#if that’s something you want then stay tuned

[act-nat-ural]

It started when Kuroo referred to you as his ‘karaoke wife.’ Kenma’s face twisted into one of clear disgust. “What does that even mean..” Kuroo threw an arm around your shoulder and gave you a smug look. “Care to explain?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hold back your smile. “It means we only go to karaoke if the other is going.” The team gave you an unimpressed look as Kuroo gestured for you to go on. You sighed and avoided eye contact, mumbling, “We also only do duets with each other.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as Fukunaga let out a giggle and Yamamoto muttered, “I wish I had a karaoke wife,” under his breath.

Kuroo chuckled, sensing your discomfort. “What she means is, we’ve got a vibe when we sing together. Like, there’s this chemistry between us that just clicks. It’s like we can read each other’s minds, you know? We can start a song without saying a word, and it just flows. Perfect harmonies, smooth transitions… It’s like we’re in sync. Like we *get* each other, musically.”

The team looked between you and Kuroo with varying degrees of skepticism. Kenma raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, chemistry, sure.”

“You know,” Kuroo continued, leaning back and grinning, “There’s a special kind of magic when you’re so in tune with someone. We can make any song sound like it’s meant for us. Ever heard of ‘The Power of Love’?” He looked to you, eyes glinting. “It’s like, you and I? We can turn even the cheesiest love songs into something everyone wants to listen to. And don’t get me started on our ‘Shallow’ duet. We had the whole room cheering.”

You felt the familiar rush of both pride and bashfulness. “It’s not that impressive,” you muttered, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. You were secretly proud of the way your voices blended, the effortless way you made each performance feel unique.

“Are you kidding?” Kuroo scoffed, clearly enjoying the teasing. “I’m pretty sure we make every karaoke night legendary. I mean, do you see how we make the crowd react? They go wild. It's not just the song—it’s us. We’ve got that... thing.”

The team was silent for a moment, trying to process what Kuroo was saying. Finally, Fukunaga spoke up, a teasing smile creeping up on his face. “I don’t know, man. If I’m ever looking for a duet partner, I might just steal (Name)  away from you.”

Kuroo’s face immediately shifted into mock offense. “Try it. You’ll regret it.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re being a little dramatic, aren’t you?”

“Nope.” Kuroo leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave. “You and I? We’ve got karaoke magic. I’m not just letting anyone ruin that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the embarrassment from earlier melting away in the warmth of Kuroo’s words. He always knew how to make you feel special, and even though the teasing never stopped, you had to admit—it was kind of nice to be his ‘karaoke wife.’ The team might not get it, but you knew. When you two sang together, nothing else mattered.

But just as the moment seemed to settle, a voice rang out from Yamamoto, his grin wide and mischievous. “Kuroo, you do know you two are terrible, right?”

Kuroo’s confident smile faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Excuse me?”

Yamamoto shrugged with a grin, and Kenma, looking utterly bored, added dryly, “I mean, you both sound like two dying cats trying to harmonize. It’s not really the chemistry you think it is.”

The whole team, seemingly in agreement, nodded along. “You guys literally can’t stay on key for more than a few notes,” Fukunaga chimed in, barely suppressing his laughter.

You blushed, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “Okay, okay, maybe we're not great... but it’s fun, right?”

“You and Kuroo are the worst,” Kenma said, deadpan. “You sound like you’re trying to hit notes that just don’t exist.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the realization. “We’re not that bad,” you protested, but even you knew it was true. Kuroo, despite his confidence, was as tone-deaf as they came, and your singing wasn’t much better. 

Kuroo threw his hands up dramatically. “You’re all just jealous of our unmatched charisma!”

The team snickered, and Yamamoto playfully patted Kuroo on the back. “Sure, buddy. But hey, we’ll still cheer you on. You’re great... at making everyone else sound better.”

With that, you and Kuroo exchanged a look, both of you trying not to crack up. Despite all the teasing, you knew one thing for sure—karaoke with Kuroo was never about being the best. It was about having fun, creating memories, and laughing at how awful your singing was. And honestly? That was more than enough for both of you.

note: kinda short but oh well

[lottiesviolence]

♠︎♡Needy Sevika♡♠︎

warnings: 18+, light finger fuckin, pussy eatin, poor needy soft Sevika :( , Sweet fem reader, just a drabble that's soft n’ sweet as sugar

Synopsis: Sev just needs more sweetness, give it to her, please?

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

Needy Sevika who watches your hips sway while you walk, grey eyes lingering on your ass.

Needy Sevika who bites her bottom lip when she sees how your back arches when you stretch over the counter serving people drinks.

Needy Sevika who only ask you to make her drinks just so she can touch something you touched.

Needy Sevika who fucks her fingers into her aching cunt while she thinks of you, how your body moves, how your laugh is just so so sweet.

“Fuck... you feel so good” She moans to herself in an empty room.

Needy Sevika who finally got your undivided attention, practically begging to take you on a date.

You teased and played hard to get till the day she got you a gift, a pocket knife with your name engraved in the blade. ♡

Needy Sevika who got drunk with you during your date, slurring her sweet words when she told you how badly she wanted to have you.

Needy Sevika who could barely make it out the resturant, seconds later she had her tounge in your mouth, mixing alcohols and moaning into you.

Needy Sevika who pawed and pulled at your clothes wanting to see all of you.

“Mmf.. need to see you baby”

Needy Sevika who gets on her knees and looks up at you with ache.

“Can I taste you, please?”

Needy Sevika who waits for your command.

You lifted her by her chin“Mmh, you have me Sev”

Needy Sevika who quickly lifts your leather skirt to your hips and drags her tongue against your cunt.

Your back arched against the alleyway brick wall, hands gripping her hair.

“God.. feels so good Sev, keep goin” You mewl.

Needy Sevika who listens and obeys, absolutely pussy drunk, drowning in your wetness.

Needy Sevika who hums and moans into your wet cunt, eyes closed as she focused on your clit.

Needy Sevika who holds a leg up over her shoulder to get a better taste of you.

“God, you're perfect”

Needy Sevika who sucks and kitten licks at your cunt, watching how your eyes squeeze shut.

“Cum f’me ma, cum on my face, need it baby…give it to me please”

Needy Sevika who grinds her nose against your clit, making your grip on her hair tighter as you cum, hips grinding against her face for more friction.

Needy Sevika who looks up at you with her fucked out face n’ a toothy grin.

“Thank you, ma” ♡

Sweet Sevika who fixes your skirt and hair, smiling at you sweetly.

Sweet Reader who wipes her chin and kisses her lips softly.

Sweet Sevika who rest her hand on your back as she walks you home safely.

Needy..Sweet..Sevika

💗 a/n: this is just soooo :((( 2 drabbles in one day its rlly sev hours 24/7 for me :(, i really like soft needy sev so ill be writing a full fic of her just take this drabble as an appetizer honey’s 💗 stay tuned!

[whatifmommylovedyou]

Would you be so kind as to write a moment between Agatha and reader where reader gets collared as a reward for excelling at some difficult magic?

Agatha said, to be her familiar, you'll have to prove your worth. You have to lift and carry for her, you have to keep her living space clean, and maybe most importantly… you have to perfect your magic.

Agatha is the best magic user you know, a strong witch who seems to gather more and more power every time she comes back from her adventures. You knew as soon as you saw her that you absolutely had to work with her - if you can't be her apprentice, you'll be her familiar.

And now you're sitting on the floor beside her, staring down at the floor as she mumbles to herself, turning the pages of the book that you wrote your spell in.

You don't have magic like she does - you can only do analog magic, but you've been perfecting it to the best of your ability. You've put so much work into it, honing your craft as she's away, because you've wanted to make her proud, you've wanted to make sure that you can prove to her that you're worth having around, even if your magic isn't innate.

And she's been reading for long enough that you're starting to get restless, your nails digging into your palms, your heart in your throat.

You don't want her to be mad at you if you got it wrong. Because you'll keep working at it, you'll keep trying until you've made her proud, until you've worked exactly to her specifications.

And then there is a hand on your head, and you realize that you haven't heard anything for long enough that it suggests that she's done.

"I can see you worked very hard on this," she says, and her fingers are in your hair, using the leverage to force you to look up into her face. "You're going to serve me well, aren't you?"

You lick your lips, your heart beating faster, your stomach twisting up in knots. You've wanted this so badly, but now that it's happening, there's some complicated anxiety crawling up your throat.

"So you're going to be my familiar," she says to you, and her low voice seems to vibrate across your skin.

You nod, but you don't want to look up at her, because what if it's a joke? What if she'll punish you, if you made some mistake?

You admire Agatha, to be true, but you know she's cruel. She's never been THAT cruel to you, but.

But no, she's looking down at you with a little half smile, looking very pleased. "We'll need proof," she says, & now she rubs her hands together. "Stay there," she says. "I'm going to get you something… special."

Special. She's getting you something special, and what sort of special might that be? You lick your lips, pressing your thighs together - arousal is waking up in your guts. You shiver, but you're staring down at the floor, tracing out the lines of the floorboards.

You can feel the anticipation building and building, sweat down your back, and you're curling your toes, listening to the rise and fall of your breath. Your whole body is on edge, and you're fully tuned in to EVERYTHING.

