#so much for salvaging his dignity XD

[a-lil-perspective]

If Verd and Crosshair got Asher one of those cute little tricycles, wrecker would 10/20 try to ride it

This is a literal knee-slapper AHHH I love this so much and am grinning like a fool.

OH OH OH AND WRECKER RINGS THE LITTLE TRICYCLE BELL JKGKSJSJS—

And then the whole damn bike just collapses under his weight. XD Poor guy. He was just having the time of his life.

But until then:

The tricycle decision was mainly Verd’s. Wrecker definitely encouraged it. Cross doesn’t see the need for such a contraption—Asher is the son of a Commando for crying out loud. Cross makes sure to voice his complaints loud and clear. He is further fueled by the way Wrecker keeps saying the trike is “Perfect for Cross, since he’s so small himself!”

———

Crosshair, losing his dignity and full of spite: This is stupid. Asher needs a big boy ride.

Verd: ...There’s a fifty-percent chance he inherited your shit balance. Tricycle it is. Also, he’s three years old.

Crosshair: *pouts, mounts Trike and pedals away*

Also

Crosshair: *shoots Wrecker the bird on his way out*

Verd, sighing and covering Asher’s eyes: I forget I actually have two three-year-olds. *shoots Cross the finger back just for the hell of it*

Wrecker: *pats Verd on the back*

[ashes-in-a-jar]

And I Owe it All to You

Hello! This is a fic I wrote based on @speakerunfolding 's wonderful Jonmartin scottish cabin comic which I couldn't stop looking at.

I wrote this while watching Dirty Dancing for the first time in many years. Quite an experience xD

Summary: It's a night in for Jon and Martin in the cabin and they decide to pop out the wine.

Rated: T

Word count: 2.2K

Tw: alcohol, drinking and being slightly drunk, minor injuries

Maybe it was the fact that neither of them had gone out much in the past few months. Maybe the Fears prefer their avatars lightweight. Maybe Scottish alcohol tended to be stronger than English alcohol. But the sparkling wine they bought on a whim at the village store shouldn't have had the effect on them that it did.

Having emptied two cups each (Jon was actually drinking out of a mug, since they found only one wine glass, and he conceded the honor of feeling classy to Martin) they have already become giggling messes over some dumb joke regarding one Peter Lukas and a computer that refused to boot.

It wasn't even that funny. But there they were, acting like complete fools leaning against each other on the couch, legs propped up in a completely uncomfortable position on the small living room table (dangerously close to the now nearly empty bottle), holding their cups precariously in one hand and holding hands with the other.

And enjoying every moment of it.

The giggling subsided. They took a moment of comfortable silence to regain their breath and enjoy another sip.

"Can't believe he didn't know he could just u-unplug and replug the whole thing. Even I know that." Jon's speech was ever so slightly slurred, his leftover wine sloshing in his cup.

Martin hummed and then snorted.

"Jon, you barely know how to do that either. I had to teach you how to open new tabs in the same internet window for christ's sake."

"It was a new laptop! All of the buttons were in the wrong p-place." Jon protested weakly, starting to hiccup.

"Sure."

"Prick." Jon nudged him fondly. "You underestimate my vast knowledge of 'modern' things."

Martin snorted again. "Modern, you say?"

"Yes Martin, what do you take me for?"

"An old geezer." Martin tousled his hair gently. Jon leaned into the touch. Then, the words sunk in.

"Hey! Why do you and Georgie keep thinking that? I can know pop culture!"

"Oh yeah? Tell me, what do you know?"

"Uh..." Jon struggled to straighten himself, which resulted in actually sliding further off the couch. "Um...I know S-Star Wars! And uh, Matrix? I think. I've seen it once. Oh! That, that dinosaur movie! And... Titanic?" He finished unconvincingly. 

Martin looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Really, Jon? You're just naming movies now.  And not even new ones. Did you actually watch any of those?"

Jon avoided his gaze "I... I may have fallen asleep during uh, during some of these?"

Martin gave him a long look. 

"Yes alright, I fell asleep in all of them."

Martin huffed "Thought so". 

Jon gave up trying to salvage his dignity, taking a final long gulp from his mug, a small drop trickling down his chin. Martin swiped it away, absent-mindedly licking his finger, not noticing as Jon hiccuped, his face heating up considerably. 

"I-I did like the Princess Bride though— that was a nice film, if a bit sensational." 

"Hang on. You watched the Princess Bride? And liked it?" Martin asked, incredulous. 

