My father,” you answered with another disgruntled roll of the eyes. “I asked him to come here and seal the place up for me.” 

“Your father left this carnage?” Tech posed, unable to keep the bewilderment from his voice. “How peculiar.” 

“But… why?” Hunter added.   

“It’s a long story,” you replied, failing to conceal a large yawn with the back of one hand as the other stretched high above your head. “And I’ll happily tell you the whole thing once I get some caf in me. Give me a few minutes to turn the power back on and then we can catch up.” 

The first twinge of an adoring smile tugged at Tech’s lips as he watched you first heave a preparatory sigh before squaring your shoulders and reaching for the handle of that soiled mug. With your nose pinched tightly between your fingers, and your cheeks  expanded to their full capacity under the strain of a held breath, you carried the dish at arms length and retreated to the back door. Tech watched you go without even really seeing you… eyes unfocussed, mind spinning tirelessly. It seemed wholly impossible that attempting to ascertain his feelings for you during their trek along that sunlit pathway had rendered him so uneasy that he nearly faceplanted; then mere seconds later, he’d hurled headfirst into a panic so foreign and inexplicable that even Hunter, his most astute brother and the person who likely understood him most in this galaxy, had difficulty navigating Tech’s discombobulated fears. Now here he stood, the ravaging tornado of emotions spanning the last half an hour, only a thing of the past. His mind, instead, brimming with nothing but absolute certainty of his affection for you, and it wasn’t until (“...oof!”) you tripped over the long-abandoned spools of wire and nearly slooped that rancid liquid all over the floor, that a distant glimmer of reality returned to him, and he hastened to retrieve the discarded flashlight and hand it over to you. 

“Was that a hug I just saw?” Hunter jeered, knocking his fist against the dome of Tech’s shoulder the second your figure vanished into the enshadowed hallway.   

The genius soldier did not answer, offering his brother a mildly embarrassed, reproachful glance before shifting his attention to the device in his hands. 

“You know Tech,” the sergeant persisted, keeping his voice tactfully low. “You’ve pulled some really impressive tricks out of your arsenal over the years, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more impressed by you than I am now.”  

Tech let his brother's indirect praise wash over him, turning his response over in his mind several times. “It is most peculiar,” he uttered quietly to the screen as the lights flickered into life overhead, “That simply the notion of this companionship can trigger such dichotomous sentiments.” 

“What do you mean?” Hunter queried as he stepped toward the front door and pushed it closed. 

“Well… it seems implausible that one individual could initiate both anxiety and comfort in another, as they are contradictory emotional responses that otherwise do not theoretically coincide.” Tech kept his eyes pointedly downward to the illuminated device in his hands as he spoke. “How is it that my fear for the safety of another is rendered so paramount, that the notion of having lost said person clouds the judgement in which I hold in such high regard, particularly so when the person in question is one of whom I hardly know? Yet, the moment I deem their safety established, I am overcome with a protective urge so robust that I would unquestioningly forfeit the use of my limbs if encircling them promised a shield from any potential harm?” 

The momentary silence that ensued post-confession was undoubtedly amplified by the recent extermination of fracas from the outside world, yet nothing reverberated louder amongst the walls of that dusty shop than the proud pause that proceeded Hunter’s answer, the smile doming his inked cheek as he stepped back toward his brother entirely missed by the genius still staring deliberately downward.  

“I don’t know,” the sergeant answered slowly, placing a discerning hand on the top of Tech’s shoulder. “Feelings are powerful things… I guess we don’t give ‘em enough credit.” 

“Indeed,” Tech agreed as he finally lifted his gaze, eyes flashing as he peered at the space where you were due to appear at any moment… 

“Hunter?” he added quietly as a thoughtful silence reemerged.  

“Yeah, ‘vod?” 

“I do not think I will ever tire of this ‘feeling’.”

Hunter’s response was stolen off his tongue by the squeak of old hinges as you pried that back door open with the toe of your shoe,  reappearing moments later in the doorway with a green mug held carefully in one hand and a clear glass of water in the other; the way your lips pursed and hitched to one side as you focussed on maneuvering toward the counter without spilling either liquid, rearousing the tingle under Tech’s skin. 

“What’d’ya say we pull these boards down?” Hunter spoke loudly, clapping his brother on the arm before turning to face the obstructed windows.  

“That would be fantastic,” you said, carefully depositing your steaming mug beside the computer. “I’m handy enough in my own right, but I don’t trust myself not to pull a  ‘Dad’ and take a finger off trying to get them down.” 

“It’s not a problem,” Hunter answered, dismissing your comment with a wave of his hand as he crossed the room and debated which of the wood panels to dismantle first. “Tech, let's start with the one on the right—”

But Tech heard none of his summons, too enraptured with the charming crease between your brows as your concentration shifted toward your drooping plants, hands lovingly tipping that glass of water into the clay pot housing your limp, little tree. 

“—and then we’ll just go along the front and rip 'em down one by one. We can stack them in the corner out of the way for now. Ready? Tech…? Tech.”

“Coming.” Tech wrenched his gaze from you and hurried to meet his brother next to the furthest of the boarded windows.    

“I’m a little alarmed at how easily you broke in,” you admitted with a smirk as the duo trod past the counter moments later, carrying the first the half-dozen bulky boards between them.  

“It was quite simple,” Tech offered, lowering his end of the board to the dusty floor in the corner and keeping it stable while Hunter tipped it against the wall. “With the correct tool and the appropriate leverage, one can deactivate such an unsophisticated deadbolt system with relative ease. If the security of your store is of utmost concern to you, I would recommend installing a mechanical upgrade; one that permits only those who carry an individually coded microchip to ent—”

“What’s with the boards anyway?” Hunter interrupted, leading his rambling brother back toward the windows. 

“I, uh… I was on Ryloth.”    

The soldiers froze, hands stalling in their feat of tugging the next of the boards down while they exchanged fleeting, dark looks. “Ryloth?” Hunter repeated. “In the middle of a war? Hmm… that’s kinda—” 

“Kinda risky. I know,” you agreed, looking somewhat crestfallen as you perched your chin in your palm and gazed listlessly out the now transparent window. “In my defense, the war hadn’t really reached Ryloth when I bought my ticket. Though, admittedly, I would have gone anyway with the situation being so dire. Those poor kids… Maker, I feel for them. And it’s only going to get worse as access to medical supplies gets increasingly challenging…”

Hunter looked back at Tech and raised his eyebrows, confusion etched into every superficial line of that tattooed face as he readjusted his grip around the edge of the wood panel and tugged it free of its shoddy adhesion. 

“Are you being intentionally vague?” Tech voiced innocently while shifting his goggles on his nose. “Or have I simply overlooked a myriad of implied details?”  

“No,” you snorted, glancing at him with an unexpected affection and igniting a blush to his cheeks potent enough to force his gaze away from you again. “Sorry, I’ll backtrack a little…” As you picked your head out of your palm and perched yourself, instead, in the desk chair behind the computer, Tech reached for his end of the nearest board and gave it an assertive tug. “About a month or so ago, an impoverished family came in here looking for some help. There were these three kids– cute as a button, but losing their eyesight pretty rapidly. Their mom has a degenerative visual disease that the kids ended up unknowingly inheriting, and Dad was at-a-loss for what to do. There’s no cure for the condition itself, but I told them I’d make some glasses for them that would help preserve the vision they had left. I tried to expedite the process as much as possible, but they fled the planet before I could finish.”  

“They wouldn’t stick around for free glasses?” Hunter asked incredulously, eyes attuned to the floor below him as he walked carefully backward to the corner where they’d stashed the first panel.

“Their situation was pretty destitute,” you answered sadly. “Anyway… once their glasses were done, the only option left was to hand deliver them, as I don’t particularly trust inter-stellar couriers anymore with all the rampant piracy these days, and… well, part of me has always wanted to do some missionary work. Unfortunately, it was barely an hour after my shoes hit the sand outside of Lessu that the blockade was implemented, and all public transports were barred from entering or leaving the system. So I—”

“You’ve been trapped on Ryloth!” Hunter groaned. “For weeks!” 

“That explains the fetid caf,” Tech chimed. 

“Please don’t take this as a complaint,” you continued quickly. “Being on Ryloth and living with that family was an unforgettable experience, and one of which I would never have been granted the opportunity, but… I was more than a little worried about this place; this level of the Undercity is notorious for petty theft and pickpockets thanks to its proximity to the lifts, and the affluent clientele that trickles in from the surface one level above. A few days after I landed, I managed to get a transmission back to my Dad and asked if he’d come and secure the store until I could figure out how to get back, but… I think I might have drastically overestimated his handyman skills. He admitted to me afterward that a poorly-aimed hammer strike had done some damage to both his left thumb and my floor. He conveniently didn’t mention he was growing a mold farm in my favourite mug.”

“Any substantial trauma to the thumb could prove detrimental,” Tech spoke up, tipping the second board on top of the first. “The thumb houses several primary vascular bodies including the Princeps Pollicis, a major artery branching from the deep palmar arch. If the artery itself has sustained enough significant external force to cause a secondary dermal laceration, it has the potential to elicit substantial blood loss, not to mention warrant a possible surgical repairment.”

“And that explains the mess,” Hunter agreed, pointing toward the puniceous trail still adorning the floor beneath their feet.  

“Mess is an understatement now that I’m looking at it,” you chuckled. “I’m still not sure if I want to thank him for helping me or invoice him for all the cleaning I’m going to have to do before I can reopen this place.” 

***

It took just shy of an hour to remove and rehome the barriers your father had inexpertly installed, and the welcome addition of the dazzling sunlight through the now-unobstructed (albeit dusty) windows had the store feeling nearly exactly as Tech remembered. As he and his brother trod back toward the counter, dabbing droplets of sweat from their brow with the backs of their hands, the Ficus Elastica on the counter stood proudly erect in, what appeared to be, its own personal ray of sunlight. 

“Thank you so much,” you sang as they approached, the grin atop your lips challenging that bright celestial body in the sky for its title as the most radiant entity in the galaxy. 

“Not a problem,” Hunter answered as you hopped out of the chair and walked around the counter to meet them. “If the panels are still here the next time we’re planetside, I’ll get Wrecker to come rip up 'em and throw ‘em out back for you.” 

“That’d be great,” you nodded eagerly. “He’s the only one I haven’t met yet.”  

“Actually speaking of…” he continued, “I should check in and make sure Crosshair hasn’t lost his temper and used him for target practice. Gimme a second and then we can start the wirin–”   

“I can manage.”  

His interjection was abrupt, slipping off his tongue nowhere-near as passively or nonchalant as he’d intended when Tech opened his mouth to reassure his sergeant, and the responding look on Hunter’s face readily confirmed that Tech had also failed to conceal that burgeoning need to be alone with you. But he was fighting a losing battle; the trio stood only inches from where he’d first wrapped his arms around you. Despite continuing to dodge each other’s bashful glances, the near-irresistable urge to grab your hand and wreath you with his arms hadn’t left him since releasing you, and he was more determined than ever to swallow that ever-plaguing apprehension and physically communicate how much you’d been on his mind since your last encounter. 

“I am capable of completing the installation without assistance,” he added politely. “And Crosshair was particularly irascible this morning despite having acceded to his demand that I park the ship in an area of complete shadow, so the need for a supervisory presence is likely heightened.”  

“Shadow?” you interrupted questioningly from Tech’s elbow. “What does he have against daylight?” 

“Hurts his eyes in the morning,” Hunter answered offhandedly. “You sure, Tech? We lost time with the whole ‘possible-murder’ thing. Think you can tackle it alone?” 

“I will not be alone.” He glanced fleetingly in your direction before swallowing. 

Hunter hmph’d quietly, mimicking his brother and glancing your way as his lips twitched against the impish smirk he continued to stifle. “Well alright then,” he conceded, returning his brother's mildly guilty look with a rather knowing one of his own. “I'll leave you two to get… reacquainted. Just don’t abandon your comm again; there are no ‘unscheduled breaks’ from war no matter what you say.” 

“Thank you for the help,” you said, extending a hand toward the retreating sergeant. “And for making sure I’m not dead.” 

Hunter offered you a smile and a respectful nod before his face disappeared behind that painted plastoid again, and he made his way toward the front door. Distant, yet raucous laughter filled the shop as he pulled the door open and stepped over the threshold. 

“Oh… and don’t forget, Tech,” he added, the visor of his helmet poking back around the door unexpectedly. “We’re leaving for Felucia at first light tomorrow. Midnight curfew.” 

***

As you locked the door behind the departing sergeant, Tech stooped and collected the coiled wires from the floor, tossing them over his shoulder before following in your wake toward the sanctity of your workshop. Despite your established safety, he couldn't prevent his eyes darting toward that large aluminum basin as the kitchenette passed on the left, the tool that had so-instantly horrified him now scrubbed clean and leaning benignly against the side of the caf maker to dry. The moldy mug, however, was nowhere to be found, though the peculiar addition of a small, tightly tied garbage bag sitting on the floor by the fire exit had Tech near-certain he’d never see that red ceramic again. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you offered as you veered right into the fabrication lab, the slight chuckle beneath your words recapturing Tech’s attention. “It seems that’s a habit I’ve unintentionally fallen into. First I gave you a heart attack about your goggles… then this. I’m regularly quite the bore, I promise.” 

Tech bit back the retort on his tongue as he stepped through the doorway— you, a bore? Well that seemed even less likely than Crosshair dropping to his knees and begging them to forgive his abhorrent attitude. 

“An apology is not required,” Tech spoke instead. “It would appear that I jumped to an inaccurate conclusion upon arriving here to find you missing. It was a most uncharacteristic overreaction, and one from which I now-suffer a great compunction.”  

“Compunction?” you repeated, brows furrowing at the implications of his confession as you reached gently upward and began to lift those heavy coils from his shoulder. “Why?” 

Tech hesitated for only a breath, watching your nimble fingers blanch under the weight of the wire as you took it from him. “Well… several years of advanced training and exposure therapy have rendered me effectively inured to a multitude of scenarios that others may deem distressing,” he divulged as something near concern wiped the smile from your lips. “Yet, I failed to maintain control of my emotions in the face of your disappearance. I became largely inexorable, making objectively impetuous and questionable decisions.” 