You can hear the creak of the floorboards, and then her bare feet are slipping into your view. There's a hand on your head, and then your face is being tilted back so that you can look up into her face.

And she's holding a band a leather. A band of leather with a buckle on the end. There's a tag dangling as well, and oh, that's for you, isn't it? That's your name, that's her address, and everyone who sees you will know.

You're going to belong to her. You already belong to her, but now everyone will KNOW, and what are you supposed to do with that?

She has to bend forward to buckle the collar around your neck. The leather is cool and smooth, and it settles around your neck perfectly.

There's a ring at the very front of it, and she's fiddling with the collar, centering the ring. She slides a finger under the collar to give it a gentle tug, and then you're being pulled upright by it, nearly falling over.

Agatha's index finger slipped into the ring at the very front, and then she's pulling you to her, using the leverage to keep you in place as she kisses you.

You melt into the kiss - almost as much of a treat as the collar itself. Your eyes flutter closed, and you press yourself closer as she deepens the kiss, pulling you that much closer.

The tag on the collar jingles, and you shiver into the kiss.

[sweetkpopmusings]

miserable (you & me) | h. hyunjin <3

a/n: i have had these blurbs in my drafts FOREVER. "miserable (you & me)" is a song i've had on repeat since it dropped. i'm also a sucker for angst, so please enjoy these self-indulgent posts (they all have happy endings, i promise!) there will be one for each member, so stay tuned <3 pics not mine~

content: angst, happy ending | wc: 1k | warnings: none really! | pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader | requests:open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

난 가망이 없는 미래에 손을 뻗어 날 부었네 / “i stretched out my hand towards a hopeless future and poured myself out”

of course it would be raining right now. the day’s weather had been normal, a smattering of clouds above and an overcast glow hinting that the weather might take a turn for the worse, but nothing was set in stone. that turned out to be true in a more literal sense, hyunjin realized, while watching people mill about on the street below with freshly opened umbrellas. he scoffed. what did you think would happen? what did you think would change?

the answer was nothing. but i had no choice.

you and hyunjin met up for your usual weekend get-together, returning to a favorite drink spot of yours after a few weekends of schedules keeping you apart. he had missed you so dearly, something that became achingly clear when his whole body lit up from seeing your face peek through the entrance. you noticed the buzz in his body when he greeted you, a sweet laugh escaping your lips. hyunjin’s heart melted at the sound, collapsing even more into endearment when you said, “i missed you a ton, too.”

a moderate number of people took up the tables and seats in the building, so there was a comfortable hum of casual conversation surrounding you. hyunjin, as always, was so closely tuned into the sound of your voice, he would’ve believed you if you said the place was completely empty. it was clichéd for sure, but he was enraptured by every single thing you said. he loved listening to all your thoughts, stories, jokes, anecdotes; whatever you were willing to share with hyunjin, he’d accept with open and grateful hands. you both laughed as you finished telling him an embarrassing story your friend shared with you the other day, and, so you could take a sip of your drink, you asked hyunjin, “how are you?”

without skipping a beat, hyunjin answered, “i’ve liked you for the longest time.”

seeing as that was quite the unexpected answer to your question, you froze. your brain buffered, face showing barely any expression, except maybe shock or confusion. hyunjin, perhaps realizing what just occurred, reacted with wide eyes and frantic apologies. if his confession hadn’t stopped you so sharply in your tracks, the endless refrain of i’m so sorry! i don’t know why i did that. i’m so stupid! would have drowned out the words he spoke so naturally. you didn’t have time to process, but you tried to protest against hyunjin’s incessant apologies. this, it seemed, was fruitless.

hyunjin, with shaking legs and fumbling hands, gathered his things. 

“hyunjin, what’re you–”

“i should go, y/n,” he responded quickly, too quickly for him to mean it.

your heart broke at the way his voice cracked when he said your name, “no, just stay for a minute. please, i–”

his chest tightened when please fell from your lips, but he couldn’t bear the idea of you begging him to stay, only to tell him you didn’t feel the same. yes, it was immature, and, sure, it was probably selfish. yet all hyunjin could think to do was leave. so he did, his goodbye all staggered breaths and darting eyes.

you turned in your chair, barely catching his gaze as he raced to who knows where, “hyunjin?”

his eyes caught yours, and he ripped them away before he lost his foolish resolve. he hoped he offered you a soft smile, something to say i’m sorry for this. i just want you to be happy, and i guess this is me trying to make sure you stay that way. the adrenaline rush meant he couldn’t feel his face, though. he had no way of knowing what he looked like when he looked back at you. 

hyunjin’s whole trip home consisted of pleas for his legs to move faster. if his steps hit the ground hard enough, he could ignore all the scolding voices inside his head until he was safe in his room. if he were honest with himself, he was outrunning the look of shock on your face, and the way your voice fell when you asked him to stay. hyunjin, as he caught his breath in his room, realized that running away from you meant he ended up in front of his window, facing a future of heartbreak. a sardonic laugh broke free from his lips. maybe if you did it the right way, at the right moment, you’d be looking at them instead. maybe you’d be thinking of something other than angsty plotlines for the strangers passing by on the street below. 

“or maybe i could be hurt much worse,” he whispered to himself. 

that was the last sound that shared space with hyunjin in the room. he sat, mind racing and leg bouncing, completely silent. until someone knocked on the door.

hyunjin shuffled to the entryway, instinctively opening it at a familiar knock, only coming to when he saw you standing before him. of course, no matter how hard he tried, his body would always end up right in front of you.

ignoring the way his deflated figure twisted your chest up in all the worst ways, you chided, “you know it’s rude to confess to someone and leave immediately after, right? you didn’t give me a chance to respond.”

you huffed as you spoke. hyunjin couldn’t help the endeared smile that graced his face when he watched your frustrated, furrowed brow turn into a cute, unintentional pout. 

he thought, they are more precious to me than they’ll ever know, and he admitted, “you’re right. it was very rude of me. while i may not deserve to hear it after the way i acted, would you mind telling me what you were going to say?”

your shoulders relaxed as the familiar shine in hyunjin’s eyes returned. his beautiful smile came back too, as he watched your face light up with a reply he’d only ever dreamed of before.

“i like you too, hyunjin. i have for the longest time.”as though his hands weren’t shaking from anxiety a mere five minutes before this moment, hyunjin reached out to you, pulling you into his home and into his arms. when you accepted his invitation and melted into his embrace, hyunjin thought, i’ll pour my heart out to them again and again, if it means we’ll always end up right here, together.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 7

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: descriptions of anxiety + guilt, piv sex WC: 7.8k AN: hello my darlings!! i am back!!! (from the dead aka first semester of my PhD) i've missed you all so much. this chapter took sooooo long to write because i wanted to get everything just right, but we have now entered phase 2 of the fic, where new shenanigans begin. stay tuned!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, [Ch. 7], Ch. 8

Chapter 7: Burning

"Need to talk to you," Anakin blurted out loudly over the music, obviously catching you by surprise based on your empty, blinking face. The guy who was upsettingly close to you shot him a look equal parts murder and possessiveness, and Anakin's lip curled in disgust. His face looked eminently punchable, and Anakin could just imagine the satisfaction of his fist in the guy's cheekbone, or the way he would buckle after one good hit to the stomach.

Somewhere, a rational part of him reminded him that this was not caveman times, and that you had agency and were allowed to make your own choices, but Anakin silenced it. Feeling angry was easier than admitting that it felt like his organs were being torn out when he saw you flirting with anyone else. Thinking about kicking the shit out of some random guy was easier than admitting that knowing you had put this outfit on for someone else, someone other than him, was killing him.

"I--" You began, half-yelling over the noise, then your face twisted into something Anakin couldn't read. Annoyance? Hatred? Pity? "Fine. Let's talk," you finished. The man, who looked like if all the finance bros in the university were merged together into one terrible Pokémon Evolution, scoffed his annoyance, but you ignored him.

Anakin didn't even try to suppress his smugness.

You pushed past the guy, then past Anakin, all the way to the staircase tucked in the corner of the room. He was enchanted, brainless when he followed you. The air got warmer, stickier, and the number of couples making out along the walls increased dramatically. Anakin remembered when that would have been the two of you. That night at TKD. How he wished he could turn back time to that night and just live it in a loop.

Just like then, you were divine in front of him. Your legs climbing the stairs, the gentle sway of your hips that he had fantasized about. He couldn't help it. He'd be noticing these things forever.

You slipped into a bedroom, and it smelled a bit disgusting, but he couldn't care less because he was with you. Anakin closed the door with a decisive thump, then turned to look at you.

You had that look on your face, that one he hadn't puzzled out yet. Your perfect eyebrows were scrunched together, and he could see you swallow hard. He couldn't care less if you hated him. If you pitied him, wanted him gone. At least some small part of you would have still cared. He had prepared a whole speech--telling you how sorry he was. How much he wanted you. That he hadn't felt this way about anyone before, and that he wanted to make you fall for him the same way he'd fallen for you. That he wanted more than whatever the two of you had been. That he wanted to be your boyfriend. Long-term, preferably.

Anakin was ready to get on his knees if he had to.

He opened his mouth to start, but you interrupted him.

