#and the cheesiest part of me likes to think that it's an indication of how they can be something precious that is meant to be together | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diedbutterflies69 · 3 years

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Cars- Bang Chan imagine

Contains: explicit sexual contact, chan as hot rich hotel owner, car sex, slight degradation, blowjob, fingering, etc

Minors don't interct.

Working in one of the most expensive hotels in the country was something you never expected. You were just a normal student who was struggling to meet deadlines and pay for tuitions and so doing many part time jobs. A law student washing dishes in random restaurant and drooling over food, observing the way those chefs used to work with wok , deep fried food, the process fascinated you so much. Even though you were familiar with cooking since a young age it was rather more like responsibility, a chore. And that's how you learned cooking by slowly observing the chefs and utube videos, as changing the entire career dreams at the last year was little too wild and impossible. But struggles eventually leads to happiness, the owner of one of the restaurant you used to work at got surprisingly close with you ,her name lucy a single divorced hot milf she thaught you many skills and tricks with cooking. Your last straw before quitting the law school was getting failed . And just like that a blessing in disguise. She noticed how dishearted you were and then decided to give you the greatest opportunity in your life.

Working in God's menu was every chef's dream, and Lucy made your dream come true. The owner and main chef of God's menu Bang Chan was close with Lucy and just by that using some connections you got yourself inside that paradise, but Chan was a total boomer with you, he didn't wanted to give you job at the first place as you lacked experience and knowledge but he valued friendships way too much to deny Lucy.

Chan was always hard on you, constantly making you work with him, teaching the mystery behind flavours, making you memorize foreign cuisine recipes, you sweared you didn't even struggled that much in law school as there was no one lecture you and expect from you. He acted all tough just to make you perfect and eventually became close, you fell in the pit of one sided love the moment Chan agreed to hire you. What you adored most about Chan was how he always made sure to not make you panic while being near fire, never told you to hurry while cutting vegetables. His this small gestures meant so much too you. And in span of 7 months that baby was finally your boyfriend. Chan was someone who followed his heart and just like that, he confessed in the most cheesiest way possible. And here you are today a great chef with lot of knowledge and a handsome, caring and loving boyfriend. 3 years of loving relationship.

"baby~~ " you said while hugging your boyfriend from the back who was too invested in making a 4 tower cake for his best friend's wedding even though he wasn't much experienced with baking whatever he tried doing was no less than perfection.

"yes, baby? Need anything?", Chan asked you. Even though you have been listening to his sweet honey voice since years it never failed to make your heart flutter.

"stop working now, it's 2:30 am let's go home now", you whined slightly tipping on toes and kissing Chan's neck. Getting a small hum from your boyfriend.

"just few more minutes babe", Chan said turning back and softly giving pecking your forehead . You huffed in response being too tired of your boyfriend's night owl tendencies, you went back to the table and singing a good night in most extra way possible. Chan just smiled at his girlfriend, he too wanted to go home and just cuddle with you but work was trash .

Finally looking at clock it was 3 :15 something, his work finally done. After cleaning up every thing,washing the dishes and shoving the massive cake into refrigerator carefully, Chan happily made his way to you. He too saying baby~ in most extra way possible, he was an true night owl no matter how much he worked at nights without you being by his side he wasn't able to fall asleep. A habit he picked up 3 years ago.

"get up, it's 5 am", Chan whispered into your ear while aggressively moving you to make you leave your dreamland.

"aggh, good morning the love of my life", you said slowly leaving your subconscious world. Even in slight unconscious mind you were flirty and cheesy.

"good morning, it's 5 A.M ", Chan again told you a wrong time just messing up with you.

"what the fuck", you yelled being angry on your boyfriend's crazy work habits , you were glaring at him till he bought his his wrist infront of your face . His watch reading 3 : 08 , being confused and worried for your wrong vision you looked at the wall clock that to read 3:07 am.finally realising you have been scammed.

" you fucking lier", you yelled at Chan for pranking you, but you were glad that he finished the work soon.

"heheh", Chan laughed, he was too cute for you.

"let's just go home", you said trying to keep a poker face, packing your stuff then gripping Chan's hand and walking out of the space.

Going down through the elevator, Chan unleashing his 50 shades enthusiast.

"What is it about elevators?" Saying this and immediately pulling you into a deep kiss, he tasted like chocolate probably from the previous cake flavours, his tongue feeling so good while exploring your mouth, one hand at the back of your neck and the other interlocked with yours. His lips always felt like heaven.

He broke the kiss as the door opened, he adjusted your hair and outfit and locking his eyes with you giving you a warm smile, fully a contradiction to his previous action. This man's duality always suprised you.

"let's go baby~", Chan said getting out of elevator with you, hands interlocked moving back and forth, if someone saw you both they would probably think that you both are possessed, smiling and jumping like kids finally reached the car.

"let me open the door for you", Chan said with a smirk while opening the car door for you , there was not a single human present in the parking lot, creepy vibes but perfect for your both future activities. Chan entered the car and stared at you in the most innocent way possible.

"what?", You asked him giving him the same innocent eyes.

"babe, the kiss made me hard", Chan admitted almost shamelessly his eyes pointing at his pants , and yes it was a great hot site too notice.

"will you melt, till we reach home?", You asked Chan looking into his eyes hands slowly creeping to his thighs dangerously close to the not so safe zone.

"I would rather burst here than melt till we reach home", Chan said holding your hand bringing it straight over his memeber, you blushed deeply at his actions.

"Come on babe, we had done Car sex multiple times", Chan said making you blush and wet down there even more. You got a little too needy as the memories of Chan fucking you ruthlessly on the back site of the car came to your mind. Your hand still palming his cock through pants.

"hop on the backseat", you said almost breathlessly, Chan smirking at your needy , horny State. You both went on the backseat to make a great mess over there .

"aaah" , you moaned loudly as Chan slapped your left boob while sucking your neck. His teeth never failed at marking you all over, his touch was heaven especially whenever he squeezed the back of your neck or roughly groped those boobs. Detaching himself from your neck he gripped your neck in an erotically painful way and forcing you on your knees.

"Suck, use that mouth atleast one time for a good cause", Chan said , his degrading voice mixed with heavy lust. Nodding at his words , without wasting any time you bought your hands to undid his belt and zipper . Palming him through his boxers and finally releasing it from all restraints, you slowly put hs cock inside your mouth, he was really really hard. A fucking long and thick cock he had, you not being able to take him even half way as the position was slightly painful but nevertheless you started bopping your head up and down and palming the remaining with your hands. His loud groans and moans indicated that he was satisfied enough, you increased your speed, occassionally hollowing your cheeks to take him deeper every time. He gripped your head as he was close , he started to move your mouth as he pleased making you gag non stop, it hurted but you liked it so much. " You feel so fucking good, all mine", Chan said breathlessly after a final thrust and empting himself inside your mouth, his cum feeling your mouth in escasty. You sucked off every single drop not wasting anything.

Chan lifted you up from the car floor and made you sit on his lap. You looking fully fucked out, with clothes misplaced and mouth dripping with saliva and his liquid , black mascara tears running down.

"My precious slut", Chan said while making his way to your panties, your jeans were already removed a long ago.

"you want my fingers? Hmm?" Chan said as his fingers were slowly entering your pussy , his cold hands making you shiver .

"yes please sir" , you begged voice laced up with pure desperation and needily grinding on his fingers and thighs. Chan smirked again at you.

"what you want more, my fingers or my cock?" Chan made gave you 2 choices both of them heaven.

"your cock, sir please" You begged again. He finally smiles at you pure ill intention smile.

"Since you are too good girl, I should give you whatever you want", Chan said and finally bought his cock towards your tight leaking cunt slowly entering himself inside you.

"ride", Chan said and you felt like being on cloud nine. Slowly moving your hips up and down in decent speed . His cock fitted so well inside of you, it was pure bliss for you.

But without a warning Chan bought his hands towards your clit and pinching it making your whole body jolt in overstimulation.

" babe,you are too good, so deserve my fingers too", Chan said with a sadistic smile.

It's gonna be a long morning.

#skz smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #bangchan #bangchan smut #skz #skz chan x reader #chan smut

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liaromancewriter · 3 years

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Newly Wed Wednesday: Happy Ever After

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine)

Rating: Teen (ish)

A/N: Hello, Hello! I didn't think I'd be able to do these today, but I surprised myself. Thanks to @genevievemd for the questions and @jamespotterthefirst for organizing.

Where did you go on your second date?

Cassie: (looks at Ethan quizzically) Wait, did we have a second date?

Ethan: Of course, we did.

Cassie: Well, what was it?

Ethan: We went...uh…I’m pretty sure, we…Huh. (Looks lost)

Cassie: You owe me a second date, Ramsey.

Ethan: We’re married now. Pretty sure dating is not a requirement anymore.

Cassie: That’s what you think.

Ethan: Anyway, we've gone out plenty of times, Rookie. All those coffee dates at Derry’s, the summer Food Truck Festival in Cambridge, the trip to Coney Island, boating on the Charles Rivers, the season opener for the Boston Opera House. What do you call those?

Cassie: (smirks) Keeping you on your toes.

What is their pet name for you?

Cassie: Rookie when he’s annoyed and Love when he’s being super sweet.

Ethan: Dr. Ramsey when she wants to seduce me. Babe when she’s in a hurry.

Cassie whispers in his ear and his cheeks turn red.

Ethan: Ahem…what was the next question?

Do you have a favorite? Do you have a least favorite?

Ethan: No favorites, but I dislike being called E. My name is two syllables. How hard is it to say the whole thing?

Cassie: But think of all the extra time gained.

Ethan: Two syllables, Cassie. At best, you gain two seconds.

Cassie: I like it when you call me Love because that’s when I know you’ll give me the world if you could. As long as you call me yours, I don’t care.

Ethan looks at her and then bursts out laughing.

Cassie: (outraged) Hey!

Ethan: (trying to control his laughter) I’m sorry, love, but that was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say.

Cassie: Whatever, E.

What is their silliest fear?

Cassie: (snorts) Swans freak him out.

Ethan: They’re vicious creatures that’ll attack you for no reason!

Cassie: How tall are you again?

She starts stretching her hands to indicate the span of a swan’s body and puts it up against his for comparison. He facepalms her.

Ethan: She acts weird around goats.

Cassie: They follow you around for no reason. Don’t they have goat things to do?

Ethan: Such as?

Cassie: I dunno. Like make cheese or jump over fences or something.

Ethan: (trying to keep a straight face) You mean goat cheese?

Cassie: You’re winding me up on purpose, aren’t you?

Ethan: (raises her hand to plant a kiss across her knuckles) I’m sorry. You looked so cute, I couldn't resist.

How often do you go on dates together? Do you think it’s enough or would you like to go out more often?

Cassie: Like official, get dressed up for the Oscars type dates? Maybe once every other month if we can fit it into our schedules.

Ethan: Otherwise, we have casual at-home date night at least twice a week.

Cassie: Rules are no work talk, no phones, no distractions.

Ethan: (smiles at her) Just us.

Cassie: (muses softly) And no, it’s never enough.

Ethan: We don’t need to go out to feel connected. Our date nights at home are always special.

Cassie: But when we do go out…

Ethan: The best part is coming back home with you.

What was the first thing your spouse said after the proposal.

Ethan: I think she said, “Are you serious?”

Cassie: What else was I supposed to say. I’d just been laughing at you and all of a sudden you said, “Marry me.”

Ethan: Because it felt like the right moment for us.

Cassie: And when I didn’t respond, you asked me again and said we were inevitable. And I knew you meant it.

Ethan: Not going to lie. I was dying inside the longer you didn’t respond.

Cassie: You have me now, Dr. Ramsey. For better or for worse.

Ethan: (brushes his lips across hers) For always.

If you were forced to marry one of your exes, who would it be?

Cassie: Hmm. That’s a tough one because I’ve not had many exes. But I guess Jackson?!? At least he loved me enough to want to marry me. (looks askance at Ethan)

Ethan: Maybe Theresa. At least I’d get free tickets to any opera at La Scala.

Cassie: (dramatic sigh) Abandoned for an opera singer. Of course.

Ethan: This is make-believe, love. But if it ever came to pass, I’d divorce you first.

Cassie: You’re a genius! Then, we’d be exes and have to marry each other.

Cassie grabs Ethan by the collar and shows him just how much she loves his smarts.

Perma-tags: @jamespotterthefirst @starryeyedrookie @genevievemd @forallthatitsworth @queencarb @ohchoices @coffeeheartaddict @openheartfan @udishaman @danijimenezv @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @schnitzelbutterfingers @mainstreetreader @tsrookie @bex-la-get @chaoticchopshopheart @headoverheelsforramsey @thegreentwin @dorisz @silma-words @custaroonie @pixelnutrookie @adiehardfan @parisa-kh @takemyopenheart @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @jerzwriter @choiceskatie @mia143 @mm2305 @a-crepusculo @barbean @beastlyinstrument @electroniccreatorwerewolf @rosebudde @lucy-268 @sarcastic01lily @blainehellyes @crazy-loca-blog @writer-ish @pixelberrygirl

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart choices #newly wed game with our host bree #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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kar-krashew · 3 years

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@arsenic-creator THIS IS THE CHEESIEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN BUT HERE'S YOUR CARS AU MALEC FIC.

(Rated T for language).

----

There are a lot of things that Alec misses about life outside this shitty little town, even though he’s only been here for a few days: his family, his friends, his cell phone— he could go on for a while. Hell, he even misses Aldertree’s incessant bragging at this point, which is a little concerning, because the man is a menace and just generally unpleasant to be around. The fact that Alec has not had a very public fistfight with him yet is a goddamn miracle.

But— he’s getting distracted. The point is, there are a lot of things on that list.

So, it’s genuinely impressive when Simon shows up and rambles for long enough that all Alec really misses now is some peace and quiet, because Simon does not know when to shut up, oh my god—

“What happens if you get pulled over on the road and you don’t have your license on you? Do the cops just let you go? I mean, you are a world famous racer, so it would be assumed that you know how to drive, right?” he pesters, “Or do you still get in trouble?”

Alec groans. He’s been dealing with this for the better part of an hour now, and throwing himself into a nearby cactus plant has never seemed more appealing. Simon, ruiner of lives and seemingly oblivious to Alec’s current temperament, barrels on steadily in his rant about cops and racers until they approach the main part of the plaza, where he suddenly pauses and grins.

Dread claws its way up Alec’s shoulders. Simon grinning like that can only bring bad things.

“So,” the kid drawls, “Where are you staying tonight? Anywhere special? In the spare bedroom of a local attorney, by the name of Magnus Bane, perhaps?”

Scratch that: Alec’s going to throw Simon into a nearby cactus plant, and he won’t even feel a little bit guilty. He could make it look like an accident and everything.

“Fuck off, Simon,” he scowls. He tries increasing his pace to ditch the kid, but Simon is nothing if not persistent. “Don’t you have anything else to be doing right now?”

“Nope.” Simon pops the word in his mouth, grin growing even wider. “You like him. Like, like-like him!” he declares, leaning in closer. “If it helps, I think he likes you, too.”

“Are we fifth graders now? Is that what’s happening?” Alec pointedly ignores the blush threatening to take over his face, and glowers down at the brunette. “Besides, he’s just being nice. It doesn’t have to mean something.” He’d meant to sound firm and sure when he said it, but his voice tapers off and gets soft instead, and now Alec is considering committing multiple misdemeanors if it means he’ll get out of this conversation. Simon shoots him a knowing look.

“But you want it to mean something,” he observes. Alec rolls his eyes, not bothering to grace the statement with a response. Simon takes it as an open invitation to start singing a very loud and terrible rendition of a song about Alec and Magnus sitting in a tree, and it’s enough for Alec to give in and violently shove the other.

Unfortunately, Simon does not hit any of the cacti nearby.

God, Alec hates this town.

---

The thing about Magnus Bane is that, well—

The man is fucking beautiful. Like, holy-shit-Alec-can't-breathe-around-him beautiful, with golden skin and kohl-lined eyes and dark hair and a jawline that Alec would love to get up close and personal with.

The first time they’d met, Alec made a complete ass out of himself by stumbling all over his words in court and then had gotten himself stuck doing community service, largely because of Magnus, for the god-forsaken town he’d managed to land himself in.

(Look, it’s not his fault that he somehow managed to destroy the town’s main road after veering wildly off course and out of control on his way to Brooklyn, okay? These things happen.)

It had kind of been all downhill from there.

But now, somehow, he’s lying in Magnus’s spare bedroom and watching the sunlight as it touches everything in the room with its golden glow, illuminating the walls, the potted plants, the shelves, the man leaning against the doorway—

“Holy shit!”

Alec scrambles to sit up in bed, frantically pulling up the sheets to his bare chest, as Magnus laughs. “Magnus!” Alec squeaks. “I, um, what’re you doing here?”

Magnus grins, rounding the corner of the bed to place a tray in front of Alec. “I thought I’d bring you breakfast,” he says, “before I asked you if you wanted to go for a drive.”

Alec frowns. “A drive?”

“A drive,” Magnus repeats, shrugging a shoulder. “I wanted to show you something, and took the liberty of filling your car up with gas again.”

“Wha— Why? You don’t think I’ll try leaving town again?” The only reason Alec hadn’t been able to leave when he first tried had been the lack of fuel in his tank, so he’s genuinely confused as to why Magnus decided to change that.

“I don’t know, will you?” the other asks. He tilts his head, looking gentle and blurred in his robe and smiling softly, something warm cradled in his eyes, and Alec knows with sudden certainty that he won’t. He might’ve said yes a few days ago, but now?

“No,” he replies. “I won’t.”

“That’s that, then,” Magnus beams, and Alec can’t help beaming back a little stupidly. “I trust you. Now, finish up, Alexander. We’ve got daylight to catch.”

---

“Where do you want me to go?”

They’re both sitting in Alec’s car, windows rolled down, on an old road leading away from the interstate. It’s beautiful out here— green trees circling a little lake tucked in between the rocks and dirt— but Alec has a feeling it’s not what Magnus wanted to show him.

“Just follow the path,” Magnus instructs, unbuckling his seatbelt. He turns to Alec and winks, before hoisting himself so that he’s sitting halfway out of the window, laughing at Alec’s surprised yelp and swerve of the car. “Careful there, hotshot!” he giggles, then leans further out like he’s got a fucking death wish, closing his eyes against the wind.

“Are you insane?” Alec yells out, and Magnus laughs harder.

“All the best people are, darling!” he responds. “I’ll be just peachy. Just keep going, we’re about to get to my favorite part!”

Alec’s about to yell out again, probably something like you have a favorite part of almost dying? or I think I’m halfway in love with you as they pass through a rocky tunnel, but before he can say either, his breath catches at the sight in front of him.

A huge, sparkling waterfall cascades down from the mountains, overlooking the rocky canyon and trees below it, framing the bridge that hangs in between. It almost doesn’t look real, more like something out of a corny road trip movie or a documentary, and Alec slows down as they approach it, taking it in. Magnus grins as they pass by, leaning out to catch errant drops of water on his fingertips, and God, it’s such a cliché and cheesy thing to do, and Alec wants to kiss him straight on his stupid mouth.

“I bet you don’t see that out in the city,” Magnus says smugly, tucking himself back into the car. He glances back at Alec with a smirk on his lips, running a hand through his wind-mussed hair. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Yeah,” Alec breathes, staring at Magnus’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “It really is.”

(Fuck, now he’s the one being cliché. Izzy’s going to find out about this somehow and laugh at him forever.)

“Right.” Magnus clears his throat, looking away, jarring Alec back to reality. “We’re almost there, just pull up at the sign there,” he continues, pointing to a clearing ahead.

Alec coughs, nodding. “Right. Yes. The sign.”

The sign in question is a small landmark that points to a dilapidated, out-of-place building hidden between the rock of the mountain. “The Hotel Dumont,” the front reads, paint chipped away at the edges of the letters. The building looks Victorian in design, with intricate arches decorating the front, though many of them are cracked and gray now, and there’s a large open courtyard area in the front that appears abandoned now. It must’ve been beautiful, once. Now, it carries only echoes of a world passed.