“Tech,” you uttered in little more than a consoling whisper, his stomach lurching as your free hand collected his from somewhere near his hip, those slightly chilled fingers weaving their way in between his before the soft, consoling brush of your thumb nearly weakened his knees.  “There is nothing to regret. Worrying about someone is nothing to be ashamed of, and arguably even less so if that person is someone you care greatly about. In fact, an initial surge of panic followed by attempts to verify their safety is likely the expected psychological response to such concerns. You walked into what looked like a very foreboding situation and had no data to disprove your suspected theory.”

“I suppose that is correct,” Tech shrugged, dropping his gaze to the toe of his oily boot, “Though it has been several years since I last studied the sympathetic subsection of the autonomic nervous system in response to traumatic stimuli.” 

“Sounds like an interesting read,” you mumbled through a sarcastic smile that prompted the return of his gaze. “Tell me– if the same situation presented itself again, would you not react similarly? Would you not do everything within your power to make sure that someone was okay while everything around you was telling you they’re not?” 

“Of course I would.” 

“Then that’s that,” you answered simply. “There’s no reason to regret your actions, just like I don't suffer any contempt for getting myself stuck on Ryloth. Making the trip there was the best and potentially only solution based on the information available to me at the time. Things went awry… and that’s okay, because we should always do what our gut is telling us to do when it comes to things and people that we care greatly about.”   

And there it was: that intemerate benevolence that he wholly adored about you, reemerging to knock him over the head with a validation that he’d never experienced before… and the subsequent moment, as his eyes locked on yours and his grip on your hand tightened, he felt truly seen as himself. Not Tech the highly-skilled soldier… not Tech the ingenious mechanic responsible for keeping the GAR’s most elite squad in the air… not Tech the pilot who loved his datapad above all else and never slept. You saw Tech… accepting and welcoming him as he is; validating his infrequent displays of vulnerability as if humanity was something he could and should experience first hand without fear of persecution or judgement. 

“Oh, and don’t think I didn’t catch that,” you added, brow shifting into a devious arch as a playful smirk tugged at your lips.  

“Catch what, exactly?” 

“The oxymoron you dropped in there: ‘found you missing’. Someone can’t be found and missing, hun. But keep dropping them– I’ll catch ‘em every time.” 

Was it that teasing smile, or the enamoring, little puffs of air that escaped your nose as you snickered in the wake of your own coy intelligence? Or could it be the way your gaze kept darting from his eyes to his lips, that had him feeling as if he were suddenly hovering? The ground had, at some point, simply disappeared from below those smeared and blackened boots– vanishing into nothingness with everything else that had previously encircled them underneath those dim, humming lights. There was simply nothing but your hand interlaced with his. Nothing but the soft flutter of your eyelashes as they danced with every subtle shift in your gaze, and the unobtrusive quiet of an empty building that promised no foreseeable interruption. Every unhurried second ticked into the past by the chrono on the wall saw him pulled toward you by a force presented to him only once previously– when he’d boldly adorned the back of your hand with the same gesture that he longed to press to your smiling lips. 

But… did you want that? Was your heart also hammering heavily in your chest, threatening to send the room spinning more than it already was? Were you as captivated with his eyes as he was with yours, letting that effulgent twinkle dazzle him like the radiance of hyperspace did? Had the last month also seen you seeking out moments of solitude, keen to forgo the mundanity of the present in favour of vanishing into the memory of him? The memory of an utterly ineffable connection? 

Or were you standing there watching his eyes flutter closed, wondering what in Maker’s name you’d done in your past life to warrant having to endure such an awkward encounter? Was your mind frantically trying to find the words to politely reject his bold advance? Were you desperate to yank your hand from the clutches of his clammy gloves, and assert that he simply complete the required electrical repairs and then vanish indefinitely? 

That sabotaging little flitter of doubt was enough to have Tech leaning backward, eyes opening to their full extent and quickly darting toward his boots while he reached for his goggles and shifted them needly atop his nose. 

“Tech?” you whispered as he pulled his hand from yours, stowing his gauntlet comm in the pouch at his thigh before tugging at his gloves.  

“I should initiate the electrical deconstruction,” he muttered as his face burned, pulling his datapad from its holster and bringing it to mere inches from his nose. “Can you please deposit those coils in the corner underneath the panel?” 

“Sure.”

The sigh that preceded your curt answer was near deafening, circling around that quiet room what seemed to be half a dozen times before it dissipated into the now suffocating quiet. And while that soft huff of exasperation had near-tortured him, it was the unbridled disconcertment wholly engulfing your reply that stole his attention back from his device, and he watched with a sense of suppressed horror as your face fell rapidly into, what looked to him, an expression of dispirited chagrin. 

***

Tech spent the next several hours near-furious at himself. Thoroughly incensed that his body never failed to repeatedly fall into the encompassing urge to physically connect with you whilst his mind remained downright incapable of elucidating the veracity of his perception, and infiltrating every modicum of that surging desire was an equally powerful right-hook of uncertainty. 

Chiefly infuriating was your continued, unwavering kindness; he could barely stomach the ever-gracious way you offered to help him at regular intervals. Truthfully, he’d like nothing more than to have you hovering at his elbow for the entirety of the process, handing him whatever tool was required to progress the installation and witnessing him do what he truly did best while he chattered endlessly about the importance of matching the electrical capacity of the wire to its respective fuse. Yet, every time his eyes met yours, he was harrowingly reminded of his close shave with humiliation; reminded of the sheer confusion he’d seen behind your eyes as he pulled away from you, and your persisting geniality had him nearly-suspicious it was nothing more than a front upheld until the work was complete. 

For the sake of niceties, and as a measly effort to atone for his self-proclaimed embarrassing behaviour, he accepted the glass of water you’d offered him shortly after he began the labour-intensive work, though despite the layer of dust gathering in his throat with every inhale, it sat untouched on the counter beside the lens generator.  

He took his frustration out on the task at hand, snipping wire casings with an unnecessary gusto and scowling anew with each new electrical breaker that he clicked into place, but it seemed no degree of mechanical tinkering could distract him from the resentment coursing through him. Even the addition of a small radio, churning out happy-go-lucky, intraplanetary hits every couple of minutes was no match for his morose mood. 

“Tech?” he heard you probe from the doorway several hours later, as he stooped over the sink in the kitchen and began to scrub the grime from his hands.

“Mmm?” he answered, ignoring the prickle erupting on the back of his neck at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He felt you approach, listening to the muted scrapes of your shoes on the floor as you neared, casually leaning against the counter in his peripheral vision. 

“My brain might still be on Ryloth time but… were– were you about to kiss me?”

His stomach plummeted to his toes, eyes quickly unfocussing on that aged and rusted drain, hands briefly hesitating in their attempts to rid his skin of the encrusted soot and grime that had accumulated over hours of working in the walls. 

“Yes,” he admitted after a poignant swallow, and found himself watching the drain noisily consume the stained suds falling from his fingers, hoping the gurgling sound would be loud enough to drown your surely impending stammered apologies for the uncomfortable misunderstanding and your request that he leave and take his misguided feelings with him. 

“Well why didn’t you?” 

His head jerked somewhat awkwardly; he’d nearly snapped his gaze toward you, only to stop himself part way through as the sound of your stifled chuckle surprised him. Tech stilled upon realizing that laugh had not sounded chastising at all. Nor jeering or humiliating, nor repulsed or repugnant. It sounded almost… frustrated. Indignantly accusatory, as if you were mildly annoyed that he hadn’t kissed you. 

He reached blindly for the towel folded on the counter adjacent the sink, lips pursing as he thoughtlessly ran that cloth between his fingers until his skin began to revolt against the continued abrasure. 

“Tech?” you whispered, the delicate probe successful in only fleetingly drawing his gaze.  

“My affection for you, while subjectively highly enjoyable, is paired with an exponential degree of uncertainty that I have never previously experienced,” Tech divulged to the fabric in his hands. “And there are recurrent moments when, despite all other variables suggesting otherwise, I suffer an inherent doubt that you would ever reciprocate my feelings. You are well educated and even better mannered… meticulous with the quality of your work… exceedingly intelligent… your compassion for others and your willingness to assist them, even where the circumstance would deem reciprocity impossible, is truly unrivaled by any person I have ever met and… and…” He paused to regain control of his words as they spilled uncontrollably from mind to mouth.  

“Tech, hun,” you cooed through the ghost of another exasperated laugh. “You are all of those things too. You have no vested interest in this shop yet here you are, laying on your back in the dust, doing several days worth of electrical work so this place can function at peak productivity and make my life easier. You graciously donated several hours of your time last month to help me plough through the mountain of work that had been looming over me for days. You broke in here ready to hunt down and assault whomever it was that had allegedly harmed me without even a thought for yourself. Despite having malignantly convinced yourself that you lack emotional intelligence, you have a truly exceptional mind. You are uncommonly and refreshingly polite, and you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, which is saying something because I’ve seen a lot of eyes. I– I’m kinda crazy about you, too.”  

A truly exceptional mind? Refreshingly polite? Did you believe all of this to be true? He searched every inch of your face for any signs of insincerity, any fragments of dishonesty, any twitch of the lip that might disenchant the gratification coursing through his veins from your admonishment. 

“Well,” he continued, attempting to keep his tone neutral as the realization that he’d likely blown his chance with you threatened to kick his heart clean out of his chest. “With any luck, another moment shall present itself where I may demonstrate how much you undoubtedly mean to me.” 

He jammed his finger needlessly against the bridge of his goggles, dejected gaze dropping back to boots now dirtier than ever while a quiet, albeit forlorn sigh left his lips and he resumed inattentively fiddling with the little towel. 

“Well,” you mimicked. “Since, the ‘ideaology of luck’ is, apparently, illogical…  allow me.” 

He must have stumbled over his toes in the subsequent second, though the most he’d ever be able to offer was a deduction based on the force you’d used to tug him toward you. In the reality of that moment, your perfect response to the divulgence of his feelings and the unexpected affirmation that you, too, felt similarly, had instantly rendered him euphorically ignorant to anything other than the feeling of finally having your lips against his. 

That damp little towel somehow ended up displaced and draped atop the caf machine, but exactly how and when it had left his hands was a mystery that did not need solving. There was simply nothing else worthy of consideration or acknowledgement in that moment; nothing more important than the small drafts of warm air cascading across his cheek every time you shifted your lips atop his; nothing more prudent than the small yet mighty grip you maintained on the collar of his chest plate keeping him no more than a breath away from you. Somehow, you ended up perched on the counter next to that hammer, its existence now so inconsequential that it wasn’t even spared the courtesy of a glance as it fell over and landed with a thunk behind the caf machine. Tech didn’t even notice you blindly lift his goggles from his nose and rest them on his forehead, though the tender brush of your thumbs along the chronic indents on his cheeks sent shiver after shiver down his spine. 

It wasn’t until your lips separated from his, and he was enveloped almost entirely with that same feeling of permitting a limb to depart his body that he returned to some semblance of awareness. 

“Are you still uncertain?” you asked him with a smile that sat somewhere on the border of devious and playful. 

“Darling,” Tech answered near-breathlessly, “The only notion unclear to me at this point, is how I will survive until I can see you again.” 

“Speaking of…” you sighed, gesturing to the small chrono embedded into the caf machine. “You should probably head out. It’s nearly midnight.” 

Tech glanced at the old clock as it mocked him. 23:44 pm. Just enough time to collect his tools from their scattered displacement around the fabrication lab and depart the store. He’d be climbing the Marauder’s ramp within minutes… silently deposit his pack in the cockpit… settle down at the workstation to tinker with his current modification project and reminisce about his afternoon in your company. But… why? Surely if his squad members were already tucked into their bunks, or quietly preparing their weapons for deployment tomorrow, there would be no harm in staying here a little longer with you? “There are no unscheduled breaks from war, no matter what you say…” The sergeant had been referencing his previous alibi; the off-the-cuff excuse Tech had offered his brother after the previous, irresponsible mistake of letting his comm depart his person had ensured him unavailable and unreliable. 

His jaw tensed under the audacity of what he was about to do. 

“Please excuse me,” he requested of you politely, stealing a chaste peck of a kiss from your lips before stepping backward and extracting his gauntlet comm from the cargo pouch where he’d previously stored it for safekeeping.  

“Hunter,” he spoke after activating that little blue light. “What time are we set to depart for Felucia?”

“0600…” his sergeant answered suspiciously. “But curf—” 

 “I will see you then.”

 “Te—!”

Tech silenced his comm with the blind poke of a button and tossed it carelessly to the countertop where it came to rest next to the hammer, his hands instantly reaching to cradle your waist while he chased your kiss so eagerly that you nearly toppled backwards.

***

An hour. It took an hour to stop kissing long enough to resume talking, and then several hours after that to accept that neither of you were going to achieve any other productive tasks that night. Still wholly invigorated by your union, Tech declined your midnight offer for a caf, though with how the taste lingered on your tongue between sip and kiss, he may as well have drank a cup on his own. 

At quarter-past two, you dragged him by the hand back toward the lens edger and lifted his goggles from his nose. You first giggled about how much he absentmindedly squinted in the void of his regular, average eyesight, before instantly launching into an educational titter about precisely why humans even developed that anatomical squint response, and how effective it can be at temporarily improving visual acuity. And while he longed to query every fact against one of which he’d researched on his own time, he’d found a new use for his lips that he much preferred. 

Shortly after four, as you locked your hands around his waist and groaned into his chest about having to spend the next several days on your hands and knees, scrubbing the floor in preparation for the reopening of your store, Tech accidentally knocked over a bottle of effervescent blue liquid; the same concoction you’d used to disinfect his glasses previously, and a quick glance at the ingredients list while he collected the dripping container had him instantly yammering about how the peroxide additive would be the perfect solution for removing the embedded blood stains.  

A short time later, an unseen gang of bad mouthed adolescents were heard hollering on the other side of the fire exit door, their voices amplified by the stillness of the night and the empowered notion that they were loitering where they were not permitted, and despite their inebriation posing no apparent threat while you remained behind a locked door, Tech still refused to let you leave the backroom until he could confirm their exodus. 

At half-past five, an oversized yawn barely concealed by your hand reminded Tech that, despite wishing Father Time would simply abandon his post and gift him a moment with you free from that nagging and imminent deployment, his squad was waiting for him; his sergeant likely highly perturbed and waiting for the pilot’s next transparent excuse.  

“How do the eyes feel now?” you asked over your shoulder as you walked ahead of him toward the front door, his pride-and-joy helmet bobbing near comically on your head as it concealed the smile that he could hear lay atop your lips. 

“Much improved,” he answered, breathing in what he could before your companionship would be lost to him for another little while. 