"I'm allowed to like things, Martin. B-besides, Georgie made me watch it. Said it was a- a core staple of cinema history o-or something."

"Oh yeah? Did she make you watch those other movies as well?" Martin asked casually, swirling the liquid in his cup. 

"Unfortunately yes. She would cruelly  shake me awake when I finally managed to get some shut-eye for once in my life. I-it's not my fault the only times I could sleep normally were during those, those damn films! She woke me up for that ridiculous scene with the, uh, the bullets in the Matrix. And that lifting scene in that unseemly dancing movie."

"What lifting scene?" 

"That movie with all of the dancing? Th-the one where he lifts her at the end in the middle of the crowd with that song? At least, uh, at least I think there was a lot of dancing, I wasn't actually, hmmm... Focused at the time." 

"Oh my god Jon, do you mean Dirty Dancing? You fell asleep during Dirty Dancing?" Martin's delighted incredulity was plain on his face. 

Jon scrunched up his nose. "That's the name of the film? Good thing I fell asleep then."

"Jesus Jon. That's incredible, good on Georgie! Heh, at least you woke up for that scene. It's iconic, you know." 

"Yes, yes." Jon waved at him dismissively, reaching unsteadily for the wine bottle. Martin gently took it away from Jon and with a much steadier hand, poured the remaining bit of wine into his mug.

"Thank you Martin," Jon mumbled into the cup. 

Another warm silence fell on them, lulling Jon into a half drunken stupor. He nearly threw his cup in the air when Martin's words startled him back into awareness. 

"I can do that scene you know, that lifting part." He was looking intently at his glass. 

"R-really?" Jon hiccuped. "How?" 

"I… I had a boyfriend who wanted to try it. So we did. Turns out that I'm good at balancing large things that aren't stacks of paper."

Jon hummed. He suddenly imagined very vividly Martin lifting someone else in that way and felt a pang in his chest. What was that?

Another beat of silence. 

"Do. Do you want to try?"

"W-what?" 

"Do you want to do that lifting scene with me? I'm sure I could lift you." Martin suddenly sat up, his tone excited and anticipating. He looked at Jon. 

Jon shifted. "Uh, I-I guess it's fine? Sure."

"Okay! Let's do it then!" Martin got up on his feet, swaying ever so slightly. 

Jon looked up at him surprised. "W-wait, now? Shouldn't we wait? You know, to be less uh, inebriated? Don't you need to see the scene again for a reminder?"

"Mmm. We don't have reception so I can't exactly watch the scene again. But, but I'm pretty sure I can do it now, definitely sure! Come on." He held out his hand expectantly. 

Jon took it, stumbling only a bit as he got up. Martin took out his phone . 

"I might even have the song saved. Let me check."

A moment later he gave a whoop of success and the song began to play, filling the main space of the cabin with its soft, if slightly tinny sound. 

Jon stretched, releasing the tension in his muscles. "All right Martin, where do you want me?" 

"You need a bit of a running start, and then you need to jump high right as you reach my arms, so stand over there." He indicated towards the door of the bedroom. 

"Right." Jon stumbled only once as he made his way towards the designated spot. Martin moved across the room stopping right near the kitchen door. 

The song kept playing calmly in the background, slowly building up towards the upbeat chorus. 

Jon looked at him again "I dunno Martin. A-are you sure?" He suddenly felt a bit more fuzzy than he did sitting down. He hiccuped again. 

"Please Jon, you're thin as a rake. Have a little faith." His face wore that determined look that Jon couldn't help but love. 

"Alright, as you wish." He grinned, proud of his clever reference as he took his stance. 

Martin rolled his eyes as well as his sleeves. "Steady on Westley, this is the part."

Jon felt a rush of excitement as he caught Martin's enthusiasm. "Ready?" He asked, bouncing a little on his feet in preparation. 

"Ready." Martin crouched a little, holding out his arms. 

As the chorus neared Jon, with a wild drunken energy, took his running start, jumping up as he reached Martin, grabbing on to his shoulders for support. Martin firmly gripped Jon's hips, bent his legs and with a strained grunt lifted Jon in the air as the song reached a crescendo. 

Jon was flying. 

He laughed giddily, stretching out his arms in elation. 

As Martin continued holding him in his strong grip he looked down at his beautiful boyfriend. Despite the exertion, Martin looked up with the softest expression as the song kept playing for them in the background. 

For a moment everything was perfect. 

And then Martin leaned backwards a bit too far. 

In hindsight, they should have known this would happen. While Martin was better at hiding it, he was as drunk as Jon. And Jon's already impeded balance certainly didn't help. 