“What is this place?” Alec asks. Magnus shakes his head and exits the car, then stands and stares at the sign for a while when Alec joins him.

“This used to be their livelihood,” he finally says, “The Hotel Dumont. Raphael used to run it, and everyone else would pitch in. You wouldn’t believe what it looked like earlier: parties in the main hall, music playing in the foyer, people laughing. It kept them going.”

“What happened?”

Magnus smiles wistfully. “A famous racer by the name of Valentine dropped a particularly scathing review of the hotel after Raphael caught him harassing customers and kicked him out. Had enough influence and lawyers to destroy all of this place’s credibility. These days, everyone’s barely getting by. It’s why they took so long to warm up to you; you essentially represent everything that ruined them.”

That’s horrible, Alec wants to say, but instead he looks over at Magnus and notes his glittering makeup and golden rings and silk tunic and blurts out, “Then how did you end up here?” and immediately winces.

It’s a valid question, technically— Magnus obviously wasn’t one of the town’s original residents, if his extravagant nature and the way he discusses the hotel are any indication— but still. Alec could’ve been gentler about it.

“I was an attorney in L.A, actually,” Magnus sighs. “It was good, I suppose, and money was never an issue, but I don’t think I was happy.” He shuffles closer to Alec as they idle in front of the building, brushing their shoulders together. “Got myself horribly drunk one night and made a whole plan to run away and leave the city behind. I woke up the next day, saw the plans, decided I might as well, and just started driving until my car finally broke down here.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Alec reaches out to touch his fingertips to Magnus’s comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I can’t imagine what that must’ve felt like.”

Magnus turns to face him completely then, looking up at him knowingly. “Can’t you?” he asks. He takes Alec’s palms in his own and holds their hands between them. “Are you happy out there, Alexander?”

Alec blinks, startled. “Of course I am,” he protests automatically, because why wouldn’t he be? He’s rich, he’s famous, he’s doing what he loves; it’s all perfect. And yet—

He thinks about the constant pressure from his family and fans to be perfect and flashy and smiling all the time. He thinks back to his mother’s desperate attempts to hide his sexuality from the media, setting him up for meeting after meeting with beautiful women. He thinks about the façade he’s made for himself against the person he is right now, standing here with Magnus, and realizes that they’ve never been the same.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “I— I’m not sure.”

Magnus hums. He looks back at the hotel, Alec’s hands still clutched in his own. “You don’t have to leave, you know. You could stay here,” he says.

Alec surveys the landscape, then the man in front of him. “Yeah,” he agrees, “I think I could.”

---

He never gets to find out, because the next day it all goes to hell: Maryse Lightwood descends on the town, armed with a fleet of reporters and a truck waiting to take Alec away.

“We’re going now, Alec,” she demands. “Say goodbye to your ‘friends’ if you need to, and then we’re leaving.” She glances warily over at Magnus, who’s holding Alec’s hand, and frowns before she turns on her heel and walks away.

“So,” Magnus says flatly, “It appears you’re finally getting to that race.”

Alec wants to scream. He hates this, hates that this is how it’s going to end, before it’s even truly begun. If he just had more time—

“Magnus, I wanted to—” he starts, “I wish we—” He exhales, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly, and Magnus smiles.

“It’s alright, Alexander. Just stay in touch, okay?” He pats Alec’s shoulder. “Go on, darling. I don’t think your mother would appreciate me keeping you any longer than I already have.”

Alec hesitates a moment more, wanting to do something, anything, to make this different, but then he swallows and steps away.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll, I’ll call you.”

(It won’t change anything: his life will be exactly the same as it was before. Just one phone call added onto the routine. They both know this is goodbye to whatever they could be.)

Still, Magnus squeezes his fingers and keeps smiling. “I’ll be waiting, Alexander,” he says.

“Sure,” Alec replies uselessly.

So he’s here now, weeks later, sitting on the stands and supposedly getting ready for a race that he doesn’t have heart in anymore.

Honestly, fuck this race. They all go the same way: he’ll race, he’ll win or lose, he’ll pose with some model for a newspaper, and that’ll be it. It used to be enough for him, once.

“Alec?” a voice interrupts, “You okay?”

It’s Izzy, crackling through the comms piece in his ear. Alec clears his throat. “Yeah,” he replies, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as brittle over the mic as it feels, “I’m fine.”

He’ll swallow his emotions and make it enough, again.

“Alright,” Izzy concedes, but she sounds disbelieving, “If you say so. It’s almost time, you might want to head to the car soon, okay?”

Alec hums in the affirmative, heading down to the track, paparazzi trying their best to bombard him. He takes a deep breath, avoiding the cameras, and opens the driver's side door of the car.

He’ll call Magnus after this. It’ll be enough.

Alec ducks under the roof of the vehicle. “Hey, Izzy?” he calls, seating himself behind the wheel. “If I win, remind me to call Magnus, okay?”

“I’m afraid that would be a little redundant, darling,” a new voice replies, and Alec’s heart skips a beat. “Given that you’ll be talking to me already.”

Magnus.

“Magnus?” Alec fucking leaps out of his car, searching frantically around the pit for the man in his ear. A warm laugh floods the comms, and Alec feverishly pushes past cameramen and well-meaning assistants (who are trying to remind him that he really should be in his car right now) in his desperation, only to turn around and:

It’s him. It’s really him, smiling warmly at Alec with his gorgeous brown eyes, wearing black eyeliner to match the Lightwood tracksuit he’s wearing, and Alec missed him so much, oh god, he’s really here—

“Magnus,” he breathes, then he’s throwing his helmet down and closing the distance between them and pulling at Magnus’s lapels, up, up, up, and straight to his own mouth.

He’s kissing him.

Magnus is gripping onto his face too tightly and Alec is clacking their teeth together too harshly, but it’s Magnus, and it’s perfect, and Alec is kissing him, and he could lose every race from this moment on and still feel like he’s on top of the world if it means he’ll get to have this.

“You came,” he whispers when they finally pull apart. Magnus cups his face, stealing another kiss, before he responds.

“Of course I did. Honestly, I’m offended you didn’t ask for me to show up here, yourself,” he teases, and Alec grins bashfully.

“I didn’t think you’d want to,” he replies. Magnus rolls his eyes before pressing their foreheads together.

“Well, darling, we better change that soon, hm?” He twirls his fingers at the nape of Alec’s neck, and time feels like it's perfect and frozen forever in this moment, until Magnus clears his throat.

“I hate to interrupt this, Alexander, but there’s a race and a very excited group of reporters waiting for you, and you should probably get back to both. Unless, of course, you’re not planning to participate?”

Alec snorts and pulls away, loosening his grip around Magnus’s waist. “I plan on participating, Magnus,” he says. “I have a very special someone I’d like to dedicate the trophy to, if they’re open to the idea.”

Magnus grins. “Mmm, you’d have to win, first, wouldn’t you?” he winks, and Alec smirks back.

“For you?” he replies. “I’d do nothing less.”

Alec knows that he’s going to have an absolute media shitstorm waiting for him after he ends this race. But, looking back at a beaming Magnus as he picks his helmet up, he thinks it just might be worth it.

God, Alec loves that town. He's not sure why he ever thought otherwise.

#my writing #fic #malec fic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #cars #this is a fucking cars au #im not even ashamed #simon lewis #Simon is MATER lmao #shadowhunters #life is a highway blares in the background

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ohkiyo · 4 years

Text

pairing: Goshiki Tsutomu x Reader.

warnings: none.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: I can't believe I almost forgot Goshiki's birthday. Here’s a quick one for our future ace. :D

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shiratorizawa navigation || main navigation

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You stared at your clock, (e/c) eyes never leaving the device as you grip your phone on your hand. Your text already drafted and ready to be sent the moment those two hands strike the desired time you’ve been waiting.

11:58 pm.

'Just 2 more minutes' you thought glaring at your clock, cursing it for being slow. You never realized just how slow two minutes can be, the moving hands looking like they've frozen in place instead of actually doing its job. You swore your clock was mocking you, playing some sort of game, thinking that it might be funny.

You were currently seated on your bed, having just woken up from a nap, waiting for the time to reach 12. It was Goshiki's birthday the next day, and you wanted to be the very first one to greet him. Tendou had challenged you the other day that he'll be the very first to do it, being the great senpai that he is. But you replied with the utmost determination that it would be you, who will greet him a happy birthday first.

12:00 am.

"...and sent" you grinned, seeing the little check mark at the bottom. An indication that your message has been sent. Getting out of your bed, you walk downstairs and into the kitchen to finish baking the brownies you had started earlier. You were currently in your family home instead of in your dorm, you had to go home so you could bake him some sweets. Since the kitchen in your dorm didn't have the complete appliances and baking materials.

You could've just bought some at a bakery or sweet stores but you wanted this to be special. It's a gift for your boyfriend’s birthday after all.

Just as you step foot into the kitchen your phone let out a ding.

From: Tomu-kun

Thank you (Y/n)-chan ❤ I'll see you tomorrow?

You leaned on the doorway, your fingers busy typing your reply.

To: Tomu-kun

Of course! :) Go back to sleep, sweet dreams.❤

Placing your phone on the table, you continued your work. Measuring the ingredients properly as well as making sure you were doing it all right. You wanted to make the fudgiest brownies that you can, your mom had given you a few tips earlier on how to make them properly, it's all up to you on how you'll execute them.

Once everything was done, you place them in the oven then set the timer and started cleaning up the mess you made.

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"Tomu-kun! Good morning!" you wave at your boyfriend standing near the gates waiting for you, already dressed in his practice clothes. His tracks pants and jacket keeping him warm from the cold wind. He opened his arms wide for you, wrapping them around your much smaller form when you basically ran into them.

"A very good morning indeed" he grinned at you, as he leaned down to capture your lips into a kiss. Pulling you closer to his body, sharing his warmth with you when he felt you shiver.

Giggling, you pulled away from the kiss as you gave him the gift bag you were holding. "Here, this is for you"

"What's this?" he examined the light purple colored bag, his other hand supporting the bottom because of how heavy it was.

“Your gift of course” you beamed, motioning for him to open it.

Excited, he opened the gift, peeking through the gap at the upper part of the bag. Inside he saw four items, all neatly arrange for it to fit the limited space. The first one was two pairs of brand new kneepads, the pair he’s currently using were already old and tattering. He didn’t have time to buy a new one because he was so busy, and your gift was the one he just needed.

The second item was a hand-knitted scarf of his favorite color, he lost his other one a few months ago when he was doing his laundry and he doesn’t know who took it. He suspects it was his roommate, he’s definitely going to use this later. the temperature’s been rather low lately.

The third one was a stuffed bear, wearing what seems to be a mini version of his volleyball uniform. He had given you a similar one but wearing a little dress for your own birthday, now that he had his own stuffy, the two of you now have matching plushies.

Last but not the least was four boxes filled with the fudgy brownies you baked last night. Sweet treats or sweets in general, were a great boost for him, he loses so much of his stored up energy whenever he’s practicing that he ends up becoming really sluggish by the end of it.

He gives the ribbon a light tug before his eyes caught sight of a card on top.

Wishing you the happiest birthday! I love you to the moon and back, may you enjoy this day, and the more birthdays to come in the future. - xoxo (Y/n)

He felt his eyes start to water, a lump forming in his throat. The amount of happiness you have given him that morning was unmeasurable. No one had ever done something so special for him before, there was his family but they were different, this is you he was talking about. He’s very first girlfriend, the love of his life, and just looking at all the things you gave him once again just made him cry harder.

He’s so happy, he finds it hard to form the right words. So he chose to give you another hug instead, burying his face on your hair as he tries to keep down the sob leaving his lips.

“Oh Tsu” you rub your hand up and down his back in comfort, hugging him tighter.

“T-Thamk you, sho much. (Y/n)-chan” he said in between hiccups as a smile spread on your lips. Rocking him side to side, a quiet hum leaving your lips.

“Oh ho, look at this” you two broke apart from the hug, Goshiki furiously rubs his eyes on his sleeve as you take a peek from behind his tall figure to see his teammates walking over. “It’s the lovebirds!

“Happy birthday Tsutomu” they greeted, each one doing what they like best. Giving him head pats, ruffling his hair, a light punch on the shoulder, anything to show him their love and affection.

“Were you crying?” Shirabu raises an eyebrow at his puffy eyes, the redness still visible.

“N-no I didn’t” Goshiki replied, denying the second year’s words. But it was obvious that Shirabu didn’t believe him though, but chose to stay quiet.

“By the way Tsutomu, who greeted you first?” Tendou questioned as you and the redhead stared at him in expectation.

“(Y/n)-chan did” he smiled at the way you struck out your tongue at the middle blocker, a victorious ‘hah!” leaving your lips.

It was actually Ushijima who sent him the greeting first, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

“Oh! I need to go now” you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, checking your wristwatch. “I’ll see you later ‘Tomu-kun” giving him one last kiss, you wave them goodbye as you ran towards your dorm room. So you could leave the rest of your things before you go to class.

“Are you going to eat these by yourself?” he turned his head to look at his seniors to see them holding one of the boxes containing the brownies you gave him. He looks at his hands to notice that the bag he was holding earlier wasn’t there anymore.

When and how did they get it?

“It looks so delicious” Yamagata and Tendou were almost drooling at the sight of the dessert. Quickly, he snatches it away from them and hid it from their hungry gaze.

“No this is mine, (Y/n) baked it for me”

“Tsutomu, sharing is caring” he backs away from them shaking his head before he turned around and dash towards his own room. As the rest ran after him.

These brownies were made for him and he was going to eat it all until not a single crumb was left.

“Come back here!”

“No!”

Happy Birthday Tsutomu~

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a/n: did I just wrote the cheesiest and probably the most cliche fic ever? yes, yes I did.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #goshiki x reader #goshiki tsutomu x reader #goshiki fluff #goshiki imagine #goshiki scenario #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #shiratorizawa

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gremlin-writes-angst · 3 years

Note

could i request an angsty shinkami fic? no specific thing just something angsty?

Thank you for the request!

1.8k words

Trigger warning: Cursing, toxic relationships

Let me know if I missed a trigger or if you spot any spelling mistakes.

Feedback is encouraged

Click here if you want to see more of my work and follow me for more!

Most people would agree that proposing to your partner is one of the most nerve-racking things a person can do. Even Denki Kaminari, the pro hero Chargebolt of three years, who faced countless villains would agree. It was Denki and Hitoshis second anniversary, they had started dating after highschool, Hitoshi making the first move, which was shocking to Denki. Though Denki was shocked he still agreed to go on a date with the lavender-haired hero. In honesty Denki didn’t expect to fall for Hitoshi as hard as he did, he thought they would go on one or two dates, but here he was two years later fidgeting with a black box in his pants pocket.

Denki decides that he liked cheesy proposal and decides he would propose where the two had their first date, at an arcade. He knew it was weird to propose to your boyfriend at an arcade but Denki couldn’t go back in time and tell past Denki that his first date with Hitoshi cant is at an arcade. Denki arrived early to make sure everything was set up and would go as planned, he played some of his favorite games, memories of their first date arose in Denkis mind. Soon he had played every game at least twice, and Hitoshi was late. It wasn’t unusual for Hitoshi to be late but for him to be this late and on this day, the day Denki planned to propose, it made Denki rethink his whole plan. Denki had considered that two years were a small amount of time compared to others who got married, he thought about the doubts his friend had expressed at the beginning of this relationship. Before, Denki could cancel everything one of the arcade staff members approached him and informed him that Hitoshi had arrived. The staff had been told to watch the parking lot for Shinso so that Denki could be prepared before Hitoshi entered the arcade.

Denki smoothed over his tuxedo and ajasted his bowtie, he would describe himself as dashing. He patted his pocket one last time to make sure the ring box was still there, then the bells ringed indicating that Hitoshi had ented the building. Hitoshi was dressed casually, something a college student would were, this made Denkis nerves rise even higher, noticing he was in such a nice suit and Hitoshi looked like he could care less, though he still looked handsome. The original plan was to play games, eat some greasy fries or nachos and then propose, but Denki had only rented the building and staff for so long. The new plan was to propose as soon as possible, so Denki got down on his knees as he heard Hitoshis voice and footsteps approach.

“I’m sorry for being late but I think we need to talk Kamin-”

His voice cut off when he saw his blonde partner on one knee as he feared. When Denki had told Hitoshi about their next date being at the same arcade that they had their first date, he was suspicious. Hitoshi wasn’t stupid he knew what kind of dates happened at couple’s special places on special days and Shinso wasn’t ready.

“ Hitoshi shinso, I’ve decided that I’m going to be the cheesy boyfriend. So will you make me the happiest, cheesiest man on this planet and spend the rest of your life with me.”

Denki had opened the black box to reveal the gold ring with a small purple gem. Denki knew that his boyfriend was a simple man and didn’t need a fancy ring, but he also couldn’t resist the combination of the two identifying colors.

“ Kaminari, I was trying to say that … I’m not ready.”

Denkis heart dropped for a second. He tried to calm himself, think of the positive. Weddings were expensive, and stressful. Most importantly Shinso would still be there for Denki, a no to a proposal doesn’t automatically mean a breakup. And the way Shinso rejected Denki , made it seem like Hitoshi wanted to marry Denki … just not yet. Denki was still shaken up but he tried to move on from the awkward situation, he stood up and put the box back into his pocket.

“ That’s fine. I’m the one who rushed into this whole marriage thing. I mean who would be ready to marry someone after two years.”

Denki’s sentence was accompanied by awkward laughter, hoping that they could move on from what Denki just did. But Shinso’s face told Denki that they were going to move on.

“ I’m not ready to let go of my secret weapon.”

Hitoshis words and the venomis tone he used confused Denki. Before Denki could ask what Shinso ment, he answered.

“I was so close to making the top 20, which is all your old classmates. Now you’ve gone and ruined it, you couldn’t wait. I was using you,Kaminari, to become popular so I could clib the hero board. I never loved you I was just trying to get noticed and you were stupid enough to fall for it, but you were also stupid enough to think I loved you.”

Hitoshis words were harmful but the way he acted like Denki was a child, like Denki wouldn’t understand if he didn’t, that was what stabbed Denki through the heart. Then came the realization that Denki was the 20th on the hero board. Not only was Hitoshi using him, but he was soon to replace him. The shock was so much it was unbelievable.

“Your lying, why would you tell me now if it was true. It’s just a cruel joke, right Hitoshi?”

Denki hoped it was a joke, he hoped so hard that Hitoshi could hear it in Denkis voice.

“ You Idiot, it’s not a joke. Did you ever realize how I never said ‘i love you’ back, or how I only ever called you Kaminari instead of your first name or a stupid nickname, it because I don’t love you. Everything I said is true and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take your voice, your jokes, your insecurities, I’m sick and tired of it all, were done Denki”

Shinso left, leaving Denki standing in the arcade alone, and unsure of what to do. Denkis thoughts raced, he began to realized that Hitoshi was no lair. He had never said ‘i love you’ when he had, and the only time Hitoshi called him by his first name was also the last thing he said to him. The only time Hitoshi called him Denki was when confessing that he never loved him, that it was all a publicity stunt. He was’nt sure if he would have preferred if Hitoshi never said that name, maybe it would be easier to move on if he had never heard the smooth voice say the syllables that made up his first name.

Bonus

He was broken from his thoughts when the staff told him that time was up. He walked back to his car, he began to drive home, realizing that he didn't want to be in a space where the liar had to soothe him to sleep when his insecurities were too much, the same insecurities that he now knew Hitoshi hated. He decided to drive to the only other person that could offer him comfort, Eijiro Kirishima. He arrived at the apartment building, and without memories of climbing the stairs or elevator, he was knocking on the door to his best friend’s door. The fake redhead opens the door with a smile, which faltered when his blonde friend stumbled into the apartment.

“Congratula-”

Mina and Sero's voices echoed through the apartment were cut off by a slapping sound caused by Katsuki’s hand hitting each of the exited idiot's backs, followed by a quiet warning from the explosive hero.