“Thought so!” you chuckled proudly, the modulator in his helmet distorting the music of your amusement. “Changing the refractive indices of a lens can sometimes initiate a bit of a hiccup in visual processing, especially when paired with changes in curvature and correct application of coatings, but the foreign sensation typically dissipates within a rotation or so.”  

“May I remind you, you need not have gifted me new lenses.”

“I just supplied the material,” you argued, helmet wiggling again as you casually shrugged away the innocent condemnation in his tone. “You did all the work the last time you were here. They’ve been sitting here waiting for you to come back so I could put them in your goggles. Plus, yours were in… questionable… condition, and if your last set were any indication of Kaminoan knowledge of refraction, you’re much better off with these.  How do you feel about the slight tint after wearing it for a few hours?” 

Tech forced his gaze toward the window where the sky was undoubtedly beginning to lighten under the embrace of the sun's first morning rays. He, truthfully, hadn’t given that slight yellow tint any thought in some hours; what was initially found quite unusual had quickly morphed into something… “Quite calming,” he answered.

“There’s built-in blue light protection, too, for all the quality time you spend with that datapad. Give it a month or so, and your circadian rhythm will thank me.”

You stopped when you reached the front door and turned around to face him. Despite the exhaustion having swollen the tender skin beneath your eyes, there was no denying they were still alight and twinkling as they watched him approach. But Tech stopped shortly after you did, knowing that the nearer he reached the door, the nearer he’d be to leaving, and he wasn’t yet done processing the night's events. The budding sunrise on the other side of the glass was bringing with it an understanding he never knew he’d been deficient. So this… this is what he spent his days fighting for. Feelings like this. Companionships like ours. People like you who spent their time trying to better the lives of others without even a hint of motive. Someone who cared if he returned or not.  

Tech sighed, very aware that finding the correct words to elucidate his feelings for you was simply a task for another time. For now, as the sun continued to betray him by rising ever higher with every lingering breath, he wanted every last second with you to be one completely void of thought. 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” you probed suddenly, breaking into his torpor. He refocussed his gaze and found another of those playful smiles crinkling your eyes, palm raised to shoulder height and facing him. 

He let only the ghost of scoff depart his nose as his lips lengthened under their own smile, and he resumed his approach, not stopping until the toes of his boots were nearly touching yours. As he reached upward and gently pulled his helmet from your head, a faint ache erupted in his chest, amplified by the quiet snicker that left you and the regretful reality of that sound being one he would not hear for the foreseeable future. 

“Five,” he whispered after tucking his helmet under his arm, interlacing his gloved fingers with yours and holding tightly to your hand. 

“Correct,” you breathed, eyes fluttering closed as he rested his forehead against yours. “If your next mission is counting fingers, you’ve got that in the bag.” 

“Considering Felucia is widely known as the Planet of Fungal Forestry, I would deem that largely improbable. However–” he added, identifying the first flickers of fear behind your eyes, “–it is highly probable that I shall return by month’s-end.” 

“If Cranky Crosshair doesn’t use you for target practice first?” 

“Cranky Crosshair compares naught to Hunter when he’s truly angry. Hence why I must not be any later than I already am. Goodbye for now, darling.” 

He stole one last, lingering kiss from your lips before reaching for the handle on that vibrant yellow door.  

***

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[sailtomarina]

Don’t laugh

It took Hermione a few moments to realise exactly what had happened to her. One minute, she was walking through the portrait hole into the Head’s dorm, and then the next, she couldn’t see anything, her sight and hearing obscured.

Her hands flew up to fist the thick fabric covering her face. Just as she was about to remove it, she heard the plea of her roommate.

“Don’t!” Malfoy’s voice was…odd. Commanding, that was normal, but also frantic?

Ignoring the request, Hermione proceeded to pull off what turned out to be his jumper, which still smelled faintly of bergamot, patchouli, and something vaguely reminiscent of the sea. If not for his urgency, she might have let it stay, breathing in the intoxicating aroma just a while longer.

As it was, she let the garment drop to the floor, he could cry about it later, and trained her eyes on the figure standing in the common room. 

Draco Malfoy, topless, mouthwatering except for the fact that his skin glowed a startling shade of emerald green. His pale grey eyes stared at her, wide and anticipatory.

“Don’t laugh.”

She couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t have stopped it even if she could.

First a snort. He blanched at the sound he usually found so cute when he intentionally prompted it at any other time than now. Then, a giggle. His broad shoulders slumped in defeat, the hardened plane of his abs curling inward as he started to sink onto his haunches. Finally, the guffaw that broke him completely. Hands came up to cover his face.

“Why do I have such a sweet tooth?” he wailed.

Through the tears in her eyes, Hermione spotted the box of chocolates on the coffee table. She didn’t remember seeing them there before, but she’d recognise the bright orange packaging anywhere.

“Oh, you beautiful git. Don’t you know a Weasley product when you see one?” She walked over to read the accompanying card.

To Draco. May these sweeten your day nearly as much as you do mine. Yours, H.

“Well,” she said lightly, “look on the bright side. Now we can concoct a plan for revenge.” She flipped the card over and cast a quick revelio. Good boys. They knew well enough to include a counter-charm; had they not, her retaliation would have been merciless.

Her lips pursed as she studied their instructions. The original charm was brilliant. Neither removed by a finite incantatem, nor affected by a potion antidote, all she needed was their specific incantation and a glass of milk.

“I should have known something was off. You almost never call me ‘Draco’,” he muttered.

She had to grin at that. She only called him by his given name when under intense pressure, the kind that resulted in blinding, toe-curling pleasure.

“Wait right here.” She returned with glass in hand, pushing it into his own. “Drink up.”

As he did so, she cast the spell and watched with satisfaction as the alien shade slowly faded into his more familiar alabaster tone. It was a shame. She was curious if the colour lightened or darkened in more…private…areas. He continued to drain the glass, throat bobbing with each swallow. Hermione licked her lips. Malfoy really was delicious, green or otherwise.

“All better now?” she asked lightly, fingers trailing along the thick muscle of his thigh.

“Mmmm.” Glass set aside, he inspected his torso, the fine white blond strands of his hair flopping forward as he did so. He must have tugged at them earlier in frustration. “I don’t get why they’d try to trick me like that.” He glared at the chocolates, his wand hand twitching like it wanted to bombarda them on the spot.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Slate grey eyes turned back onto her, eyebrows crinkled in puzzlement. She sighed.

“You haven’t exactly been friendly to them, you know? Even before. And now that we’re together…” Her voice trailed off. Were they together? They hadn’t exactly put a label to it. They hadn’t been particularly discreet about their hands-on interest either. The entire school had to know by now that they were more than just co-Heads.

“Are we together?” He echoed her insecurities, adding mass to the weight expanding in the pit of her stomach.

“Is that what you want?” Hermione hadn’t intended to push him into deciding one way or another, but she wasn’t going to ignore the opportunity now that it had presented itself. “Because, you should know, ever since I saved Fred from the wall that would’ve killed him, the twins have been…grateful.”

It was wickedly fun to poke him where she knew he’d feel it.

Her words had the intended effect, the usually light irises darkening as his lip started to curl downward. Hermione wasn’t lying, either. George and Fred had indeed been thankful, demonstrating just how much the summer before her return for 8th year. They held no claim on each other. The door just remained open for either party wanted to walk back through it if so desired.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

A shiver ran through her at the drop in his pitch. Malfoy was furious. Fred and George couldn’t have picked a better colour for their little prank.

“It just means that if they see an opening, they’re bound to take it.”

In a flash, she was flat on her back, the plush rug cushioning her fall but her breath knocked out at the sudden change in position. He loomed over her, caging her in with the arms and legs that straddled her on all sides.

“There is no opening for them to take.” One hand wrapped gently around her throat, belying the harshness of the action. He passed a thumb across her lips. She parted them willingly, eagerly, flicking a tongue to the surface. His hips dropped almost immediately in reaction, grinding an unmistakable presence hard against her. He nearly growled out his next words. “You’re mine.”

“Only if you’re also mine.”

They stared into one another’s eyes, darkened silver against glinting bronze, daring, threatening, pleading. Hermione could let the moment pass with an arch of her hips and by bringing her lips to his own. That’s how most of their encounters went, any thinking silenced by doing. She relished those stretches of time where there was only them, skin to skin, the usual roaring in her mind muted behind closed doors. There were still many months of schooling ahead of them; why endanger the good thing they’d started with serious discussions about labels and commitment?

She was tensing her muscles to lean up for a kiss when he stopped her by speaking.

“I’ve been yours since our first kiss.”

What?

He took her gaping mouth as permission to continue.

“If my public displays haven’t been clear enough about my intentions, then let me be so now.” He maintained eye contact, the fingers around her neck sliding down to press against her heart. “I only want you. Now. In the future. As long as you’ll have me. I’m yours.”

And to think, Hermione had started this entire situation by walking straight into a jumper attack and a Head Boy cursed Slytherin green to match his jealousy. She’d still pay the twins back in kind, but maybe she’d also include a thank you note along with her detailed feedback on their chocolate charm. A postscript stating her relationship status should also prevent any future surprises.

“Then have me, already.”

They spent the remainder of the afternoon locked up in their quarters, the space spelled silent against any curious passerby. Maybe one day she’d convince Draco to give the twins a spin, even if only to allow them a frontrow seat to the action.

WC 1285

Written for the Twitter DramionePrompts daily prompt, “Don’t laugh”

Cross-posted to Tumblr and (eventually) AO3

I don’t know where this impulse came to dye Draco green, but here we are. Don’t laugh at him, please. He’s fragile.

[kittyball23]

Reconciled (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: The brothers have a much-needed talk before proceeding with the rest of the journey

A/N: Follow-up to “By Your Side” with ideas from Fandom_Kingdom_ Girl on AO3 and @pixarchan

__________________________________________

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” John Dory moaned, wincing in discomfort as Spruce applied the ice pack to the side of his face and held it steadfast.

“Chill, bro,” Spruce said, trying to keep JD’s squirming-self still.

“How can I not chill? That thing’s cold!” the teal Troll whimpered with his teeth chattering. He tried to move away when Spruce pressed it up tighter against him, and the purple Troll rolled his eyes.

“Bro, even my kids act better than this,” he said, and it was true. John Dory was being ten times more squirmy than they ever would be when being aided with an injury.

“Sorry dude, but, ugh, I can’t even believe that happened. He hit me! Hard! And it hurt!” John Dory blurted, and then shook his head in disbelief. “That was so weird!”

“It was a punch, JD, why wouldn’t it hurt?” Clay asked.

“It didn’t hurt before!” John Dory mumbled.

It took a sec to understand where JD was coming from, and when Clay did, he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you talking about when Branch was a baby?”

“Well, yeah, when else?”

“You gotta be kidding me. He was a baby, JD, of course it’s not gonna hurt the same way it does now!” Clay blurted. Did John Dory really not see that?

Spruce disregarded the obliviousness in his older brother. “I’m surprised Branch didn’t clock us either,” he said to Clay, shuddering to remember how difficult it was to get their youngest bro under control when his fists had been wildly flying out at JD.

“Well, you’re lucky he didn’t!” John Dory moaned.

Spruce snorted. “Y’know, it coulda been avoided if you’d just stopped talking. Didn’t you see how triggered he was getting when y’all were arguing? He was literally twitching.”

“No, I didn’t,” JD said.

The purple Troll sighed and looked at Clay. The two of them were thinking the same thing. How long had John Dory been alone that he’d forgotten how to read the most basic of social cues? Well, it didn’t matter now. What had been done was done, and JD was most likely going to have a bruise to show for it.

“Yo, when do you think Branch and Poppy will be back though?” Clay asked. “It’s been a little bit, don’t you think?” He grabbed a few more sticks, nursing the little campfire that he’d made in the meantime. The sky had been an orange-gradated twilight when Branch had stormed off, and it was now turning a deep blue, soon to be black and speckled with stars.

Spruce shrugged. “He could still be blowing off steam. But you know… a lot can happen between a guy and a girl when they’re alone, too.”

Clay narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean,” Spruce answered simply, giving his brother a look.

Clay suddenly understood. “Ugh, no, Spruce! Why you gotta think like that?” He shook himself. “You really think Branch is gonna be up for any frisky business after the way he was fuming?”

“Look, I’m just saying, from personal experience this time,” the purple-haired Troll replied.

Clay didn’t respond. Now THAT is weird, he thought to himself, because even thinking about Branch being old enough to have his own relationship was something he was still trying to wrap his head around. He sighed. I really can’t believe it’s been that long…

The three Trolls let some minutes of silence pass, each one wondering what they should say next, when they heard the sound of someone approaching.

Three sets of eyes flitted over to find Branch and Poppy, silhouetted by the firelight, coming toward them. Branch looked far more relaxed than he’d been previously, but the brothers could tell he still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent. There was tension still lingering in the air, crackling the same way that the flames were.

Even more silence passed, to the point where things began to feel a little discomforting.

“So… um… you good, bro?” Clay asked, in an effort to fill in the space with chatter.

Branch shrugged, not looking Clay or any of the others in the eye. He kept his gaze on the ground, arms crossed and a look of exhaustion on his face.

"We think so," Poppy answered for him. She quietly whispered "C'mon," to Branch, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and guiding him back to the caterbus. She'd just put a her hand on the door when both of them were stopped.

"Hey, guys," Spruce spoke up, causing the pair to turn around. Noticing Branch's apprehension, John Dory shot the purple Troll a look like, Let sleeping dogs lie! But Spruce paid him no mind. He had to say what he wanted to say if they wanted to get this situation under control for good.

“Y’know, it’s sweet and all how you two go off and have your little moment,” he said. “But… I think we should all have our moment, if you catch what I’m saying.” Letting John Dory take hold of the ice pack so he could nurse his own wound, Spruce sat down next to him, and gestured over to Branch and Poppy. “C’mon, guys. I think we need to talk. All of us.” He cut his eyes over at JD and Clay.

John Dory, still recovering from his shock of being attacked, looked like he wanted to disagree, but he didn’t. He said nothing, only pressing the ice pack tighter to his head and scooting a little closer to Spruce for protection should anything else ensue.

Clay looked uncertain, but knew it was best not to voice a disagreement.

Good, Spruce thought. In his family back on Vacay Island, he’d witnessed his children having plenty of arguments before. And as a father he’d learned that it was best to talk things out, before someone did something that they regretted. Like walking away and never looking back.