"No, I have something to say." The words came out shaky, and dread clawed in his stomach. Were you going to say you wanted him to leave your life? That you had moved on with the finance bro downstairs, who had a trust fund and probably said slurs? That you were excited to never see him again in four months, when you graduated?

Then, you sighed and said something he never would have expected.

"I'm sorry, Anakin."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

It set in later than it should have. Much later.

All throughout finals, you were desperately trying to stop thinking about him. That horrible feeling in your stomach when his face popped into your mind. Which it did, all the time. It was a sticky, terrible pit that opened up whenever something reminded you of him. The lingering smell of him on your pillow. His hatred of orange Skittles. You'd been angry before, but this was different, worse, somehow.

But you pushed it down. Exams mattered more right now. So much more.

Sometimes, the wave of nausea hit you a little too hard, like when you thought about how badly you needed a hug, and how you didn't really want a hug from anyone but him. When it got too hard, you'd leap out of your desk and march to the corner store, just to buy a Red Bull and maybe some chips. Something crunchy, something to puncture the silence of your suddenly suffocatingly empty room.

On the walk through the biting air, you would let yourself think of him. You'd let that pain in your heart blossom, and you'd just pretend you'd said something, anything else. That either of you had made different decisions. That you'd be walking back to your room and he'd be sitting on the bed, giving you that crooked smile, ready to quiz you on fluid dynamics. It was the cold that made your eyes water, you swore.

And then you'd arrive home, and you had to get back to work. Anakin Skywalker was not an allowable topic of thought at any other times. You pulled yourself through finals like a zombie, not letting yourself think beyond the next meal or next exam.

That was not the brightest idea, it turned out, shockingly. When you left your last final, you were blank, empty. You went home and collapsed on your bed, and you finally let yourself imagine his arm wrapped around you as you drifted off.

When your alarm went off at nine PM to remind you to get to the airport, the pit was back. As you stuffed things in your suitcase, then rushed out the door, you felt like there was bile clawing up your throat.

It was a disgusting feeling. You'd been mad in your life, but this was different. It made you want to jump out of your skin just to be free of it.

Around a third of the way through the red-eye plane ride back home, everything was dark and quiet, with only the whir of the engines disturbing the cabin. You slipped out from your aisle seat, just to stretch your legs and use the bathroom, and then you passed him. Or, at least, you thought it was him. But it wasn't. The stranger sitting in 16C had Anakin's nose and curls, but his eyes were all wrong, and his hair was just a smidge too light. He didn't have those little dimples on the side of his mouth.

But just the same nose and the same curls were enough to light that painful burn in your heart. How many times had you looked at those features, traced them, even before all of this started? Why, why did your heart leap for a second, hoping that he'd followed you, like in some 90s romcom, to declare his undying, hopeless love?

That pit in your stomach you thought was bad before was swallowing you whole now. Your skin felt hot, clammy. You willed yourself to move one leg, then the other, heavy like bags of sand, just to get somewhere private before you imploded.

By the time you slid the lock closed on the bathroom door, you were bawling. Big, heaving sobs ripped from your chest, and you couldn't place the emotion. Anger, sadness, guilt--it was all mixing into a knot that kicked the breath out of you.

What had you done? What had you fucking done?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Things got a little better at the airport, when you got to hug your family. On the drive home, they occupied you with anecdotes about the neighbors--the house across the street had apparently put up a garish snowman--and questions about your semester. And it was nice to recount some high points. A couple of times, you were tempted to tell a story that involved Anakin, but you held your tongue.

When you got home, and it was around time for bed, you tossed and turned, but all you could think about was him. That feeling in your gut was unbearable, and you were debating whether you should just go retch over a toilet to get it out of your system. You only managed to fall asleep by putting on Criminal Minds, and even then it took you two episodes.

The next night, the same thing happened.

And the next. And the next.

The next time you were in bed, you made yourself confront it. Just for a second. That feeling that came up whenever you thought of him.

For years, he was just some guy who got everything he wanted. You knew the department was stacked against you from the start--being in classes where only four people weren't men was symptomatic of the department culture. But when Anakin interacted with the professors like that, got all the internships, you wondered if you could do the same thing. If it had been you networking with the professors, would you have gotten the same reaction? And you didn't know.

Anakin was frustrating. So, so frustrating for years. Because everything just came so easily to him. It was like he waltzed in every day to your freshman lab course and made breadboard circuits that were even neater than the professor's. And when he did so well on every exam, he didn't make a secret of it. He gloated about how his projects were used as examples. Initially, that rivalry was one-sided. You'd do anything to beat him. Later on, when you'd worked on more than a couple projects together, you could see it in his eyes. He knew you were a threat, good competition.

And when he was clearly closer with the professors and got accepted to an internship you didn't get, it was whatever. It annoyed you to no end and you complained about it to your friends, but it wasn't terrible. Those were minor things. Your theses were major. This was what you'd present to employers, to the world. This was what you were going to do for the rest of your lives. And he'd gotten it from somewhere.

If even this was stacked against you, why did any of it matter?

You were still furious. You felt like you wanted to punch something or scream into your pillow at how unfair the world was, how you just wanted something to be easy for once.

But the worst part of it all was that you knew that, in his place, you would do the same exact thing. Or, at least think about it a lot. You'd feel like shit about it, granted, but you might do it. That feeling of trying and failing for months to get the perfect idea that was equally attractive to employers and the thesis committee, to get something that even worked, was probably the most frustrating cycle you'd ever experienced. If someone gave you a ticket out, what would you have done?

You probably would have taken it, if things were bad enough.

And that meant Anakin wasn't a bad person. Just a desperate one.

You knew he wasn't a bad person, though. You'd seen him smile at you with such openness, such sweetness. You'd seen him coach freshmen, including your own roommate, to become good athletes. You'd seen him get you food when you were too out of it to do it on your own. You'd felt him put his jacket around you when you fell asleep in the library.

But there was always that fear that, just maybe, your first impression had been right. That he was an asshole. That, one day, the mask would fall off, and you'd realize he was just pretending. That your relationship didn't matter to him as much as it did to you. That if you told him that you wanted more than sex, he'd laugh.

And, when you heard from Barriss of all people, that maybe he was exactly what you had thought he was, a liar, it felt like he was stabbing you in the back and twisting the knife.

Looking back at it, it still felt terrible, but you couldn't move the image of Anakin helping you, keeping you company in the library. He wasn't scheming against you when he took the idea, he was just scared and desperate.

It was the department that had pitted you against each other from the start--curves, calling out the best homework solution, TAships, and thesis competitions. None of it was made by him. He was just like you, trying his best.

You also hadn't heard all the details. The idea for the hand had been his, just the idea to scale it down had been someone else's. Just like you'd asked professors to help you choose between ideas early on in the process.

The more you thought about it, the more it felt like your heart was being carved out with a blunt spoon.

You impulsively opened your phone. The texts he had sent you.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

How could you not trust him? How could you have watched him cry and just left? What kind of a person were you?

Fuck, what had you done?

You were gasping for air, the tears rolling down your face and onto your pillow. You had ruined something perfectly good. Just because you were blaming him for everything that had gone wrong.

It was too much. It was all too much. The stress climbed up your throat and choked you, and you writhed in the sheets to try to escape the feeling. To just go back to a time when things mattered less, when you were purely happy and never worrying about GPAs or rankings.

Fingers shaking, you opened Ahsoka's contact and smashed the tauntingly green 'Call' button.

She wouldn't answer you anyway, you reasoned. It was the middle of the night, after all.

The ringing was painfully loud in the empty room. The tone sounded one, two, three, four times, and you were about to give up when Ahsoka's tired voice mumbled your name.

"'Soka--I--Can I talk to you?" You managed to spit out the question despite the thick cottony feeling in your throat.

"Hey, woah, what's the matter? Are you okay?" The grogginess left her voice as she fretted on the other end of the line, and her protectiveness made you feel the tiniest bit better.

As you spilled your guts to her, she made comforting noises at the appropriate places, and grossed out noises when you described that you'd had sex with Anakin. Soon, your breathing stabilized, and she said exactly what you'd been thinking, too: you needed to apologize, stat. Preferably, in person.

You fell asleep on the line with her.

In the morning, everything felt better. Manageable. You just needed to collect yourself before you returned home, and then sit him down and talk to him--actually talk.

For the remainder of the break, you immersed yourself in the everyday. Your holiday traditions were familiar, calming. The constant clamor of your family to get this and that from the store kept you busy. You'd wake up late, eat some lunch, get some coding done, scroll Instagram, eat dinner, then pass out in front of the TV. And just like that, another day slipped by. And another. And another. And another. And then it was Christmas, and all you could think was that Anakin was opening presents right now, somewhere far away. You opened your texts again, trying to draft a message that seemed right--Hey or Merry Christmas both seemed slightly weird. But maybe hearing from you would mess up his day, or maybe he'd realized what you had, that you were in the wrong, and now wasn't interested in talking to you. As you were debating, the roiling guilt in your stomach grew, and, when your father laughed particularly loudly, you were relieved to turn off your phone and pay more attention to the breakfast table.

In the back of your mind, there was a subtle thrum of guilt that never really went away. It only got worse as the break came closer to ending, and you realized you hadn't really gotten anything done on your thesis in weeks. You set a countdown on your phone homescreen, just to keep you on your toes. All it did was make you feel worse.

