#i may have spent too long getting the effects from standard step and then get them to overlay properly

[thornescalling]

the roller coaster of emotions that is the double dancer

[masterjedilenawrites]

All I Want for Christmas

Clone x Reader Life Day Exchange 2023

My gift is for the lovely @anxiouspineapple99! Hope you enjoy, and have a wonderful Christmas! 🎁❤️💚

Please go check out the @cloneficgiftexchange blog for all the other contributions to this great event! Fics are being posted all throughout today (12/16). Spread the love for fandom writers/creators by reblogging!

Fives x fem!reader | 2.8k words

Content: fluff, Christmas themes, snuggling for warmth, confessions, friends to lovers

Prompts: "Keep doing that and you'll end up on the naughty list." & "All I want for Christmas is you."

It was a crisp and windy night, though you wouldn't feel the effects of the cold right away. Your eagerness for the evening's activities would fill you with enough warmth for a short while, as would the enjoyable company of your best friend, Fives.

You were surrounded by many friends and clones, a group of you who tried as often as possible to celebrate the year's holidays together. This year, not everyone would be on planet when Christmas Day came around, but you'd all managed to find a night earlier in the month to come together and exchange gifts, share good food, and, as you were about to do now, walk around the neighborhoods to admire the lights.

And while you loved all your friends dearly, it was Fives who you'd been most eager to see. You felt closest to him the most. You seemed to understand each other so well, falling into step right where you'd last left off, as if he hadn't been gone for the past several months. As if there hadn't been whispers that his unit had fallen under attack and may not be coming home this time, leaving you numb with worry. As if you hadn't realized you were in love with him when you heard he would come back after all, safe and sound.

"What the hell is that?" he laughed beside you as you passed by a house that seemed to be quite normal.

"What's what?" You gazed around but could only see the standard set up of dazzling lights and festive lawn ornaments.

Fives wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pointed to two reindeer decorations... that were stacked rather suggestively on top of one another. "That."

You could only momentarily process how close he was, how warm you felt being held like that, before you fell into sync with his laughter. It was a pretty funny thing to come across, especially as Fives began to muse whether the owners of the house set it up that way on purpose or if they were pranked. Either scenario was humorous. He then insisted on taking a photo of you with the indecent display in the background.

Though your laughter over the reindeer had warmed you up, the moment you two spent over it caused you to fall behind the rest of the group. You could no longer see them on the street, nor could you hear their lively sounds of chatter.

"They must have turned that corner up there," Fives said as you two started walking again. He was no longer holding you but was walking alongside you a little closer than before. Or, at least that's what it felt like. Maybe you were just imagining it.

There was a little bit of silence as you passed by the next brightly lit house and admired it. But Fives wasn't one to keep quiet for too long.

"So, what do you want for Christmas?" he asked.

You forced your gaze away from the pretty lights to look at him, noting a flush in his cheeks but deciding it must be the wind.

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled a little. "What do you mean? It's a simple question. What's on your wishlist this year?"

"I just thought... never mind," you shrugged, having thought he wanted to know what to get you, which of course was silly since your group was doing a white elephant exchange this year. "Um, I don't know. There really isn't anything I want, to be honest."

Fives knocked his shoulder into yours, accompanied by a dramatic gasp. "You don't want aaaa-nything? Impossible."

You just smiled and shook your head. "Yeah, not really."

"So you're good? You're perfectly content? Everything in your life is amazing and you're in need of nothing more?"

Of course the answer to his questions was a lot more complicated than the simple "Yep" you responded with. You were content in this moment, walking alongside your best friend, enjoying the festivities of the season in his company. But before this moment, you hadn't really been happy. You'd been worried sick by his absence, impatient to see him again, doubting that he'd be as thrilled to see you. You'd been nothing short of lovesick and you had no idea how to admit such a thing to him now.

"I don't buy it," he said, bumping playfully against you again. "There has to be something."

You finally came up to the corner you assumed your friends had turned down. You took it without thought, knowing it would loop back around to your friend's house. A house that was starting to sound really appealing given that a chill was settling back in.

"Clothes?" Fives asked.

"Huh?"

"Like a nice scarf or a dress or something?" Oh, you realized he was still trying to figure out your Christmas wish list. "Or fuzzy socks?"

"I have plenty of fuzzy socks," you said. And with that thought, you realized your toes were getting rather cold, despite being wrapped in thick socks and boots. That then led to you recognize just how cold you were all over: your nose, your hands, your knees....

"Okay, then how about jewelry? Girls always like jewelry, right?"

You rolled your eyes as you dug your hands deeper into your pockets, searching for warmth. "I don't really need any more jewelry."

You weren't paying much attention to the lights anymore, instead picking up the pace so you could get back to the warmth of your friend's house sooner. Fives didn't seem to care about the lights, either. He was still trying to figure out your supposed Christmas wishlist.

"What about a box of chocolates?"

"I buy enough chocolate as it is."

"A candle?"

"Pretty sure half of the white elephant gifts in there are candles."

"Hm... You like games right?"

"I have enough games."

"Nonsense, you can never have too many games."

"Well, when your friends aren't around to play them with you, you can."

Fives was silent. You looked over to find he was watching you with a sort of sadness in his eyes. No, not sadness... guilt.

"I'm sorry," he said after a beat. "I wish I was around more..."

"No, no," you were quick to jump in, not wanting him to feel that way at all. "It's fine. It is what it is. We all know that."

Fives nodded but didn't seem convinced. He looked away, stared straight ahead, as you passed by the last house and arrived at your friend's. The change of course up to the porch seemed to snap him out of his mindlessness and bring him back into better spirits.

"A puppy!" he declared as you approached the door. Both of you were stomping your shoes against the wood of the porch to dislodge any dirt you'd picked up along the way. "No one in the entire galaxy could say no to a puppy."

You huffed out a laugh of defeat. "Okay, sure, I'll take a puppy for Christmas."

He laughed with you as you opened the front door. You expected a wall of warmth to hit you, accompanied by smells of food and chatter of friends. Instead you were met with dim lights, silence, and a cold that almost rivaled the frigid air you'd just walked in from.

"What the..." Fives joined your confusion in the entry hall, and then snapped his fingers as he realized something. "Kix said he knew someone in this neighborhood. They all must have gone there. We beat them back."

You vaguely recalled passing by a house with loud voices from inside, surely including voices from your friends, but you were too busy trying to warm your hands now to dwell on it further. Fives placed a gentle hand on your back as he scooted past you and down the hall toward the thermostat. He messed with it a bit as you shuffled into the little den off the entry. You were reluctant to remove your coat and scarf when it was still so cold.

"Hm," Fives frowned, joining you a few moments later. He flicked on a lamp on the table beside you. "Heat's not coming on. Something's broken."

"Can you fix it?" You tried not to let your teeth chatter.

"Yeah..." he trailed off and you followed his gaze to the fireplace on the opposite end of the room. His lips quirked, a sign he was going to get up to something. "Or... we could have ourselves a cozy little fire instead!" 

He shuffled around the sofa and started investigating the decorations on top of the mantle.

"What?" you asked as you stepped around the sofa as well.

"Ah ha!" He opened up what had looked to be merely a decoration of an old fashioned truck, but apparently doubled as storage for some matches. In no time, Fives had started a humble fire amongst the wood in the fireplace and was stepping back toward you.

"Take your coat off, get cozy!" he laughed in delight, sitting down on the sofa and patting the cushion next to him.

You reluctantly shrugged off your coat. You could feel little puffs of warm air from the fire but the room overall was still too cold to be comfortable. You let out an involuntary shiver as you joined Fives on the sofa.

"Uh oh," he teased, scooting closer. "Need to cuddle for warmth?"

You knew his offer was in jest, but you couldn't resist the thought, especially when your cheeks were already heating at an alarming rate just by sitting this close. Fuck it, you decided, and promptly slid your arms around his middle and pulled him close.

"Well okay then," he laughed in amusement, wrapping his own arms around you in return. He wasn't angry, which you took as encouragement and buried your frozen nose into the crook of his neck. You felt one of his hands come up to rest on the back of your head, keeping you in place for a wonderful, peaceful moment.

You warmed up fairly quickly, though your fingers still felt numb. Without thinking, you shifted a bit and slid your hands underneath Fives' shirt, seeking the warmth of his skin. His muscles tensed in response.

"Whoa there," he chuckled lowly. "Keep doing that and you'll end up on the naughty list."

The heat from the blush on your cheeks immediately shot through the rest of your body. You were mortified. Fives was your friend, what were you doing?

You detached yourself quickly and mumbled an apology. He was still laughing a bit so you joined in nervously, but not daring to meet his eyes. Not when you were this flustered. He relaxed back onto the sofa and draped an arm along the backside, just beside your head.

"So, um, what do you want for Christmas?" you asked, trying to get past your awkwardness and back to the easygoing state of your friendship, despite the ache deep within your chest that yearned for something more.

"Me? Oh, nothing much."

Now you looked over at him, balking. "Fives!" 

"What?" he grinned.

You swatted at him. "You just gave me shit for not wanting anything!"

"I said I didn't want much, not that I didn't want anything at all."

You huffed. "Okay, then what is this 'nothing much' that you want?"

His smile didn't completely disappear, just settled into something a little softer, more pensive. He cocked his head a bit as he looked at you, considering what to say.

"Would you be mad if I said that all I want for Christmas is you?"

You blinked at first, unable to come up with an other reaction. How could you? How could you process such a confession? Was it even a confession? Or was he just being cheeky?

You forced yourself to clear your throat. "Mad? Confused is more like it."

"Confused?" He smirked for only a second before settling back into that strange and soft look. "What's so confusing?"

"Uh... I mean..." you stammered through an awkward laugh. "What does that even mean? You want me... to do something? To... to... see me? You're seeing me right now..."

Your skin was still alight with a fire that seemed to burn brighter than the one in the fireplace. You were so flustered, and Fives was getting a real kick out of it.

"Calm down, cyare," he laughed, scooting a little closer and taking your hands into his. "I want you, as in, I want to... you know.. be with you."

He was starting to get a little shy himself, though you weren't really paying attention. Your heart was threatening to beat its way out of your chest, so you instead focused on the feeling of Fives' hands wrapped around yours. So warm, so firm. They grounded you just enough for his words to sink in. He wanted to be with you.

Now you felt like you were floating. That nasty knot that had settled into the pit of your stomach, back when you'd thought he wasn't coming home, was finally coming undone. Freeing you from its weight. Letting you soar with hope for a different kind of future with your best friend.

When you finally brought your eyes back up to meet Fives', you could finally see the blush in his own cheeks, the way his eyes searched yours for validation. He'd made himself vulnerable in a way he'd only ever been a handful of times with you. Like when he'd confessed how frustrated he was about the war, how angry it made him sometimes to think about it, how he secretly held dreams of one day escaping and living a normal life somewhere. You thought back to those conversations now, viewing them in a different light. You'd always wondered what his idea of normal was, if it included anyone else... anyone like you. And now you were starting to get an idea that it did.

"I'm sorry if this is sudden," he said quickly and quietly, filling in the silence you didn't mean to leave. "It's just... you know this last mission was... well, it didn't go very well. And it made me reevaluate my life. What I really want. And honestly, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

He gave a bashful smile and you returned it, easing his nerves just a little.

"I was really worried about you," you confessed, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. "I didn't just want you to come back, I wanted you to come back to me. And I'm so glad you want the same."

You both laughed once more, though more out of relief than nervousness, and ended by resting your foreheads against each other. Fives then let go of your hands so he could bring his arms back around you and pull you close again. You let yourself rest against him with a contented sigh... and then bolted right back up as a thought occurred to you.

"Wait, you said you want me for Christmas?"

"Yeah..." Fives' eyes were wide with alarm.

"Just for Christmas? And that's it?"

The tension immediately left his shoulders as he realized what you were doing. He gave you a look and you used all your willpower to hold back your amusement.

"So when Christmas is all over, you'll be done with me?" you pushed on with the bit. "You won't want me anymore?"

"Ugh, cyare, please," Fives rolled his eyes and tried wrapping his arms around you again.

"I just want to be clear about this." Your voice was breaking, as was his own act to be annoyed. The two of you could never hold it together for very long.

"Of course I'll want you after Christmas is over," he said through a chuckle. "I'll want you for Valentine's and for your birthday and all the solstices..."

"So you only want me on holidays?"

"You're killing me here, you know," he grumbled into your shoulder.

You would've continued with your teasing, but just then the front door opened behind you, letting in your missing friends. Even if you and Fives had tried to act innocent, you wouldn't have been quick enough. Whatever they'd been talking about on their way in immediately changed into a chorus of gasps and cheers.

"Well it's about time!"

"Oh my god!"

"Finally!"

"I knew it!"

You snuggled closer to Fives, in part to hide your embarrassment, but also to escape the wisp of cold air your friends had let in with them. Fives laughed along with the commotion while holding you, and it felt like the most natural thing, being in his arms like this.

"For the record," he later whispered into your ear, when things had died down with your friends enough, "I want you every day for the rest of my life. If you'll have me."

You smiled into his chest and held him closer.

"Of course. You're all I want, too."

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[shivkunjauto]

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[ausetkmt]

It’s true folks, it is SO MUCH worse down there than you may think. By signing his latest fascist legislation which criminalizes undocumented immigrants for...well... just being in Florida, De Santis has effectively chased out virtually the entire undocumented poplulation of the state, which means more than 80% of the construction workers, and nearly 100% of the agricultural workers. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. It cascades from there. I just spent half an hour on tiktok, for an old timer like me that’s a bit of a challenge, but it was worth it. In that short amount of time, I saw latin truckers blocking entire highways with their boycotting and refusing to deliver loads in Florida, or to take loads out. They aren’t even undocumented, that’s just the solidarity folks.

I saw video after video of empty construction sites and of fruits and vegetables rotting in the fields, fields that should be bustling with tough hard working folk picking the vines and trees, yet completely abandoned. But that, like I said is just the tip of the iceberg.

It’s starting to cascade from there, I saw videos of Walmart and Home Depot completely empty, totally devoid of customers. I saw videos of farms that hired American workers to try to do the jobs of the undocumented. It was both hilarious and heart breaking. The farmers complain the gringos are too fat and out of shape to do the job, most go home after lunch and many quit after a single day.

I saw an interesting comparison video, it’s in spanish, if you are not a spanish speaker fast forward to about 0:48. The fun starts there. It starts showing how latino roofers do the job, and then shows how their American replacements try to do the same job. Also similar examples of agri-workers, and many others. 

x

Here we have an in depth (by Tiktok standards) look at a housing development under construction. It’s virtually abandoned. The narrator states that just in the room he is standing in there are normally at least 15 workers, it’s empty. He says that only 4 workers showed up to the whole site that day, and one was the foreman.

www.tiktok.com/…

Or how about a look at a convoy of Latinos leaving Florida:

www.tiktok.com/…

Ooh, and here’s one of my favorites. How about a tour of the local totally empty Walmart as given by an astonished patron, I mean really, have you EVER seen a Walmart that wasn’t packed with customers? Well now you can.

www.tiktok.com/…

Not to be outdone, Home Depot is also vying to be the winner of the retail wasteland sweepstakes, non-spanish speakers can fast forward to the one minute mark if you want to skip the spanish monologue.

www.tiktok.com/…

Yes, looks like good ol’ Meatball Ron has really stepped in it this time. It won’t be easy to recover from this, even if the legislature repeals this fascist law, what immigrant is going to risk returning when there are plenty of worker starved farms and construction sites welcoming them with open arms in somewhat more comfortable climates like Georgia and Alabama. Hell, we’re even getting some of the overflow here in Colorado where farmers and construction sites are practically rolling out the welcome mats. As they say, once bitten twice shy. Nobody’s going to go back to Florida after this, at least not as long as right wing lunatics and Nazi sympathizers are running the show. 

Oh, and here’s a bonus video, this African American Youtube star with over a million and a half subscribers is telling his mostly AA audience NOT to go to Florida and bail them out. Don’t miss the the guy who proposes sending Appalachian white welfare recipients to go pick fruit. Good luck getting them to put down their meth pipes to go roast in the Florida sun for minimum wage (or less). Yeah, that’s gonna happen.

x

So why am I laughing? Because I’m originally from Florida, a boni fide native of the Sunshine state, and I’m absolutely horrified to see what wannabe fascists have done to my once beautiful state. I’m retiring soon and will have to do so in a northern state as I will not set foot in the South as long as it remains under the current fascistic spell to which it has thus far succumbed. If I have to freeze my tuchas off up here in the North for the rest of my days, I can at least take comfort that the yahoos who took over Florida are getting their comeuppance. One might say it’s cold comfort with a capital ”C”, but somehow, it’s better than no comfort at all.

[sparkywrites25]

Hearts and Crafts

Notes: Credit goes to @creativepromptsforwriting for the prompts

Summary: You and Levi head to a local arts and crafts fair.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Notes: Credit goes to @creativepromptsforwriting for the prompts

fallen leaves

cinnamon tea

fairy lights

giant tea cups

Taglist:@ladycheesington @levi-supreme @creativepromptfills

“You look great!” you assure Levi as you pull on a knee-length black coat over your maroon woolen dress. “You look very autumnal.” You quickly smooth down your hair and pull out your crimson lipstick from your coat pocket. 

Your boyfriend answers with a grunt as he lingers by the island counter, eyes fixed on the teapot that he’s probably imagining brewing right about now. You don’t say it out loud (otherwise he will probably back out of going with you) but he looks so adorably handsome in his dark orange jumper, paired well with rich brown slacks and a similarly long coat to yours. He’s given his hair a comb - not that it really needs it unlike yours which requires a load of hairspray to get it to behave. 

“You don’t need that crap, you know?” he quips upon seeing your lipstick. Your chest warms with delight but you cover it with a gentle laugh. 

“This is confidence in a tube,” you tell him after applying the lipstick. You use a napkin to soften the effect and toss it in the nearby trash. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Levi grumbles as he approaches you. His arm slides around your waist, pulling you against his chest. You lean your forehead against the side of his face, nose poking his round cheek. “You should believe that.” His fingers rub at your side, his signature move for trying to comfort you. You nuzzle his cheek, knowing that he won’t thank you for getting lipstick on him.

“Yeah, I know. I try,” you smile. You gaze over your apartment with a speculative smile. “Hopefully we’ll get lots of good decorations,” you enthuse. 

The space is a little more expansive than most of the other one bedroom places and studios that you spent the summer visiting. White walls, grey furnishings and black marble counters boast an apartment that should probably cost more than the pair of you are currently paying now. The half-wall windows fill the open plan lounge, dining area and kitchen with light and the view of the rolling hills of Southern Rose created an impression of more space. The decor is extremely minimalist in both colour and decorative items. For now, anyway.

You and Levi have worked hard over your sophomore year of college; both of you living in dorms and working part time to repay your student loans and meet your living costs while also saving to get a decent flat together for your junior year. (Many of them were either too expensive, were in troublesome neighbourhoods or had hygiene standards so poor that even you felt uncomfortable whereas a fuming Levi, between gags, ranted about people’s lack of basic health decency.) 

Enter Hange whose previous tenants had ditched the place. Hange offered the place at a reduced rent in exchange for asking no questions and making no complaints about any odd sounds coming from the laboratory below them. Although you suspect that their friendship with Levi may have played a part. It also explains why the apartment met Levi’s high standards on their first viewing.

“Nothing tacky,” Levi reminds you, his lips touching your forehead briefly. 

“Spoil sport,” you giggle against his cheek.

“Come on.” His hand finds yours and gives it a squeeze. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Way to sell your enthusiasm there, Levi,” you tease with a giggle. 

You can’t help yourself. You know that attending places like this autumnal crafts market isn’t really to Levi’s taste especially with his cleanliness obsession. But the pair of you did strike a deal last night. You stepped in for his co-worker and co-founder of his start up cleaning business, Farlan, when he fell ill so that Levi could complete the job. In return, you got to choose the next date location even though it was Levi’s turn to pick. You’d had your eye on attending the market all week and so Farlan’s unexpected bout of flu had proved to be an opportunity. 

As you exit the apartment, Levi locks up after you,as always. It’s not as if he doesn’t trust you but the need to confirm the security of your home himself is as ingrained as his cleaning tendencies. Leaving him to it seems to give him reassurance in its own way - that you trust him to keep you safe. 

“A deal’s a deal,” he grumbles. “Enthusiasm costs extra.”

You’re halfway down the first flight of stairs when he says that. You glance over at his grumpy expression and your heart sinks. A deal is a deal but you don’t want him to be miserable all evening. You stop part way down the stairs, your fingers wrapped tightly on the railing. 

“If you really don’t want to go then don’t,” you tell him in a quiet voice. “I really don’t want to force you into something you don’t want to do.”

Your boyfriend’s brow furrows. “You’re not forcing me. We made a deal.”

“The deal doesn’t really matter,” you say, turning to lean back against the railing. “I can go to the market and get some decorations on my own. It’s fine.” It’s not really but you don’t say that. You’re not going to guilt trip him - well, at least nothing beyond being honest with him. “I don’t want this to feel like a chore for you. It’s supposed to be a date. You can go back. I’ll pick something else.” You pull your hand out of his, sadness seeping deeper into you. “Or you can. I don’t mind.”

His expression falls somewhat, the knot in his brow loosening as guilt widens his eyes. It only invites another stab of it within your stomach. “Hey-” he begins to say and reaches for you but you move away and continue down the stairs. 

“I’ll see you at home,” you tell him, eyes downcast as you head for the double doors leading out of the building. 

You are pushing the doors open when you feel Levi’s hand on your back, his other helping to open the door. “What?” you ask as the pair of you step outside. 

“I’m sorry,” he says as you both step free of the doors. He takes your waist and pulls you against him. “I don’t want to ruin your day,” he admits quietly. 

“And I don’t want you to feel pressured into going to the market when you obviously don’t want to.” You slowly inch your hands up his arms until you’re cupping his neck. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Pretty sure your help last night stopped me having to cancel on a client so that’s not true.”

“So cook me dinner or something. At least I’d know you weren’t unhappy.”

His arms slip tighter around your waist, bringing your face closer to his. “Yeah but now you’re unhappy.”