He breathed out a sigh, glad to see that his youngest brother had not protested in doing as he’d requested, and sitting down alongside his girlfriend. Awkward silence stretched out once again, filled only by shifting and some distant nature sounds.

Spruce clicked his tongue, suddenly second-guessing his idea. "Umm... anybody wanna start?" he asked tentatively.

No answer.

But then...

"Well, um..."

All eyes fell on Branch, who'd spoken barely above a whisper. He looked hesitant, almost scared, but knew he couldn't stay quiet now that he'd started.

"I'm just... just so... confused," he managed. Before he could help himself, Branch felt tears forming in his eyes and falling against his will. Hurriedly he spoke, frustrated, embarrassed, and overwhelmed,  the anger he'd previously lashed out with washed over with sadness. "I was confused when you guys left me… I was confused why Grandma had to die, why I couldn’t just get along with others, why I’d turned gray… why I was alone for so long… and then…” - he paused, trying to catch his breath - “Right when I think things are heading in the right direction for me for once… you guys come back…” Branch clenched his fists. “I’m just so confused…” he mumbled again. “I want to know why this is happening now. I want to know, and I want things to make sense. But they just don’t!...” He stopped, letting out an uncharacteristic sob. His shoulders shook and his hands were curled into tight balls, the knuckles whitening. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop crying, and before long he felt a familiar warm hand cover his trembling ones. Branch flinched a little, but relaxed when he saw that it was only his beloved Poppy. It pained him when he looked to see that she too was growing teary herself over the sight of him so broken.

Clay felt a pain in his chest, too. It was difficult seeing Branch like this. He could remember so many times when his pranking buddy had a great big grin on his face, right after they’d pulled a fast one on the others. He didn’t think about stuff too far into the future when he’d been a teen, but the few times he did, he figured that as adults he and Branch would still be up to their tag-team jokey antics. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“Look, Branch, I… I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” he started cautiously, “but I can’t sugarcoat it, bro. When we left, we did mean it. Can’t say we didn’t, and I’m not mad at you for being mad at me. But that was because we were each thinking about ourselves. Me? I mean, I was just real angry that everybody was laughing at me that day when we’d failed. That’s why I wanted to quit. But y’know, looking back at it now, all this time later… that wasn’t such a hot move. Even if we failed, and got laughed at, that wasn’t a reason to just give up and leave. And I do mean it when I say that I’m real sorry.” And he was. Clay could never forget how aloof Branch had been on the trip so far. Anytime he, Spruce, or John Dory had tried to spark up some conversation, they’d been given either short, irritated replies or the full cold shoulder. It ate Clay with guilt to know that it was because of them that he’d behaved that way, and this was an apology that was long coming to his youngest brother.

Spruce gave a nod at Clay, impressed by his speech, and was soon inspired to take his own shot at it.

“Imma tell you nothing but the truth here, bro,” he said to Branch. “Yeah, I left. And I left for selfish reasons, not to mention petty…” Spruce glanced down at himself, remembering those “rock-hard abs” that he’d fretted endlessly over as a teen due to thinking it would earn him girls, and seeing how pointless it’d been. He had a loving wife and family without the muscles he thought he’d needed, and he was happy with his appearance now. “I wish I had some more sense when I was that young… but what’s done is done, and we can move on from it. Put it in the past. Say sorry and just carry on from there. And Branch, I really am sorry, too. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you grew up. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better friend to you, or a better brother. And I’m sorry that you got hurt.” 

Satisfied with his spiel, Spruce sat back and folded his hands over his lap.

John Dory looked as though something was clicking in his head. Suddenly, the throbbing against his cheek where he'd been nursing the ice pack wasn't bothering him as much as his need to say something to Branch as well (even if it was risking him another sock in the jaw). "Branch,” he sighed, “I guess you could say that I only saw things like black and white. All or nothing. Go big or go home. That's why when the band failed, I left. The way I saw it, it was either 'bro-bros' or 'so-lo.' But now... I mean, I guess it's not so black and white, is it? Turns out there's a whole lotta gray area!"

John Dory thought he was doing pretty good so far, until he saw Branch wince at the mention of 'gray.' He didn't understand why, until he remembered what Branch had said, about having turned gray. He'd heard stories about it when he was a teen, but they were just rumors and fables passed between Trolls. He didn't think it was actually real. But Branch didn't look like he was bluffing at all.

"I-I mean, not literally 'gray,' y'know, but uh... umm... well, you get what I mean, right?" JD stuttered, feeling the throbbing in his cheek again and almost certain he'd have a twin bruise on his other cheek if he didn't make things make sense.

“What I mean is, we’re brothers. And we’re always gonna be brothers. Even if we say things like we never wanna see each other again… which, I know, we did… and even if we fight.” JD added that last part a little nervously, having a bad feeling that he had asked for it.

But Branch didn’t make any advances to JD. He’d sat there, listening, as he had when his other two brothers had taken their turn talking to him. He had calmed from his crying, although he was still sniffling slightly. Branch stared back at JD, and Spruce, and Clay. Poppy's firm hold on his hand felt like the only thing still keeping him rooted to the spot, preventing him from acting on instinct and walking away like he’d wanted to earlier that evening. If he did that, he knew he'd be acting no better than they had when they'd left.

“You know,” Poppy said out loud to them, “I guess I don’t actually know a whole lot about families and stuff as I thought I did. All I’ve ever known is me and my Dad. Then there was Viva and I, and when we met, I mean, we were like besties.” She giggled a little to remember how enthusiastic the pink Putt Putt queen had been, and how sad she was to see her go. “You guys, well… you’re not exactly besties right now… and I don’t even think I can call you friends,” Poppy admitted. “It really confused me at first. You’re brothers - basically pals who can’t ever leave each other! And yet…” She let herself trail off, not finding it necessary to repeat what they already knew. “I can only hope that you guys become a big happy one again,” Poppy continued more quietly. “But I can’t force it to happen. That wouldn’t be fair to you guys, especially since I'm not exactly a part of your family..." She stopped herself, feeling funny about trying to tell them what to do when these were Branch's brothers, not hers. It was their business. She had only a smidgen of the situation in perspective compared to them. Which is why she was surprised at what her boyfriend, who’d found the will to speak again, said.

“You are family, Poppy,” Branch told her, squeezing her fingers a little tighter. "We're all in this together."

Poppy smiled softly, touched that he was so confident about their relationship and trusted her on such privy matters between him and his brothers. And his brothers didn't mind either. With the time they'd been able to spend with Poppy, they could see that she loved Branch deeply, and he loved her. Then, Branch looked at his brothers.

"Look," he exhaled, "I'll continue the journey. I'll come and help rescue Floyd. But I need you to see that things are different now. I'm not Baby Branch. I'm just Branch. I'm my own Troll. You guys are too. And it depends on us whether we make that 'different' a good or bad thing." He gauged their expressions, and John Dory, Spruce, and Clay all nodded seriously. Their baby bro was speaking words of an adult, and he was right.

The conversation felt conclusive, and the five Trolls realized that the tension that had been in the air before was no longer present, attempting to hover over them like a dark stormcloud.

This was the first step to a new beginning. A fresh start.

They would start over.

Branch tossed the idea around his head.

Yes, he thought. He liked that.

[ndoandou]

Ikevamp bois playing modern games part 2

Vincent

Vincent is way into.. gartic phone

Qnd perhaps skribble.io

Like way into it

He would sit down 12 hours in front of the computer and guess what HES BEEN PLAYING GARTIC PHONE AND SKRIBBLE.IO IN A LOBBY OF RANDOMS

12 HRS IN HES STILL NOT DONE WITH BOTH GAMES

Hed obv speedrun a drawing in a short period of time and manage to make it look *chefs kiss*

Imagine if skribble.io had a vc feature tho

No no, like imagine if people were actually toxic in this goofy ahh game

They would yell down vincent down the mic telling him to go play with photoshop

Randoms are salty that vincent can draw and portray even the most ridicilous prompts which results him with the highest score always

Not to mention hes really good at guessing even the shittiest drawimgs from other ppl

"Broer how- that persons drawing looks ridicilous, even arthur's dog could draw that"

"Don't be mean theo! I could guess the drawing from the emotional connection i felt from it"

Jean

Jean has a shitty brick nokia phone

And he really loves playing snake II

No im serious

Well i suppose momte doesnt trust him with any other phones than that

the last time he was given a smartphone he downloaded some hack and slash game

took the word slash literally and then proceeded to cut the phone into two

comte was too stunned to speak

momte didn’t want his kids to miss out on gadgets but he cant have jean destroying his smartphone

BINGO! a nokia 3310 it is! 

jean didnt know how to react at first, but he found it easier to navigate and thats when he found out baout snake II

found it a bit pointless at first but despite saying that, he doesnt realize that thats the only thing he does besids fencing

snake II is his pre workout

the only thing he will be doing before his fencing practice

before meals

and before bed

‘‘jean are you sure you haven’t had enough of snake II..?’‘ comte asked causiously as he never know how his son Jean would react

jean looked at comte and stayed silent for a hot minute

‘‘no’‘

Napoleon

OK FLASH BACK TO MY E BOY NAPOLEON FANART FROM 2021

its official

He plays league of legends

Napoleon is deffo a jungle/top main

Jungle preferabbly

Bros actually cracked coz hed turn any non meta champs into an absolute beast

I see him being especially good with pantheon jungle

Hed play league with jean tbh

And jean would be a dedicated top

But i dont see jean being the best player..

No, like imagine napoleon defending jean from "top troll" and getting spammed "?" On his lane

Napo would literally go to that persons lane just to steal their minion last hits

If hes feeling extra hed even use pantheons ult to yeet over to that player to ks all the minions on that person's lane 😭

"Jgl troll gg"

Ok napo is actually not toxic and is rly nice to play with

Hed even supp for you if ur learning a new champ

Hes only toxic to people who are toxic to his buddies

Comte

Ill be honest

Comte looks like someone who would download all games from every ad pop up he gets

And im talking about anything gacha related

He does not care whether the game is explicit or not as long as he can collect pretty characters

Is he interested in the gameplay??? Probably not.

"For what reason did you spend $$$$$$ on xxx game???" Leonardo asked as he scrolled through comte's in game billings, cocking an eyebrow

"Hm? Well i simply wanted to collect all of these lovely looking characters."

"Without leveling up your characters?"

"Non"

"Do you understand how to play this game?"

Comte only looked at him with his unwavering smile

"honestly this is the most ridicilous spending ive witness from you, heh" Leo snorted

"Much appreciated, but i dont recal asking for any input, old friend" comte retorted

Leo looked at him and sighed

"Honestly at this point i shouldn't be surprised"

.

.

This took me forever to upload because i coulndn't figure what type of game comte would play then one day i was like AHAAAAA

Also i didn't proof read as always so pls dont chop my head off :"))

[thefoxtherapist]

Getting the man to watch a movie with you wasn’t the hard part, getting him to shut up, however…

You leaned against the armrest of the couch, chin resting in your hand, elbow on the armrest. You were barely ten minutes into the movie, the introduction hadn’t even finished being set up, and yet your boyfriend seemed to have some strong opinions. Kunikuzushi was leaning forward, indigo eyes glued to the television screen.

“It’s always the husband, right?” He scoffed, leaning back against the plush couch. “And if it isn’t the husband, I bet she has a secret lover she wouldn’t leave her husband for. No wonder she got murdered.” Eleven minutes and thirty two seconds. If it wasn’t for the fact you’d already seen the movie before, his speculations might be overbearing.

Still, you were somewhat amused. He opened his mouth to say something and you uncurled, opting to rest your legs across his lap, head on the armrest turned towards the television. “You’re so heavy!” He complained, the man then proceeded to grab the blanket off the back of the couch, tossing it over his lap and your legs. 

Once you were comfortably in position, you leaned forwards, grabbing the bucket of popcorn you’d abandoned once he started his ramblings. Kunikuzushi wordlessly took the bucket, resting it on top of your legs in his lap. “But she was totally a babe.” You grabbed some popcorn, shoving it in your mouth.

“Of course she was a babe, the director needed to make the audience sympathetic to her somehow.” He had no use for food, but enjoying something with you made the act of eating make a little more sense to him. You snorted at his words though, if anything, Kunikuzushi was good at guessing plots. To some degree, at least.

Another twenty minutes passed before the man finally got into the movie, paying attention to the plot and what was happening. You almost missed his outlandish assumptions as you glanced at his face to gauge his reaction to the film. Oh, he was thoroughly invested, chewing on his bottom lip, one arm around the bucket to keep it from falling, eyebrows furrowed.

“Stop staring.”

“Sorry~” You looked back at the television. If you were remembering correctly, you weren’t far off from the part that was really going to ruffle his feathers. You took another handful of popcorn, munching on it as you watched the red herring revelation on the movie. You heard him inhale unnecessarily.

You could feel the slight breeze, even. “IT OBVIOUSLY ISN’T THE FUCKING BROTHER- WHY WOULD HE KILL HER?!” Ah there it was. You choked on your popcorn, having to sit up slightly to cough as he threw pieces of popcorn from the bucket at the television. “Unsightly. I can’t watch this anymore.” He tossed another piece of popcorn.

“Nooo!” You managed, coughing again as you flailed for him. Kunikuzushi set the bucket down on the ground, then grabbed your arm, pulling you forwards, the man then smacked your back hard. “Ow- Okay, I’m good! You have to keep watching, it gets better, I promise.” You all but begged him, pouting at him.

“Ugh stop looking at me like that.” He let go of your arm and pushed you back down into a lying position. “FINE. But I’m not doing it for you.” Uhuh. “I want to see if it was the husband.” You laughed but conceded. At least he didn’t turn it off like last week’s movie.. Kunikuzushi set the now mostly empty bucky back down on his lap. “And you’re cleaning up.”

“Menace..”

[depressedbagpipe]

Enchanted (Prince Caspian x you)

Part III

Words: 3741 Warnings: caffeine, poor grammar choices, a bit too self-indulging, a bit too much philosophical i guess A/N: so, i think this is the end (spoiler: if you want like a final heart-wrenching part, i can do that 😌 and like maybe even a few headcanons of the month they spent together? idk anyway here u go) i can't believe this is done, tbh, thank u to everyone who read this xx Taglist: @just-levyy, @sergeantbuckybarnes, @patniera

Part I > Part II

‘How did they get inside? Are they okay?’ Caspian nearly yelled.