On New Year's Eve, when you were watching the ball drop with your parents, your phone chimed.

It was Anakin. The world stopped, and your mouth went dry. happy new year. What could you even say to that?

Happy New Year. I miss you.

Happy New Year. I'm sorry for everything.

Happy New Year. Wish you were here

Happy New Year! How are you?

All of them felt wrong. But then one of your parents said your name, trying to get your attention, and you locked your phone.

That night, while having your nightly stew on your feelings, you resolved to talk to him in person after lecture. Otherwise, you were worried you'd never bring it up.

On the first day of classes, you were resolved to catch him before or after lecture. Any time would work, really. You'd have two chances that Monday, and then two more on Wednesday if you chickened out. The fact that you acknowledged you might chicken out was a bad sign, but you ignored it.

You got there ten minutes early, an act that was generally considered psychopathic in college, and you were ready to zone out while the professor said some things about the goals of the course for just long enough for class time to end before speaking to Anakin.

Would he say something to you? Would he try to sit next to you? Would he even notice you?

You kept your eyes firmly trained on the board, and tried not to look too desperate as you snuck glances. Then, finally, he arrived, and you tried to look as nonchalant as possible. You made a point not to think too hard about how he was more handsome than you remembered and not to wonder if he wore that shirt just for you. That wasn't your place. You needed to apologize, not ogle him. You expected him to sit down somewhere in the middle of the seats, somewhere distinctly Anakin, but he crossed the room entirely. He even sat one row in front of you. Did he not even want you in his periphery? Your heart sunk. Maybe he had a change of heart after you didn't respond to his New Year's Eve text. Maybe he was just done with you. Maybe maybe maybe, your mind chanted.

The second that the professor was done, you rushed out.

The same thing happened again in your afternoon class, and you walked home regretting every life choice that brought you to this moment.

The next day, when you got home from your class, you entered your living room to find Anakin on the couch. Immediately, that nausea that had been plaguing you punched you in the throat.

There he was. Looking so unbothered, so casual, like him being in your room didn't make him think back to the last time you had been here, entwined on the bed. Like it didn't make him think of how you'd ruined it. All you could hear was static.

The worst part was that you couldn't stop ogling him, even though you felt terrible about it. He must have been working out over the break, because his arms looked incredible in that shirt, and his jawline was etched even more strongly than usual. The haircut he'd gotten over break left his hair falling just over his forehead in those perfect waves. It caught in the light as usual, and when he turned to look at you all you could see was blue blue blue.

And then you realized he was looking at you--at you--and his eyebrows furrowed. You could see him swallow, hard, as he looked at you. Was it a glare? Was he angry? Was he about to storm out? Who knew?

But this was your opportunity. Class didn't work out--this was it. You had to talk to him now.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe "Hey guys, can I talk to Anakin for a second?" or "Hey, can we talk?" or "I think I like you a lot," or literally anything, but nothing came out. The static in your ears got louder until it was deafening. Your stomach roiled and, for a second, you were worried you'd throw up instead of saying anything.

"Hey," you croaked out. The awkward silence sat between you three, and you didn't see his expression change. Fuck. He didn't even say "hey" back.

You had to get out of there. Had to. Right now. You bolted into your room and closed the door behind you, then dove into your bed and screamed into your pillow.

Motherfucker.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Your next attempt to apologize came at practice the next day. You hoped to catch him at the end of it, maybe pull him away and talk in some empty stairwell. You crept up to the room, but, the closer you got, the more that tidal wave of terrible feelings threatened to wash you away. Through the door to Aerobics Room 1, your eyes found him in the crowd immediately. They were practicing some kind of form (pumsae? the exact name escaped you), and Fives made some sort of comment to Anakin which sent him cackling.

He looked light, and with the afternoon sun casting its rays into the room, he almost became angelic. When he laughed, and his eyes crinkled in that way that made you soft, you lost all your nerve. He was never like this when you were in class together, or that time he was in your apartment. Whenever he saw you, he got that look on his face.

But now, he was all smiles and laughs as he playfully smacked Fives, who repeated whatever he'd said and sent a bunch more athletes into fits of laughter.

Dappled in the sunlight, his face split with an enormous smile, Anakin was so perfect in that moment. How could you ruin it by making him have a hard conversation?

At the same time, you felt the anger at yourself build up. You said all those awful things to him, and you had the nerve to delay your apology?

But you knew that, if he heard your apology and didn't forgive you, that would ruin the day for him. He was just like that. And you didn't have the heart to do that to him.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself, as you took one last look tracing the contours of his jaw and lips.

As you turned to go, you didn't notice that he'd turned to see something moving in the windowed doors to the Aerobics Room.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ahsoka was fucking tired. There were approximately two people she cared for most on the campus, and they were both huge dummies. They'd proven that over and over. She knew something was amiss from the day the two of you fought/broke up/ended things/whatever, when you started sulking in your room alone and consuming an upsetting amount of caffeine. She started gently probing right when the worst of finals was over. She didn't want to rush anything, but a well-placed "hey going to go get some food, want anything?" might soften either of the two of you enough to let her know what happened.

She found out when you told her on a phone call. And, yes, it wasn't great. It was, perhaps, morally dubious and a little misguided, from what she could tell, but it wasn't clear to her why this was such an issue. Wasn't taking advice from others and collaborating the whole point of academic research and theses?

But she also knew you had gotten feedback from multiple professors after you'd submitted your initial proposal, trying to pick between several approaches, before one of the faculty nudged you in the direction of 3-D printing instead of plastic molding. And, sure, Anakin was a little more than nudged, but he came up with the idea for the mechanical hand in the first place. This was just a different application, right? And yes, it wasn't super duper ethical that the idea was just given to him, but what would you do in his shoes?

Ahsoka told you exactly that, and you sounded like you were choking on the other end of the phone. You told her about how horrible you felt, and that you felt like you didn't know if he even wanted to ever see you again, and she groaned. Of course he did. He was the biggest simp she knew.

So Ahsoka did what she did best: she meddled.

It started small, with mentioning the taekwondo team in front of you once the semester had started. Sometimes an anecdote would include Anakin, and she made sure to casually drop his name, just to gauge your reaction. You didn't even flinch when she said it, which seemed like a good sign. But the pulse in the hollow of your neck jumped. When you confessed that you'd failed to talk to him in class, because it just felt too awkward in public, Ahsoka nodded sagely, like she wasn't already scheming to give you a private time to chat.

Within five minutes, she had texted Anakin to invite him over to plan the competitions they would be attending that semester. Like she hadn't already discussed it with him in December, but whatever. A meeting between the captain and the vice captain wasn't out of the ordinary. And it just so happened that her room was free. Crazy, right?

She really couldn't have made it turn out this well if she tried. When you entered, and Anakin looked like he might fall off the couch, Ahsoka had to suppress a smile. You looked like you wanted to say something, like maybe you'd built up the courage, and she was about to say that, actually, she had forgotten an incredibly important errand she had to run at a cafe for 30 to 45 minutes, but then you just said "hey" and walked into your room. Ahsoka grumbled internally. What was so hard about just apologizing?

Two days into classes, Ahsoka had not-so-subtly hinted to Cody that he should host a party, just in case her other meddling didn't work. It was her backup plan, and, apparently, she needed it. So, after giving you a pep talk that this would be the perfect time to talk to Anakin because you weren't in class or a meeting, and after digging out some dress in the back of your closet for you to throw on, the two of you were off.

Once you arrived at the party, she watched you do a sweep of the room instantly. She knew what you were looking for, and rolled her eyes. He probably hadn't arrived yet, but she texted him anyway, just to check.

In the two seconds she was looking down at her phone, she watched you talk to some sophomore from the business school. He looked douchey, but he was cute enough and said something that made you laugh. Come on, Anakin, she thought, praying he'd arrive soon before she had to watch this guy flirt with you any longer.

Again, she realized she was great at meddling when Anakin showed up and beelined to Cody. She pushed her way through some people, and came to greet him, drag him to get a drink, but he'd already taken a beer from Cody, then insisted that they go dance.

At every opportunity, Ahsoka tried to hint that maybe they should go over there? Toward the other side of the room? Get some more drinks, maybe?

It took ten minutes, but Anakin finally agreed. He didn't see it, but Ahsoka was smiling like a maniac when she saw him take you in. When he started marching over, she was practically cheering. It was show time.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

As you walked to some quiet(er) room, your heart was pounding. This was more nerve-wracking than the first time you slept together, than anything you had done together before. When he just appeared in front of you, looking so intense, it took you a minute to get yourself together enough to form words. Was he mad at you? And now the moment of truth had come.

You pushed into a room which belonged to someone who had more weed than deodorant, and was covered wall-to-wall in dingy band posters. You didn't want to even look down to see how stained the carpet was.

But none of that mattered. Because right now, he was here. And you finally had the opportunity to say what you needed to say.

Before you started, you drank him in one last time, just in case. His deep eyes, the peek of collarbone through his shirt, his broad chest. A quick mental catalogue.

And then you started speaking.