“Not as unhappy as I’d be if you were miserable all day,” you point out, rubbing your nose against his. 

His hands roam over your back, making you sigh. He peers over your shoulder and you follow his gaze to where the festival is being set up at the bottom of the hill that Hange’s lab and their apartment sits on, just a ten minute walk from the rest of Ehrmich and the university. He kisses the top of your head and you watch various emotions play out across his face: uncertainty, guilt, thoughtfulness and just a spark of curiosity. “I could give it a chance for an hour or two,” he muses.

You look back into his face. “You really don’t-” 

Your boyfriend pecks your lips to shut you up and the distraction works as you giggle at the red that’s painted across his lips. You reach into your pocket and bring out a tissue, wiping away your make up off his mouth. 

“Now, I want to,” Levi insists once you’ve pocketed the tissue. He takes one of your hands and wraps his other arm around you. “If it’s really not for me, I’ll leave you to it and you can pick something else,” he suggests, “and I’ll cook you dinner either way.”

You begin to smile, leaning into him as you begin your walk down the hill. “Pasta and chicken?” you suggest. 

It’s his turn to smile since you’ve just named his favourite. “Why not?”

—————————

The market is a mesmerizing display of all the colours of fall. Chestnut wooden stands line up with paper chains shaped and painted like gold, red and brown fallen leaves connecting them all. Fairy lights are strung around the perimeter, atop golden brown banners with pictures of pumpkins, pies, black cats, bats and leaves. Dangling from wires criss-crossed over the area are luminous plastic pumpkins. 

Popping up at intervals around the area are scarecrows: one dressed in a t-shirt, red flannel shirt and loose tan slacks, one wearing a black cat costume, another dressed up as a devil, one wearing a farm girl dress and one fitted out in a tux with a top hat on its head. 

A dozen smells rush at your nostrils at once: spiced pumpkin, hot chocolate, sugar cookies, brownies, apple cider, donuts, baked bread, pies and beer. Your stomach rumbles quietly. 

There must be a few hundred people her already, you note, as your eyes take it all in. Outside of the stalls, a massive play area has been set up for children; you see sizeble bales of hay with some temporary play equipment set up. Adjacent to that is the picnic area with over a dozen tables set up. Beyond that are more tables but each one is filled with a different set art supplies and occupied by children and adults alike.

You marvel at it all with a massive smile. Your flats crunch on a bed of multi-coloured leaves that layer the ground. “It’s perfect,” you breathe, happily. 

Levi tugs you closer to him, touching his lips to your temple where you can swear you feel him smile. However you choose not to push your luck by teasing him. Instead your eyes roam over the nearest stalls, looking for one with something you both might like to look at. 

There’s no grouping of stall types. The first stall laden with bowls of caramel corn, pumpkin snack mix, donuts and pear chips stands next to a stall selling pumpkins along with pots of paint and decorations. You make a mental note to return to that one later. Further along, a young man at another stand is selling ready-made Halloween paper decorations. His stall stands next to one with several book stands and a familiar, adorable blond stands behind the counter waiting. 

You tug Levi along with you. “Armin!” you greet with an enthusiastic wave.

He jerks to attention with a relieved smile as the two of you approach his stall. “Hey!” he greets, leaning forward, arms folded. You note the flicker of surprise in his eyes seeing Levi here with you. Is it really so surprising? “It’s good to see you,” he continues. “You just got here?”

“Yep.” You say as you cast your eyes over the selection of books that Armin’s brought along. Some of them are recipe books with autumnal or spooky themes. Others are short stories including ghost ones. There are various other books as well and Levi picks them up, one at a time, examining them. 

You think it’s quite bold of Armin to set up a book stall in an age which has been dominated by kindles and reading apps. Though, there are plenty who still read books. You prefer both. Kindles are great for saving luggage space on a trip away but you love having a paper book in your hands when relaxing in the bath. 

“How’s it going?” you ask as you eye an autumnal recipe book focused on baking.

“It’s been pretty good, actually,” Armin enthuses. So he also had his concerns apparently. “Sasha and Ymir said the stall might be a bit outdated and irrelevant in an arts and crafts fair but I’ve got instruction books for a lot of the activities here today.” Some doubt creeps into his expression. ”I mean everyone needs instructions for these things, right?”

“Absolutely,” you assure him. 

“Unless you’re an idiot,” Levi murmurs, currently flicking through a book on flavoured tea. You and Armin exchange smiles as you watch him eyeing the contents page. ”How much?” he asks, raising his head and ignoring your teasing grin.

“Six dollars,” Armin answers. 

Levi raises one eyebrow and pulls out a ten dollar note from his wallet. “Don’t bother with the change,” he adds, to Armin’s astonishment. When Armin opens his mouth to argue, Levi nods to a pile of brown recyclable bags next to him and adds quickly. “I’ll take a bag too.”

“Of course.” Armin puts the book in the bag and hands it over. “Thanks.”

Levi simply nods at him. 

“Is anyone coming to help you out today?” you ask with a little concern. 

“Oh yeah,” Armin nods. “Marco’ll be here in about an hour.”

“Good,” you smile. You don’t like the thought of Armin working the stall alone. 

You run your hand over a few more books before one of the titles jumps out at you. “Wait, is this…?” You pluck the book labelled Titanic Halloween Horror stories off the stand. It’s a weighty volume - navy with a orange spidery font and pale gold edges on the binding. “I thought these were all sold out?”

“It was donated to this stall,” Armin grinned. “I’ve got a copy at home. Hange’s a great storyteller.”

“Yeah they are,” you agree. “I guess their heart lay with science though. Still, it’s awesome that they got these published. I’ve only ever been able to borrow this from the library before.” You bring out your own purse immediately. “How much?”

“Ten dollars,” 

Once the money has been exchanged, Levi takes your new book and adds it to his bag. He returns his arm around you and sniffs the air for a moment. You sniff as well and detect the distant aroma of freshly brewed tea. 

“They have a stall exclusively for tea this year,” Armin notes your behaviour and points to a stall several down from here. Next to you, Levi is focused on where Armin is pointing, his expression neutral but eyes shining with curiosity. You smile up at him. If anything was going to pull Levi into being more interested in this market, it was tea. 

“They’ve got some really unusual flavours as well.” Armin continued. “The peach and mango one is really nice.”

“We’ll go take a look,” Levi said with a squeeze of your waist. 

You are about to chide him for his impatience when a few girls arrive at the stand, one of them smiling and twirling their hair at Armin. You and Levi step side so Armin can focus on his new “customers”. You wave and tell Armin that you’ll pop by later. 

Levi guides you through the crowds of people weaving between stalls until you reach the one that Armin gestured to. 

It has a cute set up, you think. A beautiful ivory teapot (decorated with an autumnal pattern of alternating golden-brown and red leave) around which are tiny cups and saucers. Just behind the stall, more tiny cups and saucers soak in a bowl of soapy water. You see Levi’s eyes flicker approvingly before he directs his attention onto the ginger haired girl smiling at him behind the counter. 

“Hey Petra,” he greets his classmate with a brief smile. “Didn’t know you’d be running one of these.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to so I had someone ready to cover me. Fortunately our theatre trip got postponed,” Petra smiled. “I like Hamlet a lot but I really wanted to come to this,” she gestured with both of her hands. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You agree, sharing her energetic smile. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” You briefly catch Levi side-eyeing you. 

“I know, right? They did a great job. I love the pumpkins.” Petra enthused. She looked toward Levi again. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re here.”

Levi huffs a little and bestows one of his well-known eye rolls upon her. “So, what kinds of tea have you got today?” he asked, examining the various coloured boxes of tea that surround the tea set. 

“We’ve been told you’ve got some interesting flavours,” you add.

“Tch. Interesting means any flavour other than the traditional shit that everyone gets,” Levi scoffs. 

It’s Petra’s turn to roll her eyes. “Actually we’ve got a lot of flavours today. There’s pumpkin spice, honeysuckle, white peony, jasmine, lavender, mint and a couple of blends. We’ve got peach and mango, raspberry and blueberry, apple and pear as well as chamomile and honey.”

Levi’s lips twitch upward. “An impressive choice.”

Petra rests her hands on the stand and leans forwards. “Eating your words already, huh?”

“We’re talking about tea, actually, so if we’re being technical, I’d be drinking them.”

“You’re lucky that I’m not making your pores drink in any tea by throwing it any in your face,” Petra retorts. She shifts her weight between her feet as she eyes you both, fingers moving up to play with an artsy, pumpkin-shaped beaded necklace. 

“That’s a really cute necklace,” you say, leaning in to get a closer look at the painted faces. 

Petra takes hold of one of the beads. “It is! I got it from the stand next to the play area,” she explains with a brief point. “There’s about three people working on it. Give them about an hour to do it and let it dry and you can get a custom design.”

“Oh I’ll have to check it out.” You beam and mentally add it to the list of places to go. 

Levi is occupying himself by examining the packets of tea and their listed flavours. “How much to try a sample?” he asked once you and Petra had gushed about the cute necklace for a couple of minutes.

Petra smiles back at Levi. “I’m giving each customer two free samples then it’s a dollar a sample and seven dollars a box.”

“Not a shitty deal,” Levi mused. 

“High praise as usual, Levi,” Petra giggles. 

He pointed to the peach and mango blend. “I’ll try that one first.” 

“Okay,” Petra agreed and began to prepare it. She glanced over at you as she spooned some of the tea into the tiny espresso-sized cup. “What about you?”

You’re already eyeing the pumpkin spice box. “I’ll go with the mood,” you tell her. 

“Good choice. I love the pumpkin spice tea,” Petra enthuses.

Before too long, you and Levi are sampling the tea. Your senses are lifted into divinity as soon as the tea touches your tongue. You sway on the spot happily. 

“This is gorgeous,” you declare. “Feels like I’m drinking liquid autumn.”

Petra sips from her own takeaway cup and then raises it in a toast gesture. “It’s my go-to drink of the season,” she agrees. “That and tequila.” Levi wrinkles his nose in distaste and Petra’s expression instantly droops. “Oh you don’t like the peach and mango? I know it’s very sweet. If you prefer something bitter-”

Levi raises a hand to cut off her babble. “It’s not the tea. The tequila. You really drink that shit?” 

“Yeah! I like a kick in my drink at a party.”

“More like a kick in the head in the morning.”

“You’re not exactly wrong,” Petra admits. “But I prefer it to vodka. That stuff is just so harsh especially on its own.”

“Wine is more forgiving.” Levi mused. “As is tea,” he adds before downing the rest of the tea, ignoring the heat. You and Petra flinch simultaneously which makes him smirk. “Speaking of which, that is a sweet one but it’s not bad.” 

Petra brightens. “That surprises me.”

It surprises you too. Levi has little patience for sweet things.

Levi turns his attention towards the box of pumpkin spice near you. “I’ll see what all the fuss is about,” he says, handing his cup back to Petra.

As she brews him a cup, his arm wraps around you again, holding you slightly against him. You lean your cheek on his shoulder with a smile. Levi might not be as into public displays of affection to the extent that others are but you love the way he’ll hold you like this in public. It’s a silent reminder of his feelings, being pressed against him. You sip your tea and watch Petra work. She leaves the tea to stew for about four or five minutes before handing it to him. By which time you’ve finished yours and so you choose the white peony tea. 

Levi sips the pumpkin one and a small frown gathers on his face for a moment or two. “Unusual,” he remarks. 

“Good or bad?” you prompt, sliding your arm around his waist. 

He has to take another sip before he answers. “It’s not unpleasant.”

“There he goes again, so overboard with his compliments,” Petra titters. Levi shoots her a mocking scowl but resumes sipping his tea.

You find the white peony tea to be an enjoyable flavour although, like Levi found with the pumpkin flavour, the first sips took some getting used to. 

After your samples, you decide to buy two boxes of the pumpkin tea while Levi purchases a box of mint and a box of lavender. You say your goodbyes to Petra (well you do, Levi sort of grunts and lifts his hand slightly but it still makes her laugh) and then move away to other stalls. 

—————————

There’s so much to look at; so many decorating stalls, some snack stalls and some stalls with little gifts and gimmicks. 

You giggle as Levi walks past a row of little toy scarecrows which start wriggling and dancing thanks to motion detectors, surprising him. You love them and Levi argues against buying one because “that cute quirk “will turn annoying real fast.” You can’t say you entirely disagree with him. So you move on, but not before teasing him about how sweet he looks when he’s startled. He continues to hold you close but his fingers pinch your side playfully which only fuels your argument. 

One stall has some pretty crepe paper decorations that even Levi seems to admire. You both decide to come back to it later as you need to agree on a specific colour scheme for decorations otherwise your apartment will, as Levi puts it, “look like a rainbow upchucked in it”. 

It’s nice to just wander around between the stalls too, admiring everything and taking in the happy vibe of the even. You notice that some of the uncertainty has left Levi as he continues to hold you. His hold feels looser and he’s actually taking more of an interest in the stalls, sometimes moving towards them first. You relax more into his embrace too, some of your earlier guilt and worry melting away from you. 

He complains instantly when you spot the face painting stall. You pick out a full facial pumpkin design for yourself while Levi grumbles about you wasting your make up and asking why you’d want to cover up your face. You make a serious effort at convincing him to get his face painted too. He adamantly refuses and simply watches as yours is applied. It’s hard not to giggle when he demands that the artist, Eld, sanitises his hands before he gets to work. Levi also turns out to be something of a backseat commentator as well, quipping when Eld’s work is even slightly out of line. 

“For god’s sake, Levi!” you exclaim once Eld pulls back to reach for a wipe, once again. “Leave the man alone.”

You apologize for what feels like the sixteenth time since the blond man began. However, he’s pretty laid back and just quips about how at least he can be sure he did an ace job. Also clearly Levi wants his girlfriend to look like the best pumpkin. You laugh as you watch Levi’s cheeks turn pink.

Once Eld is finally allowed to complete his work in moderate peace, you admire the pumpkin with a smile as wide as the subject. You thank Eld profusely and pay him. You lament that Levi wouldn’t even get one little painting on his cheek but resign yourself to the losing battle. You quip that the pair of you would have matched, even without him getting a full face job. 

However, after about ten minutes of wandering around and no less than three compliments from guys on your face paint, Levi surprises you by returning to Eld. To your delight, he emerges with a tiny pumpkin painted on each cheek because he may as well be symmetrical. 

It’s been over two hours by this point and even with Levi’s occasional grumping, you catch him with small smiles and a distinct lack of scowls. 

“Thinking of ditching?” you ask as you walk around the outskirts of the market, having escaped for a breather. The air is chillier now you’re not surrounded by so many people. 

Levi tugs you closer and fastens up the buttons on your coat as he mulls over his answer. “No,” he decides. “It’s not too bad,” he concedes as he finishes buttoning you up. “I don’t mind staying longer.”

You wrap your arms around your chest and smile as he hugs you to him. “We’ve probably seen most of the stalls. Maybe we could check out a few more. We still need to decide our colour scheme for decorations.”

He rests his head on yours, stroking your back as he hums in contemplation. “All the decorations seem to be autumn themed and we’ll be changing decorations for Christmas soon enough anyway.”

“True. I guess this kind of decor is only going to be seasonal anyway.”

“This colour scheme is not so bad,” Levi murmurs. “The brown and golds are a decent colour match.”

“Yeah, they go nice together,” you agree, welcoming the added warmth of Levi’s hold on you. 

“Let’s go with that then. That crepe stuff wasn’t too pricey. If we hate it, we can get rid of it.”

“And all the profits from this market go towards various charities anyway so whatever we buy today, we’ve helped someone.”

Levi makes a small low noise of acknowledgment. “Good. Let’s go and pick out some crap then.”

You giggle as he begins to lead you back towards the crowd.

—————————

You place an order at the pumpkin stall you saw earlier, ignoring Levi’s eye-rolling as you move on to other arts stalls while your pumpkin is being decorated.

It takes a full fifteen minutes to convince Levi that decorating plain lanterns with leaves will be an amazing aesthetic. However he refuses to take any dirty leaves back home with you and you can’t fault his arguments about dog shit and piss and other disgusting things being stuck to the leaves. A compromise is reached thanks to a nearby stall which sells paper and paints so you can make your own leaves. You also stop by a stall selling pinecones that have been cleaned (you learn this thoroughly thanks to Levi’s borderline brutal interrogation of the stall owner, Oluo, over his method of doing so). 

You and Levi then spend an hour at one of the arts tables. You’re putting together the pinecones in a wreath while Levi meticulously draws and cuts out leaves. As it turns out, he’s got a touch of flair for artwork and he continually reminds you to focus on your own project when you stop and stare at his. 

You’re both carrying several bags of your purchases and decorations after visiting the crepe paper decorations stall. Afterward, you make a stop off at the pumpkin stall you saw earlier and pick up your pumpkin which has been decorated in gold paint with plastic fangs in the mouth and paper flowers coming out of the eyes. Levi complains about it but you see him fighting back a smile. 

—————————

It’s nearly 9pm when you visit your last stalls of the night. You purchase a range of snacks including an extra large bag of pear chips for Levi despite him refusing to admit that they are his favourite autumn treat. Your own bag is bulging with an impressively sized bag of candy corn.

The very last stall is a completely unplanned visit as you can’t help yourself when you see what it sells. 

“Oh my god, look at them! They’re so cute!” You practically squeal as you point to the collection of giant tea cups, in various spooky designs. You admire the white ghostly ones, the black cats with the tails as the handles, the grey cauldrons with green “overspill” painted over the tops, the blood-red devil face ones with the forked tail as the handle and finally pumpkin cups. 

You cradle the pumpkin one in your hand with reverence, gazing up at Levi who had scoffed and snorted at all of the other ones. However, his pursed lips twitch as he stares at your pumpkin face then the cup and back to you. 

“At least they’ll go with the decor,” he murmurs. As you reach for your purse to make the purchases, he hands over his own card instead. 

—————————

Levi carries the pumpkin under one arm along with the bags with the heavier items in while you carry the lighter decorations, the tea and your new mugs. 

The walk back up to your apartment complex is a slow one and you stop at the top to catch your breath since the climb taxed you. (Unlike Levi who, as usual, is remarkably unaffected). Even so, he waits with you as you gaze back down at the lights of the much quieter market. You watch the stalls being packed up and the rest of the customers retreating towards Ehrmich in the distance. 

“I’m glad we went,” Levi’s voice is low yet there’s a quiet contentment in it. You lift your eyes to meet his, slowly smiling. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He rubs his arm against yours. “I liked seeing you so happy.” Despite the wholesomeness of his statement, his lips curve into a smirk. “You’re adorable.”

You poke your tongue out at him. “Damn right, I am.” You then lean up to bump your nose with his. “The world’s not watching now. Can I kiss you?”

His smirk deepens. “I suppose you’ll have to. How else will you turn back into Cinderella?”

You press your lips to his in a lingering kiss. “You’re mixing fairy tales there,” you murmur against his mouth. 

“Don’t give a shit.” He gives you a peck.

“Anyway you’re Cinderella, you clean freak,” you huff with amusement as you turn away from the view of the market.

“Except I don’t sing or allow vermin in my clean house.” 

“Oi, don’t diss the singing mice,” you scowl as the pair of you begin to make your way indoors. You hold the door open for Levi to pass through. 

“Tch. They’re pests.”

“You’re so harsh.”

“Let’s see how cute you think they are when Cinderella dies from having contracted a disgusting and probably devastating illness.” Levi declares while he begins to climb the stairs. 

“Stop trying to ruin my childhood!” you protest as you follow him.

“Some might say your childhood was already ruined by watching fucking singing mice.”

“And is this “some” also known as Levi “pain-in-the-ass” Ackerman?”

“I couldn’t say. I don’t know my middle name.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

—————————

It’s a mutual decision to forgo dinner once you’ve decorated the apartment and washed the face paint off. You opt for Netflix and movie snacks instead. 

Levi has already given your new tea cups their first wash and filled two bowls full of pear chips and candy corn by the time you emerge from the shower in your satin red pyjamas. While he’s taking his own shower, you brew you both some pumpkin spice tea in said new cups and lay everything out on the coffee table. 

Your boyfriend’s “pyjamas” consist of a black t-shirt and matching loose pants. He smells like citrus as he sinks down onto the couch next to you. His arm curls around your shoulders and his lips press into your temple. You snuggle into him, bringing your feet up beneath you as you make yourself cozy on him. 

“This was a pretty good date,” you declare as you lift your pumpkin mug into your lap. “Thanks for sticking it out with me.”

Levi nuzzles your hair. “It wasn’t that hard,” he murmurs against your forehead. You raise your face so you can kiss him again. His hand reaches up to your cheek, holding you into the kiss as his mouth moves gently against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“I love you too,” you murmur back after another kiss. 

The rest of the evening passes in a blissful haze of tea, treats along with snuggles and kisses. You may watch maybe a third of the movie too. 

Autumn really is your favourite season, you think to yourself as you and Levi slowly fall asleep on the couch, draped in the late addition of a blanket. 

[prof-peach]

if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!

Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.

For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.

So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.

Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.

Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.

With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.

This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.

Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.

Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.

This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.

She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.

Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.

You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.

The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.

You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.

Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.

He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.

His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.

His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.

His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.

Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.

She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.

Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.

[whimsicallyreading]

“I just realized I’m desperately in love with you-“

Prompt Day One for Rowaelin Month

~

"Rowan, take a picture of that one. It's so cute." Aelin fawns quietly.

Rowan gives a long-suffering sigh. "There are a thousand of them here. Do you have to pester me into taking a picture of every seal pup we come across?"

"Her name is Fleetfoot, and yes. Isn't that the whole reason we are here?" Aelin looks at him equally annoyed, a strand of gold spun hair freeing itself from beneath her parka.

"I'm here to study the behavioral patterns of tiger seals and orcas in a rapidly shifting environment. You are here to keep our equipment functioning. If you keep talking, neither of us will finish our jobs and escape from this wasteland." Rowan switches the lens of his camera to focus on two male seals who were squaring up with each other in the distance.

Rowan nearly threw his camera over the boat and jumped off into the coastal waters of Argentina when he realized who had been assigned to assist him on this expedition.

