#i might continue this one

[mileycyprus-hill]

The Heart of Gondor

Boromir x female reader

Summary: Set after Boromir's conversation with Aragorn in Lothlorien following the fall of Gandalf. As the 10th walker of the Fellowship and longtime comrade of the Captain of Gondor, you rest with Boromir and share a moment of comfort with him, asking him questions about his childhood - specifically his mother as he rarely spoke of her. Boromir finally opens up about his mother for the first time.

Tags/Warnings: no warnings, just fluff and romance.

———————————

"Tell me, what was she like...your mother?" Your question travels softly to Boromir's ears. Your voice is tender, like a breeze rustling through the leaves of Lothlórien. In the gentle glow of candlelight, your eyes shimmer like pools of earnest curiosity, reflecting the flickering white lights and the deep, ancient sorrow that dwelled within the heart of Boromir.

Boromir sits across from you, the light casting shadows that dance across his rugged features. The shadows seemed to come alive, whispering tales of valor and loss. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, but his grip is loose, as if the weight of the weapon had become too much to bear, and his thoughts were far from the battlefield. For a moment, the world outside these woods - the ceaseless war, the burdens of leadership - all faded into the background. In this quiet, intimate space, he is merely a man speaking of his past and memories to a woman he secretly adores.

"She was…" Boromir began, his voice rough with the echoes of old grief, "a woman of grace and strength. Her name was Finduilas, and she was the heart of our home."

You sit upon a cushion on the forest floor before him and listen with your full attention, as if enraptured. Unbeknownst to you, your presence is soothing; a balm to his calloused soul. You have been his companion on this perilous journey, a steadfast friend who has given him comfort in his darkest moments. Boromir had rarely ever spoken about his mother to you, but your curiosity was both a gentle nudge and a silent invitation to finally open himself to you.

Boromir leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze distant as if he were peering into a mirror of memory. "She was a daughter of the house of Dol Amroth. Her beauty was renowned, but it was not just her appearance that captivated those around her. It was her spirit, her kindness, and her wisdom. She had a grace that went beyond mere physical beauty."

He paused, drawing a deep breath, as if to steady himself against the tide of memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He feels you watching him closely, as if you're sensing the deep well of emotion that lays beneath his stoic exterior.

"In those days," he continued, "our home was full of laughter and light. She would sing to us in the evening, her voice like a melody that lingered in the air long after the last note had faded. She had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic. I remember the way she would kneel beside me and Faramir, her hands gently brushing our hair as she told us stories of old."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but it was bittersweet. "She would speak of the stars and the moon, of the ancient forests and the seas. She had a knowledge of things beyond the reach of our young minds, and she shared that with us as if it were the most precious gift."

Boromir pauses to look into your eyes. He sees them shine with empathy and understanding. Boromir is offering not just a recollection of his mother but a piece of his soul, a glimpse into a world that had been lost to him. You reach out, placing a comforting hand over his. Your touch is light and reassuring.

"Tell me more about her," you encourage him softly.

Boromir’s gaze drops to your joined hands, the warmth of your touch grounding him. "She was everything a young boy could ask for in a mother," he said, his voice carrying the weight of both his sorrow and his love. "She wished for us to find happiness and peace. She hoped that we would grow up to be honorable and just, and that we would live our lives filled with purpose."

His eyes grew distant once more, as if he could see his mother's face before him, illuminated by the pale light. "She believed in the goodness of people, even in the darkest of times. I remember her saying that the true measure of a man is not how he faced victory but how he endured adversity."

There was a long silence, filled only by the mournful song of the elves and the gentle rustling of leaves. Your eyes hold steady, your presence a steadying force in the storm of his emotions.

"And your father?" You ask gently, your voice breaking the silence with a note of curiosity and concern. "What is he like?"

Boromir’s expression grew solemn. "My father, Denethor, is a man of great strength and ambition. He is fiercely dedicated to Gondor, to protecting our people. But, true dedication often comes at a cost. He is a ruler, and the weight of his responsibility sometimes...pushes him away from those he loves."

He looks back at you once more, his eyes shadowed with pain. "The relationship between my mother and father was complicated. While they loved each other deeply, the pressures of leadership created a rift between them. My mother tried to bridge the gap, to bring warmth and light into our lives...despite the heavy shadow that loomed over our family."