As they went down, Jon idly wondered if they could also recreate the rest of the dance if they practiced. And then he hit his nose on the floor. 

After a moment of stunned silence the pain rushed in and Jon grunted. 

Turns out that while most of him was protected from the fall by Martin's soft and sturdy body, his knee also missed the mark and crashed into the floor as well.

Muffled by Jon's body above him, Martin squirmed. "Ugh, Jon, are you okay?"

When Jon didn't respond, Martin groaned and picked himself off the floor, lifting Jon in the process. 

"Oh my god, Jon! You're bleeding!" 

Jon's face throbbed. And so did his knee. His hazy drunken state began fading away as the pain sharpened. 

"I-I think I hit something." 

"I'm so sorry Jon! God, where are the tissues?" Seemingly having sobered up considerably, Martin picked Jon up and carried him bodily into the bathroom. Jon allowed all of this to happen as the shock of the fall dissipated. He let Martin easily lift him onto the sink counter as he shoved a towel into his hands.

"Hold it against your nose while I... Jesus, your knee too?" He stepped back now hurriedly lifting the stained pant leg to reveal the damage. 

"God, Jon I'm so sorry. Hold still, I'm going to find the first aid kit. We shouldn't have done this. This was a complete disaster." 

He kept muttering irritably as he walked away. Jon sighed and pressed the towel to his throbbing nose. His foggy mind still felt as though it was trying to catch up to the recent chain of events. He spoke slowly, attempting to convey himself with clarity. 

"Martin, it's fine. Honestly, I think we both know I've had worse-" 

"You nearly broke your bloody neck! God, where's that goddamn kit." He shouted from across the cabin as Jon heard the rattling of drawers being forcefully pulled open. 

"Martin, please I-I'm okay. It's just a little bit of bruising. It honestly already feels better." 

And it actually did. In the chaos after the fall, they both forgot Jon's... situation. Jon watched as the cut on his knee slowly closed up, leaving only the drying stain of blood behind. The pain in his nose was slowly vanishing as well. 

By the time Martin came back holding the bag, Jon already put down the towel and was tentatively poking at the previously bruised spot. 

Martin stopped in front of him, looking at him with a mixture of emotions Jon couldn't parse out. He smiled at Martin hesitantly. 

"See? Good as new. No harm no foul, I say."

Martin let out a long suffering sigh and took the towel out of Jon's hands. He quietly dampened it in the sink and stepped closer to gently pat at his face. 

Jon looked at him. This close he could practically count his faded freckles, follow every line and trace every mark that was so beautifully Martin. He let himself smile. 

"I must say, I'm quite impressed by your strength, if we weren't so inebriated, I'm sure you could have kept me up there for quite a while," he said quietly, enjoying the fluttering touches. 

"It wasn't because I was drunk." Martin muttered. 

"Pardon?" 

"I said it wasn't because I was drunk that I dropped you," he said a little louder, oddly flustered. "I was looking at... At you. You just looked... I dunno, happy, I guess? I just never seen that expression on you before and it..." He trailed off, concentrating intently on Jon's knee, finishing up cleaning up the blood. 

"M-Martin, look at me. Please look up here." Jon gently tugged at his shoulders to pull him up. At this height, sitting on the counter, he actually came face to face with Martin, seeing his blush and ruffled expression right in front of him as opposed to slightly above him like he normally did 

He lifted his palms to bracket Martin's warm cheeks. 

"There you are," he whispered and leaned in for a quick kiss. He then leaned back slightly. "You know that I'm perfectly happy. Here with you. Y-you know that, right?" 

Martin looked at him for a few moments, then smiled. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. Now, help me down so we can clean up the wine stain, which I'm sure is growing on the carpet right now."

"Wha- oh," Martin said as he turned to see the fallen glass that apparently toppled during the mayhem. 

"Yeah. Let me down?" Jon said again, holding out his arms. 

Martin turned back to him, a teasing expression on his face. "As you wish." 

Jon groaned and allowed himself once again to be pulled, secretly enjoying Martin's burst of giggles as they both walked back into the crime scene that was their drunken night in. 

All things considered, it was a pretty good night. 