“Shut the fuck up you idiots”

Denki took notice of his friends and decorations that filled the apartment, making him remember that the plan was to bring his new fiances to Kirishima’s apartment to celebrate with friends. Denki’s eye began to water, remembering everything Hitoshi said, along with the fact that didn’t have the promised fiance, he was meant to bring.

“Hey it’s ok, shh, we’re not disappointed”

It was as if Eijro knew what Denki was thinking, and knew how to comfort him. It took a while but with the comforting touch and words of his friends, he was ready to explain what happened. After explaining what happened and reliving what Shinso said most of Denkis friends were in shock. The Explosive blonde who most expected to run off and fight the bastard was holding Jirou, because she was the one trying to run and put the mind controlling jerk six feet under.

After everyone processed and calmed down they began to comfort Denki again. Talking about how they never trusted the purple-haired boy or talking about things they hated about him. Denki knew that most of what they were saying was lies. Hitoshi, or at least the Hitoshi he pretended to be, was nice and loved by Denki and his friend group. They were happy for the couple and thought that Shinso was perfect for Denki. Except for bakugou who had the most opinions about the lower hero, along with some insight.

“ I told you there was something sketchy about him and the timing.”

Katsuki’s words were meant for Eijiro but everyone heard and questioned what Katsuki meant.

“ Well a year after we graduated, the bastard started asking people from our class out. Starting with Deku and half and half, eventually, he asked me and at one point, he asked Eiji out. Everyone rejected him until . . . Denki”

There was a pause as the rest of the group processed what was just revealed. Katsuki then started to talk again

“ I told Eiji that I thought it was weird that he was asking out all the guys from our class out, I assumed that it was to use us to climb the board. Which I know now is true, but when I told Eiji he said that I should be more positive and not make assumptions. I agreed, because of how happy the bastard made Denki, but I regret it now, I should have said something sooner, or at least give him a nice strong kick to the groin. Sorry I didn’t warn you Denki”

The last part was softer then anything Katsuki had ever said to Denki before.

“It’s not your fault Katsuki, but thank you. And ill be fine, I have you guys.”

“ And we could just expose the bitch for what he did, it will definitely knock him down the hero board.”

Sero pitched in, revenge was his way of showing Denki that he cared

“ Sell the ring and use the money to hire a hitman on him”

Everyone nodded at Mina’s idea of revenge was a bit more illegal than Denki was comfortable with. But it made him laugh and that was good enough for her.

“ No, I don't want to do that. Even though he used me he is still a good hero. I just want to forget and move on. And I'm scared that my friend, who are also heroes are suggesting murder.”

#angst #shinkami #shinsō hitoshi #denki kaminari #katsuki bakugō #eijirou kirishima #mina ashido #sero hanta #jirou kyouka

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thominho-incorrectquotes · 3 years

Text

Thunder

Characters: Thomas x Minho

2062 words

Tags: Modern AU, hurt/comfort, fluff, cheesiest thing I ever wrote.

Summary: It was only after another thunderclap that he heard whimpers coming from the bed next to his. Thomas turned towards the noise and immediately noticed that the form laying on the bed was shaken with sobs. The brunet couldn’t believe it. He had never saw Minho crying. Never. Ever since they met for the first time, back when Thomas entered university and was assigned to the same room as the Asian, the later had always seemed unwavering in his eyes.

You can also read it on AO3 and ff.net

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Thomas woke up with a start. The thunderclap that had been heard was quickly followed by lighting, indicating that the storm was close. The young man let his heartbeat going back to a normal rhythm before laying back down on his bed.

With the light coming from the thunderstorm, he could easily see his environment. The details of his dorm room appeared to him as if he was in day light. The two desks positioned back to back as well as the small bookshelf looked a bit scary in this storm.

It was only after another thunderclap that he heard whimpers coming from the bed next to his.

Thomas turned towards the noise and immediately noticed that the form laying on the bed was shaken with sobs. The brunet couldn’t believe it.

He had never saw Minho crying. Never. Ever since they met for the first time, back when Thomas entered university and was assigned to the same room as the Asian, the later had always seemed unwavering in his eyes.

The two boys had immediately became close and after a year together, they had become best friends. They did so much together that Thomas knew he could never do it without Minho in his life. They were always with each other, may it be during their morning jogs, during lunch at the cafeteria, at the library doing school work or even when they went out during their free time. Their common friends often joked, asking when the marriage was going to be celebrated.

He had always admired Minho. Being the captain of the track team, he sure was respected by many, but the Korean was more than that. He was kind, funny – even if many found his humor questionable (Thomas loved it though) – but above all, Minho was strong. Physically of course, but also mentally strong. He easily handled pressure during a race, he maintained perfect grades in class and never seemed bothered by the mean remarks and racism he faced from time to time. He had this self-confidence that was often intimidating for others.

But most of all, Minho was this boy Thomas felt madly in love with. He never told anyone.

Seeing him crying was completely unsettling for the boy. But he couldn’t let him like that, so he did the first thing that came to his mind.

He got off of his bed slowly before going to his friend and putting a hand on him. “Minho? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Realizing that he had been discovered, the later went deeper into his blanket. “Go away!”

“No.”

Thomas, following his instincts, lifted the blanket and slipped into the bed. He held his friend in his arms, hoping he could comfort him.

Minho tried to push him away, protesting, but the young man didn’t let him. “Stop it Min, I’m staying, whether you like it or not.”

“Shuck-face…”

His friend eventually stopped struggling and finally accepted the hug after a while. His sobs had stopped, but tears were still rolling on his cheeks.

“I’m pathetic…”

“Why are you saying that?” Thomas asked, feeling his heart breaking. Minho had never seemed so vulnerable. He ran a hand through the usually perfect raven hair of his friend before going down to his face to wipe the tears.

“Being scared of thunder…” Minho replied with a quavering voice. “It’s pathetic…”

“Don’t say that! It’s normal to have fears, even this one!’”

Lightning struck again, startling the Asian who took refuge in Thomas's neck who gently stroked his friend's back, trying to soothe him as best he could. He felt so helpless. He couldn’t stop the storm, could he?

“It’s pathetic” Minho mumbled after few minutes. “A-after all this time…”

“What happened?”

He didn’t reply right away. Thomas knew that for his friend, admitting his own weaknesses was hard. Outside, the thunderstorm was still raging, making the Asian shake like a leaf in the wind. “Put your hand on my back” he whispered after a while.

The brunet didn’t understand since his hand was already there.

“Under the shirt shuck-face.”

“Oh.”

He executed himself while trying to chase away all inappropriate thoughts. Even if he dreamed about it for the longest time, it was not the time to imagine a similar scenario, however more sexual, where he would be undressing Minho and not trying to comfort him. But it would be wrong to say he wasn’t enjoying it.

Once his hand reached the shoulder blades, his heart skipped a beat.

The skin there wasn’t the same. It was scars. Scars that only burns could leave.

“I-I was 14” Minho told him, sniffing. “With some friends, w-we did something stupid. We thought we were stronger than anything… a-and we went outside in the middle of a storm…”

While listening to his friend, Thomas was discovering the extent of the scars. They covered a good part of Minho’s left shoulder and went down quite far, something he didn’t notice before. Despite the situation, he couldn’t help but think what he was doing with his best friend was quite intimate. It was Minho revealing himself entirely. It was the biggest proof of thrust ever and the young man felt overwhelmed by everything it meant. Yes, he was in love, but from this moment, as if it was even possible, he was even more in love with this man.

“We went to the glade close to one of the guy’s house, to one we were going to spend the night at…”

Another lighting struck outside, stopping him in his track. Thomas hastened to hold his friend tighter in his arms, whispering soft words of comfort in his ear. He felt relieved when he stopped trembling and continued his story.

“I got struck by lightning…”

If Thomas suspected it a little from the scars, hearing it made his heart ache in pain.

“When I woke up, I was at the hospital… I had almost died…”

“It’s normal to be scared after that!”

“I know, but…”

“We made fun of you, didn't we?”

Minho nodded. He then told how, one day, a thunderstorm started in the middle of a class. It was the first one since the incident. He had a panic attack and had to go the infirmary before being send back home. The next day, the others started making fun of him, going as far as stripping him off of his shirt to laugh even more at his scars. The bullying only stopped after his parents send him to another school. After that, every time there was a storm at school, he always went to the bathroom and stayed there until the storm was gone.

Thomas couldn’t believe it. His friend was even stronger than he imagined. He became this amazing person despite everything he went through. He didn’t let himself get beaten down.

The brunet wanted to cry, a wave of conflicting feelings were taking hold of him. Anger, compassion, concern, admiration and most of all, love. He loved Minho so much, he couldn’t keep it to himself…

“I love you.”

To Thomas’s surprise, it was the man in his arms who spoke.

“W-what?!”

“I love you” Minho repeated. “Since the beginning… A-and y-you’re here, helping me… without judging me… I love you, I need to tell you… I…”

Another lighting was heard.

“Ahh” he whimpered. “I’m so scared I don’t even know what I’m saying…”He once again hid himself in Thomas’s neck.“I can’t even think straight…”

His breath was becoming harsh and he was shaking even harder than before. Thomas knew that he was on the verge of a panic attack. He resumed his caresses and with his free hand, he took Minho’s face and made him look at him.

“Hey, everything’s okay, everything’s okay… I’m here… breath… do it with me…”

Every feelings were going through the dark eyes of his friend. Terror, sadness, panic… love. As the Korean was trying to regulate his breathing on Thomas’s, the later took a decision.

He put his lips on Minho’s.

It was perfect. Despite the situation, it was perfect.

The oldest one, who had first froze, clung to the kiss like a lifeline. As if this was what he had been waiting for all his life.

Thomas, on the other hand, couldn’t contain his heart anymore. It was beating too fast! He was having chills from head to toe. He never felt something so strong before. It was a wave of pleasure, a wave of love. He wanted to keep kissing the man he love, again and again.

However, breath become short and he had to reluctantly tear his lips away from Minho's.

The two men stared at each other, a common revelation shared by one look. They loved each other and they loved each other madly.

The brunet noticed his friend wasn’t shaking anymore. Even the tears had stopped.

“Kiss me again…”

It wasn’t an order, but a desperate demand. Thomas executed himself.

This time, it was deeper, more passionate. The two were discovering each other while trying to get as close as possible, like a vital need to be one, clinging to the other, as if they were going to disappear.

It was so perfect, so powerful, so good…

They parted again, breathless, unable to open their eyes, enjoying the moment.

“Again…”

He couldn’t never say no to him, so Thomas kissed Minho’s forehead before diving once again to his lips. Those lips that drove him crazy.

His hand slipped to his best friend’s face, gently stroking his still wet cheek. He was going softly, enjoying the moment. The storm outside was completely forgotten.

All that was in his head was Minho, Minho, Minho…

Never had anyone had such an effect on him. No one had ever had this hold on him.

He sighed from pleasure. The feeling of being connected to Minho on this level, a level that was going further then just physical touch, further than just a simple attraction, was just extraordinary. It was an indescribable and totally addictive feeling.

He didn’t want it to stop. And considering how the oldest one was gripping him firmly, Thomas knew his friend was thinking the same.

“I love you” the brunet said once they parted again.

They were so close, their noses were touching and their breaths were intertwining.

“I love you so much…”

For the first time of the night, Minho smiled. It was a small smile. A weak smile, but a sincere one, far from the habitual smirk he liked to wear.

“You’re so incredible” Thomas continued. “So strong… so…”

He had troubles expressing all his admiration and love he felt for this man in his arms. He had never been good with telling his feelings. But with only one look, he knew that the Asian understood what he was trying to say.

A soft silence settled down, sometimes interrupted by thunder. Thomas noticed Minho wasn’t shaking anymore at every thunderclap and even looked at ease. He hoped that he had something to do about it.

He went back to the scars and softly stroked them with the tips of his fingers.

“I never noticed them before…”

The young man looked down. “I always made sure to hide them…”

“You shouldn’t… It’s a part of you, you should be proud of them… You survived…”

“I know…”

Thomas caressed his friend’s back, trying to figure out the patterns on his skin.

“You’ll show me?’” he asked after a small silence.

Minho looked at him again, staring deep into the golden eyes, a smirk on his face.

“If you promise to stay with me… forever.”

“I thought it was taken for granted” he replied back with the same sarcastic tone.

The two young men laughed together. Nothing had changed, their friendship was intact, if not just even deeper. Their relationship would continue to evolve, to become even stronger, even more beautiful.

“So, kiss me again” Minho demanded again.

The boy obliged, unable to refuse such a demand. Their lips were still warm and moist from their previous kisses. And it was so good.

As he was kissing his best friend, Thomas realized he was done for. Condemned to love this man for the rest of his life. Future was uncertain, but what he felt in his heart wasn’t. He was in love, and it was the best feeling in the world.

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Thank you for reading!

#tmr #tmr thomas #tmr minho #minho tmr #thomas #the maze runner #maze runner thomas #thominho #minho #maze runner minho #thomas and minho #thominho fanfiction #thominho fanfic

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op-peccatori · 4 years

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a helping hand (nsfw)| MLQC Victor

A/N: Alright, so. A couple things: I wasn’t sure how...heated I should make it, so I didn’t make it very explicit. Also...I don’t know a word of french. I had it for three years in middle school–about ten years ago lmaoo so...had a little too much fun with the translators

If there are any French speakers/readers reading this...please don’t cry. And if you have any corrections, please dm me! I’ll be happy to make changes XD

Anon...I hope you like it. I had a lot of fun with it. totally not cackling.

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Victor

Rating: 18+

Summary: In a shocking turn of events, a lesson with Victor leads to other, intimate, activities. He’s a lot more talkative than usual except–you don’t understand most of what he’s saying.

(tags under the cut)

Warnings/tags: nsfw, oral sex, nothing too explicit, my amateur English to French online translations, Victor getting the cheesiest lines in the scene

translations at the bottom for those who want ‘em

“La carte, s’il vous plaît,” you say out loud, with as much confidence as you can muster. There’s still a quiver of hesitance in your voice, but Victor lets it go.

“Qu’est-ce que vous conseillez?” He nods, and you take it as an indication for you to continue. His living room is warm, a place you've grown to be comfortable in with time, and you’re feeling rather unhelpfully cosy as you sit next to him with your little notebook in hand.

“Um, nous...nous voudrions commander maintenant.” You try to refrain from glancing at your notes as he shifts closer, the heat emanating from his body tempting you in small rushes. His hand brushes yours as he reaches for the notebook, slipping it from your grasp with little resistance.“Je ne peux pas manger...” you trail off, unable to remember the word. “...peanuts?”

Victor seems almost distracted as you turn to stare at him expectantly. His fingers are curling a lock of your hair around them over and over, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re looking at him pleadingly. “Les cacahuètes.”

You try to ignore the shiver that crawls down your spine at the way his voice works the words, and focus on saying them. “Les cacahuètes.”

“Hmm.” He seems completely relaxed as he reclines on the sofa, his body angled to face you with his elbow folded on top of the tight back sofa back, his head resting on the palm of his hand. You can’t quite bring yourself to face him as, despite his arguments against the fact, Victor has a very distracting face. Not to mention the fact that he’s been oddly focused on you since you stepped into his house. Even now, he looks at you as if he wants something but doesn't quite know how to say it, or doesn’t want to. You understand, but his reluctance to express himself does frustrate you at times.

With his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a missing tie and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, you also have to make a valiant effort to keep your drool in check.

“Merci beaucoup,” you say cheerfully, taking the twitch of his mouth for what it is–his attempt at suppressing a smile. “Let’s see...oh! L’addition, s’il vous plaît.”

“Beau travail." You think it’s unfair that he makes it sound like that, like art that hides away on his tongue and allows you small glimpses to torment you, derailing your entire thought process with sickening ease.

'I mean...I am allowed to thirst after my own boyfriend...'

“I wish I could go with you,” you grumble, trying to imagine whole days spent listening to Victor speaking French as he feeds you little bites of cake. It would be lethal.

A good way to go, you think.

“We can.” He leans until his lips brush over the shell of your ear. “I want to go with you.”

‘But this is a work-related trip,’ you protest in your head because your lips won’t move to say them. You’re travelling to France for a show, and he’s been a little off since you told him about it. He did agree to teach you a few basic phrases, and you have to admit that he’s a great teacher even when he’s sulking. Your relationship is still new, but you know him well enough to know it’s because of one of the cast members of the show. Kim, one of the singers, hasn’t exactly been shy about his interest in you. He’s backed off since you told him you’re not available, but it seems Victor’s still on edge about it.

It must still be on his mind because he sighs and rests his forehead on your shoulder. You can’t help but run your hand through his silken strands, the urge to soothe his irrational worries away driving you to act, even if you think he's being a touch melodramatic.

Not that you’ll ever say that out loud. Victor probably knows he’s being irrational, he doesn’t need you to tell him that. You hope.

You also hope he doesn’t feel the kiss you press into his hair, light and sneaky as it is. His hair smells sharp and fresh, and you barely restrain the urge to get another sniff in.

“There are so many places I want to take you,” he mumbles, shifting until his lips settle on the side of your neck. Heat spreads through your body as he leans over you, a hand coming to rest on your other side, half-caging you between his body and the sofa. You hadn't expected him to shift gears this quickly, and the way his lips brush against the spot where your pulse feels stronger doesn't quite match up with all the pouting he's been doing. It does, however, open a door you've been hovering outside of all day.

This is your chance.

“Victor?” You heart races as you try to remember the right words. This is, as they say, not in the syllabus and you’re not even sure if it’s correct, but you want to try it anyway.

“Yes?” You feel your breath catch in your throat as he inhales deeply, and his tongue flicks against your warm skin. You’re wearing a scent he’s expressed partiality to in the past, and if the way he hums with contentment is any indication, he still quite likes it.

“Victor, je peux t’embrasser?” you ask, your cheeks flushing and breath quickening when he pauses. You fight down the embarrassment and focus on his reaction.

Can I kiss you?

The curl of his lips is obvious as he meets your eyes, and even as he kisses you, you can feel it on your lips. The butterflies in your stomach explode into a tizzy It’s too warm all of a sudden, and your lungs work extra hard as the space between you both lessens. Victor is nearly on top of you as you both sink into each other, deepening the meeting of your mouths as his hands begin to wander along your sides, firm in the way they glide along your clothed skin.

It's not the first time you've kissed, but it feels different. The sweetness of it has solidified into a foundation for the hot desire that slowly spills out of you. There is something needy in the way he clings to you and then pulls away, as if he's unsure of how you'll take it. You pull him closer in response, overwhelmed by your own sudden yearning.

His thumb rubs slow circles over your knee as his lips glide across your jaw, down the slender slope of your neck. He grows more fervent with each breathless sound that leaves your mouth, and you want to lose yourself in his arms. It is the one place you wouldn’t mind being lost in for the rest of your days, and the thought should terrify you more than it does.

And as his lips slide over to press sweet kisses under your ear, he begins to speak words that seem to have been crafted with the sole purpose of stealing your breath away. “Je sais que je ne trouve pas toujours les mots, et je ne ressens pas toujours les bons sentiments...” His voice is pitched low yet so roughened with emotions you can’t even begin to pick them out; you’re torn between hissing with outrage and moaning with pleasure. “...mais je t’aime fort, et il faut que tu le saches.”

As he teeth scrape against tender skin, as you moan softly, your mind struggles to work through what little you caught of his words.

‘Je t’aime.’ Your heart pounds as he pushes you down onto your back, and you get a glimpse of the liquid want swimming in his eyes. Your legs part so he can rest between them, and your mind nearly collapses when your shirt is pushed up and his lips travel south through the valley of your breasts, roaming over the soft planes of your stomach.

“Victor,” you breathe, twisting under the maddening explorations of his mouth.

“Tu es si belle,” he groans into your waist, as he if can't help it. His hand plays with the hem of your skirt, and you think you might lose your mind if it stays there. A part of you hopes dearly that you can at least retain some of what he’s saying; Victor has a terrible habit of whispering soft things in your ear, and you would appreciate it a lot more if you could actually understand what he says. The way he says them hints at sweet romance, and you can’t help but melt at the dulcet tones of his voice every single time–but you had initially thought he could be making fun of you.

You don’t think he’s making fun of you right now.