He'd insisted that only he and one other make the trek across the Antarctic. Insisting a large group could impede the quality of his research. When they agreed, Rowan thought they would send him with Lorcan or Brullo. Both were accomplished survivalists and scholars—valuable additions to any team.

Instead, it was Aelin Ashryvver who waited for him at the dock. The most annoying newbie on his floor. Dorian insisted that her knowledge of mechanical engineering would make her invaluable.

So far, she was just a verifiable pain in his ass.

She sat around bored as Rowan spent the day writing notes and snapping photos. Occasionally she helped him set up microphones. On one instance, she fixed their ATV. It was the first and only time he'd found her truly useful.

Rowan couldn't wait to go home.

"Alright, we have the cameras positioned. We should head back to the base. The temps are dropping. We need to warm up and eat."

Aelin nods quietly, she would never admit it, but the severe temperatures are taking a toll on her. It was amazing how important something like fat is in a frigid environment. Rowan is naturally covered in layers of dense muscle. While Aelin is fit herself, she's still small and the first to feel the effects of persistent cold.

Watching the seals, she occasionally found herself jealous of their thick layers of blubber that kept them comfortable. She should have carb-loaded before they set sail.

They hop on the snow ski and traverse quickly over the powderlike substance.

~~~

When they reach the Terresen South Pole station and ditch their coats, they fall to the floor in a cascade of flurries. Rowan's spine straightens for the first time that day. Their coats were dense. With the additional weight of all of the equipment he carried, there was a perpetual bend in his spine.

It was a huge relief to be inside a climate-controlled building—light layers, freedom movement, and feeling in all of his extremities. Tossing that coat off was the pinnacle of his daily routine on this mission.

That is until he realized it was freezing.

Walking over to a light switch with urgency, he flicks it a few times. Nothing happens. Anxiety wells in his gut, and he hits the wall a couple of times before flipping the switch again.

"Shit," Rowan hisses.

"The power is out," Aelin's eyes widen with the realization. "That's not good."

"I thought I was the scientist, but look at you stating the obvious," Rowan growls as he shrugs his jacket back on. It wasn't nearly as frigid inside the insulated building as it was outside, but it was still bitterly cold. Keeping warm would be their first step in survival. Without heat, shit could hit the fan for them very quickly. Thankfully their satellite phones should still be functioning; he'd charged the battery the day before. There should be enough juice in the phones to send out a mayday call even without power.

Aelin doesn't put on her jacket. Instead, she heads in the direction of the lockers with a look of determination plastered on her face. It was a look he'd slowly begun to grow familiar with, mainly when Rowan was holding a ration packet she wanted. It made him uneasy.

"Where are you going?" Rowan calls after her, picking up her jacket. He wouldn't be held responsible for his younger, female partner freezing to death. HR at the University would have his head on a stick if she died on his watch.

He follows Aelin to her locker, where she's already sliding a grey jumpsuit over her clothes.

"I can fix the engines," Aelin pulls her zipper up. The jumpsuit covered head-to-toe, but they weren't nearly as warm as their snow gear. He could already see a slight blue-ish tint to her lips. "They probably just stalled. All I need to do is go down, diagnose the problem, and fix it. Easy as pie."

Ignoring the massive oversimplification of their situation, knowing it was a lost cause, he focuses on the immediate problem. "You need to keep your jacket on," Rowan thrusts the article of clothing at her. Her color was concerning him, and the longer she went without the thermal garment, the higher his stress became.

Aelin gives him a long-suffering look, all too similar to the one he gives her. "And get my hood or a sleeve caught in one of those beasts? Those machines are massive. Getting snagged could rip my arm off or kill me. It's like you don't even have a master's in engineering and a spotless safety record," she smiles at Rowan's scowling face. "Oh wait, that's me. Let me do my job, Dr. Whitethorn."

Before Rowan could argue, Aelin was gone down the stairwell towards the engines.

Dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, he tosses her jacket on the floor. His time is probably better spent getting through to their mission handlers on the satellite phones anyway.

~~~

Two hours later, Rowan has long finished his call with Dorian.

Their expedition leader had asked if they wanted a recovery team sent out to them, but Rowan hesitated. He was on the mission of a lifetime. He'd spent years waiting for approval to research at the southernmost tip of the world. It would be a devastating blow to his career and his pride for it to be cut short. The selfish part of him wanted to stay. The rationale, reasonable part of him was aching to stay the full duration of the expedition.

"You know, Dr. Whitethorn," Dorian spoke carefully. "There is a reason we chose Aelin to accompany you. She may be green and lacking a doctorate, but she's a miracle worker at what she does."

"Are you asking me to put my life in the newbie's hands?" Rowan asked without his standard vitriol. The situation and the cold had left him with no energy to be spiteful. He'd heard talk of her capabilities amongst the guys, and he'd seen a fraction of it when their snowmobile broke down. Rowan thinks back to the look on her face when she'd gone down the stairs. The steely determination of a warrior marching off to do battle.

Dorian laughs as if there was something funny about two of his most stubborn colleagues getting stranded in the south pole by themselves. "I'm not asking you to do anything. It's your call."

Rowan closes his eyes and contemplates their options. His head told him they should call the extraction team before they were nothing but frozen corpses. Yet, his heart didn't want to leave so soon. There was still so much work left to do.

Could he rely on Aelin?

"We will stay for now. Expect a call in twenty-four hours with a progress update." Rowan disconnected the transmission without any of the standard formalities.

After the fruitless call, he checks their food supply. Rowan scans the shelves, comfortable they wouldn't go hungry any time soon. Their only concern would be keeping all their shit from freezing, including their water. Rowan triple checks that everything is insulated, sealed, and stored away before moving on to other essentials, like batteries.

Another hour passes as he takes inventory, and Rowan is starting to feel the cold more than before. His nailbeds slowly shift from blue to white beneath his thick gloves, and he can't control the slight quaking spreading up his limbs.

When Rowan hears the doorway to the stairwell creak, he goes to check in with Aelin on her progress.

What he finds when he opens the locker room door sends his heart to his throat.

Aelin's hands loosely grip the zipper of her jumpsuit as she weakly attempts to free herself. Her face is a ghostly white, and her movements sluggish.

If she weren't moving, he'd have thought she was already frozen.

"Aelin, are you good? Talk to me." Rowan rushes to her and helps Aelin step out from the jumpsuit.

"I fixed the engine," Aelin coughs into the crook of her arm, her voice scratchy from the cool air. "It will be a couple of hours before they can catch up and heat the building."

Rowan rips off a glove and holds a bare hand to her cheek. Aelin's skin is freezing to the touch, even to his own icy hands. He notes that she isn't trembling the same way he is. It's not a good sign, the biologist in him notes. He knows it's her body growing too weak to keep itself warm.

"Sit down. You're freezing," Rowan helps her slide to the floor and looks at the discarded jacket that's still lying there. It won't warm her quick enough.

"Rowan?" Aelin speaks from her slightly slumped position.

Rowan is pacing, trying to think. They don't have a means of warming water for a bath. Laying next to the generators is too risky.

"Rowan," Aelin murmurs, her eyes drooping. "I can't feel my feet."

Rowan looks at her, and for a moment, she looks like an ice princess. Her blond hair is slipping from its braid and coiling across her colorless face. The cerulean blue of her eyes was the brightest color he now saw regularly beside the southern lights. They stood out even more starkly now.

It was all wrong.

"It's going to be alright, Aelin. You said the power is back on?" Rowan lifts her into his arms, her freezing nose burrowing into the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," she rasps against his shoulder. "But it will take a while for the building to heat."

"We don't need the whole building to heat. Do you trust me?" Rowan trots down the hall, careful not to bump her against the narrow doorframes.

She mumbles something incoherent into his shirt. "I trust you."

Rowan is thankful that the cold keeps the flush from his face. He reaches the desired room and fiddles with the control panel on the wall. A wave of relief hits him as the room behind the heavy door audibly hums to life.

"Okay, here we go." He says more to himself than Aelin. Rowan ditches the jacket and pulls his long-sleeved tee over his head. The buttons of his pants are next, leaving him in only his boxers.

Turning around, Aelin looks weary but not surprised. "Nice abs."

"Thanks," He says and kneels next to her, eyes searching her face for permission.

Aelin dips her head, "I'm not shy, Whitethorn. Don't fret."

Rowan helps Aelin maneuver her stiff limbs out of her garments until she is left in nothing but her bra and panties. Her face is pained as even more of her is exposed to the cold.

"Hurts," Aelin grits through her teeth, and Rowan gathers her up again. The icy room is like barbs against his exposed skin, but he's not in a position to complain.

The minute he carries her into the balmy air of the sauna, Aelin flinches. "Oh, that smarts."

"I know. It's going to suck for a bit while your blood recirculates." Rowan consoles softly, knowing he would also feel the cramping as they got their blood moving.

Drastic temperatures changes weren't the ideal way to warm up, but they'd spent far too long in the cold. He needed to get Aelin shivering again. It was the body's natural defense against the cold, and when a person could no longer shiver, it meant they were dipping into the realm of hypothermia.

The sauna was an added addition for the comfort of the researchers who visited the Southern base. It was a great tool to warm people after spending hours in the harsh climate. He'd heard tales of it from colleagues who'd visited the base before but hadn't yet saught to use it himself. Rowan was too focused on the mission. It hadn't carried any appeal for him until this moment, and now he was beyond grateful for its existence.

Rowan sits on the floor instead of the bench so that Aelin can curl up comfortably in his lap. Skin-to-skin contact was one of the best ways to help a person regulate their body temperature. He soothes a calloused hand over the length of her arm, trying to spread what remained of his warmth to her skin.

Aelin's cheek rests against his chest, and Rowan uses one hand to free her hair from its braid. The curtain of gold fans across her back, and he has to resist the urge to run his fingers through its waves.

He'd noticed how beautiful she was the day they first met at the university. Out of respect, he'd immediately repressed those thoughts. They were professionals, and Rowan wasn't about to ruin his reputation fawning over the new, young blonde on their floor.

But with her laying half-naked in his lap, it was hard to disregard how pretty she was. It wasn't even just her appearance. The girl was magnetic in every way. People paid attention when she walked in, and she claimed the lion's share of air in the room.

Fenrys and Conall flirted with her remorselessly. It secretly irked him. Rowan had long since memorized the way she laughed and how she'd smile as she shoed them away. It was all good-natured fun for them, but it always made Rowan irrationally angry. The time she'd showed up at the annual Christmas party in a green velvet dress with an open back nearly left his brain on the floor. His eyes had raked the smooth plains of skin, only turning away when she'd tried to catch his eye.

If he'd been paying attention, he would have seen her look of disappointment.

Rowan had written it off as an infatuation—a natural response to seeing an attractive woman. The scientist in him wanted to boil it down to chemistry and hormones. Cold facts that could diagnose the way he felt every time he laid eyes on her. Yet, as Rowan laid there with a hurting Aelin in his arms, he began to wonder if there was something more.

Her pain was making his chest physically ache.

A pair of arms snaked around his waist, and his body jerked. Aelin looks up at him sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm just really comfortable."

Rowan relaxes, "It's fine."

The steam in the room is slowly building. Rowan can feel the cramping beginning in his legs. Aelin's weight on his thighs was not helping the slightest, but there was no way in hell he'd move her.  

"My body is aching," Aelin says lightly, but he can hear the strain in her voice and feel a slight tremble running through her.

"That's good. Can you feel your feet?" Rowan can no longer resist, and her hair parts between his fingers like strands of gold silk.

Aelin tightens her arms around him, "Yeah. A bit. I didn't realize how numb they got until I took off my boots."

There's a slight tickle at his back, Aelin's finger tracing a pattern against his skin. A flush of warmth rushes through him, not from the sauna.

He's in unending deep shit.

"Aelin," his voice wavers uncharacteristically. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

The fingers on his back continue making their delicate patterns. "No."

"Aelin?" He asks again, but she cuts him off with a groan.

"Stop asking me questions and just kiss me," Aelin grips the back of his head and pulls his lips down to her's.

An inferno blooms inside his soul.

Aelin could never be a winter queen. She was the raging embodiment of summer. A burning ember he'd carried from the north into this land of ice. As his lips move against hers, he swears his body is lit ablaze, and when Rowan opens his eyes, he's delighted at the flush he finds unfurling across her cheeks.

"It's suddenly a lot warmer." Aelin laughs, looking more lively even as her body starts to quake from the warmth finally reaching her.

He kisses her cheek and tilts her ear towards his lips, "Aelin?"

"Another question?" Aelin's smile curls into something feline. "Is this that scientific curiosity the university is always going on about?"

"I just realized I'm desperately in love with you,"

Rowan lets the truth fall from his lips. It was just the two of them. They were the only human souls in this far corner of the earth. There was no one to stop him as he finally lets the emotions he'd been repressing until the moment Aelin was in danger wash over him.

"That's not a question," Aelin responds after a moment, her tone light and jovial.

Rowan smiles. "It's not."

Aelin curls back up against Rowan, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers. An embarrassing sound of contentment escapes her, which worsens her blush.

Not forgetting their original purpose in the sauna, Rowan grips her hands and massages them between his. "You have no response?"

"Not one that HR is going to like." Aelin winces as her hand spasms, and Rowan methodically works to ease the ache.

"Say it anyway," Rowan implores. Screw the university. He was tired of living for his work alone. Nothing outshined this moment, holding this woman in his arms. He could find a new job, but if Aelin reciprocated his feelings, he couldn't find another one of her.

"Well, I thought it was pretty obvious when I wore that dress to the Christmas party and then found a reason to walk past your office every day." Aelin huffs and looks up at him, "Don't tell me you didn't know?"

Rowan was speechless.

Aelin's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Rowan, Dorian, and I are friends. Did you know that?"

"What?" Rowan blinks confusedly. That was common knowledge, but he didn't understand why she was bringing that up now.

"Dorian and I go way back. He knew I had a thing for you, and I told him sending me on this trip was unethical when I'm such a new hire-" Aelin trails off, waiting for him to grasp her point.

"Wait," Rowan looks down at her, bemused. "Dorian was trying to set us up?"

"Human recourses won't like that very much either," Aelin grins. "But Dorian would keep our secret. He owes me a lot of favors."

The sauna's temperature had slowly been rising, and Rowan could see that his skin was returning to its usual color. Aelin still looked a bit pale, but it was probably residuals from being so close to freezing.

She'd risked herself to save the expedition and successfully fixed the engines. Rowan didn't believe for one second that Dorian only sent her in an elaborate attempt to set her up. She was bright and cunning. He was lucky to have her along with him.

"You got here on your merit," Rowan presses a soft peck to her lips as he soothes her unvoiced concern. He refused to let her doubt her level of skill. "But if the feelings are mutual, I would love to take you on a date when we get back home?"

"I would love that," Aelin crawls off his lap and holds a hand out. "Come on, now. We need to eat and sleep. We have seals to observe."

Rowan accepted her hand. Forget the seals. He would have a difficult time keeping his attention on them. His eyes were glued to her bare legs as they moved and the way her hair swung free of its constraints.

She smirked over his shoulder. Aelin knew precisely what she was doing to him.

Rowan had traversed to the end of the world to understand the natural universe a little better. While he hadn't unlocked any great mysteries, he couldn't help but think what he did find was better.

[adorethedistance]

Party Hard - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: drinking, partying, intoxication, non sexual stripping, swearing probably, 

Words: 6343 (which, if you know me, is a FUCK ton)

Summary: Going from tipsy to full on drunk is a terrible idea, but especially when you’ve got a secret to hide that could mean the difference between preserving and ruining your relationship with your best friend.

A/N: A couple items before we get started: I think I’m back on my bullshit? I mean I wrote this fic and it’s three times the length of my normal fics. Also I wrote this headassery as a literal self insert me(ace) x someone and so there are a couple flaws here and there that make this something I’m not 100% proud of. Owen picks the reader up a few times and I’m aware this kind of thing can really effect someone’s experience with this fic so I do apologize for the lack of inclusivity in regards to body type/ableism. I’m falling really behind on school work because I just can’t find the motivation which either means y’all will be seeing a lot more of me soon or absolutely nothing at all. Not sure which yet.

“You’ve got it so bad.” Charlie rests his left arm on his best friend’s shoulder, tipping back the half-full angry orchard bottle he’d been nursing for the better half of an hour. Owen’s stare is immediately broken and he crosses his arms defensively.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Turning to meet his friend’s smug stare, Owen shoots Charlie a glare of annoyance before returning his attention to the girl on the dance floor. Surrounded by a gaggle of her closest friends, Y/n is dancing and singing her heart out to Fergalicious with Chelsea, Leila, Savannah, and Carolynn. The bunch of them share in sporadic laughs as they exchange ridiculous dance moves just to add to the fleeting moment’s laughter. An assortment of screeches and squawks blend together as they all prepare to sing the rap section of the song. Observing the level of excitement the girls have over the verse, Owen can’t help but laugh at the spectacle.

“Why don’t you just ask her out already?” Charlie inquires between sips of his cold drink.

“What?”

“Y/n. Why have you not asked her out.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Yeah. Because you haven’t asked her out.” Owen rolls his eyes before turning 90 degrees to fully face the smug guitarist. He turns about-face to prove a point, but another symphony of squeals at the next song choice drags his attention back to his other best friend on the dance floor. “You’re so whipped.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! Look, if you don’t ask her out tonight, I will.”

“You’re not even into her,” Owen protests unceremoniously. Setting the molasses colored bottle on the counter next to Owen, Charlie steps back and copies his position of crossed arms and a relaxed stance.

“You’re right, I’m not. But you are, and if that’s what it takes to light the fire under your ass then I’ll do it.”

“She wouldn’t say yes.”

“Are you sure? I mean, the only way to know for sure is to ask.” And with that, Charlie is off, speeding toward Y/n at a pace that launches Owen into an impulsive chase. To prevent his friend from doing something stupid, Owen shoves him in the opposite direction from the group of girls on the dance floor. What he hadn’t anticipated was Charlie moving so far so fast. Owen has longer legs, he’s supposed to be the faster one, not Charlie. That’s why he hadn’t anticipated turning away from his musical friend to come face to face with a very flushed Y/n. Her lip-gloss coated lips are parted as she catches her breath from all the dancing. They look so soft and inviting that Owen can’t help but stare, and doesn’t realize the several looks of confusion among the girls around him.

“Everything okay, Owen?” Snapping out of his hyper focused stare, Owen blinks a few times, trying to generate a reason for coming over.

“You’ve been dancing for a while.”

“...Yeah?”

“Let me fix you a drink?” His statement comes out as more of a question but the breathless girl agrees nonetheless. Owen extends his hand to her which she gladly accepts but not without a quick word to her friends.

“I’ll be right back, I’m getting a drink.”

Her friends aren’t stupid, quite the opposite actually. And they see right through Owen’s facade of fixing her a drink because she’d been ‘dancing a while’. Please. As if they didn’t know a desperate attempt at flirting when they saw it.

The pounding music from the backyard begins to fade and muffle once the pair step into the Shada’s beautiful kitchen space. Owen leads her to the kitchen island where he has her take a seat on one of the barstools in front of the high countertop. Stepping around the fixture, Owen busies himself with whipping up a drink for Y/n at the makeshift bar on the island. He doesn’t even have to ask what it is she wants. Ice, pink whitney, club soda, and a splash of lime juice mixed together in a red solo cup Owen had considerately written her name on before going all mixologist-mode.

“Your usual.”

“Thank you, sir. You know, I’ve only had a handful of barbecue chips since I got here, and I’m already tipsy, so this actually might get me completely drunk.” Taking a sip, Y/n hums out of pleasure, “Why do you make my favorite drink better than I make my favorite drink?”

“So you have a reason to keep me around.” At the sound of Y/n’s laugh, Owen cracks a smile in time with his favorite sound in the world. The blonde haired man leans forward to rest his weight on his left forearm. He stares at her with adoration seeping from his gaze, before lifting his own cup to drink with her.

“What is that?” she asks, sitting up taller to try and see into Owen’s cup over the island.

“Jack Daniels.”

“I want some.”

“No,” Owen answers swiftly albeit softly. Y/n, however, is not feeling as conciliatory.

“No?”

“Have you ever tried whiskey before?”

“Well, no-”

“You’re drinking a fruit flavored cocktail that’s like 30% nonalcoholic. A sip of this would knock you off your little ass.” Y/n frowns at his words and employs a fake pout of anger to guilt her now laughing friend. Despite her smile, she whines,

“You suck.” Owen merely shrugs unapologetically before sipping and wincing at his drink of choice. “So… how did your date go- with Amy?” And there it is. The question that’s been at the forefront of Y/n’s mind for the last 24 hours.

Owen met this girl Amy at a more professional house party type of event and they hit it off right away. They spent the night invested in conversation, sharing in a cacophony of laughter. Y/n had no right to be upset, but she was. Amy was drop dead gorgeous in that Mini length red, velvet dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her figure was snatched to the gods, and she was about 5’3”; a seemingly irrelevant thing to notice, but Y/n knew that was the height Owen loved in a partner. At least, based on all his previous flings. And not to mention, her beautiful golden blonde hair that extended all the way down her toned back. Amy was perfect to all standards including that of any straight man with eyes and undoubtedly Owen’s. They spent the entire night together, Y/n long forgotten despite having been Owen’s plus one.

Y/n on the other hand didn’t exactly view herself as the drop-dead gorgeous supermodel type. Seeing how Owen took an interest in her at that event, it was no wonder Y/n was jealous. In fact, she had been so jealous that she allowed their flirting to ruin her entire evening.

She had been invited platonically as Owen’s guest, but Owen didn’t feel guilty about leaving her alone once he saw Charlie was by her side the whole night. Little did he know Charlie was only there for her because Owen wasn’t. It was pity company. Pity company that she was grateful to have as she cried into a few gin and tonics. Y/n avoided telling Charlie about her feelings for the adorable drummer, but with the way events transpired, he had figured out what it was that had upset her.

Charlie so badly wanted to give Owen the guilt trip of a lifetime. And he did once he and Owen were alone, heading home in Charlie’s orange hatchback car. He did so by telling Owen about how his best friend had spent the entire evening crying into gin and tonics. ‘Y/n doesn’t even like gin and tonic’ was all Owen could come up with.