[ace-oreos]

Hey I got three prompt idea for your alpha fic (that I just finished reading, and I loved it): 1) Alpha, Fordo (and the rest of the ARCs of hypori, if you want, because a squad of ten arc have potentiel) and Satine meet while Kenobi are left in the middle of this. 2) Alpha and Fordo meet Ahsoka, Ahsoka fangirl, because Alpha ARC trooper, Fordo is puzzled and Alpha discover there is three of them now. 3) the Alpha ARC meet the newly promoted ARC, your choice if this goes good or bad

Ooh all of these were so fun, anon! Although I do have to admit I think the first one was my favorite to write - Alpha has no time for Kenobi's drama, but he's not above making Obi-Wan's life difficult. XD

And to no one's surprise, the ARC in the third little snippet is an OC! I haven't actually written much with him, but he's been taking up some space in my brain for a while now.

Taglist: @delta-the-mando @merspots @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @dudewhynotthis @a-lil-perspective @trashynishiki (because I know Obi-Wan amuses you to no end)

Alpha has been General Kenobi’s second long enough to know far more about the man’s various romantic pursuits than he ever wanted - there’s no way to avoid it, given the rate at which rumors whirl through the ranks and grow more ludicrous every day.

As for the second parties in question - Kenobi always becomes conveniently deaf at any mention, so Alpha has limited information for comparison - he is convinced that the Mandalorian duchess is the worst.

He very deliberately avoids catching Fordo’s eye; if his brother cracks, then it’s over for both of them. The clipped exhale picked up on his helmet audio confirms his suspicions.

Kenobi casts Alpha a look of warning. Alpha spreads his hands to indicate that he will not be acceptable for the aftermath when Fordo finally snaps and turns his attention to the duchess.

Her face is set with the same polite disinterest he’s seen on Coruscant politicians, although this time it’s accompanied by a distinct sense of disapproval. Alpha returns the look with interest. He doesn’t like her, and seeing as Kenobi is too busy trying to salvage his dignity, someone has to let her know.

Unfortunately, the Force tips him off, or maybe the general knows him too well by now; whatever the reason, Kenobi clears his throat before Alpha can think of a fitting comment for the situation.

Alpha plays innocent. Kenobi may know him, but Fordo is a wild card, and his brother certainly has a mouth -

“So,” Fordo says, and Alpha can hear the wicked grin in his voice, “I take it you and the general know each other?”

Kenobi’s face is a study in abject horror, the duchess’ somewhere between outrage and mortification, and Fordo looks duly pleased with himself. Alpha, for his part, is intensely grateful for his helmet. He certainly couldn’t care less about Kenobi’s private life, but he has a feeling that he and Fordo both will be getting an earful before the negotiations conclude.

_________________

Skywalker’s Padawan - General Skywalker - is a scrap of enthusiasm and curiosity wrapped up in an undeniably impulsive package.

She’s learned her lessons a little too well, Alpha decides, catching the look on her face. It’s somewhere between wary and inquisitive as she considers the ARCs with a thoughtful tilt of her head.

Suddenly she brightens. “You served with Master Skywalker.”

“It’s been a while,” Alpha says reluctantly. He’s acutely aware of how young she is; even the cadets on Kamino don’t give off the same sense of naivety. He’d rather not admit it, but he’s not at all sure how to handle her.

Fordo slings a companionable arm over his shoulder. “And I’m sure the general has taken your lessons to heart.”

Alpha glares - or he would, if Tano weren’t watching raptly.

“He’s told me about you,” the commander says, and Alpha knows in no uncertain terms that the grin spreading across Fordo’s face means trouble for him in the very near future.

Right on cue, his brother asks innocently, “Has he?”

Alpha jams his heel into his Fordo’s foot at the same time Tano starts rattling off every campaign and minor skirmish Alpha and Skywalker have ever been involved with. It’s almost impressive, her recall and her ability to list every planet and star system without pausing for breath in between. As it is, Alpha finds the attention uncomfortable.

When Tano’s recitation finally comes to a close, Alpha seizes the opportunity to put in, “Don’t forget Captain Fordo’s squad, ma’am.”

The dismay is written plainly across Fordo’s face as he tries to minimize the damage, saying, “It’s really not that exciting - ”

“Shabuir,” he hisses five minutes later, when Tano is hurling questions at both of them left and right. Alpha merely smirks in response.

They manage to escape within the hour, citing a briefing for a mission command is unaware they’ve assigned.

“Well,” Fordo says at last, “she’s Skywalker’s, alright.”

Alpha can’t help but make a face at that. Even Skywalker knew when to keep his mouth shut. Tano, on the other hand, has yet to absorb that particular lesson.

“Captain!”

The voice carries clearly through the hallway, and Alpha comes to a grudging halt. Tano catches up to them, twin lightsabers bouncing on her belt as she tries to maintain some measure of dignity.