“Victor, please,” you whimper. You cycle between cursing and pleading at the unfairness of this man, at the way his hand dips beneath your skirt but doesn’t go too far, his curious fingers stroking your tender skin gently.

“Mon cœur bat pour toi seul." With a pounding heart, you watch as he tilts his head up to study you, his eyes ablaze with a hunger that threatens to burn if you stare too long. The slight smirk that twists along his lips can only be called sinful, giving away his intentions before he even ducks under your skirt.

As his mouth latches on to you through damp cotton, you can’t help the squeak that escapes you when you hear him inhale, a low groan at its heels that borders on obscene. You strain your ears when you realise he’s saying something, but you’re not sure what it is, and he doesn't give you a chance to find out. He wields his tongue like an unholy weapon and slowly works you through a slow descent into madness. What’s left of your sanity decides it–you must devote yourself to learning this language.

“Je suis...fou amoureux de toi,” he whispers into your skin, so softly you think you might have imagined it. He climbs back up your body, and an eager kiss awaits him at the top.

“I’m not going to give up until I know what every single word means,” you mumble, the dazed vow amusing your boyfriend immensely as he curls around you. The quiet breath of laughter sounds faint but you feel it against your skin.

“You’ll have to be a good student and attend every lesson.”

“With a professor so handsome? I couldn’t miss a single one.” You turn to press your mouth to the skin above his heart, smiling when he squeezes you tighter.

“Oh, handsome?” He clearly tries to aim for cockiness, but sounds a little too pleased to be convincing in any way. His heart throbs powerfully under your lips, and you slide them over to his clavicle, deeming it your turn to do the tasting. But before you start, you have one final card to play.

“Mhm. Je te trouve très beau,” you say teasingly, with the most charming smile in your arsenal and a saucy wink–before being driven to helpless giggles as he pounces yet again.

Translations:

Qu’est-ce que vous conseillez?: What do you recommend?

nous voudrions commander maintenant: I want to order

Je ne peux pas manger: I can’t eat

Les cacahuètes: peanuts

Merci beaucoup: thank you very much

L’addition, s’il vous plaît: the bill/check, please

Beau travail: good work

je peux t’embrasser?: can I kiss you?

Je sais que je ne trouve pas toujours les mots, et je ne ressens pas toujours les bons sentiments: I know I don’t always find the words, and I don’t always feel the right feelings

mais je t’aime fort, et il faut que tu le saches: but I love you very much, and you need to know

Tu es si belle: you’re so beautiful

Mon cœur bat pour toi seul: my heart beats for you alone

Je suis...fou amoureux de toi: I’m madly in love with you

Je te trouve très beau: I think you’re very beautiful/handsome

#mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mlqc smut #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #fun fact: i do know je t'aime #XD #also tojours from the Black family crest 'Tojours Pur'#luv u Sirius

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jcmoneydick · 3 years

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TharnType SS2 Season Finale and Final Thoughts

Thanya has done more work for TT’s relationship than Tharn ever could. I think Thanya has been learning how to deal with people from Type. Look at her face when Mr. Thiwat starts talking smack. It’s about time someone cracked that old man. Type must have never opened that chat in the first place; it’s been months since they kicked him out. And we love a self aware king. Type knows he’s a dick. It’s nice to see.

I could’ve done without Leo and Fiat. I figured their story was wrapped up enough. Pop off, I guess.

Type seems to mention this grandkid thing a lot. Like more than his dad. It’s refreshing to see Tharn respect Type’s decisions like this. He catches himself, realizes he’s putting himself first, and changes direction for Type. I really wish there was more of this attitude throughout the show. This is a scene that demonstrates how a couple who have been together for 7 years can communicate with little words. They are coexisting in this moment, understanding the other’s needs. You can tell that even though Tharn doesn’t understand this tradition, he is fully supporting Type. I wish this was shown more during the entirety of the show.

I also wish Type’s ordainment as a monk wasn’t just a part of an episode. There’s so many undertones in relationship changes during Type’s monkhood that should have been further elaborated. In my personal opinion. It seems that Tharn learned about himself during this month as well, and I really would’ve appreciated the acknowledgement of that. Imagine if episode 10 was episode 11 and episode 11 showed us Type’s dad learning about Tharn, and teaching Tharn. What if we were able to see Tharn and Mr. Thiwat’s relationship and respect for another grow. At the end of the day, Thanya only showed her face. Mr. Thiwat knows that Tharn is taking care of his son, no matter the racist or homophobic comments that he hides behind. I feel like this was a missed opportunity. (Lost in the film just for Leo and Fiat to have more screentime). This was also a missed opportunity to show international fans more of the beauty of this tradition. The architecture of the temple and the ceremony seem unique and fun and really family oriented, and it kinda felt glossed over. But THAT TIME SKIP/TRANSITION? OF THARN VISITING TYPE? CLEAN! That’s the best editing in the entire show. At me.

Doc and Champ also deserve a little more. Their ending seemed… slapped on. Question: Is Champ a himbo, an airhead, or blind? “Love clearly, makes you blind,” my ass. Their ending wouldn’t be like this if Khunpol took Type’s advice. *shrugs*

I hate the beanie. But I guess it works if Type’s insecure about being bald. When I saw the welcome home scene the first time, I noticed Type touched the butt and I thought it in the nemo voice; It was hilarious to me.

Tharn crying and saying his vows is so Tharn. His dreams are finally coming true and he can plan the cheesiest, most romantic, in your face, gushy, mushy wedding ever. I can’t wait. But I called it. I knew because of the pacing of ep 3, TT’s wedding wasn’t happening in the series. I’ll talk about that at the end.

I love how tight knit the Kiriguns are. I wish this was my family. Tharn’s teasing P’Thorn until the end. (I’ve seen boomsticks in the behind the scenes pics, why is the mic work so shoddy in the entire season?) Tharn did cry though. GIL USED THARN! That’s the funniest thing in the entire season. Tharn’s face reeled them in, disappointment led them to Gil.

P’Arm’s dress is prettier than Bella Swan’s was, and I’m jealous I didn’t do navy for my wedding!! (I guess crying runs in the Kiriguns blood, P’Thorn is up there looking like Tharn. That is a family of hopeless romantics.)

Why did Thanya catch the bouquet? It don’t sit right with me. Isn’t she like 15?

I COMPLETELY FORGOT THAT THIS WAS BEING NARRATED BY TYPE THIS WHOLE TIME. That being said, why he know so much of LeoFiat’s business? Wild.

Do I like this season? Not really.

So, if you were to watch season 2 with zero expectations, I would assume you would have an alright experience. The show is almost typical, fairly easy to follow (although long winded) and the chemistry and acting is top notch. There’s so many variables in the show that would have easily made an excellent show had other variables shown their worth. I had all the expectations. The show was marketed with a TT wedding, a little jealousy and a lot of spice. We didn’t get that. There are some that are fine with this and some that aren’t. I’ll tell you why I’m not cool with this season, or the future special episode.

The TharnType wedding that was advertised, implied, and marketed to happen this season is instead being turned into a cash grab. I understand that the last one was pay to watch as well, but let’s talk about the content of that special episode. Season one’s special episode has nothing in it that is impertinent to the marketed plot. It was simply TT lost in a dream of the first time Tharn met Type’s parents. I’m sure it wasn’t implied that Tharn would meet them anytime soon in the first season. Essentially, you do not need the first special episode to realize that Type’s dad is biased against Tharn. That is made clear by the first two or three episodes of TTSS2. Opposingly, TT’s wedding was promised in the promotions of the second season. Blatantly. It would be different if the proposal was alluded or implied. If the promotion posters didn’t feature TT’s names intertwined with rings. (Take Thonhon Chonlatee for example. An heir wasn’t included in the promotions or alluded to in the series, but what happened happened.) Some people are like “well, the book stopped at blank” not every show follows the book, and some of us haven’t been able to read the book. It hasn’t been officially translated, and some of us wanted to avoid big spoilers and watch it fresh eyed. To me, a special episode is not a continuation of a promise, it is extra content beyond the main plot of the season.

The reason I’m not cool with the season can be inferred from my posts. I wanted a grown relationship. I wanted a grown, healthy, communicative relationship indicative of seven years of mutual maturity. I was excited to watch Tharn and Type deal with obstacles like loving, mature adults, but the show proved juvenile and problematic to me. The title TharnType 2: 7 Years of Love, to me, implies trust, understanding and openness. Maybe even their love being a positive influence for relationships around them. Or like the love bug striking the people around them. I understand not every relationship is not like that irl, but I wanted that representation on film. Some parts of the show delivered this, but in general it fell flat.

The actors, in my opinion, are all very talented and outshine the script, editing, camera work… pretty much all the production. I really hope all the actors featured in season 2 are able to showcase their talents in another series soon.

My rating for season 2: 5/10; the acting’s good, the chemistry’s there, but the story is too long winded for me. There are many other shows this year that have done better. I think Still 2gether being such a good addition to 2gether, skewed my opinion of what a Thai sequel could be. Rather, I should have referred to Together with Me: the Next Chapter for sequel expectations. (I honestly think the Next Chapter was better.) All in all, there isn’t much setting it apart from other Thai dramas; there are plenty that match this that you can just watch something else. Would I rewatch season 2 as a stand alone? Prolly not. I might let it run after watching season 1 while I do my nails and I need background noise. It’s not the worst show I’ve seen this year, but it is far from the best.

I’m gonna catch up with Manner of Death now (I had to put it on the backburner because I couldn’t concentrate on Thonhon, TT AND MoD). I think I’m too late for a “who did it” chart, so I may post a” scene that I laughed at, but shouldn’t have” instead. I have a stupid easy to rouse sense of humor.

Maybe I’ll see you again for KinnPorche, or if you have any suggestions of shows I should watch let me know! (I just finished Cherry Magic, it was so sweet and fluffy.)

#tharntype #type thiwat #tharn kirigun #TharnType 2: 7 Years of Love

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angelkurenai · 5 years

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Happily ever after - Jensen Ackles x Reader

Title: Happily ever after

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: Can you write a Jensen x Reader where the reader is like 24 and a shy, aspiring author who owns a bookstore. Jensen goes in one day and sees her and talks to her but she’s really awkward and quiet. He’s nervous to ask her out and comes back virtually every day to talk to her and then finally gets the courage to ask her out? Thanks!

You had been staring and rereading the same line for what felt like an eternity now. But despite how interesting the book was, your mind simply refused to focus on it and just like a clockwork, you'd glance every one minute at the clock on the wall. Chewing on your lower lip, nervous and disappointed to see that time just refused to pass by. You shook your head and let out a frustrated sigh. Wether you were frustrated with time for not going by faster or yourself for being unable to stop thinking so much about it, or maybe him, you didn't know. You just wished you could stop.

Just like you could wish you'd stop jumping and looking at the door every time the bell rang. Because you only got disappointed to see it was another customer, which shouldn't really be the normal reaction for any bookstore owner that wanted and needed to make money but it happened inevitably; your heart dropped and a small sad sigh left your lips. The things that man did to you.

You gave a small smile to the newest customer, adding a “If you need any help don't hesitate to ask me.” and when you got a nod from the girl, you went back to fidgeting with the page of your book.

You could stop looking at either the clock or the door, hoping he'd walk in any minute now the way he'd done all that time ago and put your wildly-beating heart to rest, or at least calm a bit.

-Flashback-

“Uhm hello?” you heard a gruff voice only a couple seconds right after the small bell on the door rang, indicating a new customer was in “Is anybody here?”

“Be right there with you in a sec!” you said as loud and clear as you possibly could, trying to pile up all the books you needed to carry but only managing to take hold of half of them. Yet somehow you managed to hide yourself behind the pile. Your steps were careful and slow, making sure no books fell over as you brought them all to the front desk.

“Are you sure you don't want any help with that?” you heard the voice say in sympathy, the fact that sounded so familiar totally going over your head because of how focused you were to balance everything. The only glimpse you got was of a tall and broad figure but again didn't give it a second thought.

“Nope, I'm for most part fine. Almost. But you're the customer so- whoa!” you stopped for a second when the books swinged in your hands “Kind of the policy here, it's my job to help you. But, you know, maybe if you were Dean Winchester I really think I'd use that extra hand.”

An undeniably beautiful chuckle left his lips and was soon followed by the words “Not exactly, but I'm probably the closest you'll get to that.”

And this time it did register in your mind, which you regretted because it made your balance slip away in a matter of second. Your curiosity and hopes got the best of you and you dared look past your books to meet the ever-so-striking green eyes of the man you'd just thought about. And it happened just like that, in mere seconds, that the books were falling right off your hands.

“Shit” you winced when one or two, or more, books hit your leg.

“Oh fuck I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen!” he, being ever the wonderful guy, hurried to help you pick up all the scattered books.

“N-no, please, no. This- it's my fault and this is my job, there is no need for you to-” you sad in one breath, hurrying to gather everything and hopefully embarrass yourself less.

“Are you kidding me? This is my fault, please just let me help you.” he still insisted, and didn't even wait for another 'no' as he started picking up books as well.

“I'm such a clums sometimes, y-you don't have to.” you mumbled, growing more embarrassed with each second passing by.

“Well, I certainly didn't make things easier, did I? In fact I-” he started but the moment he looked up it was as if the entire world stopped spinning.

Almost as if time froze. And definitely everything around him except for you became blurry. He had heard the phrase so many times, all of them actually, sometimes from his own father at least when he was mostly younger but could never believe them. He thought about how he heard it over and over again when watching a movie, mostly his mother's favorite ones, while growing up. If only she saw the scene play out in front of her, she'd say it was meant to be but he couldn't let himself believe it. He had never truly believed in something like this, despite how much he'd always wanted as he remembered. And he certainly remembered reading about it over and over again, every time the author would use their own unique words put perfectly together in different sentences that got his attention but never to the point where he could feel it. Not the way he felt it when he looked back at you.

It was one of the cheesiest things he could ever experience, one of the most surreal ones and one he always believed was simply not real. A moment he wouldn't experience, even with the woman that he would end up marrying – if he ended up finding her that is. And apparently he just had, and the thought scared and excited him at the same time.

“A-are- are you alright?” you stuttered softly, eyes big and beautiful as you stared up at him, pausing for a second from gathering all the books.

But no response.

“Mr Ackles? Mr Ackles are you alright? Did any of the books hit you o-or something?” you quickly resumed to gathering a few more “If so, I'm terribly sorry.”

“I'm- I-” he blinked rapidly, shaking his head when he realized he was probably acting like an idiot. Long gone was the confidence he usually carried around after years of being an actor. He really thought after so much time, he had things under control and looked like a man who really knew how to carry himself not that he really needed to. But apparently when did need it the most, it all came crumbling down and he was feeling no older than 16 again with two shaky hands and dry mouth that refused to form any words.

“N-no.” he admitted shakily, forcing his eyes to focus on the books he was gathering and then maybe he'd remember how to breathe again “I am sorry. That- that was probably a terrible... joke. I suppose. I just-” he cleared his throat, freezing for a moment when he realized you had both gathered all your books and he'd have to look up again and see you. He didn't know what was more scary: his excitement at the prospect and his eagerness or his fear that he'd screw up. “I just wanted to make things a little more uhm comfortable. I realized that I probably didn't though. It just...” and there you knocked his breath away when your eyes met.

“I-” he blinked “I always get a bit too excited when I meet a fan. Unless you're... probably not one and only have watched like an episode or two. Which would now make this even more awkward because I guess it's a bit stupid to instantly think-”

“Mr Ackles!” you nearly yelped and he immediately pressed his lips together. Realization dawned on him that he was indeed rambling and because of that, he felt heat rise up his neck to his cheeks and ears. “There's nothing wrong with assuming I am a fan. I've actually been one for very long a-and I'm kind of... sort of... maybe... totally freaking out on the inside right now. Mr Ackles.” gosh, your soft giggle had to be the most beautiful sound he'd heard in his entire life. Alright, that was it. Great. He was a gonner.

It was like breathing. He tried to stop it but it was only for so ling he could resist it. The geedy feeling in his chest turning into that of excitement and pure happiness when you confirmed you were indeed a fan. He never thought that he'd wish for it but even more he wished deep down that you were one of those fans that did feel a different kind of way than-

He cleared his throat but in reality wanted to shake off the new kind of hope he had never felt before in his life “Please, Mr Ackles is my father. I'm just... Jensen. I'm not that old... hopefully?”

“No, of course not Mr- Jensen. You're not old at all Jensen, and I am not that young myself.” you gave him an insanely adorable smile that was adorned by the soft red of your cheeks. You cleared your throat softly “Anyway, how could I help you? I'm assuming you're looking for a book. Supernatural maybe? I've certainly got those! No wonder you'll be able to relate with one of the characters, although at some point it might get, well, predictable.”

Sadly a moment of silence followed after your small joked which made your smile fall. Granted, he was too caught admiring the way you spoke so softly that your voice calmed him down and your presence seemed to give him a new kind of sense he had never felt before, that he didn't hear a word you said.

You winced “Terrible one, wasn't it? I- I'm sorry.” you looked down, shaking your head “I should just focus on my job. Uh what- what were you look-”

“What's your name?” his lips formed the words even before his brain could comprehend it. It was his turn to wince this time “Sorry uh that came out a bit weird. I uh just- you know my name a-and I really wanted to-”

“(Y/n). (Y/n) (Y/l/n).” you said softly, a smile barely visible on your lips but he certainly caught it “And it's ok, I- I suppose I'm acting a little weird because I honestly didn't expect that. I'm 24 and acting like I'm 16 again and it's totally unprofessional, I know.”

“Feeling's mutual.” he wished so bad he could say out loud but oh it would make things even more awkward and he didn't want it. So instead he said “No, I'd say quiet the opposite. I'm just not making it easy for you, I'm sorry for that.” he paused, rubbing the back of his neck “So you probably need help with those books?” he asked again when he realized you were struggling to put one on the top shelf.

“No, please, I've got it under control.” and you did “Besides, it's fine, you're the customer you don't have to apologize for anything.” you shrugged slightly, focusing more on putting every book in its rightful place mostly to avoid meeting his eyes “So, how can I help you?” there was something different in your voice and he realized it was your effort to avoid being any more awkward - not that he was feeling any more confident himself but at least he did do a good job at pretending to be.

Uhm well, I'm looking for a gift and the person it's meant for really likes Stephen King's writing, so I figured that a book or two for her birthday would be nice.” he saw you give a small nod, moving away from the front desk towards another place of the bookstore “She has read almost every book so I have only a few options left and every bookstore I've been to didn't have any of it. Hard to come by I suppose.”

“Stephen King, that's a great choice right there! Sometimes I swear there is nothing else I would want to read other than his books.” you said softly “Even more often, I swear there isn't a bigger inspiration than his writing. And as it seems... this is your lucky day, Jensen.”

he couldn't help want to focus only on you at the moment. You and the smile that was on your lips but you didn't really seem to notice. You seemed like the person that it would be hard for him to get a word out of you, quiet and reserved; but perhaps – and hopefully – for everything else but books. If it wasn't such a heartwarming sight that made him never want to pull his eyes away from you then he would have noticed the small chair on his way and not run straight into it, which of course he didn't until he had almost knocked it down. He was thankfully fast to catch it before it could draw your attention and he was sure he wasn't going to survive the embarrassment of that too.

“Trust me, I have a great feeling it is.” he almost whispered, or maybe he did, but he was fast to clear his throat and say even louder “I'm taking it you have Stephen King books?”

“I have all the Stephen King books.” you said with a smile full of pride and it managed to make his own smile resurface although, he wondered, had it ever disappeared? He doubted that. “So if there is one or two she hasn't read, then this is the place to find them. Your girlfriend is a very lucky one today too.”

“Oh oh no!” did he say faster than he should have? Probably yes, but he couldn't fight this. He didn't want you to think there was somebody else in his life for reasons that... he was probably a bit scared to admit to his own self too. “No, she's... she's just a friend. Only a friend. Nothing more. Now that I think about it she's probably a very very distant relative or something like that. I'm pretty sure her aunt is-” but he stopped himself when he realized he was spilling unnecessary information to make any fear or doubt disappear. And when he actually saw the relief flash through your eyes he let himself relax as well.