"I'm sorry, Anakin." You weren't sure what gave you the courage. Maybe it was because he approached you first, so you couldn't hide behind the excuse that he didn't want to see you anymore. Maybe it was the slightly awkward conversation with that dude downstairs who seemed to have way too many takes on types of beer. Either way, you'd finally done it. You'd said it. Just apologizing to him made you feel lighter, but that was drowned out by the anxiety of hearing his response.

You were trying to read his expression, the draw of his eyebrows, the purse of his lips. This was the weirdest angry face you'd ever seen.

"Wait--huh?" Both of you were probably wearing the same expression--sheer confusion. Wasn't he supposed to be mad at you? What? You watched his eyes trying to read what you meant, and his plush lips were the tiniest bit open.

You continued anyway. It had to be said, even if he was just going to tell you to stay away from him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, you didn't deserve it. Not everything was your fault, and I've been feeling so guilty over the whole break that I just--I couldn't bring myself to tell you. I chickened out every time. I wish I hadn't… ended things. Between us. I'm--I'm so sorry." Your voice came out more confident than you felt, comfortable in the words you had been rehearsing for weeks in your mind.

Once again, the room went quiet. Anakin stood, as still as a statue, clearly trying to process. Behind the pounding of your ears, you could hear the bass line downstairs and the chatter of people, and you tried to remind yourself that if this goes badly, you'll just go back home, time would pass, and you'd be able to heal your broken heart in peace.

Then, suddenly, Anakin pulled you into a crushing hug. You couldn't breathe from the weight of his head on your shoulder, and the tight squeeze of his arms around your waist. The sandalwood of his shampoo was comforting, familiar. He smelled like home as he buried his face into your neck.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry too--I wish I could take it back, that I just never entered this goddamn competition, then you never would've been mad at me and--" His voice came out broken and shaky.

"Anakin, hey," you interrupted. Had he spent the whole break feeling like this? He should be mad at you, not just upset with himself. You could talk to him about that later, but right now you could feel his desperation to just be near you again, mainly because you felt the same way. You wrapped your arms around him until your hand found his hair. Burying your fingers in it felt so good, so natural. How could you ever have ended this?

"It's okay," you said as you rubbed his back. You could feel his breaths were ragged, and he squeezed you even tighter. "I shouldn't have been that mad at you in the first place--I just got so upset that you had some sort of upper hand, and I went crazy," you continued.

"Fuck," Anakin muttered against your skin. The shift of his lips over your collarbone reminded you of the last time he'd kissed up and down your neck. You took a deep breath. Now was not the time to get horny.

Anakin pulled away, but kept his arms wrapped around your waist. Your heart clenched when you saw the mix of anguish and relief dancing across his features. His eyes were swimming, and a tear rolled down his cheek, then another, then another, until he was crying.

"Fuck," he mumbled again as he pulled one hand away from you to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, almost as if he was embarrassed. Despite it all, you found him immeasurably cute.

"Uh, I was gonna come up here and beg you for another chance--I just couldn't watch you move on or talk to that guy downstairs, it hurts too much," he confessed. His eyes met yours and you felt that familiar jolt of joy that he brought, this time over the idea that he was jealous, possessive even, over you.

"I'm not moving on." It was a risk to say it, but you did it anyway. It was definitely true, but it came out more careful, more tentative than you wanted. Because there was a chance he didn't mean it that way, and you'd just shown your hand.

Fortunately, he had a terrible poker face. Even streaked with tears, a little bit sweaty, and standing in a room that stank like weed, Anakin's smile burst onto his face and shone like the sun.

You'd forgotten how many butterflies that smile gave you. Tentatively, you moved your hand from his shoulder to his jaw. His eyes slid closed and he leaned into your touch, like you might disappear if he didn't keep you there.

Then, someone hollered in the hallway, something about a round of shots, and Anakin's eyes snapped open.

"Do you want to go somewhere quieter to talk more?" You asked. "We can walk back home or--" Anakin cut you off.

"Um, if you don't hate me right now, and I don't--I could never--hate you, can I just--" His hungry eyes flicked down to your lips, and you knew immediately that the answer was yes. Yes. A hundred times yes.

You didn't think too many brain cells were firing, so you just nodded. His smile widened, if that was even possible, and he pulled you into him just like he had so many times before.

As he got closer, your heart started pounding, and your palms got sweaty, like this was a first date. And, in a way, it kind of was. It was your first time kissing as more than just enemies who fucked every once in a while, but as something else, something more.

When his lips met yours, he was so heartbreakingly tender, you melted under his touch. Anakin was so warm when he held you this close, and you were half expecting him to start deepening the kiss when he pulled away so that your foreheads were touching.

"I fucking missed you so much," he whispered reverently, then immediately kissed you again, deeper this time.

His kiss was all-consuming, like a whirlpool sucking you in, until you'd forgotten everything except how he felt against you. Your kisses grew deeper, until you felt his tongue gently brush your lips, and you immediately opened them.

Everything felt new, gentle, and you relished it. One of his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing gently, and you felt yourself get wet. You'd been pent up for weeks, and the simultaneous relief of being with him again and the way he had all but told you that he had feelings for you were making you dizzy with want for him.

Your hands grasped anything they could, his shoulders, his hair, his arms, as much of him as you could reach. Did he even know what he did to you?

He broke the kiss, just for a second, and you were about to protest when he pulled the two of you back until he was sitting on the twin bed shoved into the corner of the room. You stood between his legs, his hands trailing down the backs of your thighs.

You swung one knee over his hips, lowering yourself until you were straddling him. Anakin watched you, his eyes dark and mischievous, and let out a small "fuck" when you were finally in his lap. He was a sucker for this position, you knew. This was exactly how you'd gotten together, at that stupid night of truth and dare. The memory filled your heart with warmth.

As you settled onto his legs, you felt a familiar hardness under you, and the butterflies returned. You loved doing this to him, making him care about nothing other than the moment you were sharing. You not-so-subtly shifted your hips as you kissed him again, and you were rewarded with a low moan.

His hands kept teasing you, running up and down the sides of your thighs as he captured your lower lip between his teeth gently. You groaned loudly into his mouth, and he used that moment to slide a hand up your inner thigh, until he had passed the hem of your dress.

Using all the willpower you had left, you pulled away. You were both panting, and he was a vision when you looked at him again, his pupils blown wide and his lips red and wet from your kiss.

"Anakin, are you sure this is okay?" You desperately wanted him to say yes, because it felt like you might implode if you didn't have him inside you tonight, but if he was this emotional, you had to say something. Give him an out.

Instead, Anakin looked at you like a man starved. His pupils were wide, and, even through the tears, he looked ravenously hungry for you. Like you made his world spin.

"Yes--God, I've thought of you every day, all the time. I don't want to wait any more than I have to, unless you don't want to, or if you think you'd regret it--" He was rambling. It was adorable.

"I've never regretted you," you said, cutting him off. "But are you sure you're sure?" You stared into his eyes, looking for any trace of worry, or hesitation. All you found was desire, and something softer. Affection, love, maybe.

He rolled his hips, pressing his hard cock against you.

"Can't you feel how much I want you?" Usually, a line like that would make you roll your eyes, but with the mischief in his eyes and the feeling of him hard underneath you, it only served to make you wetter.

You immediately grabbed his shirt to pull his lips to yours again, rocking your hips over and over until he matched your rhythm. The hand on your inner thigh crept upward, until it reached your clothed pussy.

You'd forgotten how well he knew your body, like he'd been made to touch you. His fingers found the perfect angle to stroke your clit, and you became a mess, your kisses sloppy.

After he'd teased you for a long enough time to make you a wreck on top of him, Anakin pulled your underwear aside. He dipped just one finger inside, and he groaned at how soaked you were.

"Can I fuck you, baby?" He asked, as if the answer would be anything but please. You nodded as hard as you could, and he started unzipping his jeans as fast as he could while keeping his eyes on you. You weren't sure he'd ever look away.

Meanwhile, you stood up off of him just enough to pull your soaked panties down your legs and kick them off. As he pulled his cock out, you vowed to give him head the next time you were together, because goddamn, you'd forgotten how nice of a sight he was like this.

He pulled a condom out of his pocket and rolled it on, still looking at you and only fumbling a couple of times in his trance.

"C'mere," he grabbed your waist and pulled until you were straddling him again, right above his cock. He grabbed your hips with one hand, and lined himself up with the other, then slowly started guiding you down onto him.

As he split you open, you forgot how to think, or talk, or do anything other than feel him inside of you. Every ridge, every inch. You let your head fall back as a keening moan erupted from your throat. He kissed everywhere he could, up and down your throat as he grunted against your skin.

You realized you couldn't even draw a steady breath, you were so overwhelmed by the feeling of being with him again.

His breath fanned your collarbone as he finally rested his forehead there and groaned your name. It was music on his lips.

The hand on your hip started guiding you to move, and you gently rocked your hips. God, had it ever felt this good before?

The feeling washed over you like honey, drenching your limbs and making your fingers tingle. Almost on their own, your hips picked up the pace, spreading the feeling everywhere in your body.

As you rode him faster, he pressed his face into your neck, letting the wetness from his crying earlier rub onto your skin. He was groaning at almost every thrust, incoherent mixtures of yes's and your name falling off his lips with every breath.

You were holding on for dear life, fingers fisted in his hair, when he grabbed under your thighs and stood up, slipping his cock out of you while you were still in his arms.