“What can I do for you, Commander?” Alpha asks, wondering if she can sense his exasperation.

“I think my Master is supposed to accompany you on this next mission,” the commander explains. She smiles up at him with all the confidence in the world. “It only makes sense that I go too, don’t you think?”

“Well - ”

“D’you know, Master Kenobi was younger than I am now when he went on his first mission.”

“He might’ve mentioned it - ”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to have you on this one,” Tano continues cheerfully.

“I, uh, have a new assignment…”

“Oh, don’t worry, Alpha,” the commander says, patting his arm amiably. “Master Kenobi can pull some strings.”

Alpha, already intimately familiar with Kenobi’s methods, has to work to keep his dismay from showing on his face.

_________________

Alpha wakes abruptly after a particularly tiring training session to find Fordo waving a datapad perilously close to his face.

“What are you doing?” he demands, awake enough to be irritated.

“New ARC recruit,” Fordo announces, and the datapad whizzes by Alpha’s nose to land on his stomach.

Alpha smacks Fordo for good measure and picks up the datapad. As reluctant as he is to indulge his brother’s antics, he’s intrigued by the news. ARC recruits are few and far between these days.

It’s one of Skywalker’s di’kute, cross-trained from the infantry ranks.

“And you’re in luck,” Fordo continues, helping himself to the spot on the bed by Alpha’s feet. “He’s on planet now. You can give him the ARC speech.”

“ARC speech?”

“You know, do honor to your brothers and Jango, et cetera. The usual osik.”

“Shove off,” Alpha says. “I don’t give a - ”

“Whatever you say, ner vod.”

“I’m not - don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?” Fordo asks innocently.

“You little - ”

Just as Alpha readies himself to throw something at Fordo - or tackle him head-on - the door slides open, followed by an uncertain, “Sir?”

Alpha straightens in time to see a trooper in full armor tuck his blue-striped helmet under one arm. His face is studiously blank, but there’s a smile playing on his lips.

“Four-one-oh-eight, sir,” the trooper says unprompted, apparently unbothered by the awkward silence. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all,” Alpha says, and takes care to step on Fordo’s foot as he approaches the trooper. He ignores the ensuing yelp and instead opts for, “What can I do for you?”

“The general referred me to you. Seemed to think I could pick up a few pointers.”

“That would be Skywalker?”

“Got it in one, sir.” Now the trooper gives a wry grin. “He recommended me for ARC training.”

“Got a name, kid?” Fordo asks, playing the steady ori’vod he absolutely is not.

“Ike, sir.”

“Well, Ike,” Fordo says, “glad to have you.”

“Don’t let Skywalker get in your head too much, yeah?” Alpha puts in.

Ike’s grin widens. “Yeah, I’ve heard stories.”

“If you’ve made it this far, you’ve already got more self-preservation than the general,” Alpha reassures him, offering a sardonic smile of his own.

“I’d like to think so, sir,” the trooper answers, almost sincere if not for the look of mischief in his eyes.

Yeah, Alpha likes this kid. If he’s careful, he may even make it past his first deployment.

Alpha claps him on the shoulder. “Welcome aboard, ner vod.”

[nananaptime]

Persistent

Inspired by a post I found on Pinterest and while I’ve used it before on my nanasofthours blog, I just had to write a full scenario around it and it fit Chenle so well xD

Masterlist Rules

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1 557

Summary:  A game of truth or dare should be a foolproof plan regarding love between friends, right?

~

It was a dark, snowy evening and due to being forced into watching a scary movie by the one and only Na Jaemin, the rest of us refused to go to bed once it was finished. The fact that I may have gone deaf due to sitting beside a screaming Chenle the entire time may or may not have something to do with that decision as well on my part. The boy was currently sitting beside me, apologising for the torture of my eardrums all the while trying not to laugh. I think he appreciated having something else to focus on rather than the spooky dark evening we were currently spending. Jaemin just watched the rest of us with a judgmental look, wondering how we could all be so easily scared, even Renjun who’s normally not scared of anything and Donghyuck who was all talk before the movie started. Jeno was just glaring at him, not believing how his best friend could force him to sit through something that frightening. Mark and Jisung had sneaked out of the room halfway through the movie in an attempt to not die of fright. 

“I can’t believe you all are such scaredy cats.” Jeno jumped Jaemin at that comment, trying to give an outlet to his aggressions by tickling the poor boy half to death. 