When he inquired about why his best friend was crying, Charlie said he didn’t know, but it may have had something to do with the fact that the person who invited her spent the whole night ignoring her; he left it at that, leaving Owen to connect the dots, sort of. Owen had come to the realization that Y/n must have been crying over him, but why? Unable to comprehend a reason, he pushed the situation to the back of his mind. So far back that when Amy texted him that same night, he immediately responded and eventually set up a date for them to get dinner alone Friday evening.

The date was fine. Objectively there was nothing wrong with it. But every time Amy took a sip of the gin and tonic she had ordered, he couldn’t help being reminded of Y/n that night. It took Owen a solid thirty minutes to finally conclude that maybe Y/n was... jealous? Of what? Of Amy? Quickly reviewing a long list of qualities, identical to the one that Y/n had thoroughly checked through when she first saw the blonde, Owen realized she was indeed jealous of Amy. But why? What did Amy have that Y/n didn’t?

Oh.

His initial conclusion in the car with Charlie had to be right. Y/n was crying over him, and seemingly jealous of Amy, all because Amy had his attention. Why was that a problem?

Oh… no. No, Y/n does not have feelings for him. Y/n is... well, Y/n. His best friend, his partner in crime, his confidant, there’s no way she’s in love with him. There’s a different reason as to why she’d been crying into drinks she didn’t like. And that different reason is why her text replies have been short and cold when he had asked for date night conversation pointers. And that different reason is why her smile kept faltering on FaceTime when he was asking for fashion advice for his date.

Y/n is not in love with her best friend.

Owen had spent the past year pushing down his feelings for the girl that threatened to bubble over the top. If Y/n was truly into him, he would’ve acted on them. But she isn’t, so he didn’t. At least, that’s what Owen told himself…

“It was alright,” he offers lamely as a reply to her inquiry. Y/n simply nods and takes another swig of her drink to dull the ache in the center of her chest.

“Just alright?”

“Okay, it was better than alright. She was great.” There’s a hole burning in the center of her heart, and against her better judgment, she expands the deficit by asking for more information.

“What does that mean- that she was ‘great’?”

“You know…” Owen trails off in search of the right words, some words, any words, but nothing comes to him. To sell her nonchalant demeanor, the hopelessly devoted girl is staring down into her cup as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room. She didn’t expect Owen’s eyes to be boring into hers when she looked back up, so she quickly musters a polite smile. Maybe the average onlooker couldn’t tell it was fake, but Owen knows something is off. He just knows. Because he knows her.

“How did those conversation pointers pan out?” She’s deflecting, he thinks.

“One of them worked.” I’m just feeding into it, he thinks.

“Only one of them?” He’s holding back something, she thinks.

“Well, yeah. We didn’t really do much talking if you get what I mean.” I don’t think I can handle this, she thinks.

“I see…” The pair stands together in a silence so tense they felt like strangers. It’s awful. Y/n and Owen hate every second of it, but what could they do? In a moment blinded by upset, Y/n reaches across the island to grab the newly opened bottle of grey goose and pours what must’ve been no less than three shots of liquid into her cup. No club soda or lemonade this time, she chugs down the rest of her drink in a flash; Owen stares at her in disbelief and shock.

Y/n hates being drunk, she likes being the designated driver, she’s never had straight up liquor in her life, and she’s a lightweight, that’s for damn sure. Owen knows all of these things and is even more surprised to see her reaching for an almost empty bottle of gin.

“Hey. Maybe you should take it easy, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a lightweight and you know it. Put the cup down.” When Y/n shakes her head no, something in Owen snaps and his desire to be gentle is long forgotten. “Y/n. Put the drink down.”

“Why do you care, Owen?” In taking time to respond, Owen sees the opportunity and goes for it, taking the cup from her loose grasp and splashing it down the drain of the vegetable sink. “What the fuck?!”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink. Come on.” It’s only a matter of time until Y/n becomes an incoherent human being that’s impossible to wrangle, so Owen is very aware he’s on the clock. Snagging two Arrowhead water bottles in one hand, he takes Y/n’s hand in the other and brings her into the Shada’s den. There are only a few other people in the room, one is a couple and the other a pair of pining idiots, to which Owen becomes slightly wary. Not that the dynamic would change much. He and Y/n are practically a couple according to everyone around them.

Chelsea and Charlie are sitting fairly close together for just friends, on the chocolate brown loveseat facing the couch that Owen has plopped his increasingly intoxicated friend onto; Leila is sitting in a single armchair that a very tipsy Taylor is hanging over the back of to hug her shoulders. Upon seeing Y/n’s pouting expression Chelsea seeks more information,

“You good, fam?”

“He threw it down the sink!” She’s fading faster than Owen had hoped.

“I did. I poured what would’ve been her fifth and sixth shots down the sink.”

“Jesus, Y/n, are you trying to kill yourself?”

“What are you, a cop?” Even tipsy she’s still sharp as a tack. If Owen wasn’t frustrated with her at the moment, he would’ve probably laughed. But he is, so he didn’t. Slipping back into caretaker mode, he hands her one of the water bottles he snagged from the cooler on the way out. In her typical stubborn and petulant fashion, Y/n weakly throws the unopened bottle onto the couch cushion next to her. All their friends laugh but Owen isn’t having it.

“Y/n.” And it only takes a firm call of her name for the slumped over lightweight to glare at him but oblige. She retrieves the bottle and sticks her arm out straight toward Owen’s still standing figure.

“I can’t open it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucked up,” Leila comments.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you fucked up period,” Chelsea adds on. Charlie laughs lightly before resuming whatever conversation the four of them had going pre-Owen and Y/n’s entrance.

Satisfied with the small sips she’s taking of her water, Owen relaxes and takes a seat next to her on the couch. The temporary break in her temper tantrum allows Owen to save his breath; he opens his own water bottle, taking a few drinks which ended up being half the bottle. He’s given her a good bit of room on the couch but it isn’t good enough for Y/n. It takes her a few failed attempts to screw on the cap of her water but once it’s properly sealed, she moves closer to her best friend. The water has acted like some magical temperament cure as Y/n’s previously permanent pout has disappeared.

Owen knows he and Y/n are close enough to where cuddling wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But the way she’s burrowed into his side, picking up his seemingly ‘heavy’ arm to place it around her own inebriated frame, laying her head high up on his chest, and unintentionally resting her hand on his lower abdomen, something feels off. Her hand isn’t dangerously low, but low enough that the side of her limp palm has met the waistband of his jeans. Owen can’t help but feel his skin tingle and burn under her touch. Why is he so affected by her touch all of a sudden?

Owen is pulled from his snowballing thoughts by the sound of Y/n’s muffled voice against his chest. He leans down as far as he can which places his head on top of hers gently.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry,” he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. A tiny drop of warmth on his shirt under her head triggers Owen’s memory: Y/n’s an emotional drunk. She doesn’t get drunk often but when she does, she goes all in and becomes somewhat manic as a result. That accounts for her previous anger. Now it’s sadness, so in about ten minutes, she’ll be easily excitable and bouncing off the walls.

Y/n had carpooled with Leila and Chelsea to the party, and though Owen was upset about her not picking him up like they’d briefly talked about at first, he’s suddenly thankful for the arrangement.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“Unhhh.” The lack of a coherent response is enough for Owen, and after finishing the rest of his water, he sits up on the couch.

“Where’s your house key? Hm?” The prospect of losing her key is absolutely devastating to Y/n as she begins to weep. Her imminent distress in response to Owen’s question has all their friends laughing once more; Leila speaks up,

“Check the left chest pocket of her jacket.”

Owen nods, noting the directions, and gently rolls his friend over on her back. Deciding against using her strength, Y/n flops over onto her other side which still allows Owen access to her pocket. His long fingers dwarf the button fastener on her jacket that she often struggles to open, and sure enough her sky blue house key is in her pocket just as Leila said.

“Thanks,” he acknowledges Leila before taking Y/n’s cold hands in his own larger ones to help her stand. It’s a bit of a struggle to stand and as a result, the fading girl leans a bit of her weight into Owen’s side. “You gonna say bye to our friends?”

Y/n nods a goodbye to each person in the room, moving from left to right naming Leila, Taylor, Chelsea, and then Charlie. Upon saying bye to Charlie the small girl starts to cry again, harder this time, much to everyone’s confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Charlie looked a-at me like he didn’t l-like me.” The entire room bursts out laughing, Owen included this time, but she’s still crying. “It’s no-not funny.”

“I know. You’re right, it’s not funny.” Owen’s exaggerated sympathy goes undetected by the very emotional Y/n as she presses her face into his grey long sleeve shirt. She reaches up to hug her arms around Owen’s neck for stability as she adds more tears to the tiny spot from before. “Can you walk?” He asks genuinely as more of her weight leans into him. The only response Owen gets is a few soft sobs, and in reaction to her messy state, lets out a subtle eye roll. He shakes his head before bending down to place one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulder blades, sweeping her off the ground before she can protest.

“Would you guys tell Jer thanks and that I had to take her home?” A symphony of affirmations and goodbyes usher him out of the house, and once outside Y/n’s crying diminuendos into short sniffles and the occasional sigh.

“Here, be careful,” Owen panics as his friend nearly bangs the front of her head against the roof of his car. Once he cautiously places all her limbs in the passenger side, Owen shuts the door and hurries over to the driver’s side as if Y/n could hurt herself in the next five seconds. He places the key in the ignition but before he even touches the gear shift, he turns and looks quizzically at his best friend. The sniffling and sighs coming from her puffy face have lulled her into an almost unconscious state; Owen puffs out a frustrated sigh as he reaches across the entire car to grab Y/n’s seatbelt for her.

Another thing about drunk Y/n is that her emotional state makes her more likely to give in to physical impulses. So after she registers Owen leaning across her lap for the seatbelt, she grabs his shoulder so he doesn’t move away. The action surprises Owen and he turns his face to look into her half-lidded eyes. He’s trying to make sense of the action but his trailing thoughts are interrupted when the girl in the passenger’s seat leans forward slightly to put her face against Owen’s neck.

“I like your smell.” Owen tries so hard not to laugh in fear of upsetting her again, but he can’t conceal the smile growing on his face. He then gently pulls away from her grasp in order to actually start driving,

“Okay. Thank you.”

The car ride is composed of mostly comfortable silence with the occasional inebriated comment or nonsensical sound from the girl in the passenger seat; Owen had been so captivated by Y/n’s uncharacteristically relaxed state, he’d been driving on autopilot and instead of turning left to get on the highway that runs south to where her apartment is, he’d gone north to go to his own place. No big deal, Owen didn’t plan on leaving her intoxicated and alone, and she’s stayed the night plenty of times before now. What’s one more night? It isn’t until he puts the car in park and helps her out of the vehicle that Y/n clocks her surroundings.

“I don’t live here.”

“You don’t, no, but I do,” Owen replies simply before he slides out of the car. Y/n stays in the car as if Owen told her not to move, and looks up at him confusedly when he opens her door. In her tipsy state, she is able to recognize what Owen is doing and smugly places her hand over the buckle of her seatbelt. With her tiny palm over the red button, she begins giggling maniacally.

“What are you doing?” Owen asks with a frustrated sigh although he can’t help the small smile overtaking his features at the sound of her growing laughter. He doesn’t get a response, just more giggling which lets him know he’s going to have to do things the hard way now that she’s in a lifted mood. “Kid, you have to get out of the car.”

“You can’t make me.”

Owen takes a step back from the open door to reevaluate. Y/n always tells him to work smarter, not harder. Another one of her many bouts of wisdom is that you can keep the attention of children and adults alike with a vastly dynamic change in volume. The question is will she notice Owen using this tactic on her in her drunken state?

“Hey, Y/n/n,” his speech drops to a low whisper. “I’m sad, can you hold my hand?” The change in volume works exactly as described; completely convinced by the sincerity of his whispering, Y/n gives him her right hand. “Can I have the other one?”

When she nods a small ‘yes’ and gives him both of her hands, Owen finds himself fighting the urge to laugh at how easy that was. He takes both of her cool hands in his larger left one to reach across her body and release her seatbelt with a swift CLICK.

Luckily Y/n didn’t tangle herself up in the seatbelt, but she had other ideas for causing trouble. Owen helped her out of the car but once she was standing on her own two feet, she began running away from him. With a slam of the car door and a string of breathy curses later, he chases after his best friend before she can hurt herself on literally anything in the parking garage. The sound of Y/n’s laughter carries through the vacant space, and despite all her best efforts, Owen quickly catches up to her. Her giddy intoxication allowed for the suspension of disbelief that she could outrun the much taller Owen Joyner, but she’s sorely mistaken when his strong arms wrap around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. Y/n’s bouts of laughter are contagious; Owen finds himself laughing alongside his best friend. Setting her feet back on the ground he asks,

“Are you going to run away again if I let go of you?”

“Yeah,” she chokes out through the tail end of her laughing fit. The candidness of her reply prompts Owen to throw his head back, shaking it as if in disagreement with the universe itself,

“I appreciate your honesty.” And with that, Y/n screeches in glee as her best friend maneuvers her body in his grip to lift her over his right shoulder.

“Owen!”

“You did this to yourself, kid.”

The silent elevator ride up to his flat is comfortable relative to the current position they’re in. Y/n’s no longer fighting being carried but instead entertains herself by tapping out an intricate beat on the surface of Owen’s back.

“Guess what song this is.”

The beat she’s playing is close to incoherent and Owen tries to stifle his full laugh in fear of making her cry again. He’s been successful so far, but now having Y/n over his shoulder, she can feel the movement of his abdomen that was unintelligible by sight alone.

“Your favorite song,” he guesses insincerely.

“No, my favorite song doesn’t sound like that. It was sicko mode.”

“That was not sicko mode.”

“Owen, how come you don’t wear a badge?”

“What?”

“Because you’re the song police?” Owen can’t help but snort out a laugh even though the comment was made at his expense. Still sharp as a tack.

Once the pair reach the front door of Owen’s ‘bachelorette pad’ as Y/n liked to call it, he sets her back on the ground albeit reluctantly as he recalls why he was carrying her in the first place. Thinking quickly on his feet, Owen forms a plan that’s more likely than not foolproof.

“Hey, Y/n/n?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is still right behind him thankfully.

“Can I have a hug?” After a few seconds of silence in the hall, Owen begins to doubt his plan until he feels the weight of his best friend leaning on his toned back. With her cheek pressed against the middle of his spine, Y/n brings her arms around his waist, clasping her hands tightly together. Her semi-public display of affection allows Owen some time to unlock his front door. Once he props the door open, Owen realizes that Y/n probably isn’t going to let go any time soon and opts to waddle through the threshold with her still attached to him. He’s able to turn around and lock them back in for the night which makes the girl begin to laugh.

“Was this your plan all along? To get me drunk so you could lock me in your apartment and hold me prisoner for the rest of my life?”

“And I would’ve gotten away with it, too...”

“If it weren’t for those meddling kids and their dog.”

True to his imagination that Y/n wasn’t letting go any time soon, Owen swivels her around his torso so that he could hold her to his side rather than support her with his back. He now has his right arm over both of her shoulders as she continues to hug her best friend. The way she leans her head onto his chest makes Owen’s heartbeat the tiniest bit faster. ‘She’s drunk, she doesn’t know what this does to you’ is the mantra blaring through Owen’s subconscious. Shaking any and all sort of romantic thoughts out of his head, he begins to lead her back to his bedroom.

Flicking the lights on proves to be a mistake once Y/n starts groaning miserably, and Owen decides the floor lamp is a better option than the overheads. Much to Owen’s surprise and relief, Y/n moves to sit on the edge of his bed on her own volition. She’s not upright for long as she collapses into the sheets of his unmade bed that contemplated neatening before leaving the house; hindsight is 20/20.

“Hmm. I like your smell,” Y/n parrots despite already bringing up the topic on the ride home.

“This is the same cologne I always use.”

“No. I like your natural smell.”

“What?”

“I was reading up about pheromones the other day. And there was this thing that said when couples like each others’ scent, it’s like a primal way of seeing if you’re immuno-compatible with someone so your offspring have the best chance for survival. It’s an evolutionary thing for the survival of our species. Ants have pheromones, too.”

Sometimes she has trouble remembering to feed herself, but leave it to Y/n to remember extensive information about pheromones whilst intoxicated. The concept is intriguing to Owen, so he proceeds to ask questions, ignoring the tug on his heart he felt after hearing her say the word ‘couples’.

“So, if I like your scent, we’re immuno-?”

“Compatible, yeah. But it’s mostly me because you can sniff out my period.”

“I can what?”

“I read that men can tell when a woman is at her most fertile because that’s when they like her smell the best. They did a study where a bunch of men were introduced to a few different scents, and without fail, the one they liked the most or would describe as ‘sexy’ or ‘attractive’ was the scent they took from the woman who was ovulating.”

Y/n continues talking about what she learned about pheromones as Owen picks up a bit of the mess around his room. She returns to the topic of ant pheromones as he digs through his surprisingly large closet for something for his friend to sleep in. His temporarily bubbly best friend also notes that he should ‘sniff her now because she’s ovulating and he would like that’ which makes him laugh into the drawers of his waist-height dresser. Returning to find her still slumped over on the bed, he pats her leg and beckons her to sit up. After Y/n’s upright again, Owen hands her his classic black ‘BEANS’ t-shirt and a pair of briefs that won’t properly fit her but will fit better than a pair of his actual pants.

“Can you put these on for me?”

“Yeah.” Owen’s conflicted with both wanting to respect Y/n’s privacy by leaving the room, and prioritizing her safety, and not leaving her unattended at any moment. He comes to a compromise which is staying by her side but turning a full 180 to face the wall of his bedroom. A couple of moments pass until Y/n begins whining frustratedly.

“Owen.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t ubns-” her words become incomprehensible as she begins to cry again and Owen turns around to find her struggling with the buttons on her shirt, her jacket long discarded on the bedroom floor. This shirt: her white, cap-sleeve crop top with a peter pan collar that she wore for anything mildly significant, this was her favorite. Owen remembers her fussing about how she ruined it only to find that she just forgot to steam it one day. So with a little heat and water, Owen had fixed the shirt like nothing ever happened, and he’d do it a million times over again if it meant he got to relive seeing the smile that graced her face for the first time again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do the buttons.” She runs the back of her right hand against her tired eyes to wipe away her tears and Owen internally curses himself for the way the small action makes his heart flutter.

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen to me, you are okay,” he sinks to kneel in front of Y/n as she sits tiredly on the edge of the bed. Owen doesn’t miss the slight tremble of his hands as he reaches up to unbutton her shirt, but he prays that she will. Through tiny sniffles and teary eyes, she watches his hands effortlessly work down the length of her shirt, each button modestly dancing between his fingertips. Once the short top is fully unbuttoned, Owen returns to his normal standing height and Y/n attempts to shrug the fabric off her body. She struggles lightly and knowing her frustration is imminent, Owen reaches down to gingerly push the sleeves off her shoulders. The light graze of his rough, calloused skin against her own skin sends electric-like shocks through the both of them; yet neither of them believed the other felt it too.

Owen hastily withdraws his hands and, without warning, Y/n quickly removes the bralette she was wearing. Owen’s eyes widen slightly at her lack of inhibition. He does his best to be a gentleman and swiftly redirects his gaze to the white ceiling fan that has all of a sudden become the most intriguing object in the universe. His lower peripheral vision indicates that she’s finally slipped the black tee over her head, but she begins sniffling more fiercely as she struggles with taking off her jeans. Owen sighs and drops to his knees once more in spite of himself, and aids his best friend in slipping the material over the length of her calves and off the tips of her toes. Hoping to speed up the process, he grabs the briefs he had brought her and unfolds them in preparation for helping her into them. His efforts are all for naught as Y/n forgoes the need for any more clothing and slides under the covers of his unmade bed. Owen then turns to leave the bedroom, opting to set up on the couch for the night before Y/n’s small voice is cutting through the comfortable silence.

“Where are you going?” He sighs,

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll get you some water and Advil for when you wake up tomorrow.” Y/n then nods acceptingly and allows her eyes to flutter closed as he leaves the room. Despite how tired she feels, Y/n won’t quite yet let herself sleep--not ‘til Owen is beside her. When he returns he sets the ibuprofen bottle on the nightstand before uncapping the Kirkland brand water bottle he had in the fridge. He coaxes her into sitting up just one more time so she can drink some of the water before falling asleep. She sits and rubs her tired eyes as she drinks and Owen has to physically force himself to look away from the adorable sight. He just wants to take care of her forever but things have always been strictly platonic between them.

The risk of making their friendship weird or awkward was just too great.

“Goodnight kid, I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Owen leaves without awaiting a response and lets out an annoyed sigh before setting himself up on the couch in his living room. He was so focused on getting Y/n to bed safely that he forgot to grab clothes for himself. Not a big deal. He simply strips down to just his underwear and climbs underneath the thick Pottery Barn throw blanket Y/n had gifted him as a housewarming gift. That and a fire extinguisher because ‘you don’t notice its absence until you need it’ she claimed. The memory makes Owen smile and he allows his eyes to close after a long day.

A long day that was about to get longer. Owen finds himself sinking further and further into sleep until he hears the padding of footsteps that are now in his living room. He’s too tired to open his eyes, and it’s not like he doesn’t already know who it is. What does surprise him, however, is the feeling of the familiar weight squeezing between the couch and his turned back.

“What are you doing?” He half mumbles into the night.

“You’re warm.”

“That was not the question, Y/n/n.” After not receiving a reply, Owen turns as best as he can to look at his friend who’s nestling her way into his sleeping arrangement for the night. “Kid-”

“I just wanna be with you.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out of irritation, exhaustion, and a sliver of adoration before sitting up on the couch, “Come on.”

He stands up, fully expecting to have to drag her back to the bedroom, but finds relief in seeing her struggle her way off the couch. Slipping her tired hand into his unexpecting, larger one, Y/n allows her friend to lead her into the bedroom for the second time that night.

Owen considerately lifts the covers for her to climb back into before getting into the other side of the bed.

“Owen.”