Anakin turned around and laid you down on your back as he busied himself throwing off his shirt and pants until he was bare in front of you. Within two more seconds, he was inside you again, this time thrusting into you from above.

He was holding himself up on his elbows, so his face was right above yours, eyes locked onto yours. You could see every reaction, every groan fall from his lips.

Usually, he was rough and made his hips smack yours, but, today, his thrusts were slow and languid, like he was trying to make it last as long as possible. You could live in this moment for the rest of your life. A particularly strong twitch of his cock made you whimper.

"Fuck, baby. You're so gorgeous like this," he breathed, pressing a kiss to your forehead tenderly. You locked your legs around him, holding him close, so that this wouldn't end. So that you could always stay here.

His breath hitched, and you knew he was getting close. You loved that you knew things like that about him, that only you knew that about him right now.

"Shit, fuck. Your pussy is so fucking good, like you were made for me," he groaned into your ear, speeding up until he was going faster than you thought he could. The intensity made you grasp at his back desperately, your nails catching on his skin. He hissed loudly. Anakin's cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was seconds away from his release. And you were even closer, that delicious tension building with every thrust.

His hand came between you to rub small circles on your clit, and then you were gone. Your mind went blank, and everything became just sensation. Warmth, all around you. Him, everywhere.

Somewhere far away, while you were still twitching around him, he groaned, low and loud and raw, as he came while sheathed deep in your pussy. Anakin laid his head in the crook of your neck while he recovered. His breath hitched as he took a shaky exhale, then pulled his cock out of you.

You didn't need to say any words, you both knew what you wanted. He pulled you into his arms like you were the most precious thing on the planet, then let his eyes slip closed. All the tension that had been building in your body was released, gone into the wind. All that was left was him, and the rise and fall of his chest as you lay against it.

"I missed you, too," you ventured after a few seconds of comfortable silence. He hummed, letting the hand trailing through your hair cup your jaw and pull you up for another kiss.

This one was tender, not about fucking, not about anything but his feelings for you. It was addicting, and, when it stopped, you almost pulled him in for another round. But it was midnight, and every muscle in your body was screaming.

Anakin said something about cleaning up and getting out of here, and you nodded, but you found you were having trouble with coherent thoughts at the moment. Anakin gently kissed your forehead and then rolled out of bed.

"'Kay, I'm gonna go look around for a bathroom, be back in a sec!" He called out, putting his clothes back on quickly, but not quickly enough that you didn't have time to check him out.

Even when he left the room, you were still smiling. You grabbed your phone, discarded somewhere near the bed, and sat back down. You wanted to text Ahsoka to thank her for bringing you to this party, for introducing you to Anakin, hell, for being born, when your homescreen reminded you of something.

54 Days, 18 hours, 27 seconds until Thesis Due Date

That pit opened in your stomach. You thought you had gotten rid of it, but there it was again. Everything went tight in your body, and suddenly all you could think was how could you have let yourself get this far behind? You had to get to work.

Something bumped your leg. It was Anakin's hand. You hadn't even heard him come in.

"Everything okay?" Anakin asked, with that gentle smile that hadn't really left him since you'd made up.

You looked at him, the man who you kind-of-sort-of-definitely had feelings for, and you shot him a half-assed smile as you locked your phone.

"Yeah," you said, your voice tight as you put it away. But, for the rest of the night, even when he walked you home and kissed you in front of the building--in public--it echoed in the back of your mind.

54 days.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!):

@skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @johnbassplayercutie @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck @sythethecarrot @lovrsm @ann4zw @gimmefood

[m4rv3l-girl]

Bucky x reader

In a relationship, bucky doesn't want reader going on mission because it's a hydra Misson, they argue and don't talk to each other, bucky hears reader get hurt and he hears her say "im sorry buck, i love you" and then her comms go out and he can't do anything to help because he's pinned down and by the time he gets to her she's bleeding out and passed out and bucky is breaking down apologising and saying he didn't mean anything of what he said etc and I dunno how you would wanna end it.

Of all base passions, fear is most accursed

Bucky x Y/N

Warnings: Violence. Injury. Angst.

The tension in the living room was palpable.

Bucky paced back and forth, his jaw clenched, his hands running through his hair in frustration. Y/N stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her own frustration mirrored in her tense posture. The disagreement between them had escalated rapidly, spiraling into an argument that neither of them had intended.

“It’s just a mission, Bucky!” Y/N exclaimed, her voice firm. “I’ve done missions like this a hundred times before.”

“Not like this,” he countered, his voice sharp but tinged with worry. “It’s Hydra, Y/N. You don’t understand what they’re capable of.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t patronize me. I know exactly what they’re capable of. That’s why I need to go.”

“No,” he snapped, stepping closer. “You don’t need to go. Let someone else handle it.”

“And let them walk into something I’m prepared for?” she shot back. “You’re not being rational. This isn’t about me—it’s about the mission.”

“It’s always about the mission with you,” he retorted, his tone cutting deeper than he intended. “When are you going to stop risking everything like it’s just a game?”

Y/N flinched at his words, the sting of them landing hard. Her voice dropped, quieter now but no less resolute. “You think I’m reckless? That I don’t care about what I’m risking?”

“That’s not what I said,” Bucky muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, but the damage was already done.

“I can’t do this with you right now,” she said, grabbing her jacket and storming toward the door.

“Y/N,” he called after her, but she didn’t turn around.

The ride to the Quinjet was a blur. Y/N focused on the mission briefing, tuning out the knot in her chest that Bucky’s words had tied. She couldn’t afford distractions. Hydra facilities weren’t forgiving of mistakes.

The team deployed under the cover of night, slipping into the compound with precision. Y/N’s heart pounded as she moved through the dimly lit corridors, her comm buzzing with updates from the team. Her training kicked in, her body operating on muscle memory even as her thoughts kept circling back to Bucky.

She didn’t want to fight with him. She hated leaving things unresolved, hated the way his worried eyes had looked at her before she walked out the door.

“Barnes, stay sharp!” Steve’s voice over the comm snapped Bucky out of his spiraling thoughts. He was pinned down behind a concrete barrier, gunfire ricocheting off the walls around him.

He had stayed behind with the secondary team, watching the operation unfold from a distance. It had been his idea, a way to keep himself grounded while Y/N was out there. But now, every shot fired, every static crackle over the comms set his nerves on edge.

“Y/N, status?” he found himself asking, breaking protocol.

“I’m fine, Buck,” her voice came through, steady but faint. “Focus on your position.”

That was Y/N—always level-headed, even in the thick of it. But something in her tone didn’t sit right with him.

The hallway leading to the main server room was a cold, metallic stretch of shadows and faintly glowing panels. Y/N moved with practiced precision, her steps light and measured despite the tension crackling in the air. Beside her, Natasha was a blur of calculated efficiency, her movements as sharp as her focus.

“We’re nearing the server room,” Natasha’s voice was low and steady, the faint hum of Hydra’s security systems buzzing ominously around them.

Y/N nodded, her grip tightening on her weapon. The faint tapping of their boots on the steel floor seemed deafening, amplified in the vacuum of silence that surrounded them. For a moment, everything was still—too still. The absence of resistance in what should have been a high-security facility put her on edge.

“Doesn’t feel right,” Y/N muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s lips tightened into a grim line, her green eyes flicking toward the corridor ahead. “Stay sharp.”

The moment they rounded the corner, the silence shattered. Red emergency lights bathed the hallway in an eerie glow, and the screech of alarms pierced the air. Y/N’s heart kicked into overdrive as metal panels slid open along the walls, Hydra soldiers pouring out with weapons raised.

“Ambush!” Natasha barked, already moving.

Y/N ducked behind a nearby crate, her back pressed against the cool steel as bullets ricocheted off the walls. She could feel the heat of the skirmish, the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“They’re trying to box us in,” Natasha yelled over the gunfire. “We need to clear them fast!”

“I’m on it!” Y/N shouted back, swinging out from her cover to fire. Her shots were precise, each one finding its mark, but the soldiers kept coming, Hydra’s numbers seemingly endless. Her earpiece buzzed with the frantic chatter of the rest of the team holding the perimeter.

“Server room’s just ahead,” Natasha said, reloading swiftly. “Go, Y/N. I’ll cover you.”

Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second. “You sure?”

“Go!” Natasha snapped, already moving to draw the fire away from Y/N’s path.

Y/N sprinted forward, her body low and agile as she darted between columns of cover. The hallway narrowed, the looming doorway to the server room coming into view. She could feel the heat of Hydra’s reinforcements closing in behind her, the air thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and sweat.

“Team, I’m almost at the server room,” she called through her comm, her breath coming in short bursts. “Nat, status?”

“Still breathing,” Natasha quipped, her voice tight but composed. “Just don’t make me regret this.”

Y/N reached the door, her fingers flying over the control panel. The lock disengaged with a mechanical hiss, the heavy door sliding open to reveal the server room bathed in a sterile white light. Towering racks of servers blinked at her, their hum a stark contrast to the chaos outside.

“I’m in,” she reported, slipping inside and sealing the door behind her. Her reprieve was short-lived. The alarms grew louder, and the vibration of approaching footsteps resonated through the floor. Hydra wasn’t letting this go without a fight.