“Scaredy cats, huh?” Jeno wasn’t letting up and considering his strength, Jaemin was to be stuck there until Jeno let him go. “You be happy it's not you I’m sleeping beside tonight.” When Jeno finally let Jaemin go, the latter one was laughing so hard he didn't manage to get up from the couch for a moment longer. 

As Jeno sat down in his seat, now slightly lighter after the tickle fight, I heard timid footsteps making their way back towards the living room. Soon enough, Mark and Jisung appeared around the corner, suspiciously eyeing the television as if it would start a new horror movie all on its own. 

“Okay, we need to do something else before going to bed, I need a distraction,” Mark said before flopping down in the armchair. Sounds of agreement echoed around the room as we all gathered in a slightly more coherent circle around the living room table. As Donghyuck suggested you all play truth or dare to loosen your nerves, I instantly wanted to flee for my life. Not that I had anything against the game per se but once you add the dreamies, it’s not a game one would want to take part in if they wanted to leave with their pride intact.

Before I even had a moment to suggest something different, the boys had already started. 

“Nana, truth or dare.” I knew from the look in Donghyuck’s eyes that all he wanted was some revenge. No doubt Jaemin knew too, but being the stubborn person that he is, especially if Donghyuck was involved, he met the challenge head-on.

“Dare.” He was daring Donghyuck to give him his worst. If I didn’t know any better, I would suspect a war to break out. Donghyuck only smiled at him and glanced towards the front door.

“I dare you to go outside and shove as much snow as you can into your shirt.” Nana closed his eyes at the dare and took some deep breaths before opening them to reveal the deadliest glare he could muster. Considering it’s Nana, it wasn’t that frightening and Donghyuck only laughed at gestured towards the door. As Jaemin stood he muttered promises of revenge under his breath before exiting the house. That’s when I knew this was going to be a long night.

Not too long after, screeches were heard from outside and Jaemin was back inside the house within seconds, desperately holding his shirt from his front as he hurried into his room to fetch a towel and dry clothes. As Donghyuck laughed I gave him a look.

“That was mean,” I said.

“No, what was mean was him forcing us to sit through the horrifying sequence that was that movie.” I couldn’t disagree with that much truth and let him be, hoping he was satisfied enough to leave poor Jaemin alone. 

As we awaited his return, I leaned back against the couch where I was sat at the floor and, letting my hands fall to the floor where they were met with the warmth of someone else’s. I glanced sideways, only to realise Chenle was already looking at me. With a small smile, I went to remove my fingers from his before he grabbed ahold of them and started playing around with them. I raised an eyebrow and he only giggled, far too amused at the size difference of our hands than to react to my expression. How someone could be so easily entertained is beyond me. 

The game continued around us as the warmth of Chenle’s skin seeped into mine. Before I knew it, he had clasped his hand in mine and I was left wondering how that had come to be and why it felt like they belonged in that embrace. I glanced up at Chenle’s face while his thumb rubbed over the back of my hand and without realising it, my eyes halted at his lips. Had they always seemed so kissable?

A giggle pulled me out of my trance and Chenle’s playful gaze met mine. I didn’t even want to know when he had caught me staring or for how long it had amused him so in an attempt to salvage the remaining dignity I had, I switched my focus to the game and left his hand empty. 

Jisung had just been forced to reveal that he had used Renjun’s toothbrush by mistake and failed to mention it afterwards which resulted in Renjun jumping from his seat in the armchair and dashing towards the bathroom. He exited holding the toothbrush by the tip and at an arm’s length, as if being anywhere near it might get him sick. After having disposed of it in the trashcan he took his place again and vowed to never keep his toothbrush among the rest ever again. He then turned to Chenle, making him the next target of the game. Chenle being Chenle, who always went all in regardless of the activity, chose dare, 

“I dare you to stop overthink everything and just do it.” I was a big question mark at that point but Chenle seemed to understand what Renjun was insinuating judging by the glare the latter was currently receiving. After what seemed like hours of intense staring, Chenle finally yielded. 

“Fine,” he said before turning to me, determination evident in his expression. “Y/N, truth or dare?”

“What? But you haven’t finished yours.” He only smiled slightly.

“Truth or dare?” His voice was softer now and the difference in appearance had me slightly on edge, I didn’t know what to expect of this kind of Chenle.

“Truth...” I said, trying to figure out what was happening.

Another smile crossed his features. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” 

I thought my eyes would pop out of their sockets. 

“What!? Uhm….. DARE!” A snicker echoed through our friend group.

Chenle leaned in closer to me and I couldn’t breathe, my heart was beating too hard in my throat.