There was a softness in his gaze as he continued. "Her memory is what keeps Faramir and myself together, though Faramir was much too young when she passed. She reminded us of the beauty in the world, even when my father's prophetic speeches seemed to overshadow everything. Her love was like a beacon in the dark, guiding us through the trials of our lives."

"It sounds like she was a remarkable woman," you say softly. "A true light in the darkness."

Boromir’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a sense of relief, as if he had finally shared a burden that had been too heavy to carry alone. "She was," he agrees quietly. "And her memory continues to guide me, even in the darkest of times."

You continue to sit together in silence, while the lights of Lothlorien cast a cool glow around you. The shadows of the night seem less daunting now, the weight of Boromir's memories lightened by the act of sharing them.

A small, genuine smile touches Boromir's lips as he moves closer to you. "Thank you, my lady," he says.

You blink your eyes at him in confusion. Why should he thank you when you're the one who asked him?

As if answering your unspoken question, Boromir says, "It is a gift to have someone who listens. Given our task in this journey, it is easy to forget the simple comforts of companionship and understanding."

Your knees graze against his as you close the gap between the two of you, taking both of his hands into your own. "I am honored to be here with you, Captain Boromir," you reply. "And I hope to always be your steadfast companion."

Boromir's eyes widen with sudden realization. From this moment, he is confirmed that his romantic feelings of adoration for you is not unrequited, but mutual.

Gazing into your eyes, he feels a spiritual bond is forged—an established connection of shared understanding, empathy, and the quiet strength that comes from knowing and being known.

All that is left now is to seal the bond. Like a flower reaching for the warmth of the sun, Boromir leans into you and presses his lips against yours, his heart blooming in his chest from the feeling. A swarm of emotions swirl within him: joy, curiosity, fear, and excitement. The fear is quickly subdued and overcome with excitement and curiosity once he feels your lips reciprocate his kiss.

The night stretches on, filled with the promise of new beginnings and the echoes of old memories. As the two of you sit together in each other's embrace, the world outside seems a little less daunting, the burdens of your quest momentarily lightened by the simple, profound act of sharing a piece of each others hearts.

[barghest-land]

working on early horses, i wanted to do a quick sketch to show how small Eohippus was compared to an extant horse (this one is about 150cm tall). as you can see, it wasn't big at all. a perfect little lap horse :)

[puppyeared]

renaissance dogys

characters belong to @canisalbus

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The penisest of tunes.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[westywallowing]

oh the accidental transformations,,,

[slavhew]

jakey + dirkjake sandwiched between my organic chem notes. a poem in there somewhere

[yuukirita]

Prowl's hand name. This one might mean something in real sign language but like I said- I'M MAKING EM UP! gotta think like "what would Bee choose to represent his friends?" So... Eyebrow-horns...

[haveihitanerve]

Gotham Protects Her Own

“Gotham protects her own.” Bruce had whispered to him once, in a, at the time, not so rare moment of affection, cradling dick to his chest as they looked over his city. Their city. Batman and Robin. Dick had believed him, of course, but he hadn’t really felt it. Not until he had stood at the bats side for the second year in a row, and his cape had fluttered. Dicks cape had never fluttered while he was standing. Running across the rooftops? Sure. Jumping over a chimney? Most definitely. But just standing still, no movement? It had never happened. Bruce’s did, from the very beginning Bruce’s cape had flown behind him, flapping with grace in the wind that was not there. But dicks hadn’t. But now… Bruce smiled down at him, pride lining every line in his face, before he took off across the roof, a challenge and a test at the same time. Dick chased after him, and for the first time since he had become Robin, he flew. His feet barely touched down, cushioned by the roofs, by shadows, and he laughed, wild and bright and free, and Bruce joined him, laugh deep and rich and full. Dick belonged to Gotham now, the city had laid her claim on him, and as Batman and Robin flew across the city, Dick could hear a new laugh join them, light and happy and feminine, delighted by their delight, their acceptance. Gotham protects her own, and Dick Grayson-Wayne, the first Robin, had earned that right, that protection, with his leaps and jokes and belief in Batman, in a belief in the city, in the belief that it could be better. 