“Oh great!” it was that very small word that so easily had his heart jumping out of his chest “I- I mean, it's great to have such a good friend as yourself to get her a Stephen King book. I think a book in general is the best one.”

“I'm assuming you would too?” he asked softly and you hummed, nodding your head “You uhm you said something about inspiration too. Are you, maybe, studying anything in college concerning Literature o-or something similar?” he felt like he was pushing his luck but he couldn't stop it. His curiosity and need to know you more.

“Well, more like aspiring to... you know, become an author myself.” you said in a low voice

“Really?” the awe in his voice when he breathed out the words managed to make you visibly relax “That's incredible!” and instantly he felt so proud for the smile he managed to elicit from you “I can't even begin to describe how much I admire people that can write stories, let alone books. Being an author must be so hard but so exciting at the same time.”

“Yeah, I mean sometimes. But nothing can compare to the sheer joy I get when I create new characters and a new world every time you start a story. I- I feel like I could go on about writing or reading books for hours to no end. Hence why-” you looked around you “This bookstore. There's always plenty of inspiration around here, both literally and metaphorically. More so than my own home.”

“I can certainly imagine a bookstore is like heaven for an author and this one... you've done an incredible job with it. Does feel very homey if you ask me. Have you had it for a while now?”

He really didn't want to intrude in any kind of way and definitely didn't want to look like some kind of creep. But when the questions poured out one after the other, there was no stopping them simply because with every word he got out of you he felt like craved for more just like he craved air when he held his breath for too long.

Someone would say he could easily all those and just as many questions he wanted to get to know you over a nice dinner but if only Jensen had had enough courage. That day or any other upcoming one.

-End of Flashback-

You told yourself over and over again that you wouldn't look at the door every time you heard the bell rang because apparently the universe had decided to turn this into a busy hour, with new customers walking in every couple minutes. And yet every time you told yourself that, you went ahead and looked. You were sure that the one time you didn't look it would be him and sure, every time you resisted longer to glance but in the end you always did.

Some customers came and went, some even bought books which you were thankful for because they kept you away from your thoughts. And, once more, as if the universe wanted to play some sort of joke on you; the very second you actually forgot why you were so impatient today – the feeling was still there no matter what – there he was. You almost yelped in surprise, because it was still Jensen Ackles and even after so long you were so not used to this, but his smile thankfully immediately made you relax.

“Jensen , hey.” you breathed out, only for his smile to widen if possible “I was actually starting to worry you wouldn't show up.” you wanted to kick yourself for what you just said.

“You tell me.” he sighed, still keeping the fond smile on his lips “Jared kept... messing up his lines and teasing me and we barely got a scene done in time. Today of all days he chose bring it up all the time and make me even more nervous.” he rambled as he rubbed his eyes.

“Nervous about what? And... teasing you about what exactly?” you asked with a frown and he seemed to freeze for a moment.

“I'm uh- I mean I- Uhm–“ he probably looked like a deer caught on headlights. He had prepared for this, he had been preparing and thinking about it for far too long but he had hoped he'd have a couple more minutes so all in all he didn't feel prepared at all.

“'S ok, don't need to get so flustered with me Ackles.” you said softly but actually with a teasing tone that after all this time you had finally just gotten comfortable enough to use around him “Plus, remembering how to breathe would be nice to, you know, keep living?”

“Well someone's in a good mood today.” his eyes met yours as he whispered softly in addition “I'm really happy to see you like this.”

“I'm happy to be like this too.” you returned the look “But don't think this gets you off the hook. You were still considerably late today Mr. Ackles to the point I thought you weren't interested to hear how the story goes on.”

“Trust me, I would never dare miss the continuation and you know you have me on edge already. Plus-” it was getting harder to swallow and he was this close to just running away... if it wasn't for him making a fool of himself and having waited for this moment for so long that is “To make up to you for the time we uhm wasted here because I was late how about we continue this outside of your work. As in- as in see each other besides when you're at work? You know, go somewhere nice or for a drink after- after you've closed the bookstore? Or anywhere you'd-”

“Jens” you cut him off gently and deep down he was thankful because he feared he was going to keep rambling like a flustered 16-year-old forever “Are you... asking me out?”

“Well, I uh- I-” but he shook his had a bit, taking a deep breath “Yes, yes I am. So, (Y/n), would you like to go out with me... on a date, today after your work's over?”

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euphoria-svt · 5 years

Text

All My Love is Yours

if you see any spelling errors pls ignore it. I edited this on the flight and was sleepy af.

Songs I listened to while writing this (if you wanted a more emotional effect):

say you won’t let go - james arthur

marry me - train

be your everything - boys like girls

fallin all in you - shawn mendes

enchanted - taylor swift

lay me down - sam smith ft. john legend

a thousand years -christina perri

swear it again - westlife

can’t help falling in love - jess and gabriel (cover)

just the way you are - bruno mars

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Word count: 2.5k -ish

8 years, 5 months and 19 days. That was how long Connor has known you.

And how long have you two been together, you may ask?

6 years, 4 months and 23 days. Connor was definitely counting. He would tell that to anyone who asked and he wouldn’t be embarrassed by it. Connor is THAT in love with you and he wanted the whole world to know it.

Because to him, every minute he has spent with you counts. Every laughter, every smile, every tears, every arguments, every ups and downs; it counts. That’s what made the relationship last. That’s what made Connor and y/n what they are now; two teenagers who fell in love accidentally on purpose and still going strong years later.

Connor was certain you were the one he wanted to spend his life with even before you two celebrated your first anniversary. He remembers himself rambling to his mother over the phone about how amazing you were and how your laugh is so contageous that he would be laughing along every time you were giggling.

His mother thought it was cute; that her son finally found someone to love, someone to be head over heels over, but she didn’t think too much about it. It was when Connor introduced you to his family that his mother immediately knew what Connor was talking. After that, she was also convinced that you were the one for her boy and she prayed for it to be true; because she could see how perfect you two were for each other and Connor’s family absolutely adored you.

Being with someone for over 6 years was crazy to think. Connor thinks you deserve a trophy for sticking by his random and crazy antics for such a long time. But he also thinks that it’s finally time to pop the question.

xxx

You headed up to your study after dinner with Connor and your two best friends. Connor insisted they would do the dishes instead because he needed to talk to them without you around.

“Hmm” Brian hummed as he watched over Connor at the sink sceptically “You never offer to do the dishes for y/n, Brashier. So. what gives?

Connor shrugged in reply while rinsing off the soap from the plates “I just want to help my girlfriend out around the house. Is that so unbelievable?”

Shawn grins, shaking his head “Brian is right, Con and we all know it. So spit it out”

Damn these guys for knowing Connor too well.

He hangs the last plate at the drying rack and turned off the tap. He dries his hand with the kitchen towel before joining the other two at the island.

“I’m going to do it” Connor announced.

Shawn asks confusingly, “Do what?”

Connor breaks into a smile, saying “I’m going to ask her to marry me”

“Shut up!” Brian exclaimed loudly, voice full of excitement while he stares at his best friend “For real?!?”

He laughs in respond, nodding in confirmation “For real”

“Dude!” Shawn grinned, moving over to Connor’s side so he could give him a hug “I’m so happy for you!”

“Fuck yeah!” Brian cried, joining in the group hug “Our Baby Brash isn’t a baby anymore!”

“Stop calling me that!” Connor rolled his eyes annoyedly, pushing his two best friends off him.

“Do you think… She’ll say yes?” He then asks hesitantly.

“Are you really asking us that?” Shawn deadpanned “Of course she’s going to say yes! You two are Connor and y/n. You’re bound to spend the rest of your lives together!”

Brian nodded in agreement “There’s no one else more perfect for each other than you two”

Oh, he hopes for that to be true.

“Would you go with me to find the perfect ring for her?” Connor asks.

“Con, it would be our honour” Shawn smiles at his friend before looking over at Brian “Bri, are you crying….?”

“Shut up! I’m emotional okay!”

xxx

The three guys were set to go for ring shopping that weekend. You were having a lunch reunion with your high school friends so Connor didn’t have to worry about explaining to you what they were doing for the rest of the day.

2 shops in, Connor still hasn’t found the right one. He was starting to think that maybe it was a sign from the universe but Brian smacked the back of his head, saying “You’re going to find that ring and you’re going to find it today! So take that negativity somewhere else, dumbass”

And Brian was right.

Shawn got the name of this jewellery shop from his friend. He swears they do the prettiest engagement rings and Shawn just knew he had to take Connor here.

“Take a deep breath” Shawn instructed Connor as they stood in front of the store “You’re going to get it from here. Trust me on this”

“Yeah” Connor agreed “I’m going to find it”

And so, he did.

It was the first ring he laid his eyes on when he walks up to the counter displaying all the rings. He was scanning through the various shapes and sizes of rings, then he caught a glance of this one.

To him, it was basically screaming how perfect it would be our your ring finger. The details on the ring, the size of the diamond; it was all perfect. And Connor knew that this is the one.

It’s a little on the pricier side but he didn’t mind. He gets it engraved (because Connor loved being extra whenever it comes to you) on the inner side of the ring.

all my love is yours always.

It’s cheesy but he didn’t care. He would be the cheesiest man in the world when it comes to you.

He gets home before you do and he immediately keeps it hidden in his side of the closet. That day, Connor couldn't stop smiling and no matter how many times you asked him why was he so chirpy, his response is “I’ve got the best girl in the world with me right now. I think that’s a valid reason to be grinning like a mad man”

xxx

a month later

“Hey babe?” Connor looked up from his paperwork. You sat across from him with your own pile of work on a Saturday (early) morning, something you both did very often together.

You hummed in response, looking at him “Yeah, bubs?”

“Mom asked if you were down to spend the afternoon with her” Connor waved his phone as an indication “She’s in desperate need of a girl’s day”

That was the plan. He needed you out of the house for a few hours while he gets everything into place and his mom was more than happy to be a distraction for you.

“Today?” You ask immediately “I guess I could use one too. It’s been a rough couple of days at the office”

“Exactly!” Connor agreed “Take a break then? Spend the day with ma”

“Yeah, I’ll give her a call in a bit” You nodded, smiling “Are we stil on for date night?”

“Always” He reassured “Is pizza okay with you?”

“You know that’s my favourite kind of date night, Con”

So, a few hours later you left Connor alone at home to spend the day with his mother. That was when he got to work.

He has been compiling all the stuff he needs for tonight and shoved them all in his equipment room, knowing you wouldn’t step into the room unless Connor was calling for you from the room.

Connor starts with hanging up the fairy light around the living room. He knew how much you loved them; always telling him how magical they looked like. After that was set up, he took the bag filled with rose petals and spread them on the floor of your living room in the shape of a filled giant heart then set-up a table for two in the middle of the room.

He even cooked your favourite meal (the only one he was a master at) instead of having takeaway pizza for dinner because he wanted everything to be perfect for this moment; to show you how much he loves you and would do anything if it meant to see that smile on your face.

Connor has been working on the compilation of your relationship’s montage for about 3 weeks now. He sneaks off to his equipment room on most nights and you don’t bother him; assuming he was just busy with the workload he was getting. There were so many photos and videos of you two together and he wanted to put as much into the montage as possible.

His mother texts him, giving him the signal that they were done and you were probably 30 minutes away from home. He grabbed the projector and his laptop then made his way to the living room to do the final set-up.

When Connor heard the front door jiggle, his legs started to shake and there were butterflies in his stomach.

This is really happening. He thought to himself. There’s no turning back.

You walked through the front door, confused as to why there were lack of lights in the house. “Con?” You called out to him, slipping off your shoes and putting them neatly at the shoe rack by the door.

“Living room, babe!”

When you got to the destination, your jaws dropped at the set-up before you. There were fairy lights everywhere, flower petals on the floor, a table set-up for two. You were stunned.

“Con?” You gawked “What’s all this?”

“Surprise!” Connor cheers, making his way towards you. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “Do you like it?”

“Bubs, this is amazing” You gushed, looking around at all the decoration “But what’s the occasion? Did I miss something?” You asked confusingly.

He chuckles and took a hold of your wrist and led you towards the table, dropping off your bag at the couch in the process.

“No you didn’t, baby” He insisted, pulling the chair out for you “I just wanted to do something nice for date night. We’ve had a pretty rough week at work and I thought it’s what we deserve”

“You’re amazing, Connor David Brashier” You sighed happily as you waited for him to sit across from you. You eyed the spaghetti and meatballs set in front of you “You cooked dinner? What happened to pizza?”

“It was a part of the surprise, silly!” He smiles “Now stop talking and let’s eat. What did you and ma do today?”

xxx

“Why do you have the projector out?” You asked confusingly after you two were done with dinner, notcing the equipment out along with his laptop.

“Oh, right. I was working on a project for the past few weeks” He answered and you don’t miss how nervous he suddenly sounded, but didn’t think too much about it “I wanted to show it to you and get your opinion on it”

“Of course” You nodded “You know I love watching whatever you work on, bubs”

Connor stood up from his seat and walked over to turn on the projector. You took a sip of your wine as you watched him press a few buttons on his laptop before he joined you again at the table.

“Give me your honest opinion okay?” He said nervously “Good or bad, just let me know”

“Baby, you know I always do” You reassured.

He pressed the play button on the remote and a countdown starts from 3… 2… 1…

The video starts with a photo where you two first met. At the bottom, Connor labeled it as where it all began.

And then you just knew he was lying about showing you his work project. Then next photo comes up with a photo of the restaurant where Connor took you for your first date, accompanied by a selfie that you took after dinner was over. Where we had our first date. And truthfully, it was the best first date of my life.

The next one was one at a Brashiers’ family event. You got along well with Connor’s little cousin and she thinks of you like her older sister. While you were playing with her; giggling with one another, Connor snapped a beautiful picture of you both. He labelled it as the woman who my family loves so much.

You smiled as more photos and videos popped up one by one. Getting overwhelmed by all the nostalgic feeling, you could already feel the tears forming in your eyes. Connor put in so much of clips that you forgotten that you still had.

You were so into the video that you didn’t see Connor’s shift in movements. And when it got to the last part of the video, your breath hitched in your throat.

y/n, the love of my life, will you officially become Mrs. Connor Brashier?

That’s when you turned to Connor and already see him kneeling down on one knee with a velvet box in his hand.

“Connor” Your lips start to tremble as more tears were falling from your cheeks.

This was real, this was really happening.

Connor was no different that you. He had tears in his eyes, trying to find the right words to say. He prepared himself for this moment for weeks and he thought he had it in him to do it without breaking down, but he was wrong.

“y/n…” He choked out, smiling at you “You are the love of my life, my best friend, my rock, my everything. When I first laid my eyes on you, I just knew that I had to get to know you. And after we started dating, I knew you were the one for me. I knew you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with”

“I want to be there through everything” He continued as his voice started to crack a little “Through every laughter and tears, through ever fights, through every pregnancy. I want to do stupid things together with you in the late morning, have kids with you, grow old with you and I want us to be those kind of couple who gets buried side by side”

“I don’t want to be in love if it’s not with you” He confirmed, opening the box in his hand; displaying to you the most beautiful ring you’ve ever set your eyes on “So y/n y/ln, please make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, letting out a mixture of a choked sob and laughter “Yes I’ll marry you, Connor David Brashier!”

Connor sighs in relief as he took the ring out of the box. His fingers were shaking as he slid the ring on your finger perfectly. Just like he expected, the ring suited your finger beautifully.

You leaned forward and buried your face in the crook of his neck; a mixture of your sobs were echoing in the room.

“I love you so much” You said in between sobs “I don’t want to do this with anyone else, Connor. It’s only you”

“I love you more, baby” He answered “And all my love is for you always, future Mrs. Brashier”

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reblog, like and leave your feedbacks for this!

x rina

TAG LIST:

@hurts-like-hell-xx

#connor brashier #connor brashier imagines #connor brashier x reader

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fifteenskies15 · 4 years

Text

Letter Fourth: Love blooms...

(Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader)

Summary: Day passed, week passed and months passed... Your bond with Kyojuro has been strengthen and slowly it became something more

Admin's note: Whoop, whoop part 4, my lovely Rengoku stans

Previous parts (I can't do links-):

https://fifteenskies15.tumblr.com/post/189844365870/letter-one-greetings-rengoku-san-and-last

https://fifteenskies15.tumblr.com/post/189893482670/letter-two-i-want-to-know-all-about-you

https://fifteenskies15.tumblr.com/post/189995832655/letter-three-no-matter-where-we-are-rengoku

Warning: Cheesy and sappy

---

You and Kyojuro are basically two peas in a pod and inseparable, you both did share a very strong bond, but the more you're close to him the more you fall harder for that kindhearted and passionate flame pillar, but in spite of your romantic and crushing woes, you're still happy to be his friend, to be someone he can trust to, someone he could seek comfort and also someone who sees the real Kyojuro Rengoku underneath that happy and passionate mask.

You don't want to jeopardize your friendship with him because of some silly old crush feelings, it would kill you if you lose him as a friend...

Putting all your feelings aside, today you're just back on your mission and you're really tired since you fought demons till sunrise, oh well... It was worth it though, plus today you're going to see Kyojuro again, even just seeing his face could cheer you up.

"Caw!! A letter from Flame pillar Rengoku Kyojuro!! Caw!!

Speaking of which there it is...

(crow name) landed on your window with a letter around its neck, you smiled at the neatly folded letter and... It has a very nice scent...

"Hmm, I wonder what kind of flower did he use this time? It has a lovely scent" You carefully took off the took the letter and to see pressed peony flower and read the letter

To my dearest (name)...

Forgive me for writing this letter out of the blue but there is something I have toーnoーI need to say to you, and it would kill me if I didn't do it sooner, so let me just express it through my letter.

let's get to the point about what things that bothering me.

And the thing is that... I think I'm falling for you the moment you joined this demon slaying corps, at first I always thought you as my best friend, my dearest friend but it turns out to be something more, you're more than just a comrade, you're more than just a friend.

The more time we spend together the more I fall for you, I think I have been smitten with you the day we start to exchange letters.

I know it sounds hasty considering we just met many months ago, but I couldn't care less... Because Everytime I'm with you, I always forget that something like time is exist, it's as if there's no time or any other existent, nothing other than you and me.

Dearest (name) when I'm with you I always feel like I could do anything, it's as if that Everytime I'm with you anything is possible, you give me strength and another reason why I have to be stronger and stronger.

There is no one else I want to spend my life with other than you.

That being said (name)... Will you be mine?

I will patiently waiting for your reply, whether the answer is yes or no, I will respect that.

Sincerely yours.

Rengoku Kyojuro.

You were blushing as you read the letter he just made for you, so all this time, the feelings are mutual?

"Oh my Gods..." You try to held back your tears and try to not have an outburst, an outburst of happiness.

...

He likes you...

And he said that he doesn't want anyone else other than you to spend his life with...

You're smitten for him and so did he...

...

You take a deep breath and steady yourself as you took your brush...

Dearest Kyojuro...

I'm simply speechless and touched by your letter, I didn't know you feel that way about me...

I have never know how is it to be in love or have a relationship with someone you have been longing for since I'm focused and determined to fight for everyone and my own goal and that I don't have any time to think about my romantic woes.

But let me just say that I too fall for you, Kyojuro, The time we spent together, the place we visited together and memories we share had made me fall for you too.

And I also fall for your determination and kindness, it's the thing that made me drawn to you.

And Kyojuro? I also can't imagine spending my life with anyone else other than you.

So in short words and to answer that, Yes, Yes, Kyojuro I will be yours...

I will do my best to make you and both of us happy till the end of time.

Yours truly.

(Last name) (name)

As the ink slowly dried up, you carefully folded the letter and give it a small kiss, you can't help but smile and giggling because of how happy you are.

"(crow name) if you're not tired, can you please send this to Kyojuro?"

"Caw!! Sending letter to Rengoku Kyojuro, caw!!"

You smiled and put a thread around the letter and put it around (crow name)'s neck as it fly to the vast blue sky.

Chuckling to yourself, you just smiled and looked at the sky

"Fufu... I'm really happy now..."

