#yes I am scatterbrained and clumsy and an idiot

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

Some info abt my self insert/sona hhhfhff sorry if this stuff is annoying I’m working on fandom stuff I promise it’ll b back to that soon shdhdhd

More doodles under the cut,

Yes I am, in fact, a Wreck. Idk what to tell u

[lucycola]

Hey could you do a Spock X reader where she knows nothing about Vulcans and like keeps accidentally doing taboo things e.g touching hands or touching his ears

I thoroughly enjoyed writing this! I accidentally made it gender neutral, because I forgot what pronouns, you used. I’m sorry! I hope you like it.

WARNINGS: Fluff, affection, ignorance of affection in Vulcan culture idk. Maybe Spock is slightly OOC but who cares. I took a little liberty of giving the reader a pinch of background.

To say you were oblivious was an understatement. You weren’t a complete idiot, or anything, just innocently scatterbrained. Perhaps that was the explanation why you didn’t flinch when every you were chastised for a mistake or given a strict order by your commanding officer. As a blue shirt, you fell under the command of the Enterprise’s first officer, and his reputation as a stony, unfeeling, authoritarian preceded him. You were never bothered by this. He was most terrifying, others noted, when Captain Kirk left him in charge when unable to take the chair. You were warned about him-to never cross him and always do exactly as he said. Spock was a hard-ass. He was handsome and perhaps at first you wondered, but it had been made clear to by others he wasn’t interested in anyone.

You had met more terrifying people. You had nine brothers and a strict, often unfair and bully of a father. Commander Spock was a piece of cake. It was in your nature to be gentle, welcoming, and comforting despite the constitution of your upbringing. It was your personality. You didn’t like to let people bring you down.

You were elated alone to be living your dream, anyway. You weren’t going to let the attitude of anyone around you affect your nature or happiness.

You obviously didn’t know anything about Vulcans either.

The first touch was accidental. It always is.

You never took the Vulcan to be clumsy, but on one occasion while discussing your current assignment in passing he dropped his holotape. You both reached  for it, and in a cliché manner brushed hands. While your boss pulled away, you did not and picked up the tape.

“Here ya go!” You cheerily patted the tape in his hand for good measure, “I’ll have that report in the morning like you’ve requested, sir.”

Bypassers gawked as you cheerily skipped away. Your commanding officer only quirked a brow and went on his way.

The next time was less on purpose and more out of your kindness as your commander internally lamented about his captain’s safety during an emergency situation. He had donned the chair and even while appearing composed and direct you had an eye for spotting worry in well kept men. In an brief moment you pressed your hand to his wrist and said softly, “He will be okay. You’ll make sure of it.”

He tensed under your touch and you removed your hand a smiled.

“Report to your station, Ensign,” he said in his usual tone, no hint of distaste or approval in his voice.

“Yes sir.”

The third time was even worse. Somehow you had been suckered to prompting Spock by Doctor McCoy into reporting to an impromptu physical. Confidentiality be damned, the Vulcan’s stress levels were unusually high and it was affecting his demeanor. You accidentally overheard the nurse and the doctor whispering something perhaps about pon farr happening again, but no it hadn’t been seven years yet. Whatever that was.

“I don’t think he’ll listen to me, but if you say it’s important, I’ll try.”

“You’re his favorite, so you’re my best bet.”

“Mister Spock doesn’t have favorites,” you laughed, “But I’ll do it anyway. Someone has to draw the shortest straw. I never mind it being me.”

“Thankyou, Ensign. And good luck.”

You skipped along to the your commander’s quarters. You had never been inside and only rarely had delivered your reports to him in person when requested. He couldn’t always come to you and that was understandable.

At the chime the door slid open and though it was subtle, your boss clearly wasn’t expecting you.

“Hello, Mister Spock,” you greeted, “Doctor McCoy-”

“I am aware of the doctor’s request. As it is not mandatory  I do not find it necessary to attend.”

It wasn’t like him to interrupt you. He was tense and though he stood perfectly erect like a statue there was a little shake in his right hand. Without thinking, you grasped it to still the quiver.

“Are you alright?”

Many would expect his to snatch it away, but he didn’t and stood there. If he was caught off guard, it wasn’t apparent. His expression was unmoving and his eye contact never wavered.

“I am fine, Ensign. Report back to your duties.”