Gotham protects her own. Catherine Todd had murmured to him once, late one night, a bruise blossoming on her cheek, eyes heavy from drugs. She was close to death, Jason could feel it practically wafting off her, and he didn't think much of her last words, a hazy drugged hallucination, slurred speech. But then she had passed and Jason had left, choosing the street over his father and then he had understood. People came looking for him, naturally, even his father ventured out, but shadows seemed to envelop him, the streets opened to his footfalls, and he always found a safe place to sleep, never waking with his things stolen or suddenly kidnapped. Jason could feel the city, his very lifeblood, could hear her music in her traffic, felt her song in the earthquakes. Gotham cradled him, sheltered him, and when the time came, pushed him to a left unattended Batmobile, tempting him to steal the tires. For the first time, Jason doubted his city, hated her for sending him into a trap. But then he became Robin, and Gotham squealed in delight, and Jason watched in awe as Bruce flew, as Gotham made his cloak billow, as she nurtured her prodigal son. Batman had gotten injured, once, badly enough that he had struggled with his grapple line, and it had snapped. Jason had screamed, lunging for him, but it was too late. Before he could cry over the dead body of his mentor, he found Bruce at the bottom of the building, not much worse for wear at all. Gotham had cradled him, shadows leaping to cushion his fall. Jason had laughed with glee, rushing Bruce home as quickly as possible, and something had brushed his cheek, a faint kiss against his forehead. Gotham protects her own and Jason Todd-Wayne, the second Robin, had been born into that right, that protection, and felt her city pound through his body like blood, feeding his soul. 

Gotham protects her own. Tim had seen the slogan on a Wayne Enterprise billboard once, when he had been seven, an ad campaign promoting insurance and helpful housing. It had become a sort of mantra for him, something he whispered under his breath every time his father made a snide comment about Tim lacking proper talent or social skills, after every call his parents declined, after every fight that had him biting his lip to stop the tears and debate running away. Gotham protects her own. Became his lifeline, his mantra, a promise of a better life. It wasn't anything he ever believed, until he finally worked up the courage to approach Bruce Wayne about the secret. Tim slipped on the Robin uniform for the first time… And something inside him settled. A woman's voice in the back of Tim’s head squealed. But as he raced over the rooftops, finally at Batman's side as he always dreamed to be instead of a few feet behind, snapping pictures, his cape dancing with the wind, his feet hardly touching down, that mantra, that false belief of hope, of a better life, became truth. Gotham protects her own, and Tim Drake-Wayne, the third Robin, had believed in that truth his whole life, wishing with every fiber of his being that she would protect him, and she finally had. 

Gotham protects her own. David Cain had warned her once, telling her great stories of the city with air of midnight black, of water a putrid green, and of a people a hardy and tough. It hadn't been a compliment, just another obstacle she would need to overcome to fulfill her future missions. She had believed him, of course, but… she had never truly known what it meant. Not until she had stumbled into the city, hurt, bleeding, afraid, and she had felt that… otherworldly power. Reaching for her. Its tendrils soft and kind, like a mother, shadows stretching across her, shielding her, as the League prowled the streets. It wasn't until she saw him. The Bat. And his little Bird, brutal efficiency and yet mercy in every action, wasn't until she saw how Gotham cradled them, lifted them, helped them to fly. Gotham had been more accepting to her than she had thought. Maybe because she hadn't hurt her children. Maybe because she knew her pain. Maybe because Cass had been so afraid. But whatever the reason, when Cassandra Cain-Wayne took to the streets, a proud, blazing Bat on her chest, her cape billowing behind her, Gotham sang. 