“Hm?”

“Guess what.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, kid.”

“No,” Y/n speaks in a casual tone as if she’s not divulging into her biggest emotional trepidation to date. “I love you, Owen.”

Owen can’t help the way his heart seemingly stops. The way the butterflies in his stomach are going wild. The way he wants to smile like he’s the biggest lovestruck idiot on planet Earth.

She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She won’t remember this tomorrow.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

She won’t remember that tomorrow.

***

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[kyberphilosopher]

Mᴏʀɴɪɴɢ Lɪɢʜᴛ

Word Count: 2061

“The Sun card represents radiance. Like the sun itself, it gives strength and vitality to all those that are lucky enough to feel its rays. There is much joy and happiness that is coming to you. On the other hand, the Sun reversed might be indicative that you are being unrealistic. It might be a sign that you have an overly optimistic perception of certain situations. Be warned, for when the sun ceases to shine on you, depression is soon to follow.” - ‘The Sun’ Tarot Card; Full Meaning.

Tap Tap Tap. 

How early was it? Too early. You knew you had training today, but you were certain that wasn’t for another few hours. So what was that insufferable tapping for?

Tap... Tap Tap. 

You shift against your pillow. You can feel your hair stick against your neck, in sync with the tightening fist by your face. Your eyes do open, slowly but surely. You feel groggy, despite the growing alertness inside of you. You’re waking up. What’s more, you’re waking up before you really have to. 

Tap... Tap. 

Your sleepy eyes search around the room. Behind the glass of the window, you can make out a blurry image of yellow and pale skin. Still, you’re exhausted. It could be a silly little trick pulled by your own brain. But on the off chance that it is-

Annie. 

You sit up. Your vision is still smeared like oil, but you stumble out of bed. Your heel skims against the wood of the floor. It probably gave you a splinter, but now that you’ve started thinking about her, you know it’d be difficult to stop. 

You partially hop to the window across from your bed. Your right hand reaches out to unlatch the thing, while the left rubs at your eyes to get the gift of clear sight. As you turn the wood to the right to unlock it, you step back and away. 

The blond handles the rest. Her palms slip under the window and pull it up, and then she pushes herself through. She brushes the clear white curtains to the side and lands on the floor, just as your vision returns to you.  

She’s wearing her favorite white sweatshirt, and standard brown slacks. There’s ODM gear at her hips, complete with all the strappings and buckles. But her face... oh, her face. Despite the time apart, it’s the same one you’d fallen in love with. The big, still blue eyes were gazing at the wood she landed on. Her pale blond hair is pulled back in the usual bun, her bangs hanging loose as always. But her lips look shinier today. Perhaps she tried the new lip tint you’d bought the last time you’d gone shopping. 

“Annie,” you sighed with a soft smile. Any kind of stress you’d been feeling in the past few weeks without her was fading away, at long last. You knew she’d see you again soon, but you hadn’t realized she’d pick today. She must’ve wanted to surprise you. 

Annie’s right hand reaches up to rub the back of her neck. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be up yet.” The girl looks your form up and down. “Or dressed.”

One of your feet rubs against the opposite shin. She’s not wrong. You’re wearing an oversized white shirt and cheap underwear that she can’t even see. Your hair is a mess, your eyes groggy, and your breath making your own throat want to gag. But you’re overwhelmed with happiness to finally see her again. 

“Yes you did,” you challenge firmly, but tiredly. 

Annie’s eyes soften. You’re right. She could picture your tired form in her head long before she’d even set out to surprise you. That and the fact that she’d purposely arrived before the morning chimes. 

“Whatever,” you wave off. You step towards her, your heart reaching out to hers. Her chest is like a magnet to your own. 

Your arms stretch out to embrace her. And you do. Tugging her to you, you feel her warmth. Her chest and neck flushed against yours, feeling your heartbeats fall into sync. Annie smells so good. She always has, but it must be that body wash the Military Police get to use. 

Annie is everything to you. The attraction was immediate, and the build up of trust came naturally over time. Despite the two introverted natures, you spent time together. You ate silent dinners, went through the motions of the days with each other. You taught Annie more about life and perspective more than she cared to admit, and in turn, she had made you feel more confident in your own character. It became fact among the cadets that where either you or Annie was found, the other was never far behind. 

And then, sometime in the midst of it all, the dynamic changed. 

Your faces got closer when you pinned the other down during sparring. You’d share your food from the same spoon when there wasn’t enough. Even begun sharing the same shower. You’d always thought Annie was attractive, but now the attraction was rapidly becoming a solid, almost tangible force. 

The heat radiating between the two of you was undeniable. One night, in the top bunk of your barracks, she crept into your bed and shared a kiss. It was wet and sloppy, but you were close to her. You didn’t care about the lack of experience from either of you. Annie mattered to you. You wanted to be with her, and apparently she felt the same.

Things were never made official by title, but you were even more inseparable than before. You’d witnessed her threaten Reiner for both hitting on you and insulting you on separate occasions. You judo flipped a boy for getting handsy with her. You went to winter markets, stargazed, and spent late nights sparring ending in clumsy make-out sessions. You loved her. You’d do anything for her. You’d already made a nonverbal promise to each other that you’d grow and mature together. What more could you ask for?

“I really missed you,” you admit, taking her in as much as you can. Annie sinks into your touch, closing her eyes in affection. 

“Yeah,” she replies, which is her own way of letting it slip that she missed you too. Both her hands come to rest under your elbows, effectively keeping them in place around her. Pft, as if you were going to remove them for longer than a split second anyway.

“So,” you drawl as you saunter back to your bed. You collapse on it, rubbing the space next to you as a call for Annie. “Tell me what I’ve been missing. The MP’s still treating you alright?”

Annie shifts and averts her eyes in thought. Then she follows your lead, sitting on the edge of the bed as she starts to unbuckle her harnesses. “It’s the same,” she tells you. 

“I know you don’t like them, Ann.  You don’t have to pretend.”

And with anybody else, Annie would’ve been quick to annoyance. But with you, she was glad. Even though she definitely didn’t tell you the truth about everything, she knew she could still be herself around you. She knew you could sense she kept some secrets from you still, but you’d never forced the issue. Everything about your love was focused on understanding. It was more than the girl thought she deserved. 

“What about the Scouts?” Annie decides in return. It’s a tactic at changing the subject, and one that doesn’t slip past you. Still, you don’t push. 

“Just as annoying as we thought. I have to officially get up and at ‘em in a few hours.”

Your lover unties her boots. “Have you been outside the wall yet?”

She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear you say your piece anyway. 

“No,” you sigh. Your hand rests on your forehead, your elbow bent as you stare up at the ceiling. “We have our first expedition this week. We’re taking Jaeger out to try the Commander’s new strategy.”

Annie freezes. Then she continues her movement. “Right. I’d almost forgotten Eren was here.”

You doubted that. “The bastard talked about the Scouts non stop back in cadet training,” you say as Annie twists around to face you. “You sure you didn’t hit your head on the way over here?”

Annie doesn’t answer. But she does gift a hint of a smile. It’s gone in a flash, but it’s more than others get. 

Her ice blue eyes pierce into yours. It’s not threatening, however. It’s loving. Appreciating. She’s trying to memorize all the details inside of them like she’s about to do so for the last time. 

Then Annie lowers head head slowly, until it rests by the crook of your neck. 

“You got up early to see me today,” you say softly. 

Your love shifts off of you, and props her up on her elbow at her side. You mirror her movements to observe her as well. 

“I skinned my knee climbing from my barracks. My gear was giving me trouble.”

Some people may have expressed concern, but you knew your other half was strong. She didn’t need your pity. “Well maybe you shouldn’t have done that,” you shrug with snark back. 

“Heh, thanks,” she responds, looking down to stare at your white cotton sheets. 

There is quiet. The sunlight illuminates her hair. Her long eyelashes flutter up and down slowly. Annie is beautiful. No. Annie surpasses the boundaries of being beautiful. 

“Y/N,” she whispers. “Would you love me, if I were evil?”

What?

“What did you say?”

Silence. Annie doesn’t look at you. She seems solemn, troubled. Haunted, even. No, not quite haunted. Maybe just hollow. 

“Nothing,” Annie says decidedly. “I’m just muttering.”

You frown anyway. You know that Annie is weighed down by things that you can’t explain, or understand. It’s different from other soldiers, or just other people. But you didn’t think there was anything she could do to be evil. You had already shown and told her that you were in love with her. You wouldn’t go back on that if you even could. 

Annie was your world. Your lion. Your entire purpose for even making it this far. 

One of your hands reaches out to brush her fringe behind her ear. “I’d always be on your side,” you tell her softly. “There’s nothing you could do to change that.”

You’d be surprised, thought Annie. 

“I didn’t mean to be depressing,” she mutters further. “I was looking forward to seeing you again.”

Annie is sad today. 

Both of your arms wrap around her slim figure. You pull her close to you, so her head is between your chest and your neck. Both your bodies cradle against each other as you stroke the soft strands of yellow hair. The sun is seeping through the windows for only a passing moment, before it is covered by a blanket of grey clouds. 

“Let’s go back to sleep,” you whisper to her, your eyes transfixed on the drops of rain hitting the roof one by one. 

“I am sorry,” you hear her speak against your shirt. 

You pull away, your palms against her cheeks so you can look at her stunning face. “Don’t ever apologize to me, Annie.” What more can you say to reassure her? “I’m with you.”

Annie is heartbroken inside. Maybe it was better that she didn’t say anything. Or maybe it was better in another timeline, where you knew. But Annie kept her mouth shut and tried to just relax her nerves. There was no reason to wake up feeling as guilty as she had. She was with you now. You would protect her against the nightmares with her father, or Reiner. Nothing to be afraid of. 

“After this,” Annie says as you coax her head back against your body. “I’ll buy you one of those breakfast sweets you like so much. From the village.”

The rain taps against your window. The sun has all but disappeared by now. Surely the open window mixed with sheets of light rain will result in a damp floor, but there’s no way in hell either of you are going to get up and close it now. Instead you watch the water fall, thinking about how the shade of the sun matches that of your lovers mane. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I wrote this really fast. I just really love Annie and wanted to give her some appreciation. A weak plot, but oh well. 

[elminx]

Energy Update: September 2021

Happy September!

Numerologically, September is a 5 universal month [9 (September) + 5 (2021) = 14 = 1+4 = 5] in a 5 universal year. In numerology, the number 5 represents the pivotal moment in the middle of it all. It holds the vastness of all futures – both good and ill. 5 represents freedom and adventure. A 5 month is, in general, a time to tap in and go with the flow – it’s not a time to make your lists and check them twice; instead, it’s a time to think big and say “yes”. We’ve been sitting in 5 energy all year so this may feel like a bit of a homecoming for some or very nerve-wracking for others. This will have a lot to do with your own personality and comfortability with 5 energy.

Astrologically, the month of September is a mismatch for our 5 universal energy. We spend most of the month in Virgo season and may have to spend quite a bit of time putting in the work to catch up on things that we fell behind on during summer vacation. Whether it’s back to school or back to work, Virgo season always has a feeling of settling into your routines again or perhaps finding a new and more healthful routine.

The Setup

The Sun is in Virgo for most of the month, Mercury spends the entirety of the month in Libra, Venus finishes her stint in Libra and moves ahead into Scorpio, and Mars enters Libra at the midway point in the month. As our planets transit through Virgo, they are squaring off with the lunar nodes, trining retrograde Uranus in Taurus and Pluto in Capricorn, and opposing retrograde Neptune in Pisces. As they transit Libra, they are reactivating our Saturn-Uranus square through a trine to Saturn, trine to retrograde Jupiter, and opposing retrograde Chiron in Aries. Venus whose the head of our pack will be squaring off with Saturn and opposing Uranus once she enters Scorpio.

We are still under the effect of our Saturn in Aquarius square to Uranus in Taurus – this is our Unstoppable Force meets immovable object energy that is in effect throughout the rest of the year.

Additionally, we are deep into retrograde season with all of our outer and transpersonal planets in retrograde. Mercury will join these planets later this month for its third retrograde of the year in the sign of Libra.

For a sneak peek of October: Mercury, Jupiter, Saturn, and Pluto all station direct from 10/6-10/18 – this is the Green Light you’ve been waiting for. Now we just need to get there.

The Nitty Gritty

September is filled with contradictory vibes and may feel like a roller coaster. One day you may feel invincible and full of the highest highs but it is worth keeping in mind all month that what goes up must come down. We are all subject to gravity – plan accordingly. In particular, the first and third weeks of the month look fairly rocky while the third and fourth weeks have promise and moments of sweetness. This is a month to tidy up – to work smarter rather than harder. To pair down your responsibilities and make sure you are maintaining healthy boundaries around work, play, and excess.

The 5 energy may give the impression that it’s go time but it’s really not. Not yet. We will have six planets and Chiron retrograde by the end of the month which is always an indication that our energy is best expressed in an inward fashion.

Two of our personal planets (Venus and Mars) change signs this month which will personalize the energy with some emphasis on the relationships in our lives. While Mars is in Libra, we may be called to balance out the relationship energy we share with our others in some way – early on Mars will make an opposition to our wounded healer Chiron in Aries – there is pain to go through to get to the other side. Venus in Scorpio can be harsh and unyielding but also deep and seductive. These two energies do not sit well together, Venus may try to control (especially with emotions – using toxic tactics like the silent treatment or double binds) while Mars just wants everybody to find peace and get along. The more space you can give your others, the better off you will be.

Relationships may be especially tense around the new moon in Virgo on 9/5-9/6 as Venus in Libra squares of with retrograde Pluto in Capricorn while Mars in Virgo makes a trine. This year is all about transformations – first, we need to transform internally, but then this transformation needs to ripple outward and into our realities. There may be some break-ups and breakdowns during this time – it is likely that some long-term partners (Capricorn rules marriage, let’s not forget) are starting to realize that their connection has run its course.

In a year when it feels like we need to hold onto everything (influenced by our long-term Saturn-Uranus square in the fixed signs), this may feel catastrophic. Uranus in Taurus has a big lesson for us now: nothing lasts forever and retrograde Pluto in Capricorn is reinforcing this lesson. Now is the time to release what you have outgrown. It will likely feel very uncomfortable this month to continue to wear your mostly shed skin. As you navigate this energy, make the choices that are best suited for who you would most like to be, and you alone.

Herein lies the secret to navigating this month and really the energy of all of 2021: give up the illusion that you can control or “help” other people, and instead work controlling and “helping” yourself. As Anne Lamott says “Help is just the sunny side of control.” We are being pushed by our Saturn-Uranus square towards an ever-deepening understanding of this lesson and, since Virgo is a sign concerned with service and helping others, this will be especially accentuated as our sun transits the sign of the virgin. The lesson may come due on 9/14 as our Sun in Virgo opposed retrograde Neptune in Pisces – this is a day to give up the illusion (Neptune in Pisces) that we can control (Sun in Virgo) our Others.

Especially right now, our Others may be on an internal journey that is impossible for us to reach or understand. We’ve all had to make hard decisions and recalculations since the beginning of 2020 – beware of following your Others to a place that feels uncomfortable to be AND most especially of demanding your Others follow you to a place that feels uncomfortable for them. Be especially aware of projection and the illusionary stories that you tell yourself – especially as we approach our full moon in Pisces on 9/20 that is conjunct Neptune retrograde. As we enter our month to finally get shit done in October, we want to do so with our eyes wide open. See things as they really are, not as you would like them to be.

The entirety of September and October will be overshadowed by our Mercury retrograde in Libra cycle. Mercury enters its shadow on 9/6, officially retrogrades 9/27, stations direct again on 10/28, and doesn’t exit its post-shadow until November. The standard Mercury retrograde things apply: get your car fixed before the retrograde (change your oil, too!), double-check your work, save often, and watch out for miscommunication and upsets involving technology and travel. Because Mercury Chthonia is transversing backward through the Venus-ruled sign of Libra, this is another indication that this time will be spent re-thinking, re-imagining, re-editing things that have to do within our most personal relationships.

Mercury Chthonia’s path spans from 10° to 25° of Libra which means that it will trine retrograde Jupiter, just barely miss an exact trine with retrograde Saturn, square retrograde Pluto, and opposed retrograde Chiron not once but thrice through its retrograde journey. This will likely be the densest retrograde cycle of the year but potentially the most rewarding. If the message seems murky and unclear, write out your experiences for review after Mercury stations direct – you may find that there were hints of your lesson that you were too “in it” to see.

The lower energy of Libra is prone to emotional entanglements and codependency so it’s likely we will be revisiting these themes in our own lives during this time. Watch out for where you are not allowing your Others to differentiate or be themselves. Watch out for where you are stifling yourself to please your Others as well. Chiron in Aries is always a lesson in putting on your own mask first BEFORE you step up help an/Other put their mask on. Again, see above about maintaining strong boundaries this month – do less but make what you do count for more.

Balance truly is the way through this month but it may be hard to find. Practice your very best self-care and make sure that when you say “yes” to things, you really mean it. This is a month that could easier run away from you if you’re checking out on yourself or trying to do all of the things with no hand on the brake petal. Breath and put one foot in front of the other – slow and steady will get you to the finish line. Once our planets station direct in October, we will be able to move faster.

Below, I’ve broken down the important daily aspects of the month. Please keep in mind that the days listed are just the days that these aspects go exact in EST – strong aspects can be felt anywhere from 2-7 days (or more!) in advance of their completion and for a number of days afterward. I have bolded the most important aspects.

The Aspects

9/2 – Mars in Virgo opposed Neptune retrograde in Pisces, Moon in Cancer square Venus in Libra – this could spell relationship troubles. Mars is off in daydream land while Venus is feeling triggered. Lie low and try not to put undue pressure on your Others during these transits.

9/3 – Mercury in Libra trine N. Node in Gemini – watch out for Ah-Ha moments and signs that show you a way forward on this day.

9/4 – Moon in Leo squares retrograde Uranus in Taurus – here we see one of our four monthly days where the moon reactivates our Saturn-Uranus square. Lie low. Stay aware. Caution.

9/5 – Mercury in Libra trine retrograde Saturn in Aquarius – the energy is volatile – expect breakdowns and breakthroughs especially involving communication about long term things

9/6 – New moon at 14° Virgo, Mercury enters their shadow, Venus in Libra trine Jupiter retrograde in Aquarius, Venus in Libra square Pluto retrograde in Capricorn, Mars in Virgo trine Pluto retrograde in Capricorn – Pluto’s influence on this new moon (through both Venus and Mars) is unmistakeable – something has got to transform. With both and Venus and Mars involved, it may be a change within your relationships. Remember to reach for balance (Venus in Libra) and compromise if it is available.

9/7 – Sun in Virgo trine retrograde Uranus in Taurus – expect (and embrace) the unexpected during this time. What you hold onto too tightly may break. Stay away from the illusion of control during this time.

9/8 – Moon conjunct Mercury in Libra, Moon in Libra trine retrograde Saturn in Aquarius, Moon and Mercury opposed retrograde Chiron in Aries – this is an air grand trine which means that we are supporting in learning something during this transit. This re-activates our Saturn-Uranus square and Chiron – the lesson is likely to be heavy. Avoid using your emotions as a copout to understanding.

9/10 – Venus enters Scorpio, Moon in Scorpio square retrograde Saturn in Aquarius – this is our first hint as to what it is going to feel like to revisit our Saturn-Uranus square during Scorpio season. Take note.

9/13 – Moon in Sagittarius square retrograde Neptune in Pisces – something may be revealed today and it may feel like a major setback. Pivot your attention and focus on things that you CAN change.

9/14 – Sun in Virgo opposed retrograde Neptune in Pisces, Mars enters Libra – a repeat on 9/13 – you may not have all of the information. All that glitters is not gold. Watch out for “helper” behavior that isn’t helpful and victim/savior complexes.

9/16 – Moon conjunct retrograde Saturn in Aquarius – this is another of our four lunar activation points to our Saturn-Uranus square. Make sure the weight of the responsibility you are carrying is actually yours.

9/17 – Sun in Virgo trine retrograde Pluto in Capricorn, Venus in Scorpio square Saturn retrograde in Aquarius – in a month that begs for transformation, this is one of our powerhouse days – level up. Change may be uncomfortable but it will be even more uncomfortable to stay in your too-tight skin. Watch out for the control through emotional manipulation because this again activates our Saturn-Uranus square and Uranus is not having any of that shit.

9/20 – Full moon at 28° Pisces, Moon conjunct retrograde Neptune, Mercury in Libra trine Jupiter retrograde in Aquarius, Mars in Libra trine N. Node in Gemini – where are you going? do you have a path forward? Things may seem foggy and immutable at this time. Watch out for your boundaries and projection. The Mercury-Jupiter trine repeats during Mercury retrograde on 10/3.

9/22 – The Sun enters Libra, Mercury in Libra square retrograde Pluto in Capricorn, Venus in Scorpio opposed retrograde Uranus in Taurus – Happy Autumnal Equinox! The seasons are shifting but there’s a metric fuckton of tension in the air. Tamper down the emotional volatility – not everything needs to be a struggle. Tap into the Libra ideal of peace and balance for all. The Mercury-Pluto square repeats during Mercury retrograde on 10/01.

9/24 – Moon conjunct retrograde Uranus in Taurus, Moon in Taurus opposed Venus in

Scorpio – there’s a lesson here in letting go of control. This reactivates our Saturn-Uranus square…again. Step away from the Venus in Scorpio impulse for revenge.

9/25 – Mars in Libra trine retrograde Saturn in Aquarius – this is a good day to put in the work.

9/26 – Moon in Gemini trine Sun and Mars in Libra and retrograde Saturn in Aquarius. – another air grand trine. Show up for your own life – what you focus on grows.

9/27 – Mercury retrograde at 25° Libra – go slow. check your work. save often. Mercury retrograde 3-4x every year since this is normal Astrological Weather but still important to pay attention to. In the sign of Libra, Mercury will likely help you to rebalance something about your relationships.

9/29 – Sun in Libra trine Saturn retrograde in Aquarius, Venus in Scorpio trine retrograde Neptune in Pisces – you may want to work but it’s likely that your head will be in the clouds. Watch out for emotional dysregulation. The Sun activates our Saturn-Uranus square so caution would be advised.