‘Huh?’

‘Those people!’

‘Those are actors.’

‘They’re still people!’

‘It’s not real, Caspian.’

‘What do you mean it’s not real?’

‘They’re not… inside the TV.’

‘Then, where are they?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You said there’s no magic here.’

‘It’s not magic, Caspian.’

‘How can you be so sure of it?’

‘Because… I am.’

‘That’s not an answer.’

‘Do you trust me?’

Caspian took a few seconds, and you held your breath. The question had left your lips before you could stop yourself, and although you didn’t think he would take it seriously, he did. His eyes searched yours, and only when his gaze stared into your soul, he answered.

‘With my life.’

You felt the heat in your cheeks when he spoke. The past month had been both the longest and strangest of your life, even if you hadn’t been on Earth for that long. Meeting Caspian had somehow felt like a checkpoint, and you were sure your existence would not be the same afterward, one way or another. You had let him crash on your couch the following nights, going as far as to bring him with you wherever you went. You said you didn’t trust him on his own, but you also couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his company. 

You almost forgot what you were talking about. ‘Then believe me when I say this. Those people are real, but they’re not there.’

Due to his confused stare, you proceeded to explain how television and cinema worked, and although he constantly nodded his head at you, you weren’t entirely sure he understood the whole concept, but by then you were too tired and it was a bit too late to be having that conversation. The only reason you were talking about that was that you had woken up thanks to Caspian’s surprised yells, only to find him back in the living room, curiously pressing every button on the TV’s remote.

When you finished your speech, you sank back into the couch, exhausted, yet oddly alive. You sighed deeply and closed your eyes, but you felt Caspian’s eyes on you. You often found him looking at you, at first with clear curiosity, now with something else you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. But you soon found that you didn’t mind it one bit. 

‘What?’ you asked before looking back at him.

He mirrored your position, with his back sprawled on the backrest, lazily lounging in your space as if he was always meant to be there.

He shook his head. ‘Nothing. You’re just beautiful.’

You snorted. Out of all the possible reactions that could have escaped your body, you snorted. It wasn’t a flattering sound by any means, yet Caspian’s demeanor didn’t falter. He looked at you the same way he looked at the stars –full of longing, and passion, and yearning for an answer that would never come. 

‘Nice joke,’ you answered, and you knew you were lying.

‘It isn’t,’ Caspian replied.

Neither of you said anything for a while. You only stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity, even though it had probably been a few minutes. Time had a way of stopping whenever you stared at Caspian.

And then again, you yawned. Better than a snort, you thought, for now you had an excuse to look elsewhere.

‘I apologize for keeping you up, my lady,’ Caspian slightly bowed his head at you, with lines full of regret decorating his forehead.

His hair was wild, even though you had cut it for him only the previous week. You had liked the way it used to frame his face, but he had been complaining about its length for days. You couldn’t help it when your fingers threaded his soft ends again, and it almost felt like a crime to you every time you brought the scissors near his mane. It had only been a month, you kept reminding yourself. And soon he’d be gone, anyway. 

You shook your head. ‘It’s alright, Caspian.’

His name came out in a soft whisper. You feared the second you acknowledged him, he’d disappear. You had long given up your pursuit of a logical answer to his mystical appearance, and you had done your part in trying to help him find a way back. But the longer he stood by your side, the bigger a hole the size of Caspian was creeping around in your chest. And you didn’t know what you’d do with it as soon as he was gone. 

You barely said anything else before bidding him good night and plopping down on your bed. After sitting on the couch, with knees almost touching, and the previous night's events, the new space felt a bit too big for you. Closing your eyes you hoped sleep would welcome you back, but minutes turned into hours and the next thing you knew, it was morning already. Despite being an off-day and the clock on your nightstand showing it was eight in the morning, you felt somewhat hesitant to leave your room, even with your fingers itching for warm contact. You often found yourself unconsciously searching for Caspian, like grabbing his arm before he could be run over by cabs, or guiding him with hands on his shoulders to navigate through the busiest streets. You liked it when he asked questions about your world and felt even prouder of him when he surprised you in the mornings with coffee, after teaching him how to use the coffee maker. For a king, he was doing a decent job at playing housewife, you had joked, and he had laughed. Yes, the past month had definitely been the weirdest one thus far, but you also didn’t want to go back to a previous life where you didn’t have Caspian in it. 

Yet now, all you could think about was Professor Hastings’ words. In a series of fortunate events, you had tracked down both the young reporter who had interviewed the old professor on her remarkable life, and the professor herself, who was just as willing to answer all the questions you threw at her after being invited to her house just two days ago. 

Caspian had been confused, but then again, when had he not? When all of a sudden you came out of your room one day, with heavy bags under your eyes and tousled hair, not only did he thought you had gone insane, but you were holding your laptop firmly in one hand while the other moved in the air as you explained how you thought you had a lead. Whatever article the two of you had gotten out of the library three weeks before had clearly sparked something in you that made your eyes twinkle with excitement. Caspian too was elated, yet he couldn’t help but frown at the thought of the true source of your happiness. Were you really that thrilled to get rid of him?

But he forced himself out of those thoughts and proceeded to listen to you rant about an old woman who lived in Hartford, Connecticut, whose interview you had spent the entire night reading and analyzing and you believed she could have some connection to those Pollies friends of his. 

‘Pevensies,’ Caspian corrected yet again, but he was now finding it endearing.

‘I promise I’m not mocking you. I genuinely forget what their name is,’ you defended yourself before you went on another tangent.

Caspian hadn’t really had much faith in your hypotheses until he found himself standing right in front of the so-called Professor Hastings. Even the trip to her suburban house hadn’t been enough to calm down his nerves, and the next thing he knew, he was staring down at a familiar old face, one he once thought he would love forever –at least, until he met you.

But one thing he was sure of, and that was that he hadn’t forgotten those blue eyes.

‘Susan?’ his eyes teared up at the sight of the lonely old lady.

She, too, was caught in the moment, with eyes too wide and full of unshed tears. ‘It’s certainly been a long time, Caspian.’

‘You know each other?’ you asked out of the blue, not liking the way Caspian was looking at the Professor. 

You recognized the name, of course, but your mind couldn’t even fathom the reality that was now slapping you hard across the face. Caspian. The Pevensies. Narnia. Everything was true, and this woman in front of you was the missing link that you needed. 

Professor Hastings, or Susan, ushered you both inside. You spaced out during most of their conversation, enjoying some scalding tea at the back of the living room, eyes scanning around at the books on the shelves while Caspian and Susan caught up. You felt invasive as if you weren’t supposed to be there, despite having helped Caspian since he arrived. 

Caspian missed you by his side, too. He felt as if you also deserved to listen to Susan’s tale, but you were already gone to the other end of the room by the time he sat down. He noticed that about you, how you seemed to flee whenever the topic was too heavy, or his presence too much. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like the way you constantly slipped through his fingers, always a step too far behind, or in front, or anywhere but next to him. 

At some point, you talked and asked questions you knew Caspian was too polite to ask. Why the name change, why move to another country, why she didn’t come back. You saw the raw emotion in her eyes as she remembered her siblings, and you physically had to stop yourself from crying one too many times. Caspian was a mess by the time you left her home, all your questions answered, yet another thousand coming up. You held him that night as he cried to sleep. His quiet sobs seeped through your unlocked door, and taking him by the hand, you led him to your bed, where you both lay awake, grieving for his family and for a land you’d never known. 

In the morning, you tiptoed around the kitchen, being extra careful not to wake Caspian. You mulled over your coffee, looking back at your conversation with the Professor –or Susan. 

‘Aslan always knows what he is doing. He sent you here for a reason, Caspian, and you won’t go back until you learn it.’

A part of you was selfish enough to wish he didn’t go back. Despite your best efforts not to grow too attached to the raven-haired man, you liked him. You enjoyed his presence and provided your days with a sense of comforting naiveté that you had long lost. Not only was he a nice view to look at, but his charm had you giggling at night, almost wishing it to be day again just so you could talk to him. And that terrified you.

It wasn’t that you had been treated badly before, but you had spent way too much time alone to find solace in loneliness. You loved having your own space in a crowded city, and you deemed unworthy anybody who would come in between that. You had turned down suitors before because it was never the right time; always too busy, or too unstable, or too depressed, or too anxious, or too in your head about everything. Rejecting people had become a full-time job for you. But Caspian? It wasn’t the right time either, nor would ever be. Falling in love had been one of those many things you had dreamed of as a kid, but as you grew up, left it to rot at the back of the drawer. You figured you just weren’t meant to have that, and you had made your peace with it. Until a certain king from a fantasy land decided to smear a chocolate cupcake on your white shirt on a Sunday night. 

And said king was casually strolling into your kitchen now, with heavy eyes and crumpled pajamas.

‘Good morning, your majesty,’ you said before placing a nice plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. You knew he liked those, as well as those chocolate cereals you kept by the fridge.

‘Morning,’ he answered.

You both quietly had breakfast together, both of you too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge anything around you. But the silence was eating you alive.

‘Hey, so I don’t have to work today. Would you like to spend the day in the park?’

You stood there almost shyly, waiting for his response. You didn’t know what went through his head, much the same way he didn’t know what went through yours. You hadn’t forgotten the night you had spent together crying, holding desperately to one another, and while you couldn’t deny that you somehow enjoyed being physically close to him, you knew Susan’s words had taken a toll on Caspian.

Finally, he nodded. ‘Sure.’

Despite having pulled two all-nighters, you felt particularly energized. Certainly, you had increased your daily caffeine consumption, but maybe there was something about walking among the old trees that left you thinking that maybe life wasn’t all that bad and that you only needed some sunlight in your face and to feel the gentle autumn breeze through your fingers.

Maybe Caspian felt the same way, because every time you looked at him, the creases on his eyes seemed to become smaller. You both hadn’t said much ever since that night, only speaking when necessary, both of you processing your own world. You hadn’t known Susan personally, or her siblings for that matter, but seeing Caspian so distraught had made you want to tear the whole planet apart, anything to make him happy again. Knowing how you usually dealt with your own shit on your own, you didn’t know what Caspian needed, and he wasn’t leaving any clues for you to find out.

‘Are you okay?’ you finally asked, once you sat down on a bench overlooking the Lake. 

He sighed. ‘Not really.’

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ you bit your lip when you asked. Only after hearing it out loud, you realized you could’ve asked earlier. Suddenly, you feared for Caspian’s opinion about you.

He shook his head. ‘No. Just being here is enough,’ he said. 

He didn’t look at you, though. So you fixed your gaze on the water, deciding on people-watching and enjoying your time together, even if the man next to you was desperately trying to pull himself together.

You acted on impulse. Your hand was resting on your knee, and the two of you had been sitting down closely, mirroring the way you had been sitting twelve hours prior on your couch. This time, you didn’t shy away. You took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, feeling the callousness of his touch and tracing the soft marks over his skin. He took a deep breath, you noticed, and as your fingers ghosted over his pulse, you noticed it had picked up. But you didn’t talk; you stayed silent, hoping –praying, to Aslan or to whoever would listen– that he wouldn’t suffer anymore.

And, if anybody were to ask you, you guessed that was the moment you realized you had fallen for him. 

It didn’t hit you like a brick, as some of your friends had mentioned a couple of times. You didn’t feel any dread, either, as you thought you would. You never even thought you’d been in love before. There had once been a classmate back in middle school that you definitely crushed on, only because they were a bit older and edgier than the rest in your hall, but no, you hadn’t been in love. You had liked other people, always a bit too much to qualify as platonic but not that much to be romantic. The best way you would have described it was as if you’d been swimming in a lake. The water was always still, and occasionally, a little fish would come by and swim around curiously, only to either leave your side forever or until you got bored of said fish and swam around, looking for better entertainment. 

But as you sat next to Caspian, with his hand clasped in his, you swore you were now swimming in the ocean. And it was vast and scary, but you weren’t afraid. The waves were carrying you softly to the shore, lulling you to sleep, embracing you in safe arms as you allowed yourself to let the feeling flow through you entirely, welcoming it with open arms. And Caspian was right there, waiting for you, with that big smile he seemed to have only for you, and that light stubble you adored decorating his cheeks. You didn’t want to come down from that high you felt you were in, and you knew you had to, eventually, but for a few more minutes, you decided to just be a little selfish and savor it, for as long as you could. 

‘Do you think I’ll ever come back?’ Caspian asked you, quietly. 

For a second you thought you had imagined it, for he wasn’t looking at you. Taking a breath, you answered.

‘Of course, you will,’ you frowned, the waves in your heart suddenly picking up speed.

‘What if I don’t?’ 

Again, you paused. You thought back to that first night, when you found him at Central Station, lost, and scared. He had the same look on his face, only this time your heart clenched further. 

‘You can stay here. With me,’ you tightened your grip around his hand ever so slightly, suddenly afraid. You didn’t want him to pull away.

‘Could I? Stay here?’ he asked. He finally looked at you, and he wasn’t ready for the fire he saw in your eyes.

Your lips twitched into a side smile. ‘If you want.’

‘And what do you want?’

His question caught you by surprise. You always walked on eggshells when it came to your feelings, never dwelling too much on them. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were scared of what you would find in your soul if you looked too deep. It felt like a constant battle, and it had taken you years to quiet the voices that seemed to scream in every direction. Those same voices came back, crashing full-force like a tsunami. But when you looked into Caspian’s eyes, those dark, comforting, safe eyes, they stopped. The wind stopped. Every noise went still, and it was just you two. You hadn’t been in love before, no. But now, for the first time in your life, you were a hundred percent sure about something. You were in love with Caspian.

‘I want you.’

Despite being a king, Caspian was a simple man. He liked walking on the beach at dusk, enjoying the salt on his lips and the crashing waves. He liked drinking wine, although he often had to refrain himself from drinking one too many cups at dinner. He liked riding in the woods, with his hair loose and wild. He liked hosting balls for his friends, and he would often sit back in his throne and watch them have fun, occasionally dancing and talking among his many guests. He didn’t like violence, though, but he wasn’t afraid of it. He didn’t like it when his hair would fall in his eyes, obscuring his vision. He didn’t like when his subjects were in danger, or when enemies attacked his precious kingdom. Those things didn’t change when he arrived in New York; his collection just expanded.