“Gotham protects her own!” Arthur Brown had screamed once. It had been in a fit of rage, followed by the sounds of windows crashing and tables smashing against the wall. He had been angry, livid even, the sound of his footsteps heavy and hard on the floor as he stormed around, pissed that Batman was unreachable for him, untouchable, protected by the city he claimed to do the same to. Steph knew the truth in the words, had been protected by them her whole life, finding a window open right when her father got home, the closet door unlocked miraculously after her father had locked her up, alleyways opening for her to escape through when bigger kids picked on her, or the cops chased her. And it happened now, as Arthur Brown came storming for her, rage and malice and every evil intention written across his features. Steph could feel that tug, that indescribable feeling of home, and she took a step back, melting into the shadows as she fled, fled her home, fled her father, fled his wrath and everything wrong with the world. She settled on the roof, the way she always did when he got like this, and waited, as she always did. For it to end. For him to stop. It was that night that she saw him for the first time. Steph had heard of him, of course, the Batman was infamous throughout Gotham by now, but she had never seen him in person. Never watched his work. It was at Bethany’s house. Bethany’s father, Vincent, was screaming again. The way Arthur was. But Gotham, Gotham didn't protect Bethany the way she did Steph. Or maybe Bethany just didn't listen. But Batman.. Batman listened. Batman protected. Steph watched, wide eyed, as he jumped through the window, as he grabbed Vincent by the throat and slammed him against the wall, snarling in his face. Steph watched, hands clutching her teddy, wondering whether she would rather risk her father than this demon. But he stopped. Paused. Threw Vincent to the ground in disgust, unconscious, and turned to Bethany. Beth had stopped moving, the way she always did when Vincent got the way he did, dissociating so she wouldn't feel his hands on her. Steph didn't think it worked, but it was something. Batman bent down, gentle, slowly, a few feet away, extending a hand to Beth. Steph couldn't hear what he said, couldn't see his face, but Beth blinked at him. She blinked, and she walked closer, slowly. And Batman… Batman held her, held her until she was crying, held her through her tears and wiped her eyes and rubbed her back, held her until she was asleep without nightmares, and carried her to bed, tucking her in gently. Steph didn't know how long she sat there, watching as he cared for this little girl, forgoing the Bat Symbol in the sky, and his anger, for her. Gotham protects her own, Steph swore as she watched him drop from the window the same night, flitting away on shadows only she could see. Gotham protects her own, and she would protect Gotham. She would mold herself after the Bat, and help. 

[lets-try-some-writing]

"The Titans were gentle beings, knowing neither fear nor pain. For all their power, it was the Primes who cared for them, guarding their innocent sparks." - Thundercracker, Speaker of Trypticon.

A lil bit of lore below the cut.

In my little continuity, the Primes were indeed Primus's firstborn, but they were made from the suffering of their maker as he fought to survive. The Titans though? They were born to give life, made to spread Primus's gifts to all creation. As such, they are naturally gentle and inherently incapable of violence.

They will not fight back if attacked, nor will they rise to the defense of their citizens (although they will provide weaponry and protection in the form of walls and the like). They cannot even comprehend why one would hurt another outside of the natural order of things. It is to the point where those who care for the remaining Titans have labeled them as having the cognitive capabilities of newbuilds. For all their age and wisdom, Titans are, at their core, the only entities in the universe to maintain a sense of innocence all throughout their lives. They hold no anger, no bitterness, and no grudges. Everything, in their optics, will play out as it should.

As such, the Titans have always had guardians to protect them from a reality that would seek to crush them into dust. During the first age, the Primes filled this role. In the modern era, seekers of Vos have taken on the mantle, guarding and speaking on the behalf of the three remaining Titans on Cybertron.

[brainrotcharacters]

deadclaws badassery where it's revealed Wade and Logan tested the distance on Logan's hearing.

Watch them hundreds of feet away from each other in the battlefield and all it takes to set Wolverine loose is for Deadpool to mutter "Logan."

gif credits to original owners!

[dollya-robinprotector]

Once upon a time... Reference: Hylas and The Nymphs by John William Waterhouse

[ew-selfish-art]

DPxDC AU: Ellie was going to beat the shit out of this space cop if he was lying…she might just do it anyway but, like, fr she’ll throw down on Danny’s behalf.

Enter scene following a bad tandem clone + identity reveal where in Danny is captured and wounded, Ellie escaping just narrowly. She manages to get Sam and Tucker on her side and together the three of them save Danny. (Where was Jazz? Why couldn’t she find Jazz?)

Ellie has traveled all over the world, has seen its hospitality just as much as its hostility- besides Danny liked space right? Mostly, Ellie is panicking and, being unable to think of a place to take Danny while he’s bleeding out on her, she just goes… up. Out of the atmosphere and just beyond the satellites. It finally feels far enough away, tho she didn’t take them beyond the moon, she has limits to her paranoia thank you.

Imagine to her annoyance that apparently someone actually watches for biological materials leaving and re-entering the earth! Total Bullshit! She’s needed to make a number of trips back and forth to get Danny food and water and medical supplies- and she’s doing a damn good job of getting him stable. Too bad she hadn’t realized the ring guy following her sooner.

Turns out he’s “made a report” and “will find them justice” and “wants to help”. Yeah right. She throws down with him as best she can, and he clearly doesn’t want to hurt her so he keeps letting her get away with Danny in tow. Danny is sleeping through most of this but a few times he lets out a woop or a go get ‘em.