“Doctor McCoy said it was important.”

“I am not here to entertain the doctor’s every illogical human whim.” He pulled his hand away, “There is no empirical evidence to suggest I am ill.”

“You’re shivering.” You put your hands on your hip and gave him the most mothering look you could muster.

“Multiple factors such as the natural low temperature of deep space can illicit such a reaction,” he retorted.

“It’s broiling in your cabin, Mister Spock. Only people with fevers do things like that.”

“Humans, Ensign. Humans,” he corrected, “I deduce you are not aware of Vulcan biology or customs.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” you requested softly, “How am I supposed to work efficiently under an ill commanding officer?”

The way you spoke nearly convinced him to do your bidding, but still he remained stubborn.

“I do not comprehend how that would deter your work efficiency.”

You grabbed his hand again, “I am going to worry myself to death if you really are ill and you’re just trying to act like you’re alright. That will keep me from working like I’m supposed to. Efficient crew needs an efficient captain.” You winked at him.

“But Captain Kirk-”

“It’s a metaphor, Mister Spock. Now please come so the doctor can stop paging me and I can work on my report concerning the Althenian plant’s healing properties and various uses from its sap.”

“I yield,” he said after a small beat and without releasing your hand, followed you to the medbay. More people inwardly gawked watching to drag him down the hall. His face was tense, albeit slightly amused.

After reaching your destination you waved him and the doctor off sweetly and made your way back to the lab. You heart wrapped around the thought of him being ill and you hid that worry ill. A little heat bloomed in your chest at his previous touch. You brushed it away. No, you told yourself.

The doctor was only a little surprised. His suspicions were confirmed.

“I had my doubts at first, Spock, but now I see it’s true.”

“Despite Vulcan’s telepathic abilities, I cannot automatically read your mind. Elaborate, Doctor.”

The doctor chucked, “That ensign is your favorite.”

“I do not understand.”

“Who else could have convinced you to come here to let me scan you? Probably not even Jim-”

“I am inclined to follow the captain’s every order.”

“You don’t let anyone touch you like that. Especially not for a long time. If I’m not mistaken you two were practically kiss-”

“That will be enough elaboration, doctor. Please proceed with your medical assessment, as I have much work to attend to.”

The doctor chuckled again. “It’s too bad I can’t tell with that one. They act like that towards everyone.”

“Everyone,” Spock repeated flatly although it was intended to be a question.

“Sweetest soul I’ve ever met. Lights up a room as soon as they enter it.”

“Indeed,” Spock nodded, familiar with the colloquialism.

The doctor’s eyebrows raised and he grinned, “I knew it.”

You of course were oblivious to all of this as you continued through your work, happy as a clam.

After some deliberation one of your coworkers decided to explain the delicacies of Vulcan culture after viewing a friendly hand grasp as a greeting between you and your commanding officer. You were elated to see his shivering had stopped and once again he tensed under the touch, but nodded his head at your greeting. You had blushed while doing so. It was sweet, but your coworker had to break it to you as they had before when warning you last time about him not being interested in anyone.

“Vulcans don’t like to be touched, you know,” they said to you, taking you aside.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re very sensitive to skin to skin contact. They guard themselves mostly, but hand touching is extremely taboo the way kissing in public or other sexual acts are.”

“You mean...” you blushed, “I’ve been--! I hope he’s not offended.”

“Normally he’s not afraid to explain things or clear up-“ you coworker coughed,”-unwanted affection. I’ve seen plenty girls get a talking down to.”

“What are you saying?”

“Perhaps he’s forcing himself to be polite.”

“Oh, I’ve got to apologize right away!”

You felt so stupid! How could you be so offensive to him or his culture? You should have read up on his customs before truly interacting with him. It would seem like a smart thing to do-but you were so lost to the world it was embarrassing.

You paused in front of his door for the first time in your life, afraid to speak to him.

The door open quickly and you stepped back, surprised. He had looked like he had been going to leave and you sheepishly smiled, “I’m sorry for interrupting you, sir. I need to speak to you.”

“Come inside.”

You blushed at the request, wringing your hands as you entered.

You turned to him and blurted, “I had no idea what I was doing, sir, I swear. Had I known that touching you was wrong I would stop. I’m so used to being touchy-feely on Earth I forgot that not everyone-”

“Ensign,” he said firmly.