She moved quickly, her fingers navigating the terminal with practiced efficiency. Lines of Hydra’s encrypted data scrolled across the screen as she worked to extract the files.

“Y/N, we’ve got a problem,” Natasha’s voice came through, strained. “They’re sending reinforcements your way. I’m pinned down.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard before resuming their furious pace. “I just need a few more seconds.”

“We don’t have seconds,” Natasha snapped, her voice tight with effort.

“Almost there,” Y/N muttered to herself, ignoring the frantic pounding of her heart. The data transfer bar crawled across the screen, agonizingly slow.

The door behind her rattled, the sound of Hydra soldiers attempting to breach it echoing through the room. Y/N’s pulse spiked, her eyes darting to the terminal as the transfer hit 90%.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered.

The door buckled under the weight of an explosive charge. Y/N barely had time to dive for cover before it blasted open, shards of metal scattering like shrapnel. She hit the ground hard, her comm crackling in her ear.

“Y/N, fall back!” Natasha’s voice was sharp, commanding.

“Not yet,” Y/N replied, scrambling to her feet. Her hand instinctively went to her weapon, firing at the Hydra agents flooding into the room. Each shot was deliberate, buying her precious seconds as the transfer ticked toward completion.

“I’ve got this,” she said into the comm, her voice resolute. But even as she spoke, she knew the odds were stacked against her. She was cut off, alone, and Hydra was closing in fast.

The explosion was deafening.

Bucky’s world narrowed to the static in his comm, drowning out the chaos around him.

“Y/N?!” he shouted, his heart racing. “Y/N, report!”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” her voice came through, faint and trembling. “I love you.”

And then, silence.

“No, no, no,” Bucky muttered, panic setting in. He surged to his feet, ignoring Steve’s shout to stay down. He fought his way through the enemy lines, desperation lending him strength.

By the time he reached her, she was crumpled on the ground, blood pooling beneath her. Her comm lay shattered nearby, her hand limp at her side.

“Doll,” Bucky choked out, dropping to his knees beside her. He pressed his hands to the wound in her abdomen, trying to stem the bleeding. “I’m here. Stay with me, please.”

She didn’t respond, her eyes fluttering closed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean what I said. You’re not reckless—you’re brave, and I love you for it. Just—don’t leave me.”

Hours later, Y/N woke to the steady beep of monitors. The sterile smell of the medbay filled her senses, and she turned her head slowly, finding Bucky slumped in a chair beside her, his head resting in his hands.

“Hey,” she croaked, her voice weak.

His head shot up, relief flooding his features. “Y/N,” he breathed, moving to sit beside her. “You’re awake.”

“You look terrible,” she teased softly, managing a faint smile.

Bucky let out a shaky laugh, his hand brushing her cheek. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes glistening. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted gently. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I should have trusted you. I let my fear get in the way.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their emotions settling between them. Finally, Bucky leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Doll. Always.”

“I love you too,” she murmured, her hand finding his.

It took weeks for Y/N to recover fully, but Bucky never left her side. The mission was a success, but the real victory was in the promises they made to each other—not unspoken, but loud and clear, built on trust and love.

——————————————————————————————————

Hey, I actually really enjoyed writing this, something with a bit more action! I hope you liked it.. 🫶

Requests Open!

[freedomsargeant]

Fa-La-La-In Love | Franco Colapinto

Hey loves! Yet another Christmas fanfic. I think I'll continue making these until Christmas ends. This is an x OC since I don't really like writing x readers. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: In which Alayana thinks she's alone only to find Franco watching her dance terribly

Warnings: Literally nothing just a bunch of fluff

Fa-La-La-In Love

The cabin was quiet as Alayna stood by the window, watching her friends disappear into the forest with their skis and snowboards, their laughter echoing back to her. She didn’t mind staying behind—skiing wasn’t really her thing, and the idea of curling up with some hot cocoa by the fire sounded way better. She turned back inside, feeling cozy in her Christmas sweater and fuzzy socks, surrounded by twinkling lights and the scent of pine from the Christmas tree.

What she didn’t know was that Franco had stayed back too.

He was in his room, taking a break from the relentless pace of the racing season, finally getting a moment to just…breathe. But as he walked toward the kitchen, he heard something that made him pause—a familiar tune, cheerful and unmistakably Christmas-y, drifting from the living room. He followed the sound, stopping just outside the doorway when he saw Alayana, oblivious to his presence.

She was completely in her own world, swaying to “All I Want for Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey, belting out lyrics, despite a complete lack of rhythm. She was dancing with absolutely no coordination, twirling in her oversized socks and making big, terrible gestures as if she were in her own Christmas music video.

Franco bit back a laugh, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed as he watched her. She was just enjoying herself and he felt something warm and unexplainable growing in his chest as he took in the scene.

When she finally spun around and caught sight of him, she froze, her face going pale for a second before flushing bright red. “Franco! Oh my gosh! I— I thought you went skiing!”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful grin on his face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt the concert,” he teased, his tone gentle, laced with warmth.

She covered her face, mortified, then dropped her hands, trying to laugh it off. “I, uh...guess my dancing could use some work,” she mumbled, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Nonsense,” he said with a chuckle. “It has...character.”

She rolled her eyes, still embarrassed but finding herself grinning back at him. Just then a slow Christmas song started playing, filling the room with a soft melody.

A mischievous glint lit Franco’s eyes. “You know, if you’re gonna dance, you might as well do it right.” He extended his hand to her. “What do you say?”

Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, but there was something so gentle in his gaze, something warm and inviting, that she found herself taking his hand. “I...I don’t know how to waltz,” she admitted.

“Perfect,” he said, stepping closer. “Then you won’t notice if I’m bad at it.”

She laughed, feeling her nerves settle as he placed one hand on her waist, keeping his other hand steady in hers. “Alright, first step. Just follow my lead.”

They started to move in small, tentative steps, Franco guiding her as they turned slowly, the Christmas lights casting a warm glow around them. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft music and the warmth of his hand in hers.

“You’re a natural,” he murmured, his voice low and encouraging, his eyes never leaving hers.

She let out a shy laugh. “Pretty sure you’re doing most of the work.”

“Maybe,” he said with a soft smile. “But you’re making it look good.”

They continued to dance, her awkwardness slowly melting away as she relaxed into his arms. She could feel the warmth of his gaze on her, and suddenly, she wasn’t worried about her lack of rhythm or her terrible dancing. All she could think about was how close they were, the gentle pressure of his hand guiding her, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the room. Well, she was, but she was positive if it was filled with people he would only be looking at her. 

As the song began to stop, their steps slowed, neither of them willing to let go just yet. The last notes of the melody faded, leaving a comfortable silence between them. She looked up at him, breath catching as she realized just how close his face was to hers.

Franco’s gaze softened, his thumb tracing small circles on her hand. “I’m glad you didn’t go skiing,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She felt her heart race, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the holiday lights or the fire crackling nearby. “Me too,” she whispered back, a small smile playing at her lips.

For a moment, they just stood there, frozen in the glow of the Christmas lights, in a world that seemed to have shrunk to just the two of them. And in that quiet, snow-covered cabin, with the faint echoes of Christmas music lingering in the air, it felt like the most perfect place in the world to be.

****

Hey Loves! This story was pretty short but I hope you all enjoyed it! As always I love you all and I'll catch you on the flippity flop!

[what-have-i-unleashed]

rivers of red

surprise update for mermaid bunny!! my inspiration do be sporadic lol

anyway, here's to more toxicity between these fucked up skeletons >:3

(cw: violence, toxic relationship, mentions of abuse and suicidal ideation)

it has been weeks and killer still hasn't stepped foot outside of the castle even once.

the others frequently do for their missions. but when it comes to killer, he's always left behind. no one has given him a clear reason yet, and cross, easily the worst liar of them all, has told him to bring it up to dust since he's the nominally their second-in-command. as if killer would ever trust that creep, really.

but having nothing to do except roaming the castle and occasionally going down to the dungeons to ramble at their unfortunate prisoners (more like food source for nightmare) have lost their charm. killer is dying of boredom, being trapped in an empty castle for days on end. it feels weird not being utilized according to his function - he feels as if he's done something wrong. isn't what nightmare has brought him here for? to be an instrument of calamity?

yeah, but shouldn't you feel good about not having to kill anyone anymore? one of the voices in his head inquires.

who cares? it's in your name, killer, another voice crows. maybe kill them all and then nightmare will see your potential.

"i'm not killing anyone here. nightmare won't like that," killer says out loud, as there isn't anyone here to tell him he's crazy for doing so. unlike someone in the gang.

is staying here so bad?

it is! it's so booooring! you need something new, don't you?

but the world out there is such a horrible place! you will have to kill so many people if you step outside.

oh please! you are the most terrifying creature out there. no one will dare cross your path if they know what you're capable of. there's a reason they chose you after all.

killer tunes out the voices as they bicker back and forth. maybe they are right. maybe this is a test and he needs to prove himself in order to be let out of here. he doesn't want to stay here all docile and restless. he doesn't want to be treated like one of nightmare's little meals downstairs, trapped here and waiting for a rescue that will never come.

so when the gang finally comes back, against all his preservation instincts, he goes straight to dust in the great hall, who stills upon seeing him approach.