Eventually Hal calls the only person on the team with a single paternal bone in his body (even if it was only a single one most days). Pulling Batman into a spacesuit, into a ship and across the atmosphere shouldn’t have been that easy- though it was obvious how his agreement came immediately after Hal mentioned the wounded and entirely isolated twins he’d found.

[wildguarneres]

F1 vs. my favorite posts on the internet (part 1, maybe)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

‘Poseidon left a party in Ethiopia because the sea vibes went rancid after Odysseus set sail’ feels like a bit I would make up, but no. That actually happened.

[thriftybruce]

Script Below the Cut:

SCRIPT:

Panel 1:

Stan: Who do you think you are?! Coming to my- FORD'S shack and talking all this crap behind her back? Only I get to do that!

Panel 2:

Fiddleford: You know damn well I'm right! She was a damn fool to keep tinkerin' with that- THAT THING!

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he still dreams of you and wishes for another chance to make you his, some lines are inspired by hakujitsu by king gnu

warnings: reader is rather lively/bubbly,

notes: TYSM FOR 100 !!!, a/n (yapping) in tags

wc: 1800

Hoshina Soushirou still dreamt of you. Every once in a while, you’d come to visit him in his sleep and it would make him believe that a miracle had occurred, that he had another chance. Every time, he would tell himself that he would never let this go, that he would give it his absolute all this time.

Yet, every time, he would wake up from this dream.

And every time, he would feel his heart drop at the realization of that. He was disappointed, and he knew, but there was no reason to be. It wasn't like anything had happened between the two of you. He liked to believe there was something going on— something more than mere acquaintances or friends, but he knew there wasn't. It must've been all in his head because the last time he had heard of you was before you were moved to the first division. He hadn't heard a single word from you since then, nor has he said anything— but that was just the way it was. There was nothing to do at this point anyway.

He wasn’t with you for all that long, and it was probably just the fact that both of you joined at the same time that naturally started the first conversation. He was far more weary of everything and far less cheerful at the time, and you didn't even work with him most of the time being a researcher, but you didn’t mind that one bit. If you had something you wanted to say, you would tell him and he’d just have to listen. At first, he had no idea why you kept talking to him when he paid hardly any mind, but after a while, he found comfort in your conversations. He had started to look forward to talking to you.

It had only been a few months before the defense force noticed how spectacular your work was and quickly called you over to the first division. There wasn’t a tearful farewell, or even a casual goodbye for that matter. You disappeared along with a cheerful ‘I’ll see you around!’ while you were moving your boxes out and he would hear those words ring in his head for the years to come— in your voice. Yet, at the time, all he could do was force a smile and nod.

It had been so many years since you had moved, he didn’t even know what you looked like now. Probably still stunning. Definitely still stunning. Although he had the chance to see the 1st division officers a lot, you were a researcher who worked behind the scenes. Naturally, there was no reason he'd bump into you, and he didn’t. He never did.

He loved to remember you, but he hated to think about you. He loved to remember the way you would laugh at his silly jokes, the way you would ramble on about the work you had to do daily but would still put in your all, and the way you would always visit him with some cold tea when he trained late into the night if you were still up as well. Actually, he hated thinking about the tea— it would make him start thinking about you. He would think about how you were now, if you were still pilled with work, and if you remembered him.

If he bumped into you, would you remember his name? Maybe if he cracked a lame joke. Maybe if he gave you a few days to think about it. Maybe if he started listing the things you talked about— his most treasured memories. Maybe then you’d say his name again.

See? This is why he hated thinking about you— he had things to be doing.

It wasn't like this happened everyday and it wasn't that big of a deal. It just ruined his day a little when it did happen. So if he had to say, he hated dreaming of you.

As you took over his thoughts again, the emergency alarm started to buzz, as if to tell him to snap out of it. He was thankful, he couldn't still be daydreaming like this.

A smaller-sized identified grade kaiju had appeared near the first division quarters, so the third division was doing more backup work this time. Hoshina was taking care of the smaller kaiju in the vicinity that had spawned from the presence of the honju. It felt nice for him to be doing work, it took his mind off his ramblings and cleared his head. He wasn't too worried about the honju, however. Although it was an identified grade, it wasn't anything they hadn't dealt with before and as much as he liked to tease Narumi about how he was always better at smaller kaiju neutralization, he knew Narumi was extraordinary at what he did.