“Yes?” you squeaked.

“Had those interactions provoked me I would have made it known. I should be the one offering an apology. I should have explained what such interactions mean on Vulcan before anyone else claimed the opportunity. I assume someone took the liberty of doing so.”

“Yessir. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize.”

“Why not?’

“Because your actions did not provoke me, but precisely did the opposite.”

“What-what do you mean?” Your face was fully red and you obscured it with your hands. He let out a sound that was the closest Vulcan thing as a sigh and stepped closed to you.

He grasped your hands and lowered them from your face. His eyes were soft and the most vulnerable as you had every seen them.

He pressed his right hand that was shivering terribly to the side of your face. It stilled instantly.

“I am aware of your affection for me and I return the sentiment.”

You couldn’t find your voice and after a long moment of studying your features he leaned down to give you a kiss, warm and firm.

You gasped into his lips and pressed back.

He released you and you looked at him starry eyed.

“So it was true, what the doctor said, you said in a hushed tone.

Spock’s arms were around you gently, “Elaborate.”

“I am your favorite.”

“Affirmative.”

FIN

[their-name-is-morgan]

*hugs* Hello Hello~! Buongiorno~! It makes me so happy to finally see you again! I hope you're doing good. If it's VA characters requests you want, then may I ask for some Doppio relationship hcs?

Buonasera! Your words made me really happy <3 you told me I could turn this into a scenario, so I described what some of the moments you spend with Doppio would be like; I hope that’s ok! I also had a lot of fun writing this, so enjoy <3

Slice of Life (Doppio x Reader)

You and Doppio share an apartment in Sicily, a beautiful Italian island surrounded by crystal clear water.

When you met each other one day, during a relaxing morning stroll on the seafront, you never would’ve imagined that the man who stopped you from stepping on a grasshopper was destined to become your best friend, boyfriend and then fiancé.

And yet here you are, with your favourite apron on and your hair tied back, trying to bake a cake with the help of your soon-to-be husband, Doppio Vinegar, who is an absolute mess in the kitchen:

“Okay, do we have the four eggs we need?” you ask.

“Yes!” he points at the eggs on the counter.

“And what about the vegetable oil?”

“Um...” he looks through all the ingredients and lifts up a bottle filled with yellow liquid: “It’s here!”

“That looks terrible...” you can’t help but comment, examining it from up close.

“It kind of looks like someone peed in it.” Doppio adds, shaking the bottle.

“That’s gross, I was hoping you wouldn’t say that!”

You both share a laugh and then go back to going through the ingredients, just to make sure that you have everything in advance. You wouldn’t want to have to take a trip to the grocery store in the middle of your little baking session.

Once you can confirm that you have everything you need, you finally start with taking out all the pots and pans from the oven to heat it, since it shouldn’t take long to prepare the rest. While you’re dealing with that you address Doppio;

“Can you spray the butter in the pan?” you ask him handing it to him.

He takes it and looks for the butter sprayer:

“Sure! I can handle it.”

“I would hope so.” You say with a grin. His freckled cheeks tint a pretty pink and he stutters.

“Hey! Speak for yourself. I managed to live on my own for years, I’m not that bad at this.”

“Suuure.”

Once you’re both done with your tasks you stand next to him at the counter and place a large bowl in front of you. This is the part your fiancé always messes up when he tries to bake on his own: he puts too much sugar or water in the mixture, doesn’t whisk enough, reads the recipe wrong and throws in less or more eggs than needed, but this time you’re going to make a tasty cake no matter what.

“Okay Doppio, are you ready?”

“I am; are you though?”

He returns the question. You know the reason behind that mischievous grin; when you bake he can’t help but start at least one food war.

“...I may be. But! Pass me the cake mix.”

He does as you say without question; he then goes on to hand you the eggs, the fudge brownie mix, a cup of measured water and one of vegetable oil.

You throw everything in the bowl –you break two eggs each and he needs help with it or else he’ll make a mess- and it’s your turn to hand him something: a whisk.

“You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

“Whisk for a couple of minutes until all the lumps are gone?”

“Yes! And don’t mess it up, Tiziano and Squalo are coming over tonight and I don’t want them to feel sick from eating this cake.” You warn him. He raises and eyebrow;

“Can they feel sick because of a few lumps though?”

You wave him off and turn around to start preparing the whipping cream for later.

“No, but let me be a bit dramatic!”

Once the batter has been deposited in the pan and put in the oven and the whipped cream is ready to be poured on the brownie cake, you can finally rest until it’s time to let everything cool down until the evening comes.

You start cleaning the kitchen up but you notice with the corner of your eye that Doppio is rummaging through the cupboards. You’re about to ask him what in the world he’s doing when he sticks his hand in a sack and throws whatever is in it in your direction.

It takes you a second to realize that the thing he just attacked you with is flour, and when you do you’re fuming.

“What the-! Was it necessary?!” you try to get it off of your hair as he covers his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Sorry! We didn’t use it, so it felt wrong.”

“It felt wrong to not make a mess?”

He looks at your expression and immediately starts feeling a bit guilty, so he steps towards you to help you clean up, but you quickly grab the flour sack and pour all of it on the top of his head, making him cough like crazy.

“Whyyy?! I didn’t pour this much on you!” he whines, but you don’t listen to him and rub his cheeks to spread it even better on his whole face.

“Well, you started it so you deserve it!”

“Okay, okay, that’s fair! Now get off of me!”

You both laugh and you let go of him, taking a few step back to admire your masterpiece: his hair is all over the place and all white, just like his face. Some flour got on his clothes as well, luckily you’re both wearing comfy things that you were planning change out of later.

“Now I have to take a shower before they get here!” he complains, pouting like a child.

“Ew, are you telling me you wouldn’t have taken one if it wasn’t for the flour?” you mock him and he throws some of the flour that got caught in his hair at you, making you giggle and try to run away from him.

“That’s not what I meant!”

 During these two years of living with Doppio, you’ve learned that yes, he may be clumsy and messy and a little bit too clingy sometimes, but surprisingly enough he can also be a real gentleman when he wants to.

It’s yet another day and even if the weather forecast said it was going to be sunny, it’s already pouring before you can even step inside of your apartment building. Walking home from work wasn’t the best idea after all...

Luckily you always keep a small umbrella in your bag, so you open it and quicken your pace to get home as soon as possible. All you want right now is to take a relaxing bath and then have dinner on the couch, possibly while catching up on that TV series everyone recommended to you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that the loud ringing of your phone startles you; you pick it up immediately when you realize it’s Doppio calling you.

“Doppio? Why are you calling me? I’m almost home-“

“Where are you?”

“...In front of the convenience store we always go to, why?”

“Wait for me there, I’m already driving so I’m coming to pick you up!”

You slightly frown at his words:

“You’re on the phone while you’re driving and it’s raining? Doppio what the-!!“

He closes the call with a small ‘love you’ before you can even finish. You’re a bit annoyed at your fiancé because he’s always so careless no matter what, some may even say he’s stupid, but you can’t deny you appreciate the effort, so you sit under the roof outside of the store and wait for him.

He arrives not even five minutes later, and gets as close as possible to where you’re sitting so you don’t have to risk getting wet while trying to reach the car.

“Did you seriously call me while you were driving?” you ask him fastening your seatbelt, one eyebrow raised in disapproval. He lets out a nervous chuckle.

“You see... I decided to come pick you up, but I realized I had no idea where you were when I was already driving.”

“That’s not an excuse, you could’ve parked somewhere! You’re such an idiot sometimes...”

“Would I still be an idiot if I ordered some food and prepared a bath for you at home?”

You immediately stop complaining and stare at him in disbelief instead: he did all of that for you? And without even knowing you had a stressful day at work... he just wanted to treat you well. You do your best to avoid making him go off-road as you grab his face to kiss him all over his cheek.

As soon as you get home you happily find out that the water in the bathtub is still warm, so the first thing you do is taking a relaxing bath –Doppio even placed some scented candles here and there to make the atmosphere nicer-.

Meanwhile your fiancé prepares everything for your TV series marathon: he gathers all the blankets he can find, places the takeout food on the coffee table in front of the couch, turns on Netflix and makes sure all the blinds and windows are closed, so you don’t have to get up and deal with that if the weather gets worse.

You get out of the bathroom fully dressed in your comfiest pyjama, and smile when you notice he changed into his too: apparently he took a shower before your shift ended and he came to pick you up.

“Doppio.”