9/30 – Moon in Cancer square Mercury retrograde in Libra, Moon in Cancer opposed retrograde Pluto in Capricorn, Venus in Scorpio square retrograde Jupiter in Aquarius – go slow, emotions are high. Misunderstandings will have a lasting impact during this time.

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[cali-holland]

Risk It All- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Osterfield!Reader

Prompt: (Royalty!AU) As the princess, you have to hide your relationship with Tom, the stable hand. When your mother sets up a jousting tournament with the prize of your hand, Tom must risk it all to win your heart.

Word Count: 4100

A/N: This is for @geminiparkers ‘s writing challenge under the AU brother’s best friend and the scenario forbidden love and special thanks to @duskholland for proofreading this and correcting me when i literally made up a word

~ Also a melee is a tournament where two groups of knights reenact a battle, and i’m pretty sure we all can picture a joust… but i’m not historically accurate with any of this so oh well

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Moodboard is mine, pics used are not *

~~~~~~

The castle was quiet that afternoon. Harrison was off attending to some royal duties with your mother, and you found yourself making your way down the familiar path to the stables on the far side of the castle. You smiled to yourself as you crossed the cobblestoned road. You pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside, your gown catching the stray pieces of hay that lay on the floor. Your smile grew wider as you saw a familiar figure, reorganizing the hay bales to make room for tomorrow’s import.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Tom said, not even sparing a glance in your direction as you came over to him.

“Are you really going to tell a princess what to do, stable boy?” You asked teasingly, a smile playing on your lips. “No one followed me. We’re safe.”

With a laugh, Tom turned around to face you, dusting the hay from his hands on his raggedy pants. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You leaned into his touch, your hands roaming underneath his old shirt, ghosting over his abs that rivaled those of any knight in the kingdom. He pulled away, regretfully admitting, “We shouldn’t- the other stable hands will be here soon.”

“Right.” You let out a small sigh, but neither of you made any effort to move out of each other’s arms. “I wish that we could be together, really together.”

“I wish that, too, but you know the law.”

It was a risky business, all of this sneaking around to be together. You were the princess, you weren’t allowed to marry anyone less than a knight, and Tom was a stable boy, whose family served yours for generations. Despite his status, you would trade your silk gowns and other luxuries for him in a heartbeat, but he wouldn’t let you. Tom feared you’d be unhappy if you left your family, your status, your life for him. The rendezvouses were your only chance at being happy with Tom, even for a few moments. If anyone found out and turned Tom in, he could face dire consequences, and it would be out of your power to protect him.

“I have a gift for you.” Tom said, his hand left your side to pull the gift from his pocket. You looked in awe of the delicate necklace. With one diamond hanging from the silver chain, it was simple, but beautiful. It was much smaller than any of your necklaces, ones that had been made from the best jewels in the world, but it was by far the best necklace you’d ever received. You felt a pit grow in your stomach as you realized that this necklace must’ve cost a fortune by Tom’s standards. “I know it’s not much, but I had the village jeweler make it special, just for you.”

“Tom, it’s beautiful.” You smiled at him, “How much did this cost you?”

“Don’t worry about it, princess. It’s a gift, I don’t expect or need repayment.” He insisted, holding up the necklace, “May I?”

You nodded, slowly turning around so that he could put it on you. The chain was long enough that you could conceal the diamond underneath your dress because, while you admired it, it would draw attention to the two of you. You turned back around in Tom’s arms and leaned in to kiss him again.

Hearing the handle to the stable door creak, you and Tom stepped away from each other’s embrace. He returned to his work, moving the bales of hay around, while you turned to your horse, acting as if you were simply in the stable to care for her. When Harrison stepped through the door, you knew you were being beckoned away from Tom.

“Mother would like to see us.” Harrison told you, and you nodded, stepping away from your horse. He turned to Tom, who had paused his actions, “I’ll be going on a hunt tomorrow with the knights. You should come.”

“I’ll have the horses ready.” He replied. Although Tom was not a knight, Harrison always treated him better than a regular stable boy. In fact, you’d dare to say that Tom was Harrison’s best friend with how the two often spent time together, whether it be on a hunt or training. Tom was a knight, all but in name.

You followed Harrison out of the stables, not bidding Tom more than a simple goodbye. As Harrison fell into step beside you on the way to the throne room, you spoke up, “Did mother say why she needed us?”

“No, but it sounded important.” Harrison replied, his shoulders shrugging a little. “What were you doing in the stables?” It wasn’t an accusatory question, but it certainly felt like one. “I was tending to my horse.”

“That’s what the stable hands are for.” He stated. A small smirk grew on his face. In a hushed tone, he teased, “Was there a certain stable hand you wanted to tend to?”

You bit back an unladylike scoff, “There most certainly was not.” You insisted, acting as if you weren’t currently wearing a pendant from said stable hand.

“I have a hard time believing that.” Harrison dropped his voice even quieter as you two came to a halt outside of the throne room.

You didn’t have time to question him before the grand doors opened, and you two were greeted with the guards lining the throne room and your mother sitting rather anxiously on her throne. Hesitantly, you and Harrison stepped forward until you were directly before her.

“Mother, you called for us.” You said graciously.

“Us? No, I asked Harrison to find you, so that I may speak with you alone.” She corrected you, and you looked over at your brother skeptically.

“I thought perhaps Y/N would feel more comfortable with my presence.” Harrison explained. When your mother just nodded, you spoke up again.

“Have I done something wrong?” You asked, your eyes trailing back to your mother in confusion.

“No, my dear. It has come to my attention, though, that you have caught the eye of suitors within and outside of our kingdom.”

“Suitors?” You didn’t want to believe that you heard her right. Surely, she couldn’t mean-

“Prospective husbands. Princes and dukes alike have taken notice that you are of age and without a suitor.” Your mother stood from her throne and stepped towards you, taking your hands in hers. “I have made the decision that there will be a tournament for your hand.”

“Do I not get a say in any of this?” You tried your best to keep your voice steady, but your racing mind, clammy hands, and aching heart made that difficult. All you could think about was Tom and the beautiful necklace secretly dangling around your neck.

“No, our family has done tournaments with the price of the princess’s hand for centuries. Your father had to win a tournament to earn my hand, remember? It will start in two days' time.” You wanted to say something, wanted to tell her that your heart already belonged to the best suitor, but your tongue was caught in your mouth. You wordlessly nodded, though it broke your heart to do so. Your mother smiled and let go of your hands to return to her seat, “It is settled then. The princes and dukes shall arrive tomorrow. We need more servants in the castle to tend to our guests.”

“Will they not bring their own?” Harrison asked, and she shook her head.

“We cannot expect our guests to bring their servants with them. After tomorrow’s hunt, I want all the stable hands to serve our guests.” She insisted. You spared a glance at Harrison, and you could’ve sworn you saw his nose twitch in disapproval. “That’ll be all.”

You and Harrison silently made your way out of the throne room. As Harrison tried to rush off to his bedroom, you grabbed him by the arm, effectively stalling his plans.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “You knew there was going to be a tournament for my hand, and you didn’t say anything. How long has mother been planning this?”

Harrison let out a sigh, “She’s been corresponding with the other princes and dukes for a month, but I promise I only found out today. I wanted to stay because I knew you’d be crushed by the news.”

“Crushed? Harrison, my life is being sold off to the champion of a vicious sport. I’d say I’m well passed crushed.” There was no hiding the bitterness in your voice. You let go of him and turned to leave to your own chambers.

Quietly, Harrison called out to you, “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Harrison didn’t even have to say the name because you both clearly knew it was Tom he spoke of. You looked back at your brother and with a sad nod, you answered, “Yes. He is not a prince or a duke, and I love him anyway.”

The corridor was quiet for a moment before Harrison spoke up again, “Your secret’s safe with me, but be careful. You both mean a lot to me.”

That night, you hardly slept. You couldn’t stop thinking about Tom and the fact that, in mere hours, you’d be meeting the men championing for your hand. When the sun rose, you stood from your bed and watched from your window as the night was replaced by morning. From your tower, you could see Harrison and his group of knights walking across the courtyard to the stables with the castle’s best hounds, where Tom was waiting for them. As the men all settled onto their horses, Tom looked up, his eyes catching sight of you from your window. Though he was far away, you could tell there was a smile on his face.

He didn’t know yet. You didn’t have time to sneak off to see him yesterday, and you weren’t sure how to deliver the news. You stayed at your window, watching as they all rode off through the castle gate and into the nearby woods, the hounds close at the horses’ sides. A knock on your door from your own servants told you it was time to get ready for the day.

“Bit slow this morning?” Tom asked Harrison as he rode beside him on the familiar trail. The knights were ahead of them, keeping up with the hounds as they searched for today’s kill.

“Not particularly looking forward to tonight.” Harrison muttered, an unimpressed look on his face.

“My mother said there were guests coming. Who are they?” It was a simple question, but it stirred a regretful feeling in Harrison. Tom’s mother was the queen’s closest servant— she knew exactly who was coming. Why she didn’t tell Tom, Harrison didn’t know, but he had a guess.

“Suitors.” He replied. “There will be a tournament, beginning tomorrow for Y/N’s hand.”

Tom immediately stopped his horse, coming to a standstill in the forest as the rest of the nights rode on. Harrison halted as well and turned his horse so he could face his friend. “Oh, I didn’t realize-“

“Tom, I know about you and Y/N.” When he registered the fear in his friend’s eyes, Harrison quickly spoke up, “I won’t tell. You’ve always been a good friend to me, and you don’t treat me differently as the crown prince. I have no reason to wish you or my sister that kind of misfortune.”

“Thank you.” Tom said, taken aback by the prince’s words. They continued their walk as Harrison continued his explanation of the dire events to come.

“My mother’s put together an entire tournament, and the suitors will come tonight. She also expects the stablehands to act as servants to the guests.”

“You mean I’d have to serve one of the suitors?”

“I’m afraid so.” Harrison let out a sigh, and Tom grimaced at the thought. Not only was he going to have to sit back while you married some noble prince or duke, but now he’d have to humiliatingly serve your future husband. Harrison paused in thought, “When we get back to the castle, remind me to look over the tournament scrolls.”

“What use are the tournament scrolls to you?” Tom asked.

With a small chuckle, Harrison responded, “I think I know a way you and Y/N can be together.”

Tom opened his mouth to question him, but the hounds barking ahead pulled them back to the reality of the hunt. The two hurried to catch up to the other knights, ready to partake in the hunting party.

That afternoon, when Harrison, Tom, and the rest of the hunting party returned, the word had spread around the castle of the coming guests. While Tom and the other stable hands took care of the horses, Harrison made his way to the castle library. He searched through the library until he came across the specific tournament scroll he had been searching for. With a smirk on his face, he took the scroll and hurried to find Tom before the welcoming ceremony.

Meanwhile, you adjusted the tiara on your head as you looked yourself over in the mirror again. As much as you dreaded this moment, you just wanted this ordeal to be over with; you’d never be truly happy if you weren’t with Tom. When your servants left you alone in your room, you slipped the small diamond necklace on, letting it fall underneath the material of your dress.

“Y/N? It’s time, my dear.” Your mother called to you from the other side of the door. You stepped out of your room, smiling at your mother through your discomfort.

“I’m ready.” You told her. You walked with your mother down the halls and stairs to the throne room. Your names were announced, and everyone parted ways for the two of you to walk down the aisle. Your mother took her seat at her throne, right in the middle, while you sat in your own throne beside her. Harrison was already seated at this throne on the other side of your mother, his own crown shining brightly under the candlelight. Beside your throne was a small desk, and the royal advisor was seated there with a quill and scroll, prepared to take down the names of the princes and dukes.

By just your third “it’s a pleasure to meet you”, you were bored with the welcoming event. None of the princes or dukes or even knights caught your eye as potential husband material. Still, you remained polite in your kind smiles and words of faux genuinity.

“Prince Arthur, your highness.” A young, blond prince said, bowing respectfully to you. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You had heard many stories about him; he was the best jouster in his kingdom. He was by far the most attractive of the suitors. Your eyes didn’t remain on the prince for long as he moved on, and you immediately recognized the next suitor.

“Tom, your highness.” A nervous, yet determined smile played on Tom’s lips while he looked at you. Before you could speak, there was a call from the crowd.

“He’s a stable boy, not a knight!” The bystander exclaimed. Tom’s eyes shifted anxiously over to Harrison, who calmly stood up.

“If he is a stable boy, he cannot-” Your mother started, but Harrison shook his head.

“By law, a tournament is open to any man of age, not exclusively knights or princes or dukes. Tom may proceed in the challenge.” He announced, definitively. 

As your mother went to speak again, you cut her off, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You bit back a smile as Tom proudly walked off.

The names went on, and, with each additional suitor, you wondered if Tom could succeed in this tournament. Tournaments were a demonstration of military and combat skills, both of which he had limited experience of in comparison to the others. It was a deadly tournament; you just hoped he knew what he’d gotten himself into.

While Tom was allowed to enter, he still had to act as a servant to the castle guests, which meant that, later that evening, while all of the other suitors were asleep, Tom had to work. He was used to cleaning equestrian tack as a stable hand, but he wasn’t used to cleaning them in the dead of night. He was already tired from the preparation for and cleanup after the hunt, and now he was stressed over this upcoming tournament. At this rate, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to clean his own armor and tack in time.

Meanwhile, you could hardly sleep again. From your window, you could see the candle light illuminating the stables, and you knew Tom was down there. Grabbing a couple blankets, you slipped out of your bedroom quietly. You snuck down to the stables, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Perched on a hay bale as he worked on polishing a helmet, Tom jumped from the sudden noise.

“You scared me.” He said, quietly, bags already forming under his eyes.

“I thought you might need some company.” You replied, sitting beside him on the hay. As you draped a blanket over his shoulders, he smiled gratuitously.

“You should be sleeping.” Tom insisted. He began to polish the helmet some more, making sure it was spotless.

“So should you.” You cuddled into his side, seeking his warmth from the cold night air in the stables. “It’s going to be dangerous, you know that?”

“Yes, but Harrison and I have been training together, so I can work a sword.” He replied. “Plus, how hard can a melee be?”

“Tom, it’s a joust, not a melee. I don’t think I’d let you fight if it was a melee.” You laughed a little, and he paused his polishing.

“You don’t think I can win a melee?” Tom asked, looking down at you on his shoulder. You sat up to face him properly.

“I don’t know. These suitors all have military backgrounds. And I’d rather run away with you and abandon my title than have you die trying to win my hand.” You answered, quietly. “A joust isn’t nearly as dangerous, but please, be safe.”

“I will.” Tom gave you a quick kiss, “And I will win tomorrow.”

“My knight in shining armor.” You smiled as your hand ran through his hair, appreciating the messy curls.

“I’m no knight, and I don’t know about shining, but it’s armor.” He nodded over to the rusted armor in the corner. “I’m borrowing it from the widowed milkmaid.”

“Tom,” You laughed a little, knowing exactly how that milkmaid was widowed, as if the crack in the breastplate wasn’t a give away enough. “You can’t wear that.”

“What do I wear then? It’s a bit late for me to ask the blacksmith to custom make armor.” He joked with a small yawn, and you shook your head at him, cupping his cheek.

“I’ll handle it.” You assured him as you pulled him in for another kiss. Tom dropped the helmet and the polishing rag, the metal clanging on the cobblestone of the stable floor, and his hands found your waist. Though the next few days would determine your future, tonight was all about Tom.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of the stable door opening. It took you a moment to figure out why you were in the stables before you realized that you had fallen asleep there in Tom’s arms. Tom woke up startled, just the same. You both thought that this could be it, the end of it all, until you realized who was there.

“Y/N, get up before your servants come looking for you.” Harrison urged. You and Tom hurried to stand up and gather blankets. “I thought I told you both to be careful.”

“It was an accident.” You stated, but he just sighed.

“Come on, I need to sneak you into the castle. We can’t have the suitors seeing you like this.” He gestured to your nightgown, which covered you modestly, but he was right; it was rather unladylike to be out in a nightgown. As you and Harrison went to leave the stables, Tom started to finish his job from last night, cleaning Prince Arthur’s armor. “Oh, and Tom, ride my horse for jousting today. He’s never lost a joust.”

Tom looked at his friend incredulously before looking over at the stallion in the stall. “Thank you.”

“That reminds me,” You spoke up, “Harrison, where’s your old armor?”

In just a few hours, it was time for the joust. You sat in the front row of the arena with your mother seated beside you. The suitors began to emerge from their private tents along the sidelines as the announcer called out each name. Harrison came out of Tom’s tent, bearing your own house sigil, and made his way to his seat beside you. Your brother gave you a playful nudge as Tom’s name was called and he stepped out of the tent. It was odd to see him wearing the same armor Harrison had retired just last year, but you felt a sense of pride overcome you. The armor wasn’t bad, but the royal men got new armor every year; besides, Harrison hadn’t been to war, so it wasn’t used much.

The tournament’s first round began, and each suitor got ready for their respective joust. It was a simple jousting tournament; each suitor would take on one other suitor, and the winner would progress to the next round. The rounds would progress until there was one distinct winner left.

You did your best to conceal your nerves for Tom, though one of your hands played with the small chain around your neck. As Tom mounted his horse (technically Harrison’s horse), he got ready for his joust- the first one of the day. He picked up his wooden lance and adjusted the helmet to cover his face. You watched with bated breath while he and his opponent took off, riding towards each other at full speed. A breath of relief coursed through you as Tom’s opponent was struck, falling to the ground.

He had won, but it was the first of many jousts that he had to win. Removing his helmet, Tom sent you a cheeky wink, one that did not go unspotted by your mother beside you. He dismounted and led the horse away, leaving the arena for the next joust.

“So far, so good.” Harrison mumbled to you. He wanted Tom to pull this off, just as much as you did.

“Let’s hope your horse’s winning streak keeps up.” You whispered back to your brother.

The jousting tournament continued on, and every time it was Tom’s turn, the same hopeful nerves came back. Finally, it was down to the last two suitors- Tom and Prince Arthur. As the two got on their horses and into position at either end of the arena, Harrison’s hand slipped into yours, reassuringly squeezing it.

“Come on, Tom.” You muttered under your breath, eyes fixated on him. You held your breath anxiously as the horses went barreling towards each other. Your heart jumped when Tom’s lance made contact with the prince’s armor, and he went crashing to the ground. Tom took off his helmet, and his eyes immediately found you, smiling victoriously.

“He’s a stable boy.” Your mother breathed out incredulously.

“Mother, if he must be a knight to marry Y/N-” Harrison started, ready to wholeheartedly defend Tom, but she cut him off.

“Please, Harrison.” She shushed him, “Prepare the other knights. We’ll have a knighting ceremony this evening. Now,” She paused, smiling at you, “I do believe Y/N has a victor to go meet.”

You looked at your mother in surprise, a smile of disbelief on your face. Wordlessly, you stood up as Tom made his way over to the three of you. He bowed before you, making you let out a laugh. “You won. You did it. And mother will make you a knight, too.”

“A knight? We can really be together then?” He asked you, and you nodded. Without hesitating, Tom wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss, happy that now he could kiss you publicly. “I love you, my princess.”

“And I love you, my future prince.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-hollands @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorrillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys @duskholland @biebsmylife95 @dummiesshort @perspectiveparker @miraclesoflove​

Tom Tag List: @quaksonhehe @tomkindholland

[restmyheadatnightcontent]

i forget how cold it can get

hello I am back from my little writers block/life break with my next work for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​!

Prompt: Cutagen/Mutagen Side Effects

Relationships: Jaskier/Coen

Rating: G

CW: none

Summary: He has no-one but himself to blame, for allowing himself to get into this state. Usually, he has potions ready and spares just in case, he  keeps ingredients stocked up, he is organised because, as the distant voice of his trainers rings in his ears, a disorganised Witcher is a dead Witcher. But over the last few weeks, his attention has been slipping. When he should have been searching for ingredients he had instead been distracted by a pair of bright blue eyes, when he had meant to be making potions, he had spent the evening listening to the gentle melodies coming from the lute on the other side of the camp, nights that should have been spent mending armour instead spent staring at the stars with a head of brown hair resting on his chest. 

i forget how cold it can get

For once, it had been a relatively easy contract.

He had been paid fairly, everyone in town has treated him well, and they even been able to secure one of the better rooms in the inn. He still isn’t sure if it was due to the Griffin medallion around his neck that perhaps carries less scorn that some others schools, or the fact that this town has too much of a monster problem to be anything other than courteous to Witchers, or Jaskier’s songs, but either way, so far, he has been treated with nothing but kindness.

He only wishes that kindess could be a little quieter.

It is rich, to spend so long wishing for respect and thoughtfulness, and then when finally met with it, be unable to appreciate it properly. Any other time and he would welcome the cheers and applause that greets him when he enters the inn, but now, with the mixture of potions still running through his veins, it is all just too much.

The congratulations themselves are almost deafening, but it is the face that he can hear everything beyond them; every whispered conversation, every scratch, every step, the crack of joints as the old man in the corner stands to get another drink, the child crying in the house a few streets over, the muffled gasps of the couple behind the stable. And he can see it all in such high detail, all the freckles on the barmaids face, the crumbs lining the tables, the light from the dimming fire was almost blinding.

He stands with gritted teeth and accepts the thanks, barely containing his shudder as a large hands clap him on the back, praying that they cannot feel the tremors running through him. Thankfully, it is late enough that there are not too many patrons left and he can just about make his way through the room and up the stairs without too much trouble. If he had been earlier and the room full, he isn’t sure what would have happened.

He arrives at the top of the stairs, his mind barely able to remember the steps he took, only able to focus on ensuring that he does not fall apart where anyone can see, and soon his feet have carried him to the door of their room, and he takes a moment to rest his head against the wood and just breathe.

He has no-one but himself to blame, for allowing himself to get into this state. Usually, he has potions ready and spares just in case, he  keeps ingredients stocked up, he is organised because, as the distant voice of his trainers rings in his ears, a disorganised Witcher is a dead Witcher.