He liked the smell of freshly-brewed coffee in the morning, and the sound of your quiet humming as you cooked. He liked the way the streets were noisy and busy, but the inside of your apartment was silent and cozy. He liked the glow of the sunset over the glass buildings, and the skyline at night. He didn’t like the rudeness of some citizens, always yelling insults at each other. He didn’t like how everything was always too fast, as if everyone was running out of time constantly. He didn’t like the way people would crowd around in small spaces, and he often felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

Caspian loved you. Absolutely, whole-heartedly, unconditionally loved you. He loved how you always rubbed your eyes several times after waking up, like you weren’t fully there just yet. He loved it when you stretched your back and groaned, and a little shiver would run up your arms as you did. He loved your bluntness, even though at first he thought you were a bit rude, too. He loved the way you had helped him, asking nothing in return. He didn’t love how you would shy away from him, or how you always refrain from speaking too much about yourself and your past. He understood, but didn’t like it nonetheless. 

He enjoyed the way your hand felt on his, despite the size difference. He enjoyed the way you were always looking out for him, whether guiding him throughout the city or supporting him as best as you could. He loved your eyes, with their dark bags under them and the mischievous glow that seemed to decorate them permanently.

Caspian loved you, and the longer he stared at you, on that bench, surrounded by the trees and the sun, the more he felt himself falling for you. Both of your hearts were beating at the same time, same pattern, same rhythm, and for once, he felt like he belonged somewhere. Next to you. And if his ears weren’t deceiving him, you were too reciprocating those feelings.

And you were scared. But you had never felt more free than you did at that moment. And with Caspian’s thumb rubbing slow circles on your skin, you inched forward, and throwing all caution through the window you crashed your lips onto his.

No warning, no sign, no fear. You plunged into the water, and you only came back to the surface when you felt his lips move against yours, warm and alive. His other hand rested on your cheek, holding you close, and yours grabbed his neck, grounding yourself, feeling his erratic pulse accompanying yours. Caspian loved you, and you loved him. And you both liked that very much.

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath, @mishaandthebrits, @celestialcharles, @idohknow

[ash5monster01]

Goes On Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

word count: 2.4k

Thirteen ←→ Fifteen

Masterlist

Ridge Academy, NY

4/15/60

The day before spring break. One of Evelyn’s favorite days of the year. It was the start of the first break since Christmas and the last break she’ll get before finals. It was much needed after the chaos of the semester. Yet for the first time she was sad about it. Sad because for a whole week she’d go without seeing Charlie when not so long ago she didn’t even know the boy existed. So she was determined to make every second count the minute she got out of class.

“Oh God” Violet groaned, eyes cast on Alice Higgins being approached by Allen Fenway. Students none of them had really gotten close to but their friendship proceeded them.

“What?” Evelyn inquires, wearing a confused look as she glances at the pair as well. Seeing nothing different within their interaction than usual.

“He’s in love with her and she doesn’t even know it” Laurie whispers, glancing at the pair as well. Evelyn is only confused further, eyeing Allen just to see there is a shine in his eyes. A far off hopeful look interwoven within his heart as he looks at the girl who can’t even seem to spare him a glance.

“That’s so sad” Evelyn said and Violet turned to her, an amused look on her face. When Laurie does the same Evelyn can’t help but find herself confused all over again.

“What?” she asks them and the girls laugh lightly, sharing a look Evelyn couldn’t translate. For the first time all day her mind isn’t on finding Charlie after this study hall. It’s on whatever they’ve been hiding from her.

“You really don’t know?” Laurie asked, curious if Evelyn ever got a hint. Ever noticed one moment where maybe she questioned it and never felt the need to share it with the girls. Yet based on the way her furrowed brow doesn’t ease, Laurie knows the answer is no.

“I have no idea what you guys are talking about, can someone please fill me in?” Evelyn asks, a little exasperated and nervous. She didn’t find herself to be an oblivious person but maybe she was.

“You and Nate, come on” Violet suggests, searching Evelyn’s eyes for any falter but Evelyn is still taking a moment to catch up. Eyes darting to the pair to try and comprehend the innuendo.

“Nate and me are not like that” she finally says and Violet snorts, shaking her head at her very blind friend. The poor boy had been in love with her forever and the whole school knew but her.

“Now that you’re with Charlie we can talk about it. No way you didn’t notice Nate has been obsessed with you since the 6th grade” Laurie says, shaking her head softly and brushing golden locks out of her face.

“He was?” Evelyn questions and the girls quickly realize how they have to spell this out for her. Explain in grave detail that Nate had been in love with her for years.

“Was, still is. He’s been in love with you forever. We figured if you didn’t know then you at least knew when he asked you to the dance” Laurie tells her and Evelyn feels the world around her collapsing. Everything she ever knew was not exactly as it seemed. She recalled his face that day when she denied his invitation. The devastation that she didn’t understand.

“Don’t forget the night he sat outside our room for hours with roses and you never showed. Poor guy looked like a kicked puppy” Violet adds in and the two girls laugh, finding amusement in a past Nate had left behind. For Evelyn though, years of deeper meanings are finally coming to light and the realization is hitting her too hard.

“Nate loves me” she repeats again, as if only to confirm to herself. When Violet and Laurie turn back to her they realize Evelyn isn’t taking this news as expected. In fact they had turned her entire world upside down without even knowing it.

“Ev, it’s not a big deal” Violet started but Evelyn starts shaking her head, the puzzle pieces almost in place and as they do a blaze starts in her heart. An anger burrowing deep inside of her.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me?” she mutters to herself and Laurie and Violet now share a worried look, realizing maybe they shouldn’t of broken the news to her like this. Before they can make any attempts to calm the girl the bell rings.

Not so long ago when that bell was going to ring Evelyn was gonna run off and find Charlie. Now though, as the chime rings throughout her ears she finds it matching the beat of her anger. With a different mission in mind she collects her things and starts on the search of an entirely different boy. Violet and Laurie can barely keep up as they collect their things, trying to call after her and figure out what she was doing. They don’t get a chance to, when they make it out in the hallway the girl is long gone.

“Evelyn, again without the knocking!” Nate says when the girl shoves open his door hard enough to make him jump. Yet when he spots the look on her face he drops it completely.

“I can’t believe you” she seethes, red hot anger blazing against her eyes. Nate isn’t sure what he did so he stands to face her anyway, trying to comprehend how his normally cheerful friend was suddenly this rage filled.

“What’s going on?” he asks, hands up in a defense he’s prepared to make because it’s her. His Evelyn, the girl he would move heaven and earth for.

“You love me?” the angry look on her face falters for only a moment, a crack long enough to reveal the heart broken eyes behind it. A devastation he never would’ve expected when she finally found out.

“Evelyn…-“ he starts, ready to explain and save face for his friends. Both her and Charlie that are meant to be protected in a situation like this.

“Don’t lie to me Nate. The girls just told me everything. You love me?” she repeats again, as if the fact hadn’t even festered into one yet. That it was a lost statement, a balloon breaking off the string as it flies away.

“Yes, I did. I do. I don’t really know anymore” Nate honestly said because he figured he always would but each day he began to accept the fact more and more that he had missed his chance and she was going to move on. She was moving on, with Charlie.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she cries out, face a mirror of sadness he was unprepared for and his heart stutters in his chest.

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I couldn’t risk losing you. I just waited, hoping you’d feel the same” he pleads his case, fighting tears that burn at the back of his eyes because if he knew you finding out like this would hurt you so much he would’ve done something about it sooner.

“Nate nothing could ruin our friendship. I just can’t believe you right now” she says, voice cracking and revealing how much more heartbroken she was then angry. Yet both emotions were clearly both right there.

“I don’t get it? Why are you upset. It’s no big deal, people have crushes-” Nate says, trying to understand where her head was at in this moment but she holds up a hand to his face. Striking him silent as a new anger burns in her.

“Not on me! No one has ever had a crush on me! I spent years thinking I was broken, that I wasn’t as good enough as the other girls. Just to find out today that someone out there loved me all along, and that person was my best friend. My best friend who never did anything to prove to me I wasn’t” she shouts, trying to make him notice how she had been floundering all this time. That this confident persona she had was a shield. A barrier to protect her from the sad truth that she thought she’d never have someone for her.

“Are you saying you would’ve loved me too?” he asks, borderline ready to shout back as he discovers he maybe had a chance after all. Yet Charlie suddenly comes to Evelyn’s mind and she realizes now is no time to confirm nor deny something she should’ve known so much sooner.

“I didn’t say that” she begins to shake her head, taking a step back from him but Nate is angry now. His own passion blazing inside of him.

“Then why be mad?! Why come in here shouting at me for something I can’t change now?! It’s over with!” he yells, head shaking as he tries his best not to scoff. This was a fight he never expected to have when or if any of this finally came to light.

“Because you lied to me Nate! You hid the truth from me for years and I feel like our entire relationship is a lie!” she yells back, the tension filling the room to a boiling point neither of them can come back from.

“Oh you’re mad about people who hide the truth? How about your precious little boyfriend who still hasn’t told you anything about his life? About how his best friend killed himself right before he got kicked out of school?” Nate yells, blinded with anger and pure hatred that he had buried down up until now. Yet when the words leave and ring in his ears both hands fly up to cover his mouth, because he realizes what he had just done. He had let the ugly part of him win and all because of that he had done the one thing his friend asked him not too.

“What?” her tone is softer now. A whole new shock rushing through her and up her spine. Nate can’t even bring himself to answer. Shoulders trembling as he covers his mouth, hoping to keep anymore secrets sealed inside before they spill out and ruin things further.

Evelyn just stands there, staring and trying to comprehend all the new information thrown her way. Neither of them flinch as the lock clicks on the door and is pushed open. Eyes cast on one another as they stare each other down, waiting for a reaction to anything that had just happened.

“Hey guys” Charlie’s familiar and soft voice fills the room but Evelyn doesn’t look away from Nate who is fear stricken as he eyes the two of his friends, hands dropping to his side. When he returns his gaze to Evelyn what he doesn’t expect to see is the tears that stream down her face.

“Your best friend died?” she suddenly says, voice hoarse from the yelling and tears clouding her vision. She finally turns away from Nate’s blue eyes to find Charlie’s brown ones. He’s now frozen himself, finally feeling the weight of the room suffocating him.

“How do you know that?” Charlie says, that same panic feeling setting in his chest. He was not ready to talk about this. If he was he would’ve told her about it.

“You trusted Nate and not me” her words collapse with each syllable, the trembling of her voice giving away the true sadness this holds. She was not equipped for this, still blazing with anger towards the boy beside her and now topping it with the betrayal she felt from him.

“It wasn’t like that” Charlie starts, breath coming out a bit heavier and he goes to step towards her. Reaching out to the first person he’s loved since Neil, looking for an anchor in this storm. But she steps away. Hurt by the two most important people in her life.

“I tried Charlie. I did everything I could in hopes you would trust me and when you kissed me. I thought this was it. He’s finally letting me in and he likes me. He wants me for me, but now, I’m not so sure what it was” Evelyn says, the tears fully flowing down her cheeks now and Charlie’s heart cracks just a little bit more. A fresh wound on top of the one that had just barely healed from Neil. He wants to reach out to her but his feet are frozen in place, he can’t move.

“I don’t want to see either of you right now, so don’t bother following me” she says after a moment and both of them know it’s best not to fight it as she opens the door. They’re met with the sight of a panting Violet and Laurie who were just about to walk in. The whole group freezes as the girls spot their brunette friend in tears. Evelyn doesn’t give them an opportunity to ask why as she steps out and shuts the door behind her.

“Charlie I’m so sorry. We were fighting and yelling and it was word vomit. It just came out and I regretted it the second I said it, I never meant-“ Nate rambles almost instantly, words firing out faster than light but the soft shake of Charlie’s head stops him anyway, the brunette boy starting for his bed and dropping his books on it.

Charlie doesn’t say anything as he slides his suitcase out from under the bed and starts to pack some clothes. Nate wants to ask what he was doing considering he was planning on staying here for break, but he knew anything else he said would only worsen the mess he had made. So he lets Charlie silently pack his things, settling into the whiplash he was just given from walking into the tense room. When he’s done and started for the door Nate finally finds the energy in him to speak.

“Where are you going?” he asks, voice squeaking towards the end from how upset he was. Charlie turns slowly, grip tight on the bag in his hands as he looks at his friend. Mind still trying to wrap around the fact that everything just blew up in front of him.

“To face my fears”

a/n: will admit the release of TTPD really influenced this chapter and I wrote it in just a few short hours with the new album blaring xoxo

Taglist: @octaviasdread @eden-punk @linmichea1 @pursuedbyamemoryy @mynameisjxlia

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[doctorhouse5343]

Love In The Lab (Chapter 2)

It was to the sound of the beeping alarm, which had abruptly put an end to his beauty sleep, that Hob Gadling started his beautiful morning  : frantically putting on clean clothes, trying to brush his hair before settling on doing a messy bun, tripping on his way to the kitchen to get coffee in haste before then proceeding to storm out of his house. When he finally got into his car, he let out a relieved sigh as he soon drove down the road. The thought of seeing Dr. Endlesstein again brought a smile to his lips, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as his cheeks flushed at the vivid daydream of touching his pale hand, stroking his fingers so tenderly as he'd lean towards those peony lips and-

Hob shook his head as he forced himself to focus on the road, now was not the time to dream up a whole wedding scenario. He had to make sure to not arrive late, it would be unprofessional otherwise. Besides, the look of judgement that would surely appear on Morpheus' face was enough to make him sweat, but so far everything was going well. The journalist sighed as he turned to the right, one more and he'll arrive at his destination...or at least it would have been the case if the tired man didn't find himself in sudden traffic. Blinking slowly, he let his hands fall away from the steering wheel, letting out groans as he face planted in the car horn, staying there as a loud honk could be heard. Soon multiple cars joined in the chorus, cheering at the journalist's misery. When Hob finally arrived at their meeting place, he found the doctor sipping a cup of black coffee with a hum "You're late" The manner in which the words were spoken made the journalist's stomach drop, guilt and shame filling him as he sat down on the chair, unable to face him directly "I am so sorry, traffic was a nightmare..I hope you haven't been waiting too long, doctor" He said softly, his eyes downcast. Despite all of his efforts to avoid a situation like this, he managed to upset the handsome goth doctor. If the floor could sink, Hob would happily tag along just to escape his misery

The silence that came after was soon broken by a chuckle, one that made the journalist look up in confusion, eyes widening as he realized that Dr. Endlesstein was the making that odd sound. The doctor then stopped, smiling in amusement "I only arrived a few minutes ago so no, I haven't waited long" Morpheus said teasingly with a smirk that made Hob want to leap out of his chair, run his hands through that tousled mess of dark hair before passionately kissing him in front of everyone, it took every ounce of strength in his body to stay put on that chair. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself before asking further questions to try to get a good mental picture of how the doctor is as a whole for his article, writing it all down as the interview went on. When felt that he had enough intel to make a good article, the conversation shifted to small talk. Surprisingly it went well, there was no uncomfortable silence, it went on smoothly like velvet with no hiccups or awkward bits. The journalist soon started to joke about his morning "You know, it's a wonder I never tried running a marathon : I did one of my own just to get to my car and I still lost!" He chuckled, smiling as he watched the doctor try to keep a straight face so he went on "I would have been amazing on the football field too, I was this close to shoot my alarm clock out of the door" That one earned a few snorts out of Morpheus, who then promptly covered his mouth with a sheepish smile "Well, hum, this was lovely. Thank you for having me, Mr. Gadling"

"Please, doctor, call me Hob" He smiled at the doctor, who gave a small nod "I'll be patiently waiting on your article, Hob. Take care". With those parting words, the pair went on their separate ways. As he went in his car, the journalist smiled as he remembered how his jokes made the handsome man snort in such an adorable way 'I wonder if I could make him laugh, I bet he sounds so..carefree, like there's nothing in the world holding him back' He thought to himself as he pulled out of the parking lot, planning to talk Johanna's ear off over the phone later. If he didn't rave about the hot doctor soon, Hob Gadling would surely loose it.