---

Admin's note: Ayyee, OMG that was the most cheesiest part I have written and it seems sounds ooc I'm so sorry that I made you cringe so hard.

What kind of flower did Rengoku use in the letter?

Peony flower indicating romance and romantic love, with a particular focus on love between two strangers

#kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #kimetsu no yaiba scenario #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader

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thesevenseraphs · 5 years

Text

Director’s Cut: Part 1

Hey everyone,

I wanted to try a little experiment with our communications and put together a longer look at where Destiny has been over the last few months and where it's heading next. I think it's important to take time to reflect on what's happened so we can show you where we're going.

I'm calling this Director's Cut. Based on how long this ended up being, a key learning from this is "maybe there's a better way to communicate this than a GIANT WALL OF TEXT!" Let me know. I also may like doing it in a different format in the future, I'll let you know.

Today, I'm going to talk about more than just the Destiny game and talk some about how we build Destiny and the effects it can have on the team. I think transparency about the game is important and I also want to be transparent about the work required. Sound OK? That's rhetorical, because a wall of text is coming up.

We're making a lot of changes to Destiny 2 with Shadowkeep and New Light. We want Destiny 2 to be an amazing action MMO, in a single, evolving world, that you can play anytime, anywhere with your friends. I'm going to keep referencing that. All the time. Until it's true. And then, I'm going to keep referencing it until it's good enough.*

10 THOUGHTS ON THE LAST SIX MONTHS (LOOKING BACK)

Overall, there are some things about Annual Pass that worked out very well and some real learnings for us along the way. The Annual Pass was a big transition for us. We've been moving away from DLC and trying to provide more ongoing reasons to play Destiny. I wanted to start the State of the Game series by looking back at how we got here. I'm going to largely focus on Season of the Drifter to near-present day.

We set up a calendar of content, showed you the plan early, and delivered it.

A lot of you love Destiny for the chase on the way to improving your characters. Between the Annual Pass drops, questlines, and events in between, the team did a great job of providing stuff to do, items to chase, growing fat with strength, et cetera. Destiny history has had many content droughts, but not this year.

But, the Annual Pass was harder on the team than we anticipated.

The scope of what we delivered, the pace that we delivered it, and the overall throughput for Annual Pass takes a toll on the Bungie team. I--and many others--had conversations throughout the year with team members--who had jumped from release to release-- about the grind of working on Destiny. Working on the game was starting to wear people down. Here's an example:

During the annual pass, we invented new, bespoke ways to earn rewards each season. Black Armory had its bounties, Season of the Drifter had the "Reckoning Machine," Season of Opulence had its Chalice. Each of these mechanics - each with their own lessons - were valuable, but also put the team into an unsustainable development cycle. We needed to develop a more systemic, standardized set of mechanics for progression to keep our teams healthier.

We're going to take this problem on in D2Y3.

WE HAVE A POWERFUL SOURCES PROBLEM

As the game's weekly sources of Power grew and Destiny grew with it, this - at times - could really feel like a chore. Each season brought with it new Powerful sources and optimizing your character meant that you were maybe still running three story missions every week or returning to the Dreaming City months after those first few magical trips from last fall.

I feel like we needed to do a better job of shifting Powerful sources. We could explore things like changing the value of Powerful sources to create new seasonal efficiencies or retire some Powerful sources as we bring new sources into the game. Simply put, I wish we'd been able do more seasonal curation of the game.

SEASON OF THE DRIFTER THOUGHTS, PART I

I like Gambit Prime. It felt like a great refinement of Gambit to me. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.

Matches end quicker, so it feels more efficient. The invading frequency feels lower, so I can Collect and dunk. I think there's something cool about the roles, although the requirements to get a full set online to inhabit a role meant not enough folks got to appreciate the playstyle diversity.

In the future, we're going to have to make a choice: Which Gambit is the Highlander of Gambits. Prime or Classic. This isn't just about removing stuff from Destiny 2 -- but the game cannot grow infinitely forever --it's about focusing refinements and evolutions to the Gambit ecosystem. We think Gambit is sweet and deserves more ongoing support and we want to ultimately focus that support on whichever mode ends up being the Highlander. There can be only one.

That said, we hear you that not everyone is excited about a season that overly focuses on one part of the game. Destiny is a game with a lot of breadth and we agree that this season felt too specialized.

SEASON OF THE DRIFTER THOUGHTS, PART II AKA LET'S TALK ABOUT RECKONING

(and Encounter Design)

The first time I used Phoenix Protocol at home, I knew it was over. It's an exotic coat that refills my Well of Radiance and then refills itself as I "slay," so that I can continue to place my Well of Stand Here to be Borderline Invulnerable and Deal Tons of Damage. Datto has a great video that talks about Well of Radiance's effect on the PVE game.

I wondered, How are we ever going to make content that fairly challenges players again?

With Reckoning in Season of the Drifter, we got a taste of what kind of content we'd need to build to challenge Protocol-wearing Warlocks. Matchmade encounters that accost you from all directions, plant snipers off in the distance, and put players in between a pincher attack of many whelps, handle it (I wanted to link a thing here, but it's definitely not T for Teen) and giant bosses (also eff you Knight Taken guy).

This is what it had to be. We were breaking encounter rules left, right, and center on the Reckoning bridge, in no small part due to players in always-active Wells of Radiance becoming invulnerable gods, holding all six infinity stones all the time.

In Reckoning, we set out to build an activity that could be relatively easy at Tier 1 and scale up to very challenging at Tier 3. We have an internal team here codenamed: Velveeta (they were formed in the wake of the Crota's End modem-unplugging debacle to help find the cheesiest things to do/use in the challenging PVE portions of the game) – these players are some of our craftiest.

Once Velveeta can get close to beating something, or beat it outright, that becomes an important data point on our "is this hard enough?" evaluation. We give them a bunch of tips like "here's how this works, can you beat it?”, so if they can, it's a good indicator of the action game and gear game working together.

Let's talk about encounter design. Generally, in activities we expect players to complete alone (dungeons, raids, zero hour-type activities can play by a different set of properties!) or in matchmade groups, there are a number of guidelines we use when we build them.

We don't want to spawn enemies behind the player.

We want players to play a game of taking space from enemies.

We want players to have cover where their shields and health can recharge, or where they get to be smart using geometry, movement, ability and gunplay to dig enemies out of cover, and make interesting decisions about target prioritization.

We want players to be able to understand where in the space enemies will come from, and if we're going to reverse the combat front on players (AKA spawn enemies behind them, we want to telegraph that.

We use dropships, spawn clouds, audio cues, all kinds of tricks to try and prepare players for reinforcements.

As character power was dramatically increasing (more on reasons for this increase later on), the encounter rules got thrown out the window.

To summarize this: Destiny had sweet gear and in order to create challenge in the Reckoning we broke a bunch of our encounter design philosophy. That sweet gear, coupled with the encounter design meant the number of ways to viably/efficiently progress was dramatically reduced. We want Destiny to be a game where you have lots of choices with your character, build what you choose to do, and funneling those choices down to only one in Reckoning is something we don't want to repeat. There's more about damage and player power sprinkled in this update, and even more on the rest.

Last, last note: I think it's totally sweet when an activity challenges you to use something other than your favorite item. I don't think the whole game should work that way, but when it's time to bust some shields on the Shanks in Zero Hour, I had a use for that Distant Relation scout rifle in my vault.

SEASON OF THE DRIFTER THOUGHTS, PART III AKA NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT DIFFICULTY AND TOUCH ON SANDBOX NERFS

I started to talk about challenge/difficulty above and drifted (heh heh) to encounter difficulty. But, it's all related. When the media would come to play our Halo games for an event, we'd always recommend they play the game on Heroic. Heroic changed a bunch about Halo combat – it made enemy weapons more accurate (but not too accurate); enemies would fire more frequently (which made you feel like a hero when you dodged them); it increased projectile speed; and Heroic lowered player outgoing damage (so that the enemies would survive longer and make their way further through their behavior tree - and therefore appear more intelligent). There's more than just the above going on, but that's a quick summary of some of the changes.

But here's why: we asked the media to play the game on Heroic, because when the game is challenging, overcoming the challenge feels incredible.

Important to note here: Challenge isn't something universal. In an action game, challenge can be largely personal. One person's challenging might be easy to someone else. We've historically thought about the main Destiny campaigns as something we want to be pretty easy (I think D2's campaign was actually too easy at times), and as players push further into the post-game they'd be able to find more challenge. Across Destiny's history we haven't had enough challenge deep into the end game, and that's definitely something on our list as we head toward fall 2019.

Overcoming challenges is a huge part of what makes an action game's moment-to-moment engaging. Action games are a delicate balance of growing stronger, the game rising up to push back, introducing new challenges that force you to learn/become more powerful/master a new element and -- at their best -- creating the fist pumping moment of celebration when you achieve victory.

But Destiny has an RPG component, too. And the RPG component is about customization, optimization, and it's a way for players to choose how they overcome challenge. The entire time we've been making Destiny, the action game and the RPG have been fighting. It's the forever war. The RPG has the power to dramatically overcome the action game, and the action game has the power to render the RPG game irrelevant. It's a line - by nature - Destiny will always have to straddle.

In order to create challenge during Season of the Drifter, we needed to break a bunch of encounter rules, have exotics like Phoenix Protocol basically function like a key (or hope you match with multiple Radiance Warlocks) which then unlocks success in the matchmade encounters of Reckoning. There's a really good video from Slayerage on this in the context of the nerfs we made heading into Season of Opulence.

Those nerfs also saw Whisper of the Worm get its day in court. If I could turn back time, we'd probably not run Whisper as the original Black Hammer infinite ammo design. However, considering the year before had Destiny 2 feeling very restrictive and power-limited, I think we did the best that we could with the knowledge and intuition we had last summer.

Whisper was an outlier that lets you stand still at a safe distance, in a pool that makes you borderline invulnerable, never having to reload or relocate for ammo, and allow players to deal piles and piles of damage on giant bosses who aren't threatening. This isn't your fault! It's ours! We're making some stuff too easy and allowing players to circumvent parts of the game! Mechanics that circumvent the ammo game (relocate to pick up ammo bricks) or completely ignore the reload animations (a critical part of weapon tuning) are mechanics that create the kind of outliers that we ultimately have to tamp down before the game spirals into the boss health version of Reckoning bridges.

The other significant set of changes we made to the game during this time were taking down the Super Snowball exotics. With as powerful as Destiny Supers have become (they are - on the whole - dramatically more powerful than Destiny 1's Supers), using your Super to recover your Super is an amplification to player power that the challenge and difficulty game can't keep up with. But, we're going to talk about Supers much later on.

Difficulty and challenge are important parts of mastery. There are more changes coming in Shadowkeep (buffs to things like Scout Rifles, nerfs to mechanics that circumvent the ammo economy, refactoring of the way damage stacking rules work) -- we're gonna talk about it in the next episode.

SEASON OF OPULENCE, PART I: THE PURSUITS TRAY IS A CATERPILLAR IN A COCOON–QUESTLOG IS THE BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY

I've seen streams and videos of people beating activities in Destiny blindfolded. I cannot imagine developing the muscle memory and memorization (nevermind the thumbskill required) to be good at Destiny with the blast shield down.

When things fundamentally change in a way that interrupts muscle memory and mastery, it is frustrating. The initial set of changes to the Pursuits tray earlier this year did a few things beyond upsetting muscle memory. It certainly didn't get as far as the team wanted in its initial release and it also didn't feel like an improvement over what previously existed.

It felt like we started to redecorate your house but we didn't finish it (and sometimes, that's how things in a live game can feel).

The morning after the Pursuits changes went live, I talked to some folks on the UI team about the feature. They had Reddit open.

"Have you read it, Luke?"

"Nah, I haven't."

"Please don't."

They were crestfallen. Not just because of the sometimes-harsh-feeling feedback, but because this team wanted make something sweet, exceed your expectations, and meet their own expectations. None of those things happened. We wanted to try something different with Pursuits, in the sense that we knew where we wanted this feature to end up, but that we'd take some iterative steps to get there. I think we've got to do a better job ensuring that while we're remodeling your house, the potential of the renovation is clearer either in the game or via some communication here on the site.

We want a Questlog with great tracking that can help players prioritize what to do next.

Oh, and this fall, bounties will be separated from quests and PC players can assign a hot key that takes them directly to the Pursuits menu.

SEASON OF OPULENCE, PART II: THE EVOLVING EVERVERSE

Last year, we thought long and hard about Eververse and how we wanted to change the strategy around microtransactions in Destiny. As some folks have smartly pointed out, MTX is a big part of our business being a live game. I'm not going to say "MTX funds the studio" or "pays for projects like Shadowkeep" -- it doesn't wholly fund either of those things. But it does help fund ongoing development of Destiny 2, and allows us to fund creative efforts we otherwise couldn't afford. For example: Whisper of the Worm's ornaments were successful enough that it paid [dev cost-wise] for the Zero Hour mission/rewards to be constructed (this shit matters!).

The storefront, which we launched alongside Season of Opulence is the first part of the strategic shift we're making with MTX. The decision to run old content in Bright Engrams instead of making new Bright Engrams is another part of the shift. We want to believe that our players would rather just buy things they like from the store. Earlier this summer, we detailed a bunch of the changes coming to Bright Dust and Eververse this fall (and if you haven't read that, go check it out here).

The storefront is going to get another round of enhancements this fall, too. We're going to move it to the Director, so you don't have go to the Tower and see Tess to interact with it. We're giving it some Class specific content, so if you're on your Titan looking for Titan Universal Ornaments with smaller shoulders, you'll see Titan armor on one of the store's subpages. We're also going to make it so that the pieces you've already acquired from a given set reduce the Silver price of the set. For instance, if you are 3/5 Optimacy set on your Titan, the cost to finish the set in Silver will be reduced by 60%.

There are some other philosophies here that we haven't made explicitly clear:

We have made deliberate choices related to cosmetic items and not having them come from gameplay. Gameplay rewards are where you get items, power, mods, perk combinations, stats, triumphs, and titles. The aesthetics for armor blurs the line some – we want players to get cool armor from activities and the world that feel thematic to where they were acquired. Cosmetic items like universal ornaments, weapon ornaments, shaders, ships, sparrows, emotes, and finishers typically come from the store (There are exceptions, but generally speaking, that's how we think about this).

We are continuing to try and separate capability/gameplay from vanity. Armor 2.0 and Universal Ornaments are big parts of this separation. This is also why Finisher perks are mods that can be socketed into equipment, so that their aesthetic can stand alone.

As always, we welcome your feedback and thoughts.

SEASON OF OPULENCE, PART III: THE MENAGERIE IS SWEET

Have you ever been to an amazing party for something like the Super Bowl? It's the kind of party where there is an incredible spread of snacks rolling out throughout the event, amazingly comfortable seating, an A/V system and TV that makes you jealous, and super sweet people to hang out with. Once you've been to this party -- the Super Bowl anywhere else never feels the same (invite me back somedayyyyyyyyy).

This is how I feel about Escalation Protocol. Once I had the feeling of running around in public bubbles, fighting giant bosses with a bunch of players (even though getting into a good instance of Mars for Protocol was a pain in the butt!), public gameplay never felt the same. At its peak, when you have a bunch of players slaying big ol' bosses, Escalation Protocol is one of the best things we've added to Destiny 2.

The Menagerie - a six-player matchmade activity where you make progress no matter what - is awesome. Its "learn-by-watching mechanics" means that it doesn't require communication between players. The way groups can make progress - even if they don't kill the boss - means the real efficiency gain is by learning and executing the fights quickly. Hasapiko, Beloved by Calus -- and also beloved by me -- feels like a great translation of World of Warcraft's Heigan the Unclean** into an action game.

There's a lot to like about the Menagerie, but I'm going to close the activity part here with: We love the Menagerie, it's a great middle spot on a six-player activity pyramid, with Raids sitting at the top. Escalation Protocol (aka Partying in Public) is a great base. We want to do more activities like this, but in the context of what we learned and in a way that we can better support them over the long-term.

SEASON OF OPULENCE, PART IV: THE CHALICE OF OPULENCE AND SOMEHOW EVEN MORE SEASON OF THE DRIFTER THOUGHTS

Having some ways to target and farm some specific gear in Destiny is great. We did a version of this with Black Armory weapons but the very, very long character-specific attunement questline for the Forges was a bit much. We made the Opulence attunement account-wide as a result. The Chalice was an even bigger version of targeting rewards. Players could unlock different sets of armor, different weapons, and even select their Masterwork perk roll.

Pause on Chalice thoughts.

We will come back to the Chalice. Let's talk about how we build the game.

While content for Destiny is released serially, it is largely developed in parallel. For instance, while Forsaken was in its final few months, Black Armory was well underway, and Season of the Drifter was in development while Black Armory was being built, et cetera. For years people have wondered "Why doesn't release X do the thing content drop Y did? Get it together, Bungie."

This is one of the reasons why. So even though Menagerie is sweet, and Chalice is great, while Shadowkeep was being built, the Menagerie and the Chalice hadn't yet been released. So we didn't know how players would react.

Because we have so much to build, we frequently find ourselves having to place many bets at the same time. This has paid dividends at times – we discover new and awesome things like Escalation Protocol or Menagerie - and this has also resulted in things that feel like setbacks at other times.

An example of a setback is the reward chase during Season of the Drifter. There are a bunch of super awesome weapons in Drifter (One Two Punch Last Man Standing), but the path to them isn't clear like Black Armory or the Chalice. We didn't do a good enough job of rewarding players for their time or giving them clearer paths to some of the sweet weapons in the release. If we had a do-over with this season's rewards we'd probably have dropped Armor directly from Prime and maybe used Reckoning combined with learnings from Menagerie's fail forward mechanics to let players chase awesome rolls on weapons they could love. While I got pretty lucky with a Rapid Hit Kill Clip Spare Rations, I personally had more fun chasing my Kindled Orchid or Austringer.

Unpause. Back to Chalice.

The Chalice isn't perfect. Being held hostage by THE rune you want to drop from a Strike or Crucible to go make the weapon or armor piece you're coveting is pretty frustrating.

But having more ways in the game to pursue loot in a deterministic fashion, while preserving the hunt for a great roll, is something that we hope to explore.

Things left unsaid-ish while looking back

There's a lot a lot a lot of awesome stuff we didn't spend time talking about (Tribute Hall, Lumina, that cool Drifter cinematic with the Taken Captain, lore books, Vanguard/Drifter choice, et cetera).

Full disclosure: I'm almost always going to focus on opportunities for improvement, rather than celebration!

We're in the midst of Solstice and Moments of Triumph so the learnings for those are still bubbling up.

Looking Ahead to Looking Ahead

The rest of the Director’s Cut updates are going to focus on Shadowkeep and the changes we’re making this year. Here are some of the topics that will be included:

Supers and PVP in Destiny 2

Armor, Stats, Mods, and Tradeoffs

Powerful Sources, Prime Engrams and the World

Damage numbers, damage stacking rules

And more

I know this is a lot to read (because it was a lot to write). I appreciate you taking the time to make it this far. Like all things with Destiny, it's a journey. The next two parts of this journey will look at the RPG and Combat game.

See you soon,

Luke Smith

*It's a set of aspirational goals that can help guide the team to create better experiences for players who love Destiny. And it's a simple way to describe how we're thinking about the game to all of you. And even when it's true, there will always be work left to do. And we're committed to it.

**Fun fact: Heigan the Unclean was often called the "dance" boss in the WoW Raid Naxxaramas and Hasapiko means "the butcher's dance" in Greek. It's a little nod back to Blizzard's Xûr reference.

#Destiny #Destiny 2 #Destiny 2: Forsaken #long post

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sp4c3-0ddity · 6 years

Text

Dueling Hearts - 2

Chapter Summary:

Lance is dumb, Pidge is confused, and Allura thinks everything is going Great!

Chapters: 2/7 Word Count: 8052 (12 346 total)

Read Chapter One

A/N:

the cheesiest of chapters

Read Below (or here on ao3):

“Well, no one’s wittier or more courageous than you,” Lance half-grumbles when she asks him what he thinks once they return to the Castle.