He’s sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. His hair is down and slightly messy.

“Yes, amore?”

“Sorry for calling you an idiot earlier, you’re the best person on this planet.”

You sit beside him and grab your own blanket and a slice of pizza; as a response he leans over to kiss your forehead, making your cheeks tint pink.

He grabs the remote and selects the TV series you were planning to watch but, as soon as the opening starts playing, he gets up with a start, making you jump as well.

“Wait!! I forgot to go to the bathroom before starting. Wouldn’t want to pause an episode because of that!”

  Diavolo is Doppio’s boss and one of his dearest friends; or is he one of his relatives? You’re not that sure, the last time he brought that up was years ago and it was when you weren’t listening, so you didn’t understand, but you were too awkward to ask him to say it again at the time, so you continue living in ignorance to this day when it comes to that.

But what matters is that he often asks you how you even managed to get engaged with that scatterbrained man. You’d never tell him this, but you are sure why he never managed to even get a girlfriend- at least Doppio is a bit romantic!

“What’s with that face?” Diavolo asks you, tapping his manicured fingers on the surface of the small table you’re sitting at. You’re in a gelateria at the moment, waiting for your “waiter” to bring you your ice creams.

“It’s just! You ask that all the time! And I always tell you that I just do. You should try living with him for a day or two to understand.”

“And be his boyfriend as well I assume.”

“Yeah, that too. I guess he kind of just...”

The deep conversation between you and the well dressed man is interrupted by a loud scream that makes everyone’s heads turn towards the cash register.

There he stands, your “waiter” and soon-to-be husband, with his face all red because he probably didn’t mean to catch that much attention. But he still stares at you from across the room:

“(Y/N)...! Which flavours did you want again?!”

You’re embarrassed to say the least, and yet you can’t help but smile. You answer him before turning your head towards Diavolo again.

“...he kind of just makes every day of my life more exciting.”

[arofili]

39 + russingon if they’re still open 💚🖤 (aro hearts!)

(💚🖤! here’s some arospec!russingon for you, ft. demiromantic!fingon!)

~

39. “We need to talk about what happened last night.”

Findekáno felt panic rise up within him, and he quickly pushed it down. Be calm, he told himself, he’ll be able to tell if you’re upset, and you can’t hurt him, not him—

“It was a good party, wasn’t it?” he offered, hoping his voice didn’t sound as weak as it felt.

Maitimo looked at him, his grey eyes cloudy. “That’s not what I mean, Finno.”

Finno. Well, at least he still calls you Finno; at least he’s still talking to you—

Findekáno shoved aside the nattering voice in his head, forcing a smile onto his face. “Well, I was very drunk,” he admitted. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” There: he had given Maitimo ample opportunity to back off, to think he really didn’t know what happened, to not ruin their beautiful, hard-won friendship just because he had been stupid enough to kiss him—

“You weren’t that drunk. I know what you’re like drunk.” Maitimo was serious, in a way he rarely was, and Findekáno found it harder and harder to keep his panic from overwhelming him.

How could he have done this, acted on such a foolish impulse, and not stopped to think about what it would do to him, to Maitimo? He should have kept what was surely just a passing infatuation to himself! This wasn’t what Makalaurë’s love ballads sang of, surely; he couldn’t actually be in love. He had never spared romance a second thought before, not until last year when Maitimo had come to him, afraid of losing Makalaurë’s friendship when his little brother married, and Findekáno had held him tight and promised to always be there for him, their fathers be damned, and then he lay in bed that night with Maitimo curled up next to him like he’d done so many times and something in his heart changed and he had not known peace since.

Oh, he thought giddily, perhaps I am in love, after all. Surely nothing else could make me feel so terribly, wonderfully, anxiously alive.

“Findekáno? Finno?” Maitimo said, and Findekáno realized that he had completely blanked out. “Are you alright?” His face was furrowed into a frown, and another wave of guilt swept over Findekáno. No, the last thing he wanted was to see Maitimo worried about him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “For—last night. I didn’t—I shouldn’t have—if you never want to speak to me again, I understand.”

“Finno!” Maitimo exclaimed in horror. “Don’t say something like that! I could not bear to lose you! And—” his voice broke— “you promised, Finno, that you would always be my friend. Don’t you remember?”