“I dare you to kiss me,” he murmured and I had to strain to hear him. By now, I was sure my face was several shades redder than normal but I couldn’t look away. The butterflies in my stomach reached an all-time high, dragging my nerves along in their relentless dance, leaving me slightly panicked at the situation. 

“I-I…” How to speak? “Never have I ever-”

“THAT’S NOT THE GAME!” I jumped out of my skin at the outburst from the remaining boys and by now, Nana had enough. He stood up, ushering the five nosey boys out of the room, giving Chenle a knowing look and a thumbs up, before closing the door and leaving us alone. 

“Sorry,” Chenle said with a sheepish smile. “I thought it would be cute.”

“Me kissing you or asking like that?” 

“Asking like that, you know I like making a scene.” 

“Oh honey, I know.” I grabbed his hand again, this time forcing him to turn to me. His cheeks turned rosy and he spluttered, slightly startled at my actions.

“What are you doing?” Had I not been so close I would never have heard what he asked.

“This was what you wanted, right?” He only nodded, his body frozen and obviously not ready for the affection he demanded. I grabbed his other hand as my heart threatened to jump out of my rib cage. My confidence failed me. “Ok, you’ll have to do it.” He giggled slightly before releasing my hands and cradling my face, bringing his lips closer to mine. 

He tasted of chocolate, from the chocolate milk he had been drinking all night, and it caused me to smile against his lips. As his lips formed a smile of his own, his hands travelled to my waist and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss as the pressure increased. I grabbed ahold of his shirt to keep from losing my balance, effectively erasing any remaining air between us.

That’s when we were forced apart by the cheerful yells of the dreamies.

[tristinai]

Sharing an umbrella!! Do they have umbrellas in Thedas? Maybe in Tevinter? ;))))

I went with Cullrian since I haven’t written them in a while. Prepare for some pure, Cullrian fluff! Poorly edited since I wrote it in the last hour XD

One of the many things Dorian likedabout traveling with the Inquisitor to Val Royeaux: bloodycivilization. Sure, getting to the Orlesian capital still meant a fewweeks of trekking the wilderness, avoiding every bear this side ofthe continent, and spending days on end in soiled silks that smelledof—ugh—the outdoors. Butonce in the city, there were boutiques displaying all sorts offinery, quaint little book shops to seek out rare titles, andpatisseries offering perhaps the only half decent fare outside ofTevinter. All Dorian had to do was put in the occasional appearanceas the Inquisition conducted business and then he had the rest of theday to himself, to peruse what little treasures the city had tooffer.

Theday began as the previous had: Dorian being able to properly groomhimself, slip into clean robes (how sad that this has now become oneof life's little luxuries), and then forgo breakfast offered at theiraccommodations to visit that lovely cafe just down the street. Withthe Inquisitor and Cullen settling that sordid mess involvingBlackwall—or was it Thom Rainier now?—the specific skill set of adashing Tevinter mage was hardly needed so Dorian chose to use therest of the day to spend some of his well earned gold.

Allwas going quite well—he procured a new staff to be sent to his roomlater in the evening, along with a few books that caught hiseye—until, well into the afternoon, the clack of thunder could beheard above the general bustle of the markets.

Then,with little warning, the sky went from blue to dark gray and atorrent of rain poured from the heavens.

Just.His. Bloody. Luck.

Ittook all of a minute for Dorian to be drenched, his perfectly styledhair sticking to his forehead, dust from the street collecting intomud and staining the edges of his ivory colored robes.

Fasta vass!

And he hadn't theforesight to bring an umbrella.

He attempted toweave between the stalls but locals crowded beneath the awnings,shops filling with pedestrians intending on waiting out the storm. Hewas forced to trudge towards the main street, stepping into puddlesand soaking his boots, and he cursed internally for choosing to wearhis new suede pair instead of his proper traveling footwear.

So help him,wanting to make himself somewhat presentable in what passes for'fashion' in Orlais was about to be his undoing.

Grumbling, hewalked towards a stall at the edge of the market district,advertising that it carries parapluie. His boots couldn't besalvaged but perhaps his hair could.

“Sold out?” hesnapped. “But you're an umbrella shop!”

The Orlesianscrunched her nose distastefully as she looked him up and down. “Canyou not see the weather? It's raining. We sold out but a quarter hourago.”

“Venhedis,how can you expect to run a business if you lack enough stock toservice the clientele?”