Meanwhile Morpheus had just arrived back to his estate, letting out an embarrassed groan as he put his coat on the rack next to the door. He just had to let out ugly, disgraceful snorts in front of that attractive journalist. Things were simply going far too well for him apparently, so in an attempt to drown his sorrows he began to pour himself a nice cup of darker-than-his-wretched-soul coffee while listening to The Cure, humming as he took a long sip of it. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste and indulging in it's fragrant aroma before the sound of the answering machine broke him out of his trance

"Hey, it's me again...I know you are busy but when you do get this message, could you please call me back? I worry about you, little brother..". The voice belonged to his older sister Death, whom he didn't see in years,not since the accident that changed his life forever. With a sigh, the doctor promptly erased the message before making his way back to the kitchen counter, picking up his mug to take another sip of coffee. Maybe one day he would muster up the courage to finally  answer but for now, all he wanted to do was relax while daydreaming of Hob's dreamy brown eyes and dazzling smiles that sent his heart ablaze

[rosietrace]

Never Loud, Never Quiet

Characters Featured: Victoria Shard || Heartslabyul AU! Noriko Dolion (@terrovaniadorm)

Others Featured: Riddle Rosehearts, Keres Perrault, Deuce Spade, Elara Cessair, Jade Leech, Malleus Draconia (mentioned)

Pairing: Victoria Shard x Noriko Dolion

Synopsis: In which Noriko genuinely can't stop talking about a certain fae from Pomefiore.

Warning(s): Spoilers(??) for a specific main story, subtle literally just one hints towards 「 Twisted Wonderland: Project AVA 」, Noriko is a simp, Victoria unintentionally enables their clownery, Elara, Malleus is his own warning /j /j

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

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“For seven's sake, Noriko, pay more attention to painting the roses, you're distracting your underclassmen…”

“Apologies, housewarden.”

Riddle sent Noriko a look of clear, potent, exasperation. Holding his scepter in his hands, he lightly tapped Noriko's back with its blunt end.

“I understand your admiration for Miss Shard, she is a well-accomplished diplomat,” Riddle sighed. “However-”

“Lady Victoria's actually much more than a well-accomplished diplomat, housewarden Rosehearts,” Noriko finished painting one rose and proceeded to paint the next. “In fact, she's an officially licensed knight. Did you know she was officially knighted by the Queen of the Queendom of Roses at just the age-”

“Silence,” Riddle ran a hand through his hair, making sure to be at a considerable distance from Noriko.

Keres had recently returned from running another errand from Crowley and happened to notice the fatigued expression on Riddle's face.

“Are you quite alright, housewarden?” They asked, slightly nervous yet nevertheless concerned. “You appear rather… Err…. Parched.”

Riddle exhaled, his head tilting up and breathing in the fresh air. It took about 5 minutes for him to get himself together before he could reply.

“I'm fine, Keres,” The look of exasperation on Riddle's face said otherwise.

Deuce laughed awkwardly, walking past Keres to head to tend to the hedgehog's outside of the rose maze.

“I'd suggest keeping a safe distance from a certain someone for a bit,” he mumbled to Keres offhandedly, nodding his head toward Noriko before walking off.

Upon noticing that Deuce was referring to Noriko, Keres sighed heavily.

“Suddenly everything makes sense…” They muttered. They ended up receiving another call from Crowley for another errand, and unfortunately, Keres had less time to judge Noriko than to do work Crowley didn't wanna do.

For whatever reason, Noriko had an almost disturbing attachment to Victoria Shard of Pomefiore, of all people.

The young man and Pomefiore's ‘almost housewarden’ got along incredibly well, seemingly attached to the hip. Noriko's loyalty to the woman was often considered worrying to their peers; yet they paid no mind to their opinions in regards to their loyalty.

Noriko climbed down the ladder after finishing their task of painting the roses and later received a text.

They furrowed their eyebrows. Elara…

Nuisance number 18: Come to Octavinelle, we gotta talk.

“Whatever could she want to talk about?” He huffed, putting his phone in his pocket. “It better be something noteworthy…”

༝ㅤ･ㅤ˚ㅤ。ㅤ.ㅤ⋆ㅤ꒷꒦꒷꒦ ✧̣̩⋆̩☽⋆゜【♛】

“You need to be sent to a mental institution.”

Noriko blinked. Of all things, Elara could say when they arrived at Octavinelle, that was how she greeted them.

They narrowed their eyes. “I don't quite follow,” Noriko folded their arms over their chest. “You said you wanted to talk about something, so talk.”

Offhandedly, they looked down at the ground, thinking of a certain someone. “... I have somewhere to be, later.”

Elara snorted. “Don't worry Nori-”

“Don't call me that.” Noriko shut her down in less than a millisecond.

Elara smirked, a hand on her hip. “Like I said, don't worry,” her other hand was waving around carelessly. “All I want is to discuss your little relationship with Little Miss Perfectionist.”

The blue-haired knight could recognize who that nickname was for in a heartbeat. “What about me and Lady Victoria?”

Elara's smirk widened. “Remember what I said about you needing to be sent to a mental institution? That's what I meant.”

“What does that have to do with my relationship with Lady Victoria?”

“Everything.”

“Pardon?”

Elara hummed. “What I mean is that you, Mr. Loyalty Incarnate, are obsessed.”

“I'm not,” Noriko frowned. “I am merely loyal to the woman I-”

“Love?” She cut him off, chuckling shortly after. “Don't try to excuse it as some sense of duty, Noriko. You have no obligation to serve her in the way you do.”

“We owe her,” they insisted. “After what she's done for us, for all of us, how could we not?”

“.... Fair,” but Elara shrugged. “but you can't deny that she means more to you than just someone you've sworn to protect.”

“You’re so willing to throw all of your morals for a woman who saved you? You're not devoted, you're beyond obsession.”

Noriko didn't have anything to say to that, almost as if confirming to Elara just how much they value Victoria's word over all else.

Instead of standing around to listen to Elara talking down on them, Noriko turned the other way and walked out of Octavinelle.

Elara's manner turned neutral. “That guy's just hopeless…” she scoffed.

“Elara,” Jade called out from behind her, holding a stack of paperwork that Azul presumably needed to sign. “What are you doing?”

She stared at Jade for a good minute, then let out a breath, resuming her work at the Monstro Lounge.

“Nothing.”

༝ㅤ･ㅤ˚ㅤ。ㅤ.ㅤ⋆ㅤ꒷꒦꒷꒦ ✧̣̩⋆̩☽⋆゜【♛】

“There you are.”

Victoria's smile almost undid Noriko as they walked toward where she sat in the forests of Pomefiore.

They smiled back at her. “It took me quite a while to find you…” Noriko sat on the grass beside her. “Pomefiore's forests aren't exactly easy to navigate.”

Victoria chuckled. “Apologies,” she set her book down on her lap. “I take it that it took a while to navigate your way to me?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I suppose I must apologize for that, as well.”

“Don't be,” he chuckled slightly. “I'll always find my way to you, My Lady.”

Victoria's smile transitioned into a teasing smirk. “Oh?” She inched her face closer to his. “Is that so, Noriko Dolion?”

“Ah-” Noriko's face flushed very easily, especially around her. “My Lady… Your face is…”

Victoria giggled, pressing a kiss to the tip of their nose. “I merely jest, Nori.”

Noriko's face remained somewhat flushed, however, they leaned against the tree behind them. “R-Right…”

She leaned against their shoulder, and they let her. For her, Noriko would let her do whatever she wanted around him. It didn't matter what it was.

It never mattered what her intentions were.

“Did you have a long day?” Victoria started with simple questions. As much as she enjoyed a comforting silence, she enjoyed idle conversation just as much.

And Noriko obliged in her want for that. “You could say that,” their head rested over hers. “Thankfully, I never once ran into Diasomnia’s Housewarden on the way here.”

Noriko made sure to be careful in choosing his words when it came to mentioning Malleus; Victoria's soured bearing said as much.

“Good for you,” she let out a heavy breath. “Unfortunately, I had the displeasure of encountering him during class. We share the same classes, after all.”

“And I can't help but envy that prince for that,” Noriko grumbled. “He doesn't deserve to see your face as often as he does, My Lady…”

Victoria snorted. “You think so, Nori?”

“I know so,” Noriko replied quickly. “Malleus Draconia causes nothing but trouble for you. I want nothing to do with that man if it meant you'd be in a notably less amicable mood.”

She could only hum in response to that, feeling all the more endeared the longer her conversation with Nori lasted.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, her hand went over theirs — lightly tracing her thumb over the back of it.

“.... Thank you, Nori,” she uttered. “For… For staying.”

Silence was — and perhaps always will be �� a long-time companion for Victoria Shard. And it didn't try and leave, even during moments like this.

Her words: They sounded random. Unexpected, yet said with good intent.

Noriko knew why she'd breathed it out so suddenly. Why she'd thank him for something as little as staying with her.

But to them — to both of them — there was nothing ‘little’ about Noriko Dolion staying with her for as long as they have.

They both said nothing of it.

Noriko's hand eventually intertwined its fingers with hers, and there was the barest hint of a smile on them. On both of them.

“The honor is mine.”

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Taglist

🥥 — @starry-night-rose || @jasdiary || @authoruio || @nem0-nee || @fumikomiyasaki || @sakuramidnight15

—

Oneshot dedicated to — @terrovaniadorm / @hallowed-delights

—

Others — @geminiiviolets || @twsted-princess || @abyss-wonderer || @twistedsongstressofstarz / @absolutelyobsessedkiya ||

†•°•══════ஓ๑「♢」๑ஓ══════•°•†

[strawwritesfic]

Boromir x Female!Reader: Sun

Summary: He’ll always know how to get home when his heart, like a compass, always points to wherever you are. 

Rating/Tags: T (Pre-Council of Elrond; Gondorian!Reader; referenced arranged marriage; mild implied sexual content; implied abusive father and son relationship; Faramir & Reader; Faramir & Boromir)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Sun

Minas Tirith never looked so beautiful as it did before Boromir had to leave it. The city stretched wide and white beneath him, glittering in the early morning sun nearly as far as the eye could see. He wondered idly, as he always did on the brink of leaving on whatever mission his father might assign him, whether or not he would see it again–but of course he would. Many a year had passed since he was green enough to truly worry himself over his fate. Urgent though this errand might have been, it was certainly less dangerous than wading into war, and he had always returned from that.

His things were ready, his steed waiting below. Boromir only had to step outside to begin, and he intended to step outside shortly. All he had wanted was a moment to look out at the city before leaving for the many moons it would take him simply to arrive at his destination. 

Just as he was about to turn from the window, however, a great delay arrived in the form of a familiar voice:

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

He paused to allow himself a smile and enough time to wipe all traces of it from his face before he turned. The door to his room was open. A woman stood in the gap, a wry smile on her face. Two armed escorts waited in the hall behind her; they looked much less interested in the proceedings than she did.

“I must have,” Boromir returned as he picked up the pack sitting on his bed. “How else would you know otherwise?”

You took his lack of dismissal as allowance to enter his room and sauntered inside. “Faramir of course.”

Boromir snorted and feigned interest in checking his bag one last time to avoid you seeing his obvious amusement. “Faramir.” He scoffed. “And what were you doing with Faramir this fine morning?”

“Talking. He is quite clearly the only person here willing to share with me what is going on.”

“Have you ever considered that no one tells you because you do not need to know?”

One of your eyebrows flicked up, but you turned toward the door before Boromir could read your features more clearly. Your shoulders lifted, then you addressed the men that had accompanied you to his room:

 “You may leave.” Neither moved. You sighed. “We shall not be doing anything untoward while you are away. Even if we were, I am sure Lord Denethor should find us out sooner than you.”

“Your horse is waiting,” said one of them to Boromir.

He gestured for them to do as you had directed. “I will be down in ten minutes. You have my word.”

They must have decided that that was not enough time for you to get into any real mischief, or at least that you were correct about Boromir’s father being on the lookout, because they bowed and left at once. The door was left open, but Boromir did not really mind. No one lingered nearby to hear what would be said, and he doubted anything of interest would be imparted. 

As the guards’ footsteps faded down the hallway, he sat down to perch on the end of his bed. You followed suit without invitation. Silence followed.

“I suppose I should be glad you and my brother get along so well,” he said at last, with a small amount of difficulty. “You shall still be happily wed if I do not return.”

Your cool smile returned. Your getting betrothed to Faramir was not much a possibility, but it was still not a possibility that Boromir liked to consider. The subject annoyed and entertained you at turns; that day it seemed to annoy you. 

“I do not believe that that is how things would work out,” you said.

“Faramir likes you.”

“Faramir likes everyone,” you said dismissively. “That is why your father despairs of him so.”

He forced a smile of his own. How Lord Denethor would treat his youngest son while his eldest was not around to distract him worried Boromir greatly, no matter when and to where Boromir left. Yet he could do nothing to change the things; all his focus must be on the success of his mission. Better not to think of Faramir's situation at all than allow it to become a distraction.