Findekáno nodded, even more ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I meant it, and I still do. Your friendship is the most important thing in all of Arda to me, and I was an idiot to jeopardize that for...I was an idiot. If—if you still want to be friends, please, let us forget about last night, and never speak of it again. I am horribly embarrassed.”

“Findekáno,” Maitimo said, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice. “Will you listen to me, instead of jumping to conclusions? I said we need to talk about last night, not that we need to pretend like it never happened.”

“Oh.” Findekáno’s voice was small. This was, perhaps, the worst thing he could possibly have imagined. No, he corrected himself quickly, the worst thing would be Maitimo rejecting him utterly, friendship and all, instead of letting him down in the gentlest, elder-cousin-liest way possible.

“You—you kissed me.” Maitimo took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Findekáno flinched slightly; he wished he could see those eyes, grey like a cloudy morning, and read his feelings there. And yet he feared what he could see. He knew Maitimo did not feel the same way about him (whatever that way truly was; he still wasn’t certain), and yet...What if, that voice in his head whispered. What if, what if, what if... And somehow that terrified him more.

“Yes,” Findekáno admitted. “I did. I swear, Maitimo—”

“I asked you to listen,” Maitimo chided. “Please, let me speak, Finno.”

Findekáno clamped his mouth shut, nodding furiously. Listen, listen—he could do that. He could listen.

“I am not an expert in these matters,” Maitimo continued, “and I dare not go to Makalaurë with my questions as I would if the object of my affection was anyone other than...well, you.”

Object of affection? Findekáno thought hysterically, but he forced himself to keep his eyes fixed on Maitimo’s mouth; he surely could not meet his eyes, and yet that mouth! he had kissed that mouth, and it had just called him the object of his affection, and oh Valar he was losing his thoughts again...

“—fairly certain that a kiss like that means one of two things,” Maitimo said, and was he nervous, too? “Either you wish to bed me, which, given our conversations on the topic I find rather unlikely, at least at this stage, or...or you wish to court me.”

Findekáno let out a muffled squeak, slapping his hands over his traitorous mouth. Did he wish to court Maitimo? Not in the traditional sense, no; not in the melodramatic way Makalaurë had approached his bride, or shy Turukáno wooed Elenwë with anonymous presents, or even how Findaráto swept lovers off their feet and sent them flying back home a month later, bedded or no.

But something in him had changed, and Maitimo was the center of that change. He wanted to twine his fingers with Maitimo’s, to kiss him chastely on the lips (or perhaps not so chastely, he wasn’t quite sure), to sleep close to him every night, not just the ones when their fathers were too busy to notice them sneaking away, to be Maitimo’s and have Maitimo be his. That had not been the case a year ago, before their friendship had taken a turn to a deep and abiding love he could still scarcely fathom.

He would climb mountains for Maitimo, fight battles for him, follow him to the ends of Arda should he wish it. He would do anything for him.

He realized that he had been silent for a long time, caught up in his thoughts, in all his wanting. Maitimo stared at him, grey eyes soft.

“Well?” he prompted gently. “I know your thoughts are flying. I will gladly wait for you to collect them all, no matter how much my heart is bursting to know your answer to my question.”

“Question?” Findekáno blurted out, heat rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I...you’re right, I’m so scatterbrained, I can’t focus on a thing, not when you’re so distracting—” He bit his lip, astonished at his capability to make things more awkward between them.

“Let me ask another way,” Maitimo murmured, reaching forward to pull him close, and he actually did what Findekáno had dreamed of, twining their fingers together, holding him so close he could feel his heartbeat, pressing their lips together for a second time.

Findekáno couldn’t help himself. He moaned into the kiss, wrapping his arm around Maitimo’s back, pulling him down so he could kiss him better. It was clumsy, inexperienced; neither of them had ever wanted to do this before, not like they wanted now, but it was him, it was Maitimo, and Findekáno thought his fëa could burst free in his joy.

“I am such an idiot,” Findekáno whispered through his tears when they at last pulled apart. “Maitimo...”

“I love you,” Maitimo said shyly, his eyes shining silver-bright like Telperion at its most glorious. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to figure it out.”

Findekáno couldn’t help but kiss him again, and it was better this time; he hoped it would get better every time.

“I love you too,” he said, his throat tight with overwhelming emotion. “And it’s alright—we have so much time ahead of us to make up for it.”