“Supply anddemand,” she said, her impatience evident in her tone. With a coolsmirk, she added, “If you would like an umbrella, we could have onemade and ready for you to pick up in the morning.”

“Bloody good thatdoes me when I need one now!”

“Then, perhapsyou should carry one with you next time you visit the market. Yousilly foreigners never plan ahead. Any Orlesian can tell youhow unpredictable Val Royeaux's weather can be.”

He bristled at herbiting tone but instead of answering with equal venom, he respondedwith a glibness that put a scowl on the woman's face. “I supposethat is rather silly of us foreigners. Perhaps I should carrymy winter cloaks with me as well. One never knows when it may verywell snow in the middle of summer!”

He could swallowhis pride and wait beneath the awning for the rain to become a lightdrizzle but he stepped out, head held high, into the storm. His robessloshed in the puddles at his feet and he had to avoid shudderingeach time his feet squished inside his boots. But even looking like awet mabari, he still had his dignity and wanted nothing more than toget away from that—

“Dorian?”

He blinked away therain water, swiping his bangs to the side. Immediately, a shadow fellover him, preventing more rain from hitting his soaked form. Helooked up at the dark umbrella, just barely large enough to fit twopeople, and his eyes flit to a golden pair that were wide withconcern.

“C-Cullen,”Dorian answered, his teeth chattering as a shiver passes through him.“W-what a-a-are you d-d-doing h-here?”

“I had beenhoping to speak with an armorer about repairing my vambraces. But itseems most of the market is closing for the evening.” He motionedfor Dorian to take the umbrella, who accepted it with shaking hands.“Maker's breath, you're soaked!”

Dorian had somebiting, sarcastic remark to make because yes, he was most certainlyfucking soaked and looked no better than some Maker awful farmanimal left to roll around in its own waste and he highly suspectedhe smelled of wet dog so thank you so much, one Commander Rutherford,for pointing out the bloody obvious but—

He nearly fumbledthe umbrella as he felt the Commander slip his fur-lined cloak aroundhis shoulders, irritation dying along with the complaints sitting onthe tip of his tongue. Cullen made sure it was secure before offeringan almost shy smile and taking the umbrella handle back from themage.

“I know you oncedeclared you'd rather be attacked by a swarm of bees than be caughtdead in 'that glorified rag you call a cloak',” Cullen teased andDorian was most definitely not blushing at the playful smirkon the Commander's lips, “but, perhaps, given the circumstances,you'll make an exception.”

Not about to letCullen know the effect his kindness was having on him, Dorian huffedand said, “I suppose it'll have to do. Though, if any of ourcompanions should see us, you must insist that I protested quiteadamantly and only relented under duress.”

“Of course,”Cullen answered, with a laugh.

It made somethingwarm curl inside Dorian's belly.

They walked up thestreet together, huddled close enough that Dorian swore he could feelCullen's body heat through the many layers between them. It was doingthings to his brain that left him feeling lightheaded: each time hecracked a glib remark, Cullen would chuckle in a way that was quicklyturning Dorian's insides to mush, had the mage forcing himself to notlook too long at the Commander's face because that smile of his keptmaking more heat creep into Dorian's cheeks.

He was in themiddle of explaining his most recent interaction in the markets(“Bloody Orlesians,” Cullen had chipped in, with a shake of hishead) when he felt one of the Commander's arms snake around hiswaist, tugging the mage a few steps forward until Dorian was crashingagainst Cullen's chest. His nose bumped against the blond's, theirlips all but brushing, and his pulse racing as he looked upquestioningly into Cullen's eyes.

Fasta vass, howhad he never noticed how lovely they were?

TheCommander's cheeks were bright red and he stuttered somethingincoherent. The rain pattered on the umbrella but the only soundDorian could hear was the pounding of his heart.

“T-thecarriage,” Cullen managed to say, “it almost splashed you.”

“I'malready soaked, Commander.”

“A-ah,right.”

Dorianfelt Cullen begin to release his grip on him, looking awaysheepishly. But Dorian wasn't ready to let this feeling to go, tocontinue to pretend that in all these months, there hadn't beenmoments where he wanted to be right where he is now.

So, heslipped an arm around Cullen, pulled him closer as his eyes twinkledmischievously.

“Thatdoesn't mean I want you to stop,” he whispered, lips curling in acoy smirk.

Theumbrella fell from Cullen's hand, rain pelting both of them as hereturned Dorian's embrace. But Dorian couldn't bring himself to careabout anything else but the scarred lips that pressed to his, kissinghim soundlessly and breathlessly in the streets of Val Royeaux.