"we need to talk," he says to dust.

out of the corner of his eyes, he sees cross and horror lingering around, but they don't interfere, just like usual.

what? dust signs to him, strangely reserved.

"i want to go out on mission," killer replies.

i'm not in charge of assigning roles.

"you're nightmare's right-hand, aren't you? can't you just put in a good word for me?"

dust looks at him, his eyelights flickering. after a tense moment, he signs, no.

"what do you mean, no?" killer asks, but dust brushes past him. not letting him get away, killer grabs dust's arm. "hey, i'm talking to you!"

the air buzzing around them is the only warning killer has before he instinctively summons his knife as a barrage of bones shoots up from the ground, angling at his midriff. the attacks don't hit him directly as he softens the impact with his knife in the way. he grins at dust. so now they're speaking his language.

before he can jump at dust, someone grabs the back of his jacket.

"no fighting," horror's voice rumbles behind him. cross also appears in front of dust, saying something that he can't hear. the hooded skeleton seems to be shrinking into himself.

"he started it," killer sneers at no one particular. "if it's a fight he wants, then it's a fight he gets."

"don't be stupid," horror shakes him. "you break him, nightmare will break you."

"what?" killer smiles back at the one-eyed skeleton, all teeth. "little dusty there is his pet or what?"

everything momentarily freezes after what he said. horror's grip on his jacket tightens, and cross looks back at him. and dust - killer won't describe it, but the expression on his face is something else. it only prompts him to open his mouth to spit out more venom.

"you can't fight your own battles, dusty? always needing someone for you to hide behind, like the coward that you are?"

"killer, stop it," cross tells him, softly yet sternly at the same time. one of his arms hold out over dust, as if covering dust from the onslaught that killer is ready to unleash on him.

"even now, you have to have cross here to protect you," killer breaks away from horror's grip as he steps closer to his target. "don't you have shame? can you even call yourself our superior like this?"

dust doesn't reply. he doesn't even move from his spot, as cross resolutely stands between both of them.

"nothing to say, right-hand?" killer sneers.

"killer, that's enough," cross scowls.

"scram, guard dog," killer tilts his head at cross. "this is between me and him."

before cross can say anything, a familiar high whine echoes behind him. a purple light illuminates the hall for a second before the gaster blaster goes off. horror, cross, and killer have all teleported away to a safe distance just in time to see the blaster decimate half of the great hall. as the smoke dissipates, dust stands there, a crazed smile on his face. his bi-colored eyelights dart around and catch killer perching on a railing. killer feels something race through his body, the sensation of adrenaline coursing through his leylines that he has sorely missed. he reciprocates dust's smile with his own as he spins his knife in his hand and jumps.

the ensuing fight between the two of them is messy. killer can't exactly tell the intent between each blow dust delivers to him, but dust does fight like someone who wants to see him dead. dust's movements are jittery and unpredictable - he doesn't move like a regular monster for sure, but neither does killer. dust hesitates a lot mid-fight, his eyes flickering in its colors, but a smack to his face always gets him back into the mood quickly. his crazed grin wobbles at its corners more often the more the fight goes on. and killer notices.

when he sees dust takes a misstep and stumble back, killer swipes his knife at dust. the hooded skeleton's eye flares up, and killer anticipates a counter-attack of some sort - maybe a blue magic grab, maybe another intricate attack pattern that dust loves to do. but no, dust's flare only lasts for a second before it gives out, his eyelights fading back to white. his body relaxes as it falls into killer's knife, and on his face blooms a bloody half-smile. killer stares at it, startled.

he changes the angle of his knife at the last millisecond, the spine of the knife instead of the tip hitting dust's zygomatic bone. a small crack appears on dust's face, another injury on his banged up body. killer grabs dust's collar and pulls him up, the hooded skeleton unmoving like a puppet with its strings cut.

"... what was that?" killer whispers at dust, who remains unresponsive. it's like all his fight just escapes his body. the crack under his eye drips red onto killer's hand. his eyelights bore into killer's empty sockets.

let's just kill him, a voice pops into killer's head. the others will have no choice but make you their superior, right?

and then nightmare will kill us for sure. or worse, make us one of his fixture in the dungeons.

come on, do you really think so? what if the cracked head lied to us? you think nightmare keeps around this unstable coward for his abilities?

you really want to risk that?

dust continues to stare at him, not saying anything. not even a scared expression on his face. just eerily serene and smiling as he watches killer raise a knife right at one of his sockets.

after a while, killer throws away the knife and pushes dust away from him. dust crumbles among the mess they've made, and doesn't get up, his eyes still fixed on killer.

"... if you want to die, do it yourself," killer mutters under his breath before teleporting back to his own room.

he doesn't hear from the others for the rest of the day. he doesn't leave his room, opting to read his meager collection of books for the nth time. with no way to tell the time, he stays vigilant against the door of his room, waiting for the mute maniac to come back for revenge. or worse, nightmare. but dust never comes, the hallway outside of his room blessedly and strangely quiet.

it is a while when he hears a couple of knocks on his door, a muffled voice calling him.

"killer, it's horror. get up."

when killer opens the door, horror is standing in front of him with his arms crossed.

"what's the deal, big guy?" killer smiles, to which horror frowns slightly.

"you're gonna have your first mission with me today."

it takes killer a moment to absorb the words. "wait, really?" he says, stunned.

"unfortunately," horror turns to walk away, making killer follow him. "just a small espionage. don't mess it up."

killer beams, his steps having a little spring in it. as the duo passes by the living area, killer spots cross and dust sitting on one of the benches. cross is mumbling something to dust, his head angling down. dust's head abruptly turns and he locks eyes with killer for a second before killer walks past the living area completely.

as horror prepares the portal to their destination, killer can't help but think about what he's seen, his deformed soul feeling as much discomfited as he is able to. much as he tries, he can't remember dust being injured in his right eye at all yesterday.

And if a double-decker bus crashes into us To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die And if a ten tonne truck kills the both of us To die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

~ there is a light that never goes out - the smiths

[paulmccartneyexplodingonstage]

“If we can’t be lovers we’ll never be friends…”

Mixed media, 22.5x30in, 28 hrs

(click for better quality)

One day I’ll sit down and give an extensive talk on my experience with synesthesia, but for now I’ll just say that for me, music has always been tied to my art. Inextricably. When I put on music as I paint it’s not just background noise, it’s actively informing the piece. This is an example of me taking that to the logical extreme, this entire piece was made and crafted by the music I heard as I painted it. Using Beatles (and solo career) songs from across their lifespan, the finished piece becomes a visual symphony of shared history between Paul McCartney and John Lennon. Everything shared, and everything left unsaid.

[may12324]

Opening my online store tommorrow!

So if you've been eyeing my Baldur's Gate art, I'll have them up for sale! Including large scroll prints, bookmarks, as well as digital files!

My Store will be open from the 27th of Feb to the 8th of March or until I reach 100 physical orders.

[chiscribbs]

Hey y'all, I'm alive! :D

[lonelymoonbeams]

am i a robot or a doll?

am i anything at all?

maybe a thing like me doesn't yet deserve to know...

[cacw]

it sucks to be me

[sketch-twentytwo]

This is Melvin Sneedly, Harold Hutchins, and George Beard. Melvin is the kid on the left with goggles and freckles. Harold is the one in the middle with the T-shirt and bad hair cut. George is the one on the, right with the tie and flat top. Remember that now.

That’s the boys!

Aside from Melvin’s loss of bowtie, I don’t see them changing their attire too much in this AU. Also I changed my mind, George and Melvin would be rivals but both boys would still be independent pains in Krupp’s side.

George’s resistance to authority is because the school system hinders creativity and student imagination. Melvin’s defiance to authority is because he thinks he knows better than the administration and believes they hinder him, specifically. Harold agrees with both sides to an extent, resulting in him being totally on board with both parties' elaborate plans, at least unless they quarrel.

I see Harold being the unifying front for each faction: Melvin would be his best friend from kindergarten and George would be an ally he spends time with whenever he gets detention (either that or George bumps into Harold and recruits him in secret to join his student cause against Krupp).

————

I think the Authority-Event Horizon for Melvin occurs after he makes friends with Harold. He’d bear witness to the harassment Harold suffers at the hands of the school as well as the administration’s lack of handling it. It’d break his belief that the faculty (and adults for that matter) know best, and feed into his desire to make things better with his intellect.

RR!Melvin mostly follows the rules, mostly because it's convenient, and he rarely results to tattling, as he doesn't see it as useful anymore. Admin doesn't help the students, therefore they cannot exhibit proper justice.

————

When Melvin and George butt heads it's because they view each other as wasted potential. George thinks Melvin could use his inventions to help students in a more useful manner, such as overthrowing the principle or whatever. Melvin thinks George's antics are stupid and a waste of time. Harold really wants his two friends to get along, but he's a bit to timid to pull anything like that off.

Don't you worry, though, I have plans for these three in this AU....

Coming soon!

[topaztimes]

Highkey scared to post this, but. Guys is it underage if I'm 16 and she's only lived for an hour or so

[thedeafprophet]

anyway I've come to realize social media has an affect on how I approach my art and I'm currently mentally working through how I feel about that 🤔