But over the last few weeks, his attention has been slipping. When he should have been searching for ingredients he had instead been distracted by a pair of bright blue eyes, when he had meant to be making potions, he had spent the evening listening to the gentle melodies coming from the lute on the other side of the camp, nights that should have been spent mending armour instead spent staring at the stars with a head of brown hair resting on his chest.

It had been a time well spent, but now he was cursing himself for letting his standards slip.

He would sort it tomorrow, when head was not pounding and his skin ready to crawl off his body. Taking one last fortifying breath, he opens the door and makes his way into their room.

“You’re back!” Jaskier calls as he steps inside, and Cöen is not quick enough to hide his wince. It is slightly better in here than it was downstairs, but his senses are still almost overwhelmed. The crackling of logs in the meagre fire ring like shots in his ears, he can smell the sweat clinging to the bard from his performance earlier, can see every drop of black ink stark against his fingers.

Jaskier must sense his discomfort because he whispers a quick sorry and moves in front of him, blocking out the light from the fire, and his hands come up to cover Cöen’s ears, muffling the room until he only thing he can clearly make out is Jaskiers heartbeat, quicker than his own and a little quicker than normal, no doubt worried about Cöen, and the bards steady breaths.

“You alright?” Jaskier asks, voice almost inaudible, but Coen can hear him loud and clear.

“Yes. I’m not hurt, just too many potions,” he replies. He learnt early on when travelling with Jaskier, that it was useless trying to lie to the man, that he would not allow the words ‘I’m fine’ to be uttered before checking every inch of you himself.

Jaskier just hums quietly and guides him towards the bed and pushes gently at his chest to encourage him to lie down. He places a blanket over Cöens eyes, making sure to tuck it around his ears too, and then he moves away. Cöen can hear him pottering around the room, drawing the curtains and dampening the fire. He packs away his songbook and undresses judging by the sound of something soft being thrown halfway across the room. Coen allows himself to get lost in the familiar sounds, and the Jaskiers scent which is strong on the blanket. He must have picked up his own, rather than giving him the one that was provided by the inn. He would think it was an accident, but now having travelled with the bard for a few months, he is certain that it wasn’t.

It isn’t long before the bed dips beside him, and hands are on his back turning him gently, and guiding him so that he can tuck his face into Jaskier’s neck. He smiles to himself when he feels the soft fabric against his chin, Jaskier having removed his doublet but kept on his soft shirt, knowing that Coen enjoys the texture of it, not being able to own anything of the sort himself, and he can’t resist wrapping his fingers around the soft hem.

“Better?” he feels more than hears Jaskier ask him.

Coen just nods slightly, and taking a deep breath to surround the scent that has become so familiar to him, that he now cannot imagine what his life was like without it in it.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“Could you sing?” Coen whispers.

He had always adored music, ever since he was a boy, and he was always hide behind his mothers skirts, watching with wide eyes whenever a travelling musician came to town, mesmerised by the sounds. Then he was taken to Kaer Seren and music slipped away from him. When out on the path, he would stay a second longer after finishing a contract just to hear a bard in the corner, would head to towns where he knew there would be a festival in the hope there would be a job for him. The ache lessened with time, but it never fully went away, and he couldn’t help but stare wistfully at the performer, wondering what may have happened in another life.

He had done his best to bury it in himself, but all it had taken was a few words from a blue-eyed bard one winter whilst staying with the Wolves and it had all come out. He hadn’t expected much from a winter at Kaer Morhen, shelter and peace, and perhaps some camaraderie but what he had not expected was music.

It hadn’t taken long for Jaskier to discover his hidden love for music, and in the evenings once training was finished, he would sit by the fire and listen as Jaskier strummed his lute. He can still remember the look on the other mans face when he had started to join in on one of the songs. The shock and awe that had taken over Jaskiers face, the spark of something in those eyes, seeming to make them impossible brighter.

From there, they had begun to spend more and more time together, and come the end of the winter no one had been more surprised than Coen when Jaskier had declared that he wanted to spend the next season travelling with him rather than Geralt. He had expected it to be strange, to be with someone after having travelled alone for so long, but Jaskier slipped into his life effortlessly and it was as though that it was the way it had always been.

“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be too much?” Jaskier whispers.

“No, it will help. Give me something to focus on,” he replies and soon the room around him disappears and all that’s left is the music.

He can feel the rumble of Jaskiers chest beneath him, his clear voice filling his ears and Jaskiers fingers stroking the scars on his cheek in time with the melody, and Coen finds his own hands tapping out the beat along the other mans side.

With every song that is sung, the weight lifts from Coens shoulders and he can breathe a little easier, the music carrying his worries away. He feels lighter with every note, and not just tonight, but ever since he has met Jaskier, he has felt free and more like himself than he has been in years.

He isn’t sure how he will ever be able to repay him, for bringing music and joy and light back into his life, but he will figure out a way.

However long it takes.

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist 

Case 01475: Padmé Amidala

"Kix!" General Skywalker called urgently as he burst through the medbay doors.

"General!" Kix replied, snapping to attention for a panicked moment before rushing to respond. "What's wrong?"

"Padmé - Senator Amidala - is feeling a bit off after that last mission," he explained as the senator in question stepped through the doors behind him. She looked amused by his antics. Kix couldn't relate. "Could you do a scan and see if everything is all right?"

Kix sighed, fighting the urge to glare at his general. "Of course I can, sir. After a rescue like that one, it's standard procedure to perform a full series of scans on every returning being." He fixed General Skywalker with a firm look. "You could use a check-up as well, sir. You're looking a little worse for wear."

As expected, the suggestion of more than ten seconds spent in the medbay seemed to trigger Skywalker's fight-or-flight reflexes.

"Of course, Kix," he said with a false grin. "Just check the senator first and I'll be back for you to check me."

"Yes, sir," Kix agreed, knowing full well that neither of them expected Skywalker to return that day.

"Perfect! I need to report to the bridge," he explained, backing away slightly. He did stop to take the senator's hands. "Would you rather I stay? I'm sure Obi-Wan would understand if I delay my report for a few minutes."

"I'll be fine, Anakin," Padmé refused graciously. "You should report to the Council before they think you were captured saving me."

"They know me better than that," Skywalker returned. He was facing the opposite direction and Kix could still hear the grin in his voice.

"Thank you for another rescue, Master Jedi," Padmé said, drawing her hands from Skywalker's so she could grasp her ripped skirt and bob gratefully.

"Always a pleasure, Madam Senator," Skywalker replied. "Call me if you need anything."

And he was gone. Kix couldn't help raising an eyebrow at Senator Amidala, who smiled at him in return. "I always find the finest hospitality on the Resolute."

"We aim to please," he told her dryly. "Are you ready for me to start the scan now, Senator Amidala?"

"Of course, Kix," the senator agreed, "as long as you agree to call me Padmé. We're both busy people and no one has time for a title like that."

All of the flash-training Kix had gone through on Kamino told him to refuse, but the look in Senator Amidala's eyes warned that she wouldn't let this go. Besides, disagreeing with her request could cause her distress, and he wanted to avoid that until he had completed his scan.

"What are your symptoms, Padmé?" Kix asked, retrieving the scanner from its spot in the locked medical cabinet. Too many troopers had tried to 'accidentally' dismantle Kix's dreaded scanner in the past, and it now had to be kept somewhere safe.

"Well, I got a little dizzy and my heartbeat was erratic," she answered readily.

"Were you doing anything strenuous?"

"I was fighting a Separatist battalion," she admitted with a smile. "But that's hardly something I would consider strenuous."

From anyone else on the Resolute, Kix would have considered that an abominable attempt at bragging, but the adventurous senator did seem to find herself in combat situations oddly often and always handled herself well.

"Anything else?"

She frowned. "Yes, actually. I've found myself getting nauseated at odd times lately. Do you think I could be ill?"

"I can't rule anything out," Kix hedged, hefting the scanner, "but this can. Hold still, please."

Less than a minute later, the scanner let out a soft beep and Kix studied the screen with a frown. "I'm seeing that your blood sugar is low, as is your blood pressure. Those would both explain the dizziness and low heartbeat, perhaps even the nausea. When was the last time you ate a full meal?"

Padmé considered that for a moment. "Last night. I was feeling nauseated, but I ate a small meal and went to bed."

"That could explain your blood sugar, then," Kix told her. "How do you feel about honeyfruit juice? I'd like to have you eat something to raise your blood sugar before we try another scan."

"I love honeyfruit, actually," Padmé replied, willingly sipping at the small cup of juice Kix handed her.

The two chatted pleasantly for a while as Padmé's body absorbed the juice. Kix had been following the senator's career with interest ever since she had helped with the Dogma situation, and Padmé had questions about the veracity of some of General Skywalker's wilder stories.

Finally, Kix's wrist chrono beeped and he smiled. "Time's up, Padmé. Your blood sugar should have increased by now, so we'll try another scan."

"Whatever you think is best, Kix," Padmé told him, sending peace surging through his soul. However, the feeling dissipated as the senator pressed a hand to her suddenly pale lips. "I may need to excuse myself for a moment."

No sooner had she finished speaking than Padmé was running to the refresher attached to the medbay. She pulled the refresher door closed behind her, but it was the medbay-specific design, meant to give the user privacy while allowing a medic to hear if someone needed help inside. As such, the door didn't offer much in the way of sound-blocking, and Kix grimaced sympathetically at the sound of Padmé losing what little was in her stomach.

Kix hated vomit. He could deal with every other thing that came out of a body, even the things that were supposed to stay inside, but vomit was always something he strove to avoid. It was something Kix had always thought of a personal failing. Medics should be able to deal with anything patients could subject them to, and he had worked hard to get past his weakness.

Steeling himself, Kix walked to the refresher and tapped his knuckles lightly against the door. "Padmé? Do you need anything from me?"

"I'm so sorry, Kix," Padmé's weak voice called between coughs. "I'll be fine, I promise."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" he asked, using the nicest voice he had. "Can I come in?"

There was the sound of a flush - the muted type common to low-water 'freshers on Venator-Class Star Destroyers - followed by a soft, "Yes."

Kix pushed the door open and found Padmé seated on the floor. Her arm was braced against the wall to provide a rest for her forehead.

"I'm sorry, Kix," she said again.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Padmé," he told her firmly. "Let's just try to figure out why this is happening. Do you feel up to moving back to the main bay? It might be best if you lay down for a few minutes."

Her pale lips quirked up into a wan smile. "Ani warned me that laying in a bed here is like signing up for an extended stay."

"I won't make you stay unless I feel it's a medical necessity, medic's honor," Kix vowed. Padmé met his gaze, studied it for a moment, and gave a slow nod.

He helped Padmé to her feet and slowly helped her over to one of the beds. "I'm just going to get the scanner. I'll be right back."

When Kix returned with the scanner in hand, he dialed it up slightly. Maybe she had been exposed to some kind of virus that was making her ill… He was limited by his supplies, but Kix could treat a number of symptoms with the contents of the medbay if he only knew what he was looking for.

"Hold still," he instructed again.

Padmé actually chuckled at that, assuring him, "Not a problem."

With the increased scanner levels, the results were a bit more conclusive this time around. "Your blood sugar has improved a good bit. Your blood pressure is a little better, too, though that could be a side effect of vomiting."

With a face rapidly growing several shades paler, Padmé waved him on. "Could we talk about anything other than vomiting, please?"

"Gladly," Kix agreed, returning his attention to the scanner's small screen. "According to the readout, you are experiencing increased levels of… progesterone…"

"I'm not familiar with that," Padmé said, frowning a bit. "Is it dangerous?"

"No, but it- You might… Usually… Hold on one moment," Kix requested. While Padmé waited patiently, he cranked the scanner's power to full. Saying a quick 'thank you' to the science that had made scanners completely safe for all life forms, he scanned her one last time, centering the movement on her torso.

When the beep came, Kix looked at the screen quickly, heartbeat thundering in his ears. The results confirmed his theory and he couldn't fight a smile as he met Padmé's curious eyes. "Padmé, you're pregnant."

"What?"

Clearly, she had not been expecting that particular answer, but Kix refused to see this as anything but good news. He had never been around a pregnant woman, but he found it difficult to comprehend that the being in front of him was in the process of creating new life. A brand-new person.

"The pregnancy isn't very far along, which is why the scanner had trouble picking it up, but it's there. You're going to have a baby."

Kix had always heard that pregnant women 'glowed'. Well, whoever said that must have had Padmé in mind. When she finally reacted, it was with a slow smile spreading across her face, lighting up every inch of her being.

"A baby," she mused softly, one graceful hand rising to hover protectively over her flat belly. "We're having a baby."

"You and the general?" Kix asked.

The very next moment, he could have cheerfully disemboweled himself. Padmé stared up at him, clearly shocked, and he grimaced. "Padmé… Senator. I am so sorry. I didn't- I shouldn't have- I'm so sorry."

"Please, Kix," she said after a long moment of collecting herself. "Don't apologize. It's nice to have someone know. I just ask that you keep it to yourself."

"Er- The general isn't exactly what I would call subtle-"

"He really isn't," she agreed conspiratorially. "But still. He could lose his status as a Jedi, my reputation as a senator would be damaged, and I would lose ground on every pro-Jedi or pro-clone bill I have on the floor. It would be disastrous."

"You have my word, Padmé," Kix promised. "I won't say a word to anyone. Medic's honor."

"Even Anakin?"

"Well, the general is- he's my general. My commanding officer," Kix explained poorly. "If he asked, I don't think I could lie to him. Especially if he made it an order."

"I'm going to tell him," Padmé assured. "Just not immediately. If he asks anything, he'll ask if I'm okay. Medically, you can tell him I'm fine, right? After all, I'm healthy for a pregnant woman if I understand everything correctly."

"Yes, human pregnancy often comes with low blood pressure and sugar, as well as nausea, dizziness, and fatigue," Kix answered automatically. He sighed then, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows. "I won't give the details to anyone, even if the general asks. Privacy laws."

"You know, I could probably have Anakin make it an order," Padmé mused, then smiled softly at him. "I won't do that, though. I trust you. We both do."

It was the highest compliment Kix had ever received.

---

A/N - Technically speaking, this is the last chapter of Nobody Listens to Kix. I will be posting some outtakes and extras over the next few weeks, but the official series ends here. Thank you to everyone who has read this work and especially those who have liked and reblogged it! I appreciate you all!

[98shawns]

trusting you; trusting me. (t.c.)

dating in the workplace may be tough, but your new hopeless romantic of an assistant makes it worthwhile. 

(coworker au, boss x assistant au)

chapters: one, two

words: 2500

warnings: mentions of nsfw (none in this chapter unfortunately, but def in the next !!)

a/n: long time no post !! i wrote this such a long time ago and it’s collecting dust so i might as well post without worrying too much about how it will do, right? lol, hopefully i can get to writing more !!

Keeping a poker face is easy until the new employee transferring into your department was the guy you’d just spent the night with.

You keep your expression contained as you make a beeline towards your office. This wasn’t the plan. The plan was for you to let off some steam with some good looking guy at the bar and then leave without a trace the morning after. He was nice. Style, charisma, and a boyish charm all wrapped in one handsome package. Just your type. 

And you believe that you’d caught his fancy as well. He slipped his number written down on a napkin that sat wedged into your car’s sun blocker. (You’ve been pondering on whether or not you should shoot him a message all morning).

But as much as you enjoyed his company, he wasn’t supposed to be following you around.

‘I’m going crazy,’ You’re quick to frantically grab the file placed on your desk earlier this morning. Surely enough, Timothée Chalamet would be starting as your new assistant.

/////

“Fancy seeing you here,” is how Timothée greets you when you let him into your office. You bite your cheek as you frown at his words.

“Stop addressing me so casually. I’m your superior.” You lean back in your chair and offer Timothée a seat in front of your desk. His lips press into a straight line as he responds with a curt nod before eventually sitting down in front of you.

The atmosphere was heavy but you find yourself feeling somewhat relieved upon seeing the uneasiness in Timothée’s expression. It seemed like he wasn’t expecting an early reunion either.

“Let me get straight to the point,” you start, leaning forward and clasping your hands together as you rest your elbows on your desk. You see Timothée’s body visibly tense up.

“We’ll be spending a lot of time together from here on out. In regards to what happened last night, we can’t let it affect our practice here. While we’re in this building, we’re coworkers first. Got it?” Timothée nods in a silent agreement, and you try your best to not drown in how uncomfortable you had to make the situation for the both of you. It was protocol for situations like these, but you hated the thought of being professional to the man who sweet-talked you for the duration of all of last night. 

“That’s all. I know it’s a lot for your first day, but try your best. Most of our coworkers are all great people so hopefully they can help you adjust. If you need anything, just ask.” You end the conversation with a send-off you once read in a self-help book about excelling in management. It was just a standard between a manager and a worker; hopefully a standard the both of you will be able to upkeep.

You eventually stand up and extend your hand to give your new assistant a handshake. He stands with you and clasps your hand firmly.

‘He has a good handshake…’ You think about how odd it was that you held this very hand last night. It was cold and fragile yet still big and protective when he held you. He had long fingers and surprisingly soft skin; his hands were noticeably beautiful. You told him so as you dozed off in the wee hours of the morning.

Your touch lingers a few seconds longer than it should before you let go.

“Thank you.” Timothée breathes a sigh of relief as he bids you farewell and you let yourself fall back into your chair after he closed the door behind him.

/////

You were always the last to leave, especially on a weekend. Even a few years ago when you were stationed at the cubicle in the back of the office, one row of fluorescent lights would stay illuminating your space.

You were a hard worker with big plans. Everyone in your relatively new branch was around your age so you were well liked, admired, respected, or at least acknowledged by your coworkers by the time you eventually got promoted to a managerial position. The youngest manager in the company. You deserved it, and you would make sure that you’d aim higher. Nothing would come between you and your performance.

Well, maybe nothing but the new assistant you accidentally slept with a week ago.

“Can I talk to you?” You jump at the sound of Timothée’s voice. He looked up at you as he sat on the couch outside your office with his suit jacket slung over his shoulder and his briefcase resting beside him. Your hands grasp the door frame as you check the clock on your office wall. He’d been waiting for the last two hours for you to come out.

“Of course! You could have just knocked at 5:00–“

“It... isn’t about work.”

By the time you turned back to him he’d stood up. He fidgeted with his hands, putting them halfway into his pockets before eventually folding them in front of his body. You think of all the possibilities that would play out if you said yes and you consider telling him to wait until Monday when you’d see each other at work again. In a professional setting. You knew along the lines of what he was about to ask, and now wasn’t the time to get caught up in your emotions. Not when you’d only been promoted two years ago. 

But for some reason, something pulls at your heartstrings as you observe Timothée’s demeanour. He seemed so… innocent as he tried his best to be patient while he waited for a response.

You sigh and step outside your office, closing the door behind you. You stood still for a moment before caving.

“Have you eaten yet?”

When his face lights up, you realize that your new assistant may have you wrapped around his little finger. 

/////

You don’t know why you chose to come to Denny’s to have this conversation with Timothée, but it somehow felt right. Eating mediocre breakfast foods drowned in maple syrup helped to mask the fact that the two of you being together like this was, well, wrong.

“Are you adjusting well?” You break the silence. Well, silence other than the sounds of forks and knives clanking against each other. Timothée swallows a ball of nervousness down with his chocolate chip pancakes and nods.

“You’re right, everyone at our branch is really nice.” He smiles politely and it makes you feel uncomfortable. He seemed so free spirited when you first met him, but that was when you were just a person at a bar. Not his boss.

“That’s good.” You smile back. It’s not like you weren’t guilty either; he wasn’t just a charming boy approaching you with a cheesy one liner anymore. He was your employee.The two of you sit in each other’s silence for a moment longer.

“Thanks again,” He starts. Your eyes avert to his. 

“For what?”

“You’re not treating me any differently even though it must have been hard to stay professional for a whole week. You even let me keep my job.” 

“You thought I was going to fire you?” You ask, somewhat in disbelief. The more you think about it, firing him would make sense if you were heartless. He nods casually. “I was 100% positive when you called me into your office Monday morning.”

You try not to express your concern towards Timothée’s confession. It wasn’t your fault you accidentally slept with your new assistant but it obviously wasn’t his either. As long as you stayed professional during work hours, what was the problem? It’s not like he wouldn’t be able to redirect your calls or organize your schedule. The last thing you’d want was for him to feel uncomfortable towards you; he was your employee after all.

Yeah… your employee.

You wonder if that’s why you take the extra liberty of comforting him, and before you know it words of consolation becomes friendly conversation. It’s alright if you spend the next two or three hours chatting about nothing and everything at the same time … you weren’t at work, after all. There was no need to be so stiff around each other.

“We should get going,” You check the time: 11:30 p.m. You should have wrapped this up hours ago. You don’t notice Timothée’s smidgen of a smile as he watches you gather your belongings. He eventually stands up to grab your trench coat off the coat hanger beside your booth. You scoff as he holds it up for you, eventually helping you slip into it before he shrugs on his own jacket. 

“Together?” The monotonous waitress, who’d been taking care of you since you entered, punched a few buttons on the cash register. You noticed that she’d let her hair down and put on a sweater as you walk up to the counter to pay for your meal. She must be getting ready to go home as well.

“Actually–“

“Yes, please.” Timothée cuts you off by giving his card to the waitress, effectively stopping you from rummaging through your purse.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, watching Timothée’s face as he punches his card combination into the machine. He only smiles when he hears the beep of an approved transaction, and thanks the waitress before finally turning towards you.

“You paid last time.” He shrugs. You feel your heart flutter as he reminded you of the weekend you spent with him.

‘Oh no,’ You think, following him out into the parking lot and back to your car. This wasn’t going to lead to where you thought it was going to, would it…? He joined you for dinner, he listened to your mindless conversation, he helped you with your jacket, he paid for your food…

Well, it was fun while it lasted.

“Timothée,” As the two of you walked out onto the parking lot, he’d just opened the car door when you called his name. He stares up at you with a grin, his hand still resting on top of the car door. You swallow your nervousness. “what did you really want to talk about?”

The subtlety of Timothée’s faltering grin is hard to catch. He was well aware of it too, how tonight didn’t feel like a simple get together between two professionals… actually, it felt quite the opposite. Almost like a date. 