“What’s your problem?” Pidge demands. She grips the wreath so tightly in her hand she contemplates trying to snap or tear it in half. Instead she contents herself with setting it on the lounge table before unclasping her cape from her gorget and dropping it in a pile on the couch.

Lance’s eyes pinch shut, and he seems to compose himself before he opens them and smiles. “Nothing,” he says too mildly. “You deserve all the wreaths.”

The telltale wrinkle on Lance’s forehead that indicates he’s not as happy as he’s trying to appear tempts Pidge. She wants to bridge this gap between them and smooth it away, whether with a fingertip pressed to his brow or with her words…only she doesn’t know what words would do the trick.

But she crosses her arms before sighing in resignation and dropping onto the sofa beside him. “You’re getting dirt on the couch,” she observes.

Lance groans and leans back, his head falling on the sofa’s back. “Let me wallow for a little, Pidge.”

“You’re not still grumpy about falling from your grof so many times, are you?” Pidge rests a hand on his shoulder and adds, “You weren’t there to hear it, but Keith said you didn’t seem bad for a beginner.”

“My experience horseback-riding commends me,” Lance replies with a snort, “and Keith was also a beginner…unless grof-back-riding was part of his Blade training.” But he turns to her with a smile more genuine than the last. “How should I know you’re not just making that up to make me feel better?”

Pidge raises an eyebrow. “First of all I am trying to make you feel better,” she says, tactfully ignoring the way his face - closer than she realized when she sat beside him - flushes, “and second, am I really the sort of person to lie just to patch up your bruised ego?”

Lance chuckles. “Guess not.” His head rests against hers, his bristly, mud-crusted bangs tickling her forehead and making it difficult to breathe. “Getting my butt kicked did make me tired though…”

Pidge elbows him and retorts, “Then go to your room to sleep.”

“Why?” Lance covers his mouth to stifle a yawn that Pidge is almost certain is fake. “You’re a pretty good pillow…” His arms wrap around her middle, his body leaning more heavily against hers.

Pidge rolls her eyes but returns his loose embrace, something in her chest fluttering at the contact. “Now you’re going to get dirt on me,” she complains without much bite.

“Ugh, fine!” Lance stands and stretches, his arms extended over his head and a real yawn splitting his face. “I’m sore,” he says, rubbing his backside. “Hope I can still save a dance for you tomorrow night.” He throws Pidge a wink over his shoulder.

She bites her lip in a pathetic attempt to fight a smile, but she can’t do anything about the blush she’s sure colors her cheeks. “Only if you promise not to trip over the hem of my dress like last time.”

Lance coughs and averts his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was…not my smoothest moment.”

Pidge follows him from the lounge, the weight and excitement of the day beginning to take its toll and leaving her drained of energy. A million and one things to be done, to be considered and contemplated and taken apart…but all she wants to do is sleep.

Or cuddle with Lance, but not when they’re both still wearing their armor and his is still crusted with dried mud.

“And for quiznak’s sake, Lance, take a shower!” She waves a hand under her nose and smirks when his eyes widen in offense. “You smell like a swamp.”

Lance laughs, whipping his red cape around like an old-time Spanish matador. “Hey, you never know in a place like here; maybe the ladies like swamp stink.”

***

The gifts don’t end with the wreath of white flowers, and Pidge isn’t sure she likes being the prettiest girl in the room (so to speak).

She’s not so naive that she doesn’t recognize male attention when she’s subjected to it - although she’s rarely been on the receiving end of it, much less from the one person she’d welcome it from - but traveling to a diverse array of worlds has taught her that there’s one cultural constant among races with some kind of gender dimorphism:

The men declare their intent of courtship by showering the object of their romantic affection with gifts.

“I’ve barely said two words to him!” she exclaims when Coran shows her the box and relays the message from the courier.

“It still seems His Majesty is quite taken with you, Number Five,” he says, a broad grin under his bushy mustache. He peeks under the sizable box’s lid, and a low, appreciative whistle escapes his lips. “If I’m not mistaken, this gown is the height of Barsinian fashion.”

Pidge’s eyes widen, shock gripping her. “He sent me a dress?”

Coran clutches the box to his chest - as if it was a gift delivered to him, which Pidge would be all too happy to allow - and giggles. “Oh, he did, and he asks that you permit him to escort you to the ball at Tolemac Castle.”

“W—”

“What?” Lance stomps into the lounge, barely pausing for the sliding doors to open fully and with his jacket flapping around him. He halts a meter away from Pidge, his body turned towards her in a way that strikes her as distinctly…protective.

She doesn’t understand why when the most dangerous thing about a dress is risking tripping over the hem while climbing stairs.

(Unless her hypothesis that Barsinians embroider their clothes with some kind of circuitry for aesthetic purposes proves correct; then all bets are off.)

Pidge sighs, Lance’s reaction rankling her, and asks Coran, “Why does he want to escort me to the ball? Wasn’t the plan that we’d all go together?”

“Yes, well, it seems plans can be changed,” Coran points out. He taps his fingers against the box’s lid and adds, “Apparently the crowned woman is usually the winner’s wife, but in the event that she’s merely someone who has caught the winner’s interest—”

Lance muttered, “What the quiznak?”

“—the courier mentioned that it’s customary for them to attend the celebratory ball together.”

Pidge’s jaw drops as heat fills her; to hear it so blatantly…

An odd thrill hits her, and a smile pushes at her lips. It’s nice to be noticed sometimes, although she still has no idea why. And King Thurar seems intelligent, young, handsome even if in a rather inhuman way; why not accept his invitation and make the most of it, pick his brain on his scientists’ rumored near-instantaneous travel technology?

But she can’t help a sideways glance at Lance, can’t help wishing he noticed her instead, can’t help the heaviness of disappointment and even a little - and totally unnecessary - shame that twist in her gut.

The door slides open to admit Hunk and Keith, both in varying degrees of dress for the ball. “Why aren’t you guys getting ready yet?” Keith wonders, looking between Pidge and Lance.

“You’re one to talk,” Pidge deadpans. Her eyes narrow at the massive cowlick sticking up on the back of his head and the wrinkles in his black belted tunic.

Hunk laughs and smooths a hand over the back of Keith’s head. “We’ve still got time,” he says, “and I wouldn’t doubt Lance has already taken care of his more time-consuming prep.”

Lance stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets and shrugs. “I did a face mask.”

“See?” Hunk raises an eyebrow at Pidge. “What about you? I thought Allura convinced you to try a little makeup this time after you bought eyeshadow to go with that dress you found.”

“You bought makeup?” Lance says, turning incredulous eyes onto Pidge.

But she ignores him. She sighs, nodding towards the box Coran still holds, and confesses, “King Thurar sent me a dress, so I guess I’ll be wearing that one instead.” She crosses her arms and scowls at her feet. “I was really looking forward to wearing what I brought from Earth…”

“Oh?” Hunk grins, a spark of glee that Pidge doesn’t trust in his eyes. “King Thurar sent you a dress? So soon after bestowing a wreath upon his Queen of Wit and Courage?”

When Keith mirrors Hunk’s smirk, she knows what’s coming.

Hunk takes Keith’s hand with a delicate grip and bows over it. “Enchante, Mademoiselle Green Paladin,” he says, going so far as to kiss his knuckles. “You look positively ravishing in that dress I sent you.”

To Pidge’s shock, Keith plays along, covering his face with a mockingly bashful hand and giggling. “Oh, you are too kind, Your Majesty.”

“Would you do me the honor of this dance?” Hunk wonders with a grin while he rests a hand on Keith’s waist.

Keith’s hand falls on Hunk’s shoulder. “It would be my honor, Your Majesty.”

“…and becoming my bride?”

Pidge bursts into laughter, despite her warm face and mounting embarrassment, while Coran mutters, “I don’t understand; since when is Hunk royalty and since when is he courting Keith?”

Lance grumbles something too low for Pidge to catch, and she has no idea why he looks so put-out when their friends aren’t teasing him.

Her mirth vanishes as soon as Keith’s reply leaves his mouth:

“Why, Your Majesty,” Keith says with a suggestive smirk tossed at Pidge, “I cannot marry you, for my heart beats for—”

“Keith, your Pidge is out of character,” Lance cuts in with a scowl. “She’s never that polite.”

Pidge’s heart races while she wrings the hem of her sweater and pointedly avoids looking at Lance. And despite his comment - she can’t help a flicker of irritation - relief at his timely interruption fills her.

She inhales as she accepts the gift box from Coran and rolls her eyes at Hunk and Keith. “Hey, if it gets us teleportation, I’ll marry this king in a heartbeat,” she jokes.

Lance’s jaw drops before it shuts with a click of teeth. “W-what? We don’t need him for teleportation!” He points at Keith. “We have Kosmo!”

Pidge frowns and says, “It’s a joke, Lance. I’d rather marry y—never mind.” She turns her feet to the exit, her face hot and her eyes wide, shocked at what she almost let slip from her tongue. “I-I should go get ready; if I have a king escorting me I should probably look my best…”

***

“I look ridiculous.”

Pidge holds her arms out, staring at her billowing, voluminous sleeves. The cuffs trail well past her fingers and fall almost to the floor, the fabric ballooning along her upper arm and cinched just past the elbow. Delicate thread - circuitry that lights brighter with every step she takes, kinetic energy converted into electricity - nearly covers ever spare bit of fabric, embroidering a pattern Pidge can’t glean because it’s so busy.

And that’s only the start.

Her reflection dims, although she suspects that after a few dances her dress will light up like a quiznaking Christmas tree.

“You don’t look ridiculous, Pidge!” Allura reassures her with a hand on her puffed up shoulder. “You look…unique.” She shoots Pidge her diplomatic smile, the one just sincere enough to fool her into thinking she means it.

Allura is a vision in a pink and blue floor-length dress that leaves her arms bare except for silver bangles that ring together and collect at her wrists. It’s more daring - in Allura’s rather prim estimation - than what she usually prefers, but she claims Barsina’s humidity is getting to her.

Pidge suspects it’s also immodest according to Barsinian standards - she has yet to see anyone, male or female, with even their ankles or wrists exposed - but at the moment she’s too busy longing for the dress collecting dust in her closet.

And thanks to this monstrosity’s high collar, she can’t even wear the necklace with the Rover-shaped charm Lance bought her for her last birthday.

(Instead she loops it around her wrist, her long sleeves concealing it.)

Her hair proves to be less than a dilemma than she thought, Allura helping her pin it up into a tasteful bun and leaving a few loose strands to ring her face. Pidge then props the wreath from the tournament atop her head and attaches the bizarre streamer-like headdress, stabbing the hair stick through the bun and letting the glittering green fabric flow loosely behind her.

This, at least, isn’t so long she’ll trip over it…but there’s no guarantee she won’t sit on it.

If she can sit at all with all the ridiculous layers in this dress, she realizes as horror grips her and her feet stuffed into too-small flats ache preemptively.

“Why can’t I wear my own dress?” Pidge grumbles not for the first time.

Allura sighs while she picks at a few layers of fabric, adjusting the way they drape over Pidge’s frame. A ruffle neatened here, a bow tightened there…

Pidge flails her arms, the long, trailing sleeves flapping with them. “How am I even going to use the bathroom in this dress without suffering an ordeal?” Her fingers clutch at the layered pleated skirt and lift the too-long hem off the floor. “With all this I can’t even reach my underwear!”

Allura snorts, an amused smile flitting across her face. “Well, it would be an insult not to wear a gift from His Majesty.”

“Just like it would’ve been an insult if we didn’t all come?” Pidge pushes her glasses up her nose - she refuses to take those off on principle - and scowls at her reflection and considers that at least watching her dress light up the dance floor might be entertaining.

“Exactly!” Allura confirms brightly. “Although…Pidge, you’re not the most…diplomatic of us.”

Pidge raises an eyebrow, a part of her unsurprised at the direction this conversation took. “So I’ll take care not to step on his toes if he asks me to dance?” Not that she wants to dance with him; she’d sooner ask Keith to spin her around, convince Coran to lead her in a mind-bogglingly energetic Altean two-step, team up with Hunk to pinpoint Barsinian scientists and learn from their drunken wisdom…

Laugh with Lance while he drags her into his people-watching, blush when he lets slip a sincere compliment for her, sneak away with him to stargaze from a turret while a slow tune below lulls her into a doze…

“That’s a good start,” Allura allows, jerking Pidge from a vivid and embarrassing daydream, “but there’s a little more to it than that. Start by befriending him, or rather letting him befriend you.”

Pidge wrinkles her nose. “I don’t have to let him court me, do I?”

“Of course not!” Allura quickly denies, before backtracking and admitting, “Well, not really. Maybe a little? Just enough to be polite but not enough to make him think you’re romantically inclined towards him.”

Pidge deflates, but it’s difficult to tell she’s slouching with the puffy balloons that encompass her shoulders. “That sounds really…not doable.”

“It’s a rather fine line, to be sure,” Allura concedes with a grimace. But she brightens, clasping her hands, and says, “Just pretend you’re me when Lance was a bit more…insufferable.”

Pidge snorts, half-amused and half-irritated by the reminder. “So you’re saying you want me to…express as little interest in possible?”

“Oh, no, please be interested in what he says!” Allura tells her. “Just don’t be interested in him.”

Pidge stares at her, no less confused about her intent than when they first broached the topic, but shrugs and says, “Okay…I’m a genius”—though not with people—”so how hard can it really be?”

***

Pidge literally glows on the arm of the king of Barsina.

Threads of colored light line the most bizarre dress Lance has ever laid eyes on, illuminating her in a rainbow. She stares down at herself more than at her escort, and he recognizes the fascination in her wide-eyed gaze.

And her lack of interest in King Thurar soothes the jealousy sitting hotly in his stomach, though it fails to recede entirely.

Not until Pidge parts from King Thurar and makes a beeline for where he stands with Keith and Hunk.

“Nice dress,” Keith comments dryly.

Pidge rolls her eyes at him but mumbles her thanks when Hunk passes her a drink. She pushes the streamer falling over her shoulder away from her face and sips. “What have you been up to?”

“Hunk danced with Minister Lirnem,” Keith offers with a snicker.

“She’s a very spry dancer for her age,” Hunk says diplomatically.

Lance leans against their table and raises an eyebrow at him before flashing a smirk at Pidge. “She took him for a spin when she figured out he didn’t know any Barsinian dances.”

Pidge laughs and rests a consoling hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” she says. “Barsinian dancing seems very…”

Lance’s gaze roves over the couples and groups milling about on the dance floor in time with a bouncy, syncopated beat. Their motions are jerky rather than smooth, and he observes, “It looks kind of like how you’d expect a frog dancing to look.”

Pidge laughs, Keith’s eyes widen, and Hunk exclaims, “What if someone hears you and thinks you insulted them?”

“Please”—Lance snorts even as an uneasiness settles into him and his eyes dart around the busy ballroom—”they call frogs ‘grofs’ here, so they won’t think that.”

“But everyone’s dressed so…shiny.” Keith nods towards a couple of young Barsinian nobles taking a picture together with a sleek device, its bulb flashing in the ballroom’s low light.

Barsinian clothes seems to have wires embroidered into them, wires that glow when—

“As far as I can tell, there’s something in the fabric that converts kinetic energy into electricity to ignite the circuitry,” Pidge explains without prompting. She picks at a wire glowing pink in the fitted bodice of her dress. “It’s a really interesting effect and use for circuitry but it doesn’t seem to serve any purpose beside the aesthetic.”

“Makes you shine like a star though,” Lance lets slip without thought. When Hunk’s and Keith’s stunned eyes land on him, his cheeks burn with heat and he adds, “Y-you and everyone—”

“The circuitry is a symbol.” Minister Lirnem joins them without announcing herself, a glass clutched in her webbed fingers and her own modest gown glowing a faint blue - though not with quite so much embroidery as Pidge’s. “It is a mark of status: the more intricate the embroidery, the more colors your clothes display, the higher your rank at court.” Her slitted eyes scan Pidge from head to toe. “Aliens are not generally permitted our symbolic embroidery, however, so I can only suspect what His Majesty’s plans are concerning you, Green Paladin.”

Lance’s blood runs cold at some implication in Minister Lirnem’s voice. “What do you mean?” he wonders, his feet carrying him a few steps closer to Pidge.

“It is not for a loyal subject of His Majesty to divulge what are only educated guesses,” Minister Lirnem recites. She sips her drink and tells Pidge, “Watch yourself around him, Green Paladin. He may be king, but he is still only barely of age and subject to the same impetuousness as any other youth.” Her gaze flicks to Lance, a slight smile on her lips, before gliding away from them in a very un-frog-like manner.

“Pidge,” Lance says carefully as he watches her go, “what do you think the king—”

But Pidge doesn’t seem to notice his words, not while she rolls up her very long sleeves so that it bunches up just over her wrists. “Quiznak, those are annoying,” she grumbles, pushing hair away from her face.

Light glints off gold, and Lance says, “Hey, are you wearing the necklace I got you as a bracelet?”

Pidge jumps, startled, and color fills her cheeks. She raises her wrist, her eyes widened as if shocked to find a gold chain wound around it, and admits, “It doesn’t go with this dress but I still wanted to wear it.”

“O-oh.” Lance rubs the back of his neck, suddenly awkward when he realizes that Hunk and Keith made themselves scarce without him noticing.

But Pidge seems unbothered as she slides the necklace off her wrist and says, “You know what? I don’t care if it doesn’t match.” She holds it out to him.

Lance extends an arm and watches it pool in his palm. “Wait, you’re not giving it back, are you?” Something like panic grips him - he remembers how brightly Pidge smiled when he gave it to her, how she told him he shouldn’t have and that she loved it all in the same breath, his chest warm and his face warmer after she flung her arms around his neck.

“N-no!” Pidge quickly reassures him. “I just…need your help putting it on.” She pushes her trailing headdress over her shoulder and turns her back to him.

A smile pushes at his lips as he loops it around her neck and clasps it in place. When she faces him again, she touches the glittering green charm that somehow looks brighter than all the ignited circuitry woven into her dress.

She takes his breath away without trying, simply standing there in a gaudy gown with a smile on her face and a light flush high in her cheeks.

Without a word and without a falter in her grin, Pidge’s fingers wrap around his wrist. He happily follows, his heart pounding a syncopated beat alongside a tune that manages to be half-jazz and half-baroque.

They don’t bother keeping time as they slip into their own little dance, Pidge’s hands holding tightly to his, their arms swinging like two kids dancing at a wedding.

When Lance spins her around, the hem of her skirt lifts and billows around her, and she steps back towards him laughing. “This more fun than jousting from a grof?” she wonders.

“Dancing with you is more fun than almost anything else I can think of,” he tells her…another sentiment so honest he has to wonder if the punch he’s been drinking has an intoxicant in it after all.

Pidge raises an eyebrow, managing to look smug despite her blush. “Almost?”

“Well…playing Killbot with you is a contender,” Lance admits, “even when you’re kicking my butt.”

She snorts and smirks. “I know of something you’re better than me at.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Jousting.”

Lance blinks, his fingers tightening around hers. “Why do you say that?”

“You want to do something…daring?” Pidge says, mischief sparking in her eyes. “The joust did look like fun the other day—”

“I lost count of the number of times I fell off my quiznaking grof!” Lance retorts.

“—and I kind of want to try now. And you can give me a few pointers!” She grins right before it falters. “I’d have to change first though…can’t really ride a grof in this glow-in-the-dark circus tent I’m wearing.”

“You do look…interesting in that dress,” Lance says, “but still beautiful.”

Pidge laughs, rolling her eyes. “I know I look silly,” she says, “even if Coran is convinced it’s the height of fashion here.” She tosses her head, the streamer hanging from her bun and from that quiznaking wreath fluttering around her shoulders.

Lance meets her warm brown eyes, his heart skipping a beat. “Pidge, you’d look beautiful wearing a plastic black trash bag.”

And she would; nothing can obscure the spark in her gaze or the warmth in her smile or the heat of her touch on his skin and his heart.

Her eyes widen, the blush in her cheeks spreading, and she stutters, “Lance, y-you don’t look too—”

“May I cut in?”

No, Lance only just keeps himself from snapping. He forces his reflexively annoyed expression into something more neutral while he and a wide-eyed Pidge face King Thurar.