At least that would have been true for any other kaiju of that size and strength, but Narumi seemed to be struggling far more than expected with this one. From his earpiece, he heard Okonogi notify him that the 1st division was asking to send Narumi some help if possible, and he immediately rushed over.

Yet, by the time he got there, Narumi had already neutralized the kaiju in question, although horribly beat up.

“I don't need your help, Hoshina!” Narumi still managed to yell while on the floor, absolutely bleeding out.

“Oh, shut up, do you want to die?” Hoshina asked. It didn't take an expert to see that Narumi’s condition was concerning.

Narumi soon fell quiet, probably unconscious, while Hoshina found his earpiece lying on the floor near him. He picked it up, hoping it'd connect to the first division just in case they had lost connection to his vitals.

“He's unconscious right now, but he seems to still be breathing. However, he's bleeding dangerously from multiple spots. I think a few ribs might also be broken,” Hoshina said. “There aren't any kaiju nearby at the moment and I'll take care of them if any do come— bring the stretcher right away.”

He waited a moment, but there was no response from the earpiece.

“Hello?” he asked, hoping for a response. After another moment, he heard it.

“Hoshina…?”

It was you. He would still recognize your voice from anywhere. Oh, how he missed you. His eyes were wide and he had nothing to say all of a sudden. You remembered him. You recognized his voice.

You remembered his name.

“Thank you for your report, we lost connection to some of his vitals halfway through. The medics should be there in a few minutes,” you said.

“I'll stand by,” Hoshina said and kept Narumi's earpiece in his ear. He had nothing he wanted to tell you, not one thing in mind, but he wanted to be on the line with you— even in silence. The medics came in a few minutes like you had told him and took care of Narumi right away.

“They got here, he should be fine now,” Hoshina said, as if you didn't already know. He just wanted something to say to you.

“I missed working with you,” you said and he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps he'd wake up from this dream again. Perhaps he'd open his eyes and be utterly disappointed again. But he knew there wasn't even a hint of romantic affection in your words, just the respect you've always had for the work he did, and how you missed doing this job with him. And he did too.

“Yeah, I did too,” he said. “I still do.”

You chuckled a little and he could still picture you smiling. “That made my entire year,” you said. “Probably not the time for this, but we should catch up sometime. If you don't mind, of course.”

Made your year. What did you mean by that? And If he didn't mind? Oh, you didn't know how many times he's dreamed of this day.

“I'd love to,” he said. While he was a little embarrassed to imagine the rest of the first-division team hearing this conversation, that was not going to stop him. He'd be an absolute fool to let this chance go. He has promised himself to give it his all this time.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked quietly.

“Sorry?” you asked, hoping he'd repeat that. You heard it, but you were afraid you were so delusional you were starting to hear things. Your heartbeat quickened and you waited patiently, hoping it wasn't all in your head.

“Do you have a lover?” he asked a little more clearly, but obviously still nervous and flustered. You had never seen him like this, ever.

“No,” you replied, a little too quickly. “I do not.”

Relief washed over him and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Oh, thank goodness you didn't have access to his vitals. He was going to make you fall for him somehow.

“…do you?” you asked quietly, after a moment.

“Me?” he asked. “No, I don't.”

“I see,” you said, but he could hear the soft delight in your voice. He would never miss it.

Perhaps he'd just go for it. There was nothing for him to lose at this point, and he had made his feelings plenty obvious already. If you didn't want him, he'd just try again. He's tried countless times in his dreams already, what's a few more?

“But I'd love to be yours,” he said and heard you gasp quietly. That one he couldn't read. Was that a little too bold? Far too sudden?

“Did I hear that right?” he faintly heard you scream, asking your fellow first division coworkers. That made him laugh, you hadn't changed one bit. “I’ve loved you forever, Hoshina.”

There was absolutely no way. He was going to wake up soon, he just knew it. Well, might as well indulge in the dream for now, then.

“I've definitely loved you for longer,” he said.

“Hoshina, I'm going to kill you if this is a dream,” you said, and that caught him off guard. Yet, even that sounded nice to him, and that made him smile. He'd get to see you, at least.

But it wasn't a dream. The way your voice fluttered his heart could never be felt through a dream. The way your laugh filled his soul could not possibly make him feel so warm through a mere dream.

“I cannot wait to see you,” you said softly, your voice so full of love it made him melt.

He couldn't either, but that wasn't exactly what he had on mind this entire time.

“And I cannot wait to kiss you.”