“I like you.” He says, completely serious. You bite your cheek. “A lot.”

“We’re coworkers.”

“Can we not be more than just coworkers?”

You frown at his question. Maybe it was because he was young, but Timothée’s aggressiveness and passion makes your heart squeeze in your chest. You wanted to ask that question too, why couldn’t you be anything more?

“I’ve only known you for a week. I see you every weekday because I’m your boss. It’d be too much for us,” You start, finally stepping into your car and slamming the door shut. Timothée follows, and you keep on chewing at your cheek. You shouldn’t be so defensive; you had to stay professional. “at least not while we’re so young.”

“But we’ve got our whole life ahead of us, shouldn’t we at least try? We’re at the age where we can’t just waste our chances while they’re running out.” You let out a scoff at his words as you start the car, but you don’t say anything in response. You didn’t want him to know that his words resonated deeper within you that they should have. 

You start the drive to his house in silence, and Timothée sighs as he lets his back collide with the seat of your car in frustration. Your relationship as coworkers was not coming to a very good start, but you suppose that it had to start somewhere. Plus if he was looking for a relationship with someone, there were plenty of great looking people at the office. He’d get over it and so would you.

“We’re here.” You say, pulling in the parking lot next to Timothée’s apartment building. Timothée turns to you one last time, and with a sigh, unbuckles his seatbelt.

“Thank you for the ride.” You nod and keep your eyes glued to your steering wheel, waiting for him to leave. You don’t see his gaze avert to your eyes, then to your lips. Timothée opens his mouth but says nothing, only pressing his lips together as he opens your car door to step out onto the pavement beneath you.

You feel yourself sigh in relief when he shuts the door. Don’t look back, you tell yourself. You wouldn’t be able to control yourself if you did. Instead you fiddle with your sun blocker to distract yourself.

Thoughts of Timothée swirled through your mind, especially what he had said before you drove him home. Don’t waste chances while they run out.

You let out a halfhearted scoff. You could only wish to think like that. To be impulsive and take chances as they arise but you can’t. Sure you were jealous, but you’ve got too much on the line… too much to risk.

You lower your sun blocker and notice a forgotten napkin slip out and onto your lap. Timothée’s number from last week. You frown.

You were just a coward.

Fuck it. 

“Timothée, wait!” You call, practically jumping out of your car before running towards your assistant. You get as far as the front entrance before you see that he’d already gone inside and stepped into the elevator.

He only notices you behind the glass doors when he turns and looks up, just as the elevator doors begin to close.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, just after he stops the elevator from closing with his arm and runs towards you. He opens the door for you and you slowly walk inside, panting from your run over.

“I have to tell you something,” Timothée nods expectedly, and you rub the back of your neck.

“I really don’t think it’ll work out.” You start, watching the hopefulness in Timothée’s eyes die out. Just a bit. 

“I barely know you– I liked you from when we slept together but that’s it. I was wondering where we were going to go afterwards as well, but when I saw you at the office last week, I thought I had my answer.” You step closer to him.

“But now I’m wondering… I really don’t know anymore. Maybe this isn’t going anywhere– I can’t be so sure. But when I’m looking back at the past seventy years, what’s the first week, really?” Timothée’s lips part as you look into his eyes, and you feel a warmth rising up to your cheeks. “Wanna go out?”

The corners of Timothée’s lips immediately upturn at the sound of your words, and his hand shoots up to his mouth to cover his smile. Though, you end up seeing it anyways as it travels to his eyes.

“If you’ll have me.”

[just-horrible-things]

Here’s some old writing (probably 2014? gee.) from a tabletop game I was once in. This was backstory for my character.

Cameron Blithe remains one of my favourites, and I may yet overhaul the character and work him into something new. 

---

At Attention

"At ease!" the sergeant bellowed, and the thud of two score booted feet hitting the ground echoed round the courtyard. "Not you, Blithe!"  Cameron snapped back to attention, confused and a little apprehensive. Being singled out was never a good sign.  "You stay there. Everyone else, dismissed! Come on, move it along! Don't waste time!"

The courtyard emptied rapidly, footsteps echoing off the concrete buildings along with the sergeant's voice. Soldiers scattered, some walking, others jogging so as not to arrive late to their next posts. Cameron stayed still, eyes fixed on the peeling paint above the door opposite until the movement died down. 

He thought he'd heard the sergeant leave, but he couldn't be entirely sure. It wasn't worth looking round. Either this was some trick to fool him into moving so he could be called up on disobedience again, or he was just going to be left here for an hour or two. 

Well, he was no stranger to standing at attention. If that's what was to happen, then fine. He'd just deal with it. He counted time in his head, taking note of the five minute mark when he should have showed up for patrol. He wondered if the sergeant had reported that he'd left Cameron standing in the courtyard, or if he'd have to explain his absence later. Probably the latter, he mused darkly, and he'd more than likely be punished for that too. 

The air was cold and damp and smelled of sweat and wet concrete. As the warmth of exertion from drilling started to fade, Cameron became aware of the breeze. It carried the sound of men laughing somewhere, and the occasional call and response of patrols passing each other.

Ten minutes became fifteen, then twenty. Despite the demands of the posture and the chill of the air, Cameron found himself mentally relaxing and his mind beginning to wander. In many ways, the inactivity was a welcome break from the constant demands on his attention, time and stamina, and it was certainly less exhausting than drill. He let his gaze wander, examining the back of the barracks and what little he could see of the apparently empty courtyard. It was not so intimately familiar as the square more commonly used for drilling, and though he must have spent at least a dozen hours here, he'd never had the freedom to really inspect things. 

Here at the back of the compound, the lack of funding was even more apparent. Doors were battered round the edges, steps crumbling, and he even saw a window with a cracked pane. Things were clean, certainly. They tend to stay clean when there's a large body of soldiers kept around the place with nothing to do but busywork. Cameron knew first hand how much effort went into scrubbing the roofs clean of moss and mould. But all the cleanliness in the galaxy couldn't compete with a bit of fresh money to replace damaged structures. Fresh paint was cheap enough, but layered over damp concrete it never stayed looking fresh for long. 

The state of the buildings was a bit depressing, really. Clearly nobody cared about a back-end-of-the-galaxy posting like this. The status quo ruled here, second only to the slow grind of entropy tearing things down bit by bit. The future seemed bleak. 

If he were facing the other way, he might have been able to see the mountains over the concrete walls. The distant peaks were frigid, sheer and uninviting, but at least they were something to look at. Unfortunately, it still wasn't out of the question that the sergeant was standing somewhere behind him, waiting for Cameron to move so he could scold him and inflict some worse punishment instead. By necessity, his view was restricted to a small area of flagstones, the wall ahead, and a small slice of dim, clouded sky above. 

He hoped the sergeant was behind him, getting bored. He could suffer there in silence, he wasn't going to get the satisfaction of watching Cameron falter or give in. Of course, if he did get bored he'd be completely free to leave without giving Cameron the time of day, let alone permission to stand down. But at least Cameron would hear him leave, and then he'd know he could afford to fidget. Realistically, he was fairly sure already that he was alone, but at least he could get a bit of petty satisfaction out of imagining the NCO stewing in boredom, irritation and disappointment.

Time passed. The sounds of some other unit drilling rang out for a while, then subsided again. Though he'd long stopped counting minutes, Cameron estimated maybe an hour and a half had passed when the rain started. 

It was no surprise; the sky had been darkening steadily all afternoon. It was light drizzle at first and not unpleasant, though he knew it would soon soak through his clothes and make the cold worse. A bird flapped past somewhere above and behind him, presumably seeking shelter before the rain started in earnest. 

For a while, the rain relieved the boredom a little by giving him something new to look at. The ground darkened in spots, few and small at first, then larger and faster as the rainstorm gathered momentum. He wondered how long it would take for the water to seep into the sheltered spaces under his feet. Maybe when he finally moved away he'd leave a pair of pale footprints behind. 

Drips congregated on the edge of the roof, merged with one another, and fell to the concrete below. Puddles began to form in the dips where the concrete was worn or damaged. Drips gathered on Cameron too, running down his face and down the back of his neck. Standing still, he didn't mind the wet so much as the cold. Wherever the rain soaked in, the wind seemed to blow stronger and colder. Soon he was fighting the urge to shiver. It didn't matter that nobody was watching, someone was sure to come back to fetch him eventually, and he refused to be snivelling and miserable when that happened. Let the weather do its worst, he'd stand like a soldier and show no weakness.

Watching drips grew dull once all the surfaces were saturated. For a while he shut his eyes against the gusts of wind which kept driving the rain into his face, but he wasn't entirely comfortable that he'd hear it if someone approached, so he compromised by squinting angrily into the rain. The light worsened, and eventually he realised dusk was falling. It came as something of a surprise. He must have underestimated the time. He'd expected to hear more noise of people dispersing at end of shift, but it must have been covered up by ambient noise.

Daydreaming about all the ways he'd like to kill the sergeant, he watched night creep slowly over the courtyard. Electric lights flicked on in windows one after the other, but none were close enough or angled right for him to see in. It was a small blessing. At least nobody could see him standing here, trying to pretend he wasn't freezing cold and soaked to the skin. 

It was almost a relief once the rainwater soaked through the last of the warm, dry spots in his uniform. Sure it was cold and miserable, but at least it wasn't getting colder anymore and he could stop trying desperately to cling to the lingering warmth. Provided he didn't stare at the lit windows, his eyes adjusted well to the growing darkness. He consoled himself with the thought that at least he wasn't doing night training exercises, and thus didn't have to count mud, thorns to the face, or being shouted at as among his woes. Things could be worse.

The effects of fatigue snuck up on him quietly. The muscle ache and general sense of exhaustion he was used to as a standard consequence of standing at attention for a few hours at a time. Shivering was less welcome, especially once it set in in earnest and he could no longer resist it by sheer willpower, but not unfamiliar. 

What caught him off guard was the sense of general illness. At first he put the queasiness down to hunger. He'd missed a meal, it was to be expected. When it got worse, he ascribed it to life simply hating him. Clearly this was the perfect time for him to get ill, and thereby maximise his misery. Maybe he was getting pneumonia from the cold. If he got seriously ill, maybe the sergeant would get in trouble. It would serve the bastard right. 

Time continued to pass, and the nausea continued unabated. One by one, the lights in the windows went out. His feet were numb, though he couldn't tell if it was the cold or the prolonged immobility. He wriggled his toes in the hope of improving circulation, and dimly felt them move inside his boots. His hands felt strange too, oddly distant, and the sound of the rain began to echo weirdly in his ears. With a jolt, Cameron recognised the symptoms of an impending blackout.

He considered taking a break, sitting down and waiting for the feeling to pass. Nobody would see. He took deep breaths, trying to steady himself and to avoid throwing up. Nobody would see, but it would still be backing down. He wouldn't let them win. Breathing deeply helped a little. The oddness in his hearing subsided, and the nausea returned to manageable levels. Everything was fine. It was just a passing weakness, he was fine.

He woke sprawled on the ground. 

Rain still fell all around him, and it was dark. Though he was cold to the bone, his face felt flushed and far too warm. The cool, hard concrete was not unpleasant, but he forced himself to sit up and look around. 

He was still alone. Nobody had seen him collapse. 

He checked himself over brusquely for injuries and found nothing worse than a few bruises, a dry throat and a headache. He hadn't thought his uniform could get any wetter, but on standing up from the puddle he'd been lying in, water ran in little streams from the cloth. 

He had half a mind to curl up on the floor and wait for dawn, but he knew his pride would never let him do that. He'd been ordered to stand at attention, and come hell or high water that was exactly what he intended to do. 

Agony ran through his legs as he forced himself back into the correct posture. He gritted his teeth and waited for it to subside, shivering violently. He'd been lying still in the cold, of course he was stiff. The rational part of his mind reminded him that standing still in the cold probably wasn't going to be any better, but he clung determinedly to the conviction that the pain would go away. Surely he'd warm up soon, shivering like this. He'd remember to move his feet more this time, and flex the muscles in his legs to ward off cramp and fainting. 

To his satisfaction, and mild surprise, the strain did again become more bearable. He wondered how long he'd been out cold, but even when conscious he'd completely lost track of the passage of time. With the sky still dark, it could have been any time of the night, and anywhere between one and eight hours left to wait until dawn.

Holding out for the return of the light became Cameron's focus and driving motivation. He guessed at times in his head, building elaborate estimates of how long he had left to wait. When the rain slowed to a drizzle, he convinced himself that the change in the weather must be a result of temperature changes from the imminent dawn. By the time it started pouring down again, he'd moved on to a new hypothesis. 

Realistically, he knew that there was no guarantee that dawn would bring any relief. It seemed increasingly likely that the sergeant had no intention of coming back to tell him to stand down. He must have had this planned out from the beginning. There was no reason to drill here rather than in the main square, except that here he could leave Cameron standing for longer before a senior officer found him and ordered him to do something more useful. 

Cameron had no idea how frequently this courtyard was used. For all he knew he could be here for weeks before anyone came back out here. Morbidly he wondered what they'd do to the sergeant if he passed out and died here before anyone found him. 

Of course, it would be ridiculous to stand here until thirst killed him. Technically, there was nothing stopping him from walking into the nearest building right now and getting a drink of water. He could come back out and nobody would be any the wiser, or he could just bugger off and get some sleep. What was the sergeant really going to do to him for disobeying an order like that, make him do press-ups? 

He could hear the conversation already though, and see that smug bastard's face in his mind's eye. Some people would think Cameron had done the smart thing, and some would think he was being an insubordinate idiot again, but he and the sergeant would know what had really happened. If he walked away now, he'd have backed down, and admitted that he was too weak to deal with standing at attention in the rain for a while. 

Well, fuck that.

When dawn finally arrived, it was subdued and miserable. Much like Cameron, not that he'd let it show in his posture. The greying of the sky that signalled the first light of the new day was accompanied by the noise of a few hundred people turning out of bed at half past five in the morning to present themselves for inspection. Lights clicked on in the windows of the barracks, then off again as the owners vacated the rooms. 

One lonely light stayed lit. Listening wearily to officers shouting, Cameron wondered if the room was still occupied for whatever reason, or if the inhabitant had simply forgotten to turn the light off. Trying to navigate a floor plan of the building in his head kept his mind busy, but not busy enough to shut off the stray thoughts still cataloguing all the reasons he had to be miserable. Thirst and pain fought for dominance, shadowed closely by cold. Hunger, exhaustion, boredom and the need to take a piss were all present, but barely got a look in in comparison.

Despite it all, as the light increased he did find his spirits rising. There were no more reasons to be cheerful than there had been all night, but something about the light made him feel better none the less. Maybe it was just the fact that once again he could tell what time it was, or that there was more to listen to and look at by daylight than by night. 

For an hour and a half, he counted seconds. The numbers got depressing and he kept losing count, but if he stopped he'd have nothing else to do and he wouldn't know what time it was.

Shortly after the ninety minute mark, he was interrupted by someone speaking behind him. "Drilling on your own, soldier?" Startled, Cameron took far longer to reach the correct response than he should have done. "No, sir," he managed, struggling to think of an appropriate way to phrase the reason for his standing at attention all alone in a empty courtyard. 

The man stepped round into his field of vision with an expression of equal parts concern and amusement. Cameron only barely recognised his face, but the lieutenant's stripes on his uniform told him all he needed to know. He saluted the officer, as sharply as he could convince his trembling muscles to move, and was quite pleased with his success.

"Do share then, why are you standing out here in the rain?" "Sergeant Yandle's orders, sir," he responded. Apparently running several seconds behind his mouth, his brain belatedly prompted him with a handful of witty lines he could have used instead. "I see. And when were these orders given?" Cameron's mind raced. Or rather, it felt like it did. From the difficulty he was having calling up mundane facts, he rather suspected his mind was moving at something of a crawl. "At approximately thirteen hundred hours, sir." "Yesterday?" "Yes, sir." "Good grief, man," the lieutenant still seemed torn between horror and laughter, "At ease!" Cameron couldn't quite stop his breath catching as he changed his posture. Every muscle in his body complained at being forced through another set of precise movements, but the relief of moving at all was worth it.

[wafflesareluv]

LoA fanfic, takes place after MC becomes junior partner. There's a bit of NSFW content. Enjoy reading!

1.3k words.

Quinn has wanted this for a very long time now. Sitting at the edge of Hoi On's rooftop, gazing at the night sky while holding Gabe Ricci's hand, getting this couldn't have been tougher. But it's really, really worth it. They're official now, their coworkers know about them and being able to be there for Gabe as someone more than a junior partner, receiving the same affection from him has been heartwarming and comforting to say the least. "If I may dare interrupt your chain of thoughts, Michaels?" his deep voice brought her back to the present moment. Gabe wasn't one for nicknames, he never saw the appeal and Quinn rolled along with it. She shook her head and smirked "I dare charge you a penalty for that, Mr Ricci." "And I wonder what it'd be?" he quipped in a suggestive murmur. Her smirk widened as she withdrew herself from his grip "Now, that wouldn't be a penalty for you, Mr... I say you sing our song." He reluctantly pulled out his phone for the karaoke video "Ahh, that song, you'll remember it forever, won't you?" "Of course I will, it's special" she said. Her previous chain of thoughts as Gabe put it, has returned. She thought back to the day Gabe Ricci became her boyfriend. They had been casual until now, several evenings and nights well spent. Even though Gabe said he cared, more than he would like to admit, he hadn't been as forthcoming as she'd like. That's who he is, so Quinn decided it was time to push her luck further. She wasn't sure how to ask him, what if she loses what she has, thinking of what could have been? What if this is too much to ask of him? He didn't exactly have the best experience in relationships, would he be able to take the leap of faith? She knew she was overthinking when her coffee spilled out from the mug in the espresso machine and she didn't notice it right away. "Get a hold on yourself, Quinn! He said you're too irresistible for your own good, he might just say the feelings are mutual.." she thought. Aislinn who was waiting for her turn, laughed "You sure that coffee would suffice? You're practically daydreaming...and lemme guess, about a certain senior partner.." "Aislinn! Keep your voice low!" Quinn sounded alarmed. Aislinn's eyes lit up "So she didn't deny it! He's a catch, but so are you, Quinn. He'd be blind to not see that. You go get him and I'll get my coffee." "How did you know what exactly I was hesitant about?" Quinn couldn't help but wonder. "Anyone who has a keen eye can tell that you are fidgety these days and anyone who knows you, can tell the reason behind it." Aislinn's response made Quinn smile, both of them grew very close in the past few months. She also knows a thing or two about what's happening between Quinn and Gabe. On the way back to their cabins, they saw Gabe taking his briefcase and stepping out into the hallway. Aislinn mouthed the words "Just do it" and slipped into her office. Quinn glanced at him and their eyes met, he shot her a smile. "Going somewhere?" was all she could manage, her mind was racing at the speed of light. "I'm leaving early, utilising my monthly day off. Too much of work lately." There was a pause as he eyed her in the way that would make her shift from one leg to the other, "Care to join me? It's almost time for you to leave anyways." Normally this is where she'd reply wittily but not today. She simply nodded and collected her overcoat, all the way shocked at her own quiet nature. "This is how much you and thinking about you influence me, Gabe Ricci" she wanted to say, instead she walked along side him and got into his car. "Your place is stunning, not as much as you, but stunning nonetheless, good thing you have an old lady with a hearing ailment as a neighbour" his words were distant yet she felt her eyebrows shoot up and her lips quirk into a small smile, he will always have this effect on her. With him, there was never a dull moment. Around him, she'd completely lose herself in him, literally and metaphorically or just look at him and feel content. Either way, he takes over all her attention and she knows

it's the same for him. Yet, his past makes her question if he would be ready to get into a serious relationship. Reaching her apartment, they get inside followed by freshening up. Yeah, Gabe even has a spare set of clothes in her flat and still she's tentative about the thing she's gonna ask him about. She needed to be herself and talk with him, she made a mental note to reduce her overthinking. As if on cue he called out "I see a couple of vegetables and a standard staple of bread, are sandwiches good to go?" "It's always good when you cook, Mr Ricci, one of the many talents your hands have mastered" she grinned as she walked in to the kitchen. "There is the smart mouth I like, you were being uncharacteristically silent" he was tossing the chopped onions into the pan. "So the great Gabe Ricci likes it when I'm not quite huh?" as soon as words left her mouth, his hands were at her sides while he worked his tounge, making her gasp and then moan. "There, did you ever hear those hot moans coming out of that pretty mouth? Who wouldn't like that?" just like that he was back to sauteing the vegetables, as if he wasn't doing anything sinful just seconds ago. Whereas she was still reeling from his assault, "Damn you, Ricci! Always composed and efficient" she cursed at him in her mind. Though she did that, she had to admit, Gabe was unpredictable and she liked that, his touch and the kiss.. they're electric.. the only one way she would describe them- wait, that's it! She walked towards the counter, placing the plates and cutlery, she also put a note which goes like "Before the dinner, your stunning host wants you to see in the balcony, come there as soon as you read this. Xoxo.” As expected, he was walking towards her and it was perfect, she had the fairy lights on. "Listen to the song properly Mr Ricci, that's exactly how I feel about you" was all she said before she played

Electric love by BØRNS. When it ended, she looked him straight in the eye "Gabe, these few weeks have been the closest to what I'd call "perfect" and that's because of you. What we have right now, I like it but I'd also like to cherish every single thing with you and be that someone you'd be with everyday. Now that I've got it, I can't let it go and I want more Gabe. Would you do the honour of being my boyfriend, Gabriel Ricci?" He didn't speak for painstakingly long moments and his face, inscrutable as ever, it gave away nothing. Then at once he closed the distance between them. "No one has caught my eye like you did, Quinn. Everything about you is fascinating, I just want to spend more time with you. So, yes, now might I indulge my girlfriend in a dinner and then drown her in electric love as per her request?" Quinn laughed with all her heart and kissed him languidly on the lips, while she entwined his fingers with hers. And then, on their 100th day as a couple, they're here. Fingers entwined, hearts fulfilled, their song "Baby, your electric looove oooh" playing in the background as they looked at eachother with smiles just like people who're undoubtedly in love.

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