He looks at Pidge, a hesitant smile on his thin frog-like mouth, a webbed hand extended in invitation towards her. “What sort of escort would I be if I did not insist on one dance?”

Pidge clears her throat and smiles. “Sure,” she says simply. “I would like that.” But her grin falters when her eyes meet Lance’s. “Are you okay with that, Lance?”

His mouth dries at her question, at a hidden subtext that he’s not sure she means. Because no, he’s not okay with it at all, with this prospective Coalition leader putting the moves on a girl who Lance has feelings for.

(Again.)

He shrugs and feigns a nonchalance he doesn’t feel, not with jealousy writhing in his stomach and his chest tightening as he reluctantly lets Pidge go. “Doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Lance tells her.

Pidge frowns, gaze drifting down as she mutters, “I guess not…” To King Thurar, she says in a far brighter voice, “Lead the way. I don’t know your dances…”

She takes the king’s hand, and Lance watches them walk away, his feet frozen to the floor while Pidge’s dress - shining brighter than when she first entered the ballroom - trails behind them.

He notes with some satisfaction that King Thurar is shorter than him, the top of Pidge’s head - minus her deflating bun and the streamer hanging from it - reaching his flat nose…but his childish glee at that disappears as he realizes it puts them closer to eye level with each other.

Lance finds distraction in chatting up strangers, both other aliens and Barsinians. He lets a probably middle-aged Barsinian lady teach him to dance in their style, but when her webbed fingers pinch his backside in a way he’s pretty sure isn’t one of the steps, he takes his leave of her.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Keith observes when Lance joins him and Hunk on a well-cultivated terrace. Vines laden with fleshy leaves grow along Tolemac Castle’s walls, the green dotted with a rainbow of flowers. And below the terrace in a sprawling and swampy garden is a pond illuminated by a light that changes color and makes the water glow.

It’s pretty, but he can’t appreciate it with his heart heavy and a gloomy cloud hanging over his head.

Lance leans against the railing, affording himself a good view of most of the ballroom. “I’m having a blast.” His gaze rovers over the dancers and other attendees, searching for just one, but—

He straightens, eyes widening and heart skipping a beat in alarm. “Where’s Pidge?” he wonders in as idle a voice as he can manage.

Hunk’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “We saw her leaving the ballroom with the king. Why?” He smirks and says, “You jealous?”

“No!” Lance crosses his arms and scowls at the floor even as his foot taps an impatient beat against the shining tile floor, urging him into some kind of action.

Pidge missing with King Thurar? The same king that gave her a crown and sent her a dress and asked her to dance?

Well…if Pidge went willingly, who’s Lance to stand in the way?

But it’s also the same king who was all too happy to knock him - and Keith - from the back of a grof more than once…

Mind made up, Lance stalks back towards the ballroom and announces, “I’m going to explore the castle.”

***

The entire time Pidge dances with King Thurar, her mind analyzes every word out of Lance’s mouth. Beautiful, he called her, despite her ludicrous dress evoking Las Vegas.

All she managed to try to say in return was, You don’t look too bad yourself. Never mind that the red and blue Altean tunic he wears makes his shoulders look broader and the sleeves are tight enough she can see the definition in his arms and—

She can’t help sneaking glances at him while she half-listens to the king explaining his culture and, for some reason, the structure of Barsina’s government, can’t help the irritation pricking her when she spots him dancing with someone else.

Well, she can’t keep him from enjoying himself! Especially not after he showed barely any hesitation when King Thurar interrupted them.

It still hurts when a pathetic part of her wishes Lance is jealous.

But she follows Allura’s advice as best as she can, pretending Barsinian civics interests her and answering what few questions King Thurar asks her about herself.

After the second dance, when Pidge wants nothing more than to slip away and find her friends, he comments, “Your necklace is…pretty.”

Pidge’s eyes widen in surprise - she almost forgot she wore any jewelry - as she grasps the pendant sitting over her collarbone. “Thank you,” she says. “It was a gift.”

“It’s not one I sent with the dress,” King Thurar says.

She bites back a sarcastic response and instead contents herself with a nod. “A friend gave it to me.”

The king frowns. “The Red Paladin?” he guesses. “The one you were dancing with?”

An absurd blush warms Pidge’s cheeks, the necklace’s chain smooth and cool against her fingertips and a silly smile fighting its way onto her face. “Yes, that’s him.”

But her smile falters as soon as the words leave her mouth when she remembers how…apathetic Lance seemed when she left.

King Thurar doesn’t reply immediately, instead steering her towards the main section of Tolemac Castle. And the longer the silence stretches, filled only by the fading music playing behind them and the chattering of other guests, the longer Pidge worries she said something wrong.

It wasn’t like she lied!

Her heart races with panic, mind buzzing with concerns that she doomed Voltron’s prospects with Barsina and doomed her opportunity to examine what technology they conceal under a veil of mystery and rumors.

Sure, the methods they engineer structures in a marsh are interesting enough, but they won’t help the Coalition.

“You have a reputation among the Coalition, Green Paladin,” King Thurar says, finally breaking the silence as they step into a green-carpeted and well-lit hallway.

Pidge only smiles, unsure how to respond. Of course she does? She’s a quiznaking Paladin of Voltron and a bright mind!

Or she can try…reciprocating?

Pidge hopes her voice doesn’t crack when she says, “Barsina has a reputation too, Your Majesty. I can’t count the number of rumors I’ve heard that your scientists are on the brink of inventing near-instantaneous travel.”

Doors line the walls every few paces, and as they wander deeper, panels flare into life beside them. Security panels, Pidge guesses; whatever lies behind those doors is not for anyone to access.

“My scientists?” King Thurar chuckles as he pauses before such a door and presses all five fingers to the security panel. “They helped, of course, but much of the work is my own.”

The panel flashes green, scanning whatever passes for fingerprints on a Barsinian hand (for all Pidge knows it’s their webbing that’s “unique” in individuals), before the heavy steel door unlocks with a click.

Thurar enters a code into a keypad underneath the glowing panel. He smiles sheepishly when another lock clicks open and says, “The process to simply unlock the door to my lab is rather…lengthy.”

Pidge smiles without trying, clutching at her dress with sweaty hands and her heartbeat skipping in excitement. “I get it.”

The door swings open after a few more layers of security - including a retinal scan on her to ascertain she’s not a shapeshifting alien - and King Thurar stands aside and gestures her in. “We do not have the same intuition with technology as the people of Olkarion, but Barsina is accomplished and I dare to think you, Green Paladin, will appreciate that more than your less scientifically minded fellow Paladins.”

Pidge wonders if she imagines the insult in his voice - even Hunk? - but the laboratory beyond the door makes every retort she can think of fall away, forgotten.

Lasers and monitors, long-distance communication arrays, robots operating all the machinery taking measurements of atmospheric readings and signals arriving from space, and—

“Why have I not seen any robots anywhere else?” Pidge asks.

King Thurar follows her into the lab, the door shutting behind him and locking with a few clicks, and appraises the space. He crosses his arms and explains, “Robotics is a field that the less scientifically inclined fear - Barsinians are a superstitious folk - and robots are so poorly understood and the average Barsinian fears that one can one day replace him.”

Pidge barely hears him, a cylinder lying horizontal to the floor catching her attention. “Is that a particle accelerator?” she blurts. She picks up the hem of her skirt and darts in its direction, eyes wide as she examines every centimeter of it that she can reach. “Where do you hold the magnets?”

The king eyes her with obvious amusement as he points them out.

“What do you use this for? This seems like a very…multidisciplinary lab.” Pidge raises an eyebrow as she gazes around the room.

“Well…we are searching for a way to travel across the universe almost instantaneously without using something as unstable as a wormhole.”

Air catches in her lungs, and she breathes, “And?”

When King Thurar smiles widest, he looks more like a frog than a human, but it doesn’t unnerve her. Pidge all but trembles with excitement as he leads her in a different direction, towards a low doorway tucked into a corner.

He ducks through it, Pidge on his heels, and into a more cavernous room empty of equipment except for a long cylindrical metal object lined with slits for aeration, a monitor at one end with text scrawling across it.

“This is the prototype for our improbability engine.”

Pidge turns sharply towards the king. “Your…?”

“Alternative to a wormhole,” he confirms with a nod. “We are attempting to scale it up as this one is only large enough for a small pod - we tested it over a distance of a few light-years almost a phoeb ago - but I fear that without input from Olkari scientists we will not get far.” He sighs and glances at her. “We have not heard from them in a very long time, not since before Emperor Zarkon fell, but—”

“They’re members of the Coalition,” Pidge reassures him, grinning. “They were…occupied by a Galra general for a while, but Voltron liberated them and Olkarion is now the center of the Coalition.”

King Thurar’s slitted eyes widen, the yellow practically glowing with an excited spark. And Pidge, caught up in the excitement of a project, laughs.

She loses track of how much time she spends poring over every journal - the Barsinian script translated into Altean, far more familiar to her, with the wrist computer she wears under her obnoxiously billowing sleeves - and every bit of tech King Thurar allows her access to. But she knows it’s nothing near enough to even begin to scratch the surface of all there is to learn here.

“I could spend my whole life in these labs, tinkering and reading and experimenting, and still not unlock all your secrets!”

King Thurar meets her eyes, and for some reason it sends a shiver down her spine. “Pidge,” he says in a low voice, the use of her name rather than a title freezing her to the spot, “if I may be so familiar, you are an exceptional being.” His fingers chill her skin when he takes her hand, the delicate webbing almost slimy.

“Y-your Majesty,” she says, wincing at her stutter, “you’re very…nice.”

“You are too modest, Pidge,” he tells her.

She smiles, because she’s not sure what else to do with his hand clutching hers and his eyes roving over her face and her skin crawling with discomfort and realization rooting her to the spot. “No one’s ever said that about me,” she says, unsure what else to say.

Quiznak, she assumed King Thurar held some superficial interest in her, between the stupid wreath and the absurd dress, but now it feels too real and too much.

And nothing she wants.

But Pidge doesn’t know how to reject him without risking offending him, not when the Coalition needs an alliance with the planet he rules, especially now that she’s seen what Barsina has to offer with her own eyes.

(Allura didn’t prepare her for this.)

Pidge never fears speaking her mind…but she’s no longer naive enough not to understand her words have consequences.

The fact that they’re alone hits her when King Thurar’s thin lips brush her knuckles.

Her heart pounds as she wrenches her fingers from his grip and takes a step back, her hand hovering over the wrist computer hidden under her sleeve. “I-I think I’d like to go back to the ball,” Pidge says as steadily as she can. “I…want to have a bit more fun before we leave.” She forces a grin that feels more like a grimace onto her face. “You understand, Your Majesty, right?”

The king frowns, his eyes narrowing and face flushing green. For a beat Pidge fears he’ll refuse - and if he does she’s not sure she’ll remember the way back without wandering or taking the time to hack Tolemac Castle’s mainframe for the floor plan - but to her relief he sighs and says, “Of course, Green Paladin. Allow me to escort you back.”

***

Lance gives up on wandering Tolemac Castle’s halls searching for Pidge and King Thurar when yet another armed guard bars his path down a spiraling set of stairs.

“You hiding Emperor Zarkon in the basement?” he can’t help quipping - the joke at least controls his mounting irritation and concern.

He lost track of how long Pidge and the king have been gone, and with the ball winding down and guests leaving and Keith failing to conceal his yawns and Coran drunkenly sashaying with every elderly Barsinian woman - and at least a few men - that doesn’t mind an inebriated partner, Allura is sure to call it a night within the varga.

But Pidge is still missing.

At some point Lance’s fuming jealousy gave way to a worry that makes his mind buzz and his heart race.

It's too easy to picture what happens when two people disappear together during a party, even in an otherwise prim medieval-like society where jousting is a popular spectator sport, and if anyone knows what hiding spots are in a grand castle like this, it'll be the king that calls it home.

But there's no way Pidge is actually interested in that with him...right?

Amid his second-guessing, Lance's feet carry him back to the ballroom's wide entrance. But a couple blocks his path, looking in the middle of a moment, when the Barsinian man bends over the woman's hand to kiss it.

Wait...Lance recognizes that dimly glowing monstrosity of a dress.

Pidge?

Watching King Thurar kiss Pidge's hand shocks his system, makes his blood run cold and his chest tighten with a too-familiar ache. And because he's too much of a masochist to tear his eyes away, he sees a slight and smug smirk twisting the king's lips.

Pidge wrenches her hand from his grip and walks past him, and if she says anything it's too soft for Lance to hear.

Something in Pidge's stiff demeanor as she leaves - and something in King Thurar's obviously displeased scowl - eases some of the hot jealousy simmering just under Lance's skin.

He has nothing to worry about, does he? Well, not that it's any of his concern, he forces himself to remember.

Lance plasters a polite smile onto his face as he approaches the entrance and King Thurar standing in his path. "Nice party you're throwing," he says mildly.

His icy glare - and frogs are cold-blooded, aren't they? Pidge would know better than him - falls on Lance as he responds, "Only the best for the Paladins of Voltron. Tell P—your Green Paladin that."

Lance raises an eyebrow, confused...and not a little irritated at King Thurar almost using Pidge's name, like he wishes to violate the formality he maintains with them. And he's been around enough diplomatic shindigs to know that any kind of breach in formality isn't usually without an ulterior motive.

He smooths the collar of his tunic and says, "Well, if you'll excuse me, Your Majesty, I'll go do that right now."

He easily locates Pidge standing beside the same table as the rest of their team. Keith's forehead rests against the surface - Lance wonders if he passed out - and Hunk's hand touches his back. Allura sits beside him, maintaining a tight grip on a red-faced Coran.

Pidge speaks animatedly as he approaches, the light in her eyes far brighter than the lights in her dress. The sight - her excitement - warms his heart, especially when he catches her words.

"The rumors are true, Hunk!" she exclaims, her hands flailing. "It's not teleportation - I guess that's still the stuff of cosmic wolves and science fiction - but it is near-instantaneous, and all the Coalition and Barsina need is to forge an alliance so we can share our ideas!"

Allura claps her hands, a gleeful smile alighting her face. "That's wonderful, Pidge! You've done well with His Majesty!"

Lance frowns at that. "What do you mean?"

Pidge spins around, her eyes widening when they land on him. "Lance? Where were you?"

He blinks, startled, while his cheeks burn. "Uh...here and there," he tells her, unwilling to mention that he tried to spy on her with King Thurar.

Hunk's hand raises in greeting, an awful and teasing smirk tugging at his lips. "Pidge has been using her feminine wiles to get information from the king."

"Hunk!" Pidge hisses, a scowl on her face as it darkens.

Lance's stomach twists into unpleasant knots; earlier today she hadn't seemed bothered by Hunk's teasing...

What changed?

"While I would not have said it as Hunk did," Allura says diplomatically, though she rolls her eyes, "Pidge has learned much thanks to His Majesty's interest in her."

"Oh," Lance says lamely. "That's...great."

Pidge fidgets with the pendant dangling from her neck, obviously avoiding his gaze when she says, “Yeah, it’s very helpful.”

“His Majesty seems it,” he retorts, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice, not while an image of the king kissing Pidge’s hand replays in his mind. ”Maybe he’ll even give you the designs if you kiss him and turn him back into a prince.”

Lance regrets the words as soon as they fall from his lips.

Allura, for her part, looks confused, but Hunk’s jaw drops in shock. Even Keith, thought dead to the universe, sleepily mumbles, “Lance is being an idiot again isn’t he…”

Pidge’s glare pins him and makes him squirm, shame heavy in his gut at what he implied - about the king, sure, but mostly about her.

His eyes bug, and he raises his hands and blurts, “I’m sorry.”

She crosses her arms, her glower not faltering though it falls to the floor. “You should be.”

“Pidge, I—”

“I don’t like him, okay?” she says, her gaze flitting from Hunk and Allura before landing on Lance. “And I don’t want to either. And it’s not my fault he seems to like me.” She presses her fingers into her eyes before adding, “He’s not even close to my first choice…”

Pidge turns on her heel and flees, her skirts rising around her and sleeves streaming in her wake. The dress shines brighter the further she runs, but even that fades once she disappears onto the terrace.

Just like that, Lance is sure something happened between Pidge and King Thurar before he spotted them, and the thought infuriates him.

But guilt that his words incited this roots him to the spot.

He pulls a chair away from the table…or tries to. “What the quiznak?” He peeks under the lacy tablecloth, his eyes narrowing at Keith’s ankles locked around the chair’s legs. “What’s your problem, Keith? Aren’t you supposed to be napping?”

Keith raises a hand - without lifting his head - and points in Pidge’s direction. “Go fix it,” he says, voice muffled. “As the Black Paladin, I command you.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Lance grumbles even while he turns and marches through the emptying dance floor and towards the terrace.

Some part of him fears he won’t find her, that all he’ll come across will be a rope made from scraps of her busy dress tied to the balcony railing and trailing down into the gardens below.

But she stands much in the same place he had earlier, gazing up at the castle’s turrets with red eyes.

Lance swallows his apprehension and says, “Pidge.”

“I know you didn’t mean it,” she says quickly, easily, more steadily than he expected. She crosses her arms, her eyes slipping past him. “You just…I don’t know.” A heavy sigh escapes her, and she straightens from her slouch.

Lance fights the urge to reach for her, wanting to comfort her through touch as much as through his words.

Words…

He has confirmation that there’s no reason for his jealousy - although he already knew it’s undeserved - so maybe now is the time to tell her, to speak the feelings always brimming under the surface and threatening to spill from his tongue.

It’s not how he pictured a potential confession, with Pidge upset about something he said and no white moon shining overhead and her wearing an outfit Liberace wouldn’t be caught dead (or alive) in, but he knows with creeping certainty it has to be done.

His heart races, but resolve fills him as he admits, “I saw the king kissing your hand.”

Pidge inhales sharply, finally looking at him with wide eyes. “A-and?”

“Did something…happen?” Lance wonders. “Did he do something when you were—”

“N-not exactly, no,” Pidge cuts him off. But she holds herself stiffly and adds, “I just…didn’t like the way he looked at me.”

Lance’s breath catches in his throat, and he reconsiders. Maybe now isn’t the best time after all, maybe he should wait till they’ve left Barsina behind, maybe—

“D-do you like the way I look at you?”

Maybe his mouth has other ideas.

Her breath hitches, arms falling to her sides and eyes widening in shock. “H-how should I…interpret how you look at me?” she challenges, tilting her head back.

Lance steps towards her, and he dares to take her hand.

His heart sings when her fingers tighten around his, when her gaze and how close her flushed face is to his draw him in. Her shallow breath warms his chin, something about it sharpening every last sense, her brown eyes expectant and…hopeful.

He cups her cheek with his other hand and murmurs, “Katie—”

Something falls with a thunk at Lance’s feet, cutting him off. He spins around, reflexively reaching for a bayard he’s not carrying and pushing Pidge behind him even as she does the same.

All he spots is King Thurar, a scowl on his face, and a few members of his court and their team. A wide-eyed Minister Lirnem hovers over his shoulder, but she shoots a glance at Allura, whose gaze locks onto the ground near him.

Lance thinks to look down, confusion filling him at the sight of a gauntlet from a suit of Barsinian armor. “What the—”

King Thurar points at him. “You, Red Paladin, have something I want.”

Lance’s jaw flaps uselessly, and he presses a finger to his chest, scarcely believing what’s happening. “W-what?”

Pidge echoes the sentiment, but her hand grips his, grounding him.

“I lay a formal challenge at your feet before members of my court,” the king announces.

“Ch-challenge for what?” Lance demands. “W-what did I ever do to you?”

King Thurar ignores his question, his eyes slipping past him…towards Pidge. “I challenge you for the Green Paladin’s affections and her un-webbed hand in marriage.”

“What?” Pidge blurts. “You can’t—”

But Lance doesn’t bother thinking, not with a fresh wave of anger making his blood run hot.

“You’re on, Your Majesty.”

Continue to Chapter Three

#plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #pidge's dress inspired by my chaotic and rebellious streak #as in...i pictured it as obnoxious as possible #voltron #reem writes fic

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