“Speaking of, since he was the one that made sure I was made aware of your errand in time for me to say goodbye, you may do me the honor of explaining what it is.”

That was what Boromir liked about you, somehow–though at the same time caused him to wonder what his father saw in the match. You cared little what was considered your business. If something interested you, it should be expressed immediately. Ignorance was not a trait you cherished, especially in yourself. After a moment’s consideration, he decided to tell you. Likely Faramir would do so once Boromir was gone long enough either way.

“I go to seek Rivendell.”

“Rivendell,” you repeated. “Does this have to do with your dreams, and Faramir’s?”

Boromir shook his head in awe. “Has anyone ever told you that you are incredibly nosy?”

“Yes.” You stood, looking somewhat smug. “You foremost among them. But I am glad I was nosy in this case. I will rest easier knowing where you go.”

“No one knows where Rivendell is,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but it lies behind us and not before. Gondor will keep at bay our foes for long enough. You will find what you seek, you will receive your counsel, and you will return with stories more interesting than Faramir can offer. Satisfied?”

He got to his feet with a long, grumbling sigh. When he neared you, he allowed himself to place a hand on one of your shoulders. “I was never dissatisfied. Whether I am or not now, I must get going. I will never find Rivendell if I never leave for it.”

“Fair enough.” You looked away long enough to withdraw from above your breast a handkerchief. “A token,” you held it out toward him, “to remember me by.”

Boromir stared straight into your eyes as he took it from you. “I shall wear it proudly, my lady.”

You curtsied and quickly exited the room. He only made it to the door just as you were about to disappear around the corner. 

“Would you like to accompany me down?” he asked. 

Another arch smile played about your lips; you returned to his side without further ado. A moment later you had placed your arm through his. Boromir smiled in return--a true smile. The sun was shining, and Minas Tirith–and you–would remain waiting for him, no matter where his quest would take him.

[bluekittyworld]

There is Karma [Final, Happy Ending]

This is the Happy Ending to the fic, you can read the alternative Sad Ending instead :) Thank you for the likes! Requests are open!

Masterlist

Chapter 4

Sad Ending

After the operation the baby boy was healthy, but you were in a coma. Yoongi stayed by your side he felt too guilty to look at the baby, Taehyung took care of the baby boy while everyone waited for you to wake up. Yoongi kept caressing your hand and left kisses on your forehead now and then, asking you to wake up over and over again. Taehyung carried his nephew around in his arms, the baby really did look like Yoongi, he hated Yoongi, but he loved his nephew and couldn’t stop kissing him.

Yoongi made so many promises to you over the past 18 hours, he just desperately wanted you to wake up. Yoongi did finally muster up the courage to have a look at the baby, he was sleeping peacefully in Taehyung’s arms, the baby really looked a lot like himself he thought, and a small smile crept up to his face, just then he felt something move under his grip, it was your hand. He looked back at you, and you were starting to wake up, the hospital lights being too bright and you closing your eyes again, Yoongi was overjoyed he took your hand and repeatedly kissed it.

“______, my baby girl made it!” he said, which caught Taehyung’s attention and he rushed over to you.

As if on cue, the doctor came in too, he did some tests on you, such as how your pupils respond to light, your breathing and heart rate. He asked you a few questions, but you were too weak to respond just yet, so you just nodded, thankfully your memory was fine too. He recommended you stay in the hospital for 2 more days under supervision before you can go home.

Your wrist was stinging and hurt a lot, you looked up to your side and saw Yoongi, you remembered what you did to yourself because of him, you snatched your hand back from his grip. He was hurt at your reaction but just smiled at you.

“_____ I love you” Yoongi said.

You felt like you were hallucinating, you put your hand over your tummy and felt it was flat, you had one more month right, you thought to yourself. Being under so much medication, your brain wasn’t thinking straight, and you started crying “My baby” you sobbed.

Tapping your shoulder, Taehyung smiled at you and tilted his arm carefully showing you the baby.

“The baby is fine; my nephew is healthy and beautiful like his mother” Taehyung then proceeded to snort at Yoongi.

“Our baby is fine” Yoongi whispered.

You looked back at him, you weren’t hallucinating he was actually there, and ‘our’, how did he know?

As if Yoongi could read your thoughts “Tae told me, it’s my baby, I mean ours” he gently spoke to you.

“Move” Taehyung pushed Yoongi away on his swivelling stool.

“_____, what are you naming him?” Taehyung asked you.

“Taehyun, like you said” you smiled back, seeing your baby up close, he had so many of Yoongi’s features. 

“Yay, Min Taehyun” Taehyung was ecstatic.

“You’re not even going to ask the father?” Yoongi fake sulked, making you chuckle a little.

“I like it though, Min Taehyun, our little Taehyun” Yoongi smiled.

Taehyung left you and Yoongi for a little while for privacy.

“______, I’m so sorry, I am not getting married to anyone, I was just jealous to see you pregnant and assumed someone else was the father.” Yoongi took you hand and kissed it.

He carried on, “I initially started off to hurt you, but somewhere along the way I fell for you, I started to genuinely love you, that’s why I cut off all contact with you after that night, and forced myself to like someone else, but it didn’t work, I… I am so sorry, ____ I love you, l love you, I love you so much” his voice cracked near the end.

You squeezed his hand which was gripping onto yours, you nodded, you don’t know if this relationship will be a good idea or not, but you still loved Yoongi and wanted to give it a chance.

The following day, Yoongi came back as soon as the visiting hours started, 10 minutes later Taehyung was there too, he didn’t go into work just so he could spend more time with his nephew.

Yoongi got down on his knee by your beside and took out a box from his jacket, “_____ will you marry me?” he asked.

Taehyung was amused watching this scene and took a secret video of you both. You looked down at Yoongi, purposely taking extra-long to answer.

“Hmm… I think…” you said slowly.

Yoongi’s smile was turning into distress by the second, you liked teasing him though.

“Yes” you said loud and clear as he slipped the ring onto your finger, it was a beautiful VVS cut diamond, by Graff, you were impressed, Yoongi spent money on you as if it was nothing.

Yoongi hugged you tightly and cried into your shoulder, you patted his back.

“Why are you crying?” you asked gently.

“I just, I love you _____, thank you for saying yes, I have our wedding planned already, you just need to pick your dress, on the 12th of the next month we’re getting married.” Yoongi sobbed.

“You already booked everything? What if I didn’t say yes?” you joked.

“No please don’t say that” Yoongi silenced you with a kiss.

“EWWW, there’s a child here, do you mind” Taehyung joked, covering Taehyun’s eyes, the baby was already fond of his uncle. Both you and Yoongi laughed.

It was your wedding day, your father had come to terms with you again, although you just invited him and your stepmother for formality and the press. Taehyung took care of your baby throughout the ceremony; it wasn’t a huge ceremony, but everything was beautiful and more than perfect, after all Min Corporation’s youngest son was getting married.

Yoongi made time to celebrate the monthly anniversary, you did forget sometimes but he never did. He loved as much as you loved him, if not more. The monthly celebrations carried on for the first 2 years, but you were more than happy, each moment with him was special, he never let you feel unloved.

Taehyung soon found the love of his life, but still loved your son unconditionally. You also loved his daughter which he soon had after his marriage.

On your 6th anniversary you found out you were carrying another baby, a girl this time, Taehyun was already 7 years old now and was more than happy for his little sister to arrive.

30 years had passed now, Taehyun had a son of his own on the way, your daughter-in-law was a sweet angel herself, soon you and Yoongi were going to become grandparents.

“So ______ babygirl, we're becoming grandparents soon” Yoongi laughed and shook his head in amusement.

“Babygirl? I’m all old and wrinkly now” you snorted.

“Still my babygirl” he winked and ruffled your hair, as he leaned in for a kiss.

"I love you" you whispered.

"I love you more babygirl" he replied.

A/N: How was my first fanfic? :)

You can read an alternative sad ending which carries on from the previous chapter. Requests are open!

Thank you!

Masterlist

[thechloediary]

sakuatsu - crack and fluff(?), they’re idiots

“omi isn’t single,” atsumu whined for the nth time since he entered onigiri miya thirty minutes ago.

“if ya could stop repeating this over and over again and tell me why ya think that then maybe i could help ya scrub.”

atsumu groaned. “i heard him saying that he started seein’ someone.”

“oh,” osamu replied. “well, i guess he isn’t single then.”

atsumu let out a strange noise, half-whine half-groan. “if this isn’t exactly what i’ve been saying for the past thirty minutes.” he deadpanned.

— meanwhile in kiyoomi’s apartment:

“i don’t understand why atsumu is avoiding me.” kiyoomi complained.

“well what happened the last time you two talked before he started avoiding you?” motoya asked, trying to be as helpful as possible.

kiyoomi took a minute to gather his thoughts and proceeded. “we were at the bar with the team. i told them i started seeing someone and then he just… left?”

as he was trying to understand, he noticed motoya looking at him weirdly but he chose to ignore.

“oh my god do you think he’s one of those people who don’t acknowledge the benefits of a therapist?!” he suddenly exclaimed

motoya wanted to kill him, or himself, he wasn’t sure.

he gave kiyoomi his best unimpressed stare as he replied. “wow. you are so meant to be.” he said, as sarcastically as possible.

“you think?” kiyoomi lightened, a small blush appearing on his face.

“no.”

“wha—”

“did you really say that you were 'seeing someone' when you told them about your therapist?”

“yeah. why?”

“come on kiyoomi, he probably think you meant that you were seeing someone, as in, romantically seeing someone!”

oh. oh. “oh.”

motoya snorted, “yeah, oh.”

“but that’s not possible because he is the only person i want to see romantically.”

“have you told him that?” motoya raised an eyebrow.

“of course not!” kiyoomi replied almost automatically.

that day, he experienced for the first time in his life motoya’s most judgmental glare; and he can’t say he liked it.

— back to onigiri miya:

osamu groaned loudly he read his most recent text messages from motoya. “ugh you two are so meant to be.”

“we are, aren’t we?” atsumu replied, smirking smugly.

osamu hesitated between punching his twin, or throwing him something in the face.

he did none of that because there were customers in the restaurant, so instead he pinched his nose and sighed.

“go talk to him. he is single. don’t ask me how i know that, but please go. you two need to figure your shit out.”

he shook his head, laughing to himself. his brother was so hopeless when it comes to romance but thankfully he‘s found someone who’s just the same as him.

// end.

one day they’ll get it dw, today is not that day tho😔✊🏼

anyways that was my version of that one meme (that i find so funny😭) that goes:

👤 “i started seeing someone.”

🧍🏻‍♀️ “as in dating or hallucinating?”

👤 “a therapist.”

[blackacre13]

soft loubbie moment with Debbie tying Lou’s tie for her pls?

“No, no way. Absolutely not.”

“Tam, she’s going to ask me to. I don’t care. I think we’ve already had all the bad luck we ever possibly could,” Debbie huffed, trying to push past the other woman.

Tammy made an exasperated face, looking to Amita and Rose for assistance or sympathy, but they merely shrugged.

“You can’t keep her away from Lou,” Amita smiled, not looking the least bit sorry.

There was a pounding at the door that made Tammy jump, but it gave her the chance to grumble a “later” at Debbie and head to the door to answer it.

“That better not be you, Miller,” Tammy huffed, but she opened the door, shoving Debbie further out of the way.

“Even better,” Constance announced, playing with her shirt collar to show off her suit. “It’s me. But dad did send me. She needs mom.”

“I just told Debbie no,” Tammy spat. “I know weddings aren’t really their thing, but damnit it took us decades to get here and I am not letting the two of them mess up their own day!”

“Is Lou freaking out? Of course she’s freaking out! I mean who wouldn’t be terrified of marriage and a big change and—“ Rose muttered, starting to pace back and forth.

“No, dude,” Constance laughed. “Chill. Lou just needs help with her tie. Said Deb’s the only one who can do it right.”

Amita started to aww and coo, while a look of murderous rage appeared on Tammy’s face.

“You can’t tie a tie?” Tammy tried. “Lou can’t do it? What about Nine? God, even Daphne is over there. I’m sure she’d like nothing more than to not-so-subtly flirt with Lou by doing her tie before Deb walks down the aisle to her.”

“Yeah,” Debbie snorted. “That’s exactly what we’re not gonna do. Just let me do it. Please? I’ll be two seconds.”

“You two will end up in a broom closet fucking. It will never take two seconds,” Tammy hissed. “God, it’s like I’m matron of honor to a bunch of rebellious middle schoolers. Fine! But you know what? You’re not ruining this for me.”

“For her?” Amita whispered.

“This is her day. Apparently,” Debbie smirked.

“I just mean,” Tammy thought for a moment. “Here.”

She took the satin ribbon off from around her waist and tugged Debbie towards her as the brunette let out a confused protest. But she proceeded to wrap the ribbon around Debbie’s eyes and tug it tight behind her head.

“What the Fuck? I can’t see shit!” Debbie yelled.

“Exactly,” Tammy nodded, tugging at the same ribbon on Amita’s dress. “Constance, go tie this around Lou’s face. We’ll give them five minutes. Five. Minutes. That’s it, Deb. You tie her goddamn tie and you get back here. No funny business. You warn Miller too. The brides cannot see each other.”

“On it, captain!” Constance squeaked, taking the ribbon and dashing down the hall. The other women grimaced at the sound of something crashing and clattering before a far away shout of “I’m cool!”

Moments later, Tammy was leading Debbie down the hallway with Amita holding up her train as Rose started to blubber over their bouquets behind them. A grinning Constance and Nine pushed Lou up towards Debbie, Lou and Debbie’s hands finding each others immediately.

“Hey, stranger,” Lou whispered, her hand drifting up to caress Debbie’s cheek.

“Hey, baby. Heard you need some help with your tie?”

“You’re the only one who can do it right.”

“Are you seriously crying?” Daphne groaned. “We could hear your bitch fit from down the hall, Tam.”

“She—said—Lou said—that Deb—is the only one—her only”

“Our honeymoon can’t come soon enough, can’t it?” Lou whispered, Debbie chuckling against her as her fingers slid against the blonde’s tie, knotting it with ease. Tammy was in too many tears to catch Debbie’s fingers slipping under Lou’s shirt for a moment or Lou squeezing Debbie’s ass.

“I love you,” Debbie whispered.

“Not as much as I love you. See you in a few, Mrs. Miller-Ocean.”