#mutuals: shan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keldae · 4 months

Text

The Mistletoe Trap

Drastic times called for drastic measures. Or that's what Jonas insisted from his precarious perch atop a pilfered desk chair that he was currently standing on, in the middle of the dorm lounge, stretching to drive a thumbtack into the dorm ceiling. “Trust me, this will totally work!”

Lana dubiously looked up at him, arms crossed and blonde eyebrow raised. “Are you sure it won't just make things awkward with them?"

“Even those two idiots have to clue in with this!” Jonas hopped off the chair and stepped back to survey his handiwork. “I mean, this is a central element in every cheesy romance movie set around Christmas. Guy encounters girl, guy and girl both look up and realize they're under thr mistletoe, guy and girl kiss, guy and girl realize they're in love…”

“And are you an expert in Hallmark movies?” Lana asked, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes.

“I have a mother who's obsessed with those movies,” Jonas answered. “I learn things by osmosis. Besides, you only need to see one Hallmark movie to figure out the plot for all of them…”

“You're not wrong,” Lana conceded. She looked over her shoulder as Koth emerged from his room, shrugging his jacket on. “What do you think? Do we have a chance of setting our favourite idiots up with this?”

Koth craned his neck to look up at the mistletoe and frowned. “Isn't it supposed to be in a doorway, instead of the middle of a room?”

Jonas groaned. “I spent long enough fighting to get it to stay up there without falling! Can't we break tradition just this once?”

“Nope. If we're doing a mistletoe set-up, we gotta do it right.” Koth jumped up on the desk chair and pried the thumbtack, with its precious burden of mistletoe, out of the ceiling. He paused and dubiously eyed the little pin. “... This will be a pain to stick into the doorframe.”

“Nothing some tape can't fix,” Lana said with a nod. She hurried down the hallway to her room, and returned a minute later with a roll of tape in her hands. “Just don't use all of it, mind.”

“You're the best.” Koth dragged the chair over to the entrance of the dorm lounge and clambered back onto the seat. “Am I centre-ish?”

Jonas stepped back and tilted his head. “Bit to the left… no, no, my left… smidge more… there, that's about as centred as you're gonna get. I'm too lazy to find a measuring tape to make sure.”

“Works for me!” Koth started taping up the mistletoe, making sure to leave most of it dangling in the doorway. “How's the rest of the decorating coming along, do you know?”

“Mako and Vette were working on what they say will be the most epic paper chain to grace a dorm floor,” Lana said. “And I think Kira and Xaja are in charge of paper snowflakes. A pity we have no space in here for a tree…”

“Or budget,” Jonas added. “Being that we're all broke college students.” He watched as Koth jumped back down from the chair, mistletoe in place, then grinned. “Shall we find covert watching positions so we can observe our handiwork?”

“Great, give them both performance anxiety,” Koth snorted. “They'll both appreciate that so much.”

Jonas snorted a laugh. “That's why I said covert, moron.” He sharply looked to the front door as he heard the sound of a keycard on the security panel. “Quick, that might be them!”

The trio scrambled for the shelter of the couches, and by unspoken agreement, all pretended to be intently interested in their phones. They could hear the sounds of two pairs of feet coming down the hallway, around the corner, and pausing at the entrance to the lounge…

“Oh, hell no,” Thexan's voice sounded. “Go ahead, Arcann, I insist.”

“Why do you insist I–?” There was a pause before Arcann groaned. “Ah. Yeah, there is no way in hell I'm kissing you, Thexan.”

Suppressing her disappointment that the intended targets weren't the ones who had arrived first, Lana looked up. “You know you two would have gotten a pass, right?” she asked. “Being literal brothers and all.”

“I dated a girl in high school who was really into a particular subset of the Supernatural fandom,” Thexan answered. “And I don't mean the Destiel shippers. I've had trust issues ever since I caught her quizzing Arcann on some very personal questions.”

“Ewww.” Jonas looked up from his phone. “Yeah, valid. Now shoo so we can wait for the actual targets.”

“You mean the two who were walking back from the cafeteria?” Thexan grinned. “You guys are not subtle at all about this. I mean, waiting for them?”

“Subtlety isn't working!” Koth complained. “We gotta go for the obvious now.”

“I still say we should lock them in a closet,” Arcann commented as he dropped his book bag by Jonas’ couch. “Or set up a blind date for each of them.”

“If they haven't figured it out by spring break, we'll try the closet,” Lana promised. “By then there should be enough sexual tension pent up…”

“What are we talking about with sexual tension?” A horned head poked itself into the lounge, a huge grin on its face.

“I thought I told you to fuck out of here and not come back again last week, Gault!” Lana snapped, amber eyes flashing angrily.

“I'm an invited guest!” Gault protested. “Hylo said I could come in!”

“Not if you two are going to lock me out of my room for three hours while you have sex and then have a blow-up fight!”

“That was one little argument–”

“At one in the morning, that woke both me and Torian up,” Koth interjected, scowling.

“So the timing wasn't ideal,” Gault said with a shrug. “Sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep.” He glanced upward and grinned. “Awww, but you lot can't be that hard-up about it! Look what's on the ceiling!”

“Not for you,” Jonas interrupted. “It's a trap for Theron and Xaja!”

“We’ll break it in for them!” Gault cheerily grinned, then darted through the lounge to Hylo and Lana's room, pounding on her door.

Lana sighed in frustration, jaw visibly clenched. “If he turns up dead one day, I had nothing to do with it,” she growled.

“We'll help with the alibi,” Koth nodded, watching as Hylo emerged from the room with her brow wrinkled. The frown turned into a grin from the Mirialan as she followed Gault under the mistletoe; the Devaronian took the opportunity to dip Hylo for a passionate kiss.

“Get a room!” Jonas hollered over when the kissing didn't seem to abate after a few seconds.

“And not mine!” Lana added indignantly. “Again!” She looked over at Jonas. “I'm much more sympathetic toward Theron now…”

“I don't lock him out that often!” Jonas protested. “And the one time I did led to him meeting his soulmate, so…”

Gault finally straightened up from the kiss and let Hylo up to catch her breath. “See? We're wingmaning for you, Lana–” His eyes suddenly went wide, and he booked it for the safety of the front door, fleeing Lana's wrath as the blonde started to get to her feet.

Hylo watched her boyfriend escape, then shrugged at Lana. “He's not wrong?” she said with a little chuckle. “It's just his way of helping – and look at that, I need to be in the library right now!” She fled after Gault, with a bit of a laugh, as Lana snarled something entirely unprintable at her back.

“... The library?” Thexan asked as the door slammed shut behind the couple. “She hasn't set foot in the library since term started!”

“You'd know, considering you live there,” Arcann commented.

“Very funny,” Thexan muttered, then looked over as the front door opened and closed again. “Is that finally them?”

“Get over here in case it is!” Koth hissed. “Act natural!”

“Gawking is natural, for having just watched Hylo and Gault apparently make back up,” Arcann commented with a grin. Still, he sat down on the arm of Jonas' couch, as Thexan hurried over to flop beside Koth. Still grumbling, Lana sat back down and scowled at her phone like it was responsible for her roommate woes.

And not a second too soon – Theron Shan was the next person to poke his head into the lounge, not realizing he was directly under the mistletoe trap. “Well, don't we look conspiratal,” he commented, looking at the cluster of students on the couches. “We planning evil things here?”

“Just concerning my roommate and the douchebag she's dating,” Lana grumbled. “Do you know of a good place to dump a body?”

“Xaja says she watches true crime shows,” Theron suggested, as the aforementioned redhead popped up beside him. “You got an idea for a good place to dispose of Gault or Hylo?”

“I owe Hylo one for that troubleshooting with my car the other week, so I can't help murder her,” Xaja said. “Gault, on the other hand, I can definitely help dispose of.” She paused, frowning at the widening grins being sent at her and Theron. “... What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“Theron could help with that, if you do,” Jonas innocently suggested.

Theron promptly sputtered in mortified indignation. “I – what?!”

“Look up,” Thexan said with a smirk.

Both Theron and Xaja glanced upward – a second later, Xaja squeaked, her cheeks going as red as her hair. “Is that… which one of you assholes hung up mistletoe?!” Beside her, Theron seemed to be at a loss for words, eyes wide and mouth dropped open.

“Doesn't matter,” Koth said, grinning impishly. “To quote from the third Pirates of the Caribbean movie – just kiss!”

“It needs to be cleansed after watching Hylo and Gault make out under it,” Lana added in a mutter.

“But– we're not–!” Xaja yelped. “Hylo and Gault are at least a thing! Theron and I aren't!”

“Being a ‘thing’ isn't part of the mistletoe rules,” Arcann retorted, laughing. “Or are you two chicken?”

“We aren't chicken!” Theron piped up, indignant despite the flush to his cheeks. “We just… uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “... Which one of you assholes had this idea?”

“Does that matter?” Jonas all but cackled. “Kiss her already!”

Theron softly groaned, then turned to look at Xaja, who seemed to have become very focused on a random spot on his hoodie shoulder. “Erm… listen, I'm sorry about this…” he started to say.

“No, uh, it's… it's okay. It's definitely not your doing.” Xaja looked up from her visual examination of his hoodie, still bright red. She hesitated, then glared in the direction of the couches and the pair's eagerly-watching audience. “Do you fuckers have to sit there and watch like that?”

“What, do you have performance issues?” Jonas grinned evilly. “I'm reasonably sure Theron won't care about that–”

“Forget Gault – I'm murdering you,” Xaja growled. She looked back up at Theron. “You can look forward to a single room next semester.”

“Works for me,” Theron agreed, giving Jonas a malevolent glare. He shifted awkwardly, then quickly stooped to give Xaja a brief peck on the lips, seemingly before he could lose his nerve.

“Awww, come on!” Koth complained. “That barely counted as a kiss!”

“If you dumbasses weren't fucking staring at us…” Theron snapped.

Koth sighed dramatically. “Fine, if we all look away, are you two actually gonna kiss properly?”

“You know,” Jonas commented, “if you're the one with the performance issues, Theron, I'm sure Xaja will be happy to help you out with–”

“I will kill you dead, Balkar.” Theron glared at his roommate and former best friend, then caught Xaja in his arms and stooped to give her a dramatic, lingering kiss. She squeaked as she was pulled into his embrace, then seemed to wrap her arms around his neck and return the kiss, apparently trying very hard to ignore the whistles and chorus of “Awwww"s from their dormmates.

They finally came apart after a few seconds, seemingly trying to regain both breath and coherent thought before Xaja looked over at their audience. “Happy now?” she growled, more than a little bit of bite in her tone.

“Immensely,” Lana answered with a little laugh. “Now shoo so we can wait for our next victims. If that pre-med student Archiban comes in here next with this week's girlfriend…”

“We hate you all,” Theron announced, as he and Xaja tried to make their way to their respective rooms with as much dignity as they could muster. “Sleep with one eye open until the end of term.”

Jonas laughed, then as the pair vanished into their rooms, sobered up slightly. “I'm gonna die, but this was totally worth it.” He looked over at Arcann and Thexan. “Hey guys, can I crash with you for the rest of week so Theron doesn't kill me in my sleep?”

“As long as you're prepared to deal with Arcann's snoring,” Thexan said with a grin. He paused, looking at the mistletoe contemplatively. “... Did we overdo it?”

“Nah.” Koth laughed and stood up. “Someone got a picture of that, right? Kira will be so pissed that she missed it.”

Jonas grinned and flourished his phone. “Sending it to the group chat as we speak. And if they aren't dating officially by the end of winter break, I may smack Theron upside the head until he comes to his senses and asks her out.”

10 notes · View notes

sillypiratelife · 4 months

Text

Feral for the fact Luffy wouldn't stop Zoro from getting himself terribly hurt to the point of almost death in a battle where his honor is at risk. Luffy wouldn't judge him, he wouldn't meddle, he would let it play out because that's Zoro's fight and his decisions and he knows Zoro would do the same for him.

That doesn't mean that Luffy wouldn't absolutely beat the hell out of the person who hurt Zoro if he could. For Luffy the stupid choice is not Zoro's for wanting to die for his honor and his dreams, but rather the choice of trying to kill Zoro when Luffy is right there.

#Sanji thought Zoro was so stupid for not giving up his ambitions when the option was death #But Luffy wouldn't disgrace Zoro like that #In turn Zoro first thought was that he would never disgrace Luffy /his captain/ with another lost battle ever again #insane insane insane about their dynamic #there's a reason why thr Zoro and Luffy dynamic was the first to be established #there are no strawhats without Luffy and Zoro keeping each other in place through mutual pressure and respect and devotion and—#They are gonna make me cry so hard I already know :(#shan blogs about one piece!#one piece anime #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro

16 notes · View notes

killianxswan · 7 months

Text

get to know me (even better)

tagged by @killianjonesz thank you matey <3

nicknames: abby is one but it's all i've ever known

zodiac: aries

height: 5'2

fav music: revenge is gonna be mine from the once upon a time musical episode

followers: 988 BUT 90% are 6 ft under BUT i've still wanted 1k since i was an adolescent ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

following: 113

do you get asks: almost neverrrr send me some idc if they're anon let's bull shit together

amount of sleep: either all the time or never at all

what are you wearing: leggings and a sweater

dream job: being on broadway. SAHM. doing whatever brittany broski does. being a trust fund baby. i don't dream of labor.

languages: english and ASL

random fact: i was in an ice cream commercial when i was 3

aesthetic: not sure. iced coffee, the JR on a starry night, new york when it's raining, middlemist flowers, an empty theater with a ghost light. sinks i guessss

tagging: @happy-emma ,@exhaustedpirate, and any one (like i said let's bull shit together!)

#get to know me #thatmademewant #tagging any one #i got a little carried away with the aesthetic one but i kind of love it #this was funnnn thanks for the tag shan #let's bullshit together #let's be mutuals

10 notes · View notes

storyknitter · 1 year

Text

The Seven Stars Inn

(This originally started as a fluff prompt here, but I’ve updated it since then and expanded upon it, so tadaaa!)

Theron ran the towel over his damp hair one last time, then stretched. The baths at this inn were extravagant and luxurious, especially in contrast to the past week spent sleeping rough on the side of the road.

Worth every coin it had cost—and then some—if you asked him. This was by far the nicest place he had stayed in quite some time.

A soft snore greeted him as he left the bathroom: Vassanna was asleep already? The bed stood untouched, and he turned to find her on the small sofa before the fireplace. She sat reclined, her head tipped back with her long, freshly-washed hair hanging down the back of the couch to dry. A book had fallen to the floor, her place in its story lost.

A frown crossed his features: she’d been exhausted the past few nights, near impossible to wake for her watch, and groggy in the afternoons.

Something was wrong.

He didn’t think she was injured and, based on the precautions they both took, there was no way she could be with child. A trill of fear shot through him at the thought: the last thing anyone needed right now was a little princeling—or a princess—crawling around in a year.

An image, vague and shimmery, of a little girl toddling towards him, with eyes like her mother’s filled his vision. He batted it away, focusing on his concern for the very real woman before him.

Theron sat gingerly beside her, inspecting the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Normally, he requested permission before inspecting someone with his feeble Healing magics, but concern outweighed propriety.

He held his hand above her heart and, after a moment’s hesitation, focused, searching for anything that didn’t belong. Hmm... only a bruise or two, no big internal injuries—and thank the stars for that, because he wouldn’t be able to mend those—and strained muscles from the journey. He found no physical reason she should be this tired.

Magic, then? It had to be.

A stray lock of hair brushed across her face as she breathed; it must have tickled, as her features twitched even in slumber. His fingers moved of their own accord, tenderly sweeping the hair to the side and tucking it behind her ear.

With a sigh, he shifted and slipped his arms beneath her, scooping her up; the bed would be far more comfortable for her than this sofa. Vassanna woke with a start as he stood, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Was I asleep?” she mumbled, confusion written on her features. “‘time is it?”

“It’s time for you to go to bed,” he answered. “The actual time doesn’t matter.”

“But dinner—”

“You can have dinner here,” he said as he laid her on the bed. “I’ll wake you when it arrives.”

“Theron, I’m fine, just a little tired,” she insisted. “Don’t give me that look; we’ve been sleeping on the ground in the fields for a week now and have been on the road for so long.”

“You’re exhausted,” he snapped, gesturing to the book still lying on the floor.

“Well, as far as I’m aware, we have no plans this evening except for a meal, correct?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “Though the innkeeper wanted to talk to you about tomorrow’s meeting.”

Vassanna snorted. “The innkeeper also wants to catch up on all the Sentinel gossip she’s missed out on since retiring and settling down here.”

“She was a Sentinel?” Theron couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice; the teal-skinned Twi’lek behind the bar seemed far too gentle to have lived that life.

“Mhmm. That’s why this is the only inn we’ve stopped at within the borders of Korriban.” A yawn displaced her smirk.

Concern for the innkeeper and her family muted Theron’s voice. “Is it safe for them?” he whispered.

She nodded. “No one here knows. They’ve changed their names and shifted their appearance a bit using magic. Apparently—”

“Hey, wait,” he protested. “You’re changing the subject. Are you sick? Hurt? Why are you so tired?”

Her entire demeanor shifted in the blink of an eye: a frown twisted her lovely features, her posture immaculately straight, chin raised in challenge. “I’m allowed to be tired, my lord,” she bit out. “It’s been a very long week.”

All he wanted was for her to tell him what the hell was wrong: was that too much to ask? In his frustration, he planted his fists on his hips and returned her frown. “You’re far more drained than you should be.”

“According to whom?” she snapped, pulling back the covers and standing toe to toe with him. “Are you my bodyguard? My nursemaid?”

“No, but it seems like you could use one,” he muttered. Stars above, she could be so damned stubborn!

Anger flashed in her violet eyes, like lightning during a summer storm, and he decided a different approach was necessary. Playing on her sense of duty and devotion to him, to his cause, felt dirty, but it would be worth it if he could just get her talking.

“Well, how do you expect to protect me if you can’t even stay awake for dinner?”

Oh, but he was sorely mistaken: he’d pushed too far.

Sanna’s eyes widened in shock, then narrowed. “How dare you!” she hissed. “Do you think I’ve just been napping in the saddle all week? Dozing or flitting off to dreamland? That I haven’t been doing everything in my power to keep you safe while we’re so close to his domain?”

The specter of the Shadow King loomed large in the room, raising the hairs at the nape of Theron’s neck.

“I thought you trusted me to keep you safe; I didn’t realize I had to explain every step I took to do so. But fine,” she said with a snarl, “yes, it’s magic. Would you like all the details, your majesty?”

“No, I trust you; I do. I’m just worried.”

The anger in her eyes melted away, leaving hurt in its place. Stars, he was an ass.

“I will keep you safe, Theron, even if it is the last thing I do.” Her jaw clenched and she swallowed hard. “I swore an oath and I intend to keep it.”

They stood there, silently, neither meeting the other’s eyes. He owed her an apology for casting doubt on her loyalty and skills. Why didn’t he trust her to tell him if she was hurt or not? She was an adult, as well as a frighteningly competent bodyguard.

You’re afraid you’ll lose her, a little voice in the back of his head whispered.

Ignoring that stupid voice that didn’t know at all what it was talking about, he sighed. “That was uncalled for, I’m sorry. I do trust you, very much so, and—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted softly and one could cut the uncomfortable tension between them with a knife.

“Why don’t you rest for a bit?” he murmured sheepishly. “I’ll wake you for dinner.”

With a silent nod, she climbed into the bed, tugging the covers up to her chin and staring at the ceiling.

Gently, carefully, Theron sat on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” he said softly as he cupped her cheek in his palm, “we can talk more later—if you want.” He offered a small smile as a peace offering as he placed his other hand on her forehead. “But for now, rest.” Pulling from his shallow store of magic, he gently nudged her into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Theron sat there for a long moment after her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened out, his hands still cradling her face. He told himself it was to ensure that Vassanna stayed asleep, but if he were honest, he didn't want to let go.

He brushed his thumb along her cheek and the tattoos embossed on her skin. The urge to press his lips to those diamond-shaped marks seized him so strongly that he almost gave in before catching himself at the last moment. What was wrong with him?

Standing abruptly, he stalked to the fireplace to pace until their meal arrived.

————

Hours later, long after the sun had set and the fire died down, their bags lay packed by the door, ready to leave at a moment’s notice should the need arise. Vassanna had slept through it all, waking only for dinner and a short explanation—and a heartfelt and sincere apology from her prince. Theron mulled over her words while he prepared for bed.

We’re trained in whatever aspect of magic comes naturally to us, so we try out many different things as children. My mother’s a Healer, but all my healing tonics made my classmates ill. She had chuckled ruefully. My energies were focused on combat after that.

My sister, she’s a ghost: she can disappear into the shade of a tree and no one would ever see her again if she didn’t wish it. She bends the light around her, somehow. I don’t understand, but it’s impressive.

I can’t hide within the light like her, but I can make myself look... Vassanna had trailed off, a thoughtful look on her features. Inconspicuous, unassuming. I’m still in plain sight, but it’s almost as though people overlook the fact that I’m there.

A yawn had interrupted her explanation. It’s not as natural for me as combat magic, so while I can do it, it’s exhausting. Moreso if I’m trying to keep more than just myself concealed. But seeing as we’re too close to Korriban Hold for my liking, it’s been necessary to keep us safe from notice—or worse.

Back in the present, Theron stretched and yawned. Climbing gently into the bed to not disturb her rest, he chuckled at the loud snore that greeted him.

Vassanna mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, facing him. The covers tangled around her waist and she shivered at their loss, goosebumps skittering across the bare skin of her arm.

With a soft grin, he pulled her side of the covers up, tucking her in, and was nearly lost when she sighed contentedly in her sleep, shifting closer to him. He gently swept the tangled hair from her face, smoothing it back and behind her ear as she did whenever it was loose.

Resting his hand lightly along her jaw, Theron inspected his bodyguard, lover, and—dare he say—his friend. She looked so calm, so peaceful in sleep; carefree, almost. That she would quietly sacrifice so much of herself touched him, twisting something in his chest and making it hard to breathe.

The need to hold her close threatened to overwhelm him. He resisted, however, content to brush his thumb against her cheek instead.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmured.

————

“Vassanna? Sanna, it’s time to wake up.”

The voice in her ear was soft and warm, as comfortable as the bed she lay in.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled. Stars above, she was so tired.

“Sorry, I already gave you as much time as I could. We meet with our informant in forty-five minutes.”

Informant? What was—

Sanna bolted upright with a gasp as she remembered where they were: not far from the lands of Korriban on Theron’s quest to gather support for their rebellion. Sunlight streamed in through the window and birds chirped outside.

“Stars, what time is it?” she asked, anxiously glancing around for the chronometer. “Eleven fifteen!? How long have I been sleeping?”

“Honestly, not as long as you needed, unfortunately. You still feel exhausted. Er, you look like you feel exhausted, I mean.”

“Thanks,” she said drily and he shot her a look.

“You know what I mean.”

Nodding with a small smile, she rose to prepare for their meeting, hurrying into and out of the bathroom. As she rushed to dress, Theron glanced over quizzically.

“Full armor?”

She froze mid-buckle, her leather cuirass slipping slightly as she shrugged. How did she explain that she had a bad feeling about this meeting?

“You don’t think this is a trap, do you?”

Yes. No. Maybe it was simply that she’d overslept and her mind was still foggy. Perhaps she preferred the comfort and safety the armor provided. Sanna sighed.

“Everything is a trap.” She finished buckling her chest piece as she spoke. “Better over-prepared than caught unawares. You should wear your hauberk.”

“I think it would inspire more trust and confidence if we didn’t show up to meet this person armed to the teeth,” Theron said. Before she could open her mouth to argue, he continued. “You should leave your weapons up here.”

“What?”

“Why do you need eight different blades for a lunch meeting? You’re being paranoid.”

“Just in case something—”

“It’s an order, Sanna.”

She stared, open-mouthed. What was he thinking?

“And how, pray tell, am I supposed to protect you with no weapons?”

“You shouldn’t have to. What kind of information-gathering meetings have you been to?”

His question hit her like a slap in the face: he knew what had happened to her the last time an informant had turned, he knew. And the stakes were ever so much higher now than a few Sentinels; the future king’s life could hang in the balance.

But it was an order. So, clenching her jaw so tightly that her teeth creaked, she took up her sheathed swords and placed them on their saddle packs.

(She was briefly impressed that Theron had done such a fine job of ensuring they were ready to leave at a moment’s notice while she was sleeping like the dead, but her irritation and anxiety swiftly swept it away.)

She removed all but two of her throwing daggers and set them beside her swords, grumbling internally about how foolish this was.

“As you say, your majesty,” she bit out, bowing low to Theron.

He sighed. “Sanna—”

“After you, my lord.” She snapped the door open and gestured for him to lead the way, plastering a smile on her face.

Heaving another sigh, he shook his head and walked out the door. She followed, somehow managing to keep herself from slamming it behind her in her frustration.

————

Standing at the bar, Sanna chatted with A’lema, the owner of the Seven Stars Inn—and a former Sentinel.

“I’m assuming you’ve got plans for this meeting?” A’lema asked as she set a pint before Sanna.

“Well, plan A is ‘meet the deserter, gather the information, stay here another night to enjoy the delicious food and warm bed, and then go on our merry way.’ Hopefully, that’s the plan we end up using.”

“And plan B?”

Sanna smiled at her host. “What’s the phrase? ‘You can take the girl out of the Sentinels, but you can’t take the Sentinel out of the girl’?”

“Look, this is my house,” she said, tapping the bar counter, though she returned Sanna’s grin. “I’d like to be prepared if we have to skip ahead to plans B, C, or D.”

“That’s fair,” she replied with a small chuckle. “Plan B is that it’s a trap. Either he’s faking the desertion or he’s been coerced into it. Or he’s simply a pawn and is being followed here by the false king’s men.”

“I can portal you both away if worse comes to worse. Not to Tython—that would be too dangerous this close to Korriban—but somewhere else safe.”

Sanna inclined her head in thanks. “I’ll do my best to keep you and yours out of it; I don’t want to destroy the life you have here.” She nodded towards Theron. “He’s convinced it’s going to be Plan A.”

“And you?”

“I’m prepared for Plan B.” She paused, thinking of all her weapons upstairs, and frowned. “Mostly.”

“I did notice that your swords are conspicuously missing, Guardian.”

“They’re in the room. I might make our contact ‘uncomfortable.’” She managed to keep from rolling her eyes.

“He may be a prince,” the innkeeper said, leaning forward, “but you are his guard. You can veto his rules, you know; you outrank him on the battlefield.”

“It’s not a battlefield yet.”

The door to the inn opened, halting their conversation, and a haggard-looking man matching the description of their contact strode in.

“Ah well. Too late now,” Sanna sighed and turned.

“Hey.”

A’lema’s tone stopped her in her tracks.

“You’ve considered the need for a last-ditch plan?”

It wasn’t technically a plan, per se, but all Sentinels learned that they were part of a larger whole; they served the people of the land before serving themselves. Sometimes a personal sacrifice saved more than was lost, like pruning branches from a tree to see it bloom all the better the next spring.

“I swore to keep him safe until my last breath. I’m no oathbreaker.”

A’lema nodded solemnly. “We’ll get him out of here and to Orgus if need be.”

Sanna glanced back toward the bar. “If need be, I’ll buy you all the time I can. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go join what’s hopefully Plan A.” She saluted with her glass and joined Theron at the table as their contact approached.

At least his all-knowing majesty hadn’t protested against the safety of sitting with their backs to the wall, so they had an advantageous view of the entry. She spent most of the conversation with her focus there, to ensure the soldier hadn’t been followed.

Maybe she was being overly paranoid.

A snap from the fireplace at her elbow drew her focus back to the table. Though Sanna would never admit it to Theron, she would have been cooler and more comfortable without her armor: the cheery fire crackled and glowed, throwing far more heat than she would have expected.

“He’s controlling ‘em somehow,” the deserter said. “My buddy and I had been talking about getting out, heading somewhere we could keep our heads down until making for home, and then he started ignoring me when I’d talk to him about it. I tried one last time to talk him into coming with me today, but he just got all glassy-eyed, tellin’ me King Tenebris was the rightful king and ‘not to presume that there were limits to his power.’ I couldn’t talk any sense into ‘im after that.”

The phrase sent a prickle of fear shuddering down Vassanna’s spine: she’d heard it before, in a time she’d much prefer to forget. “You invited your friend here with you? Today?” She tried to keep her tone even, but based on Theron’s shifting posture, she wasn’t as successful as she’d hoped.

“Yeah. For a minute, I really thought he’d join me and—”

The door to the inn’s common room slammed open and bedlam broke loose. A’lema dropped behind the bar and dashed into the kitchen as a dozen of the Shadow King’s fighters poured into the room, each firing an arrow and nocking another in the space of a breath.

With a curse, Sanna dug deep within, reaching for her pitiful amount of magic. (Her store of magic hadn’t replenished itself as much as she had hoped; it must be their proximity to Korriban and the magics wrought there.) She shoved the defector out of the way and to the side of the room, then tugged at the air, shielding herself and Theron from the arrows hurtling rapidly toward them. The shield wouldn’t hold long—not with the state of her depleted magics—but it bought her enough time to flip the table to its side, providing a far more substantial shelter.

Theron was on the ground, facing away from her, and an arrow whizzed past him, far too close for comfort. She grasped the back of his tunic, yanking him fully behind the table, and froze.

No.

Two arrows with the Shadow King’s black-purple-red fletching had lodged themselves in his chest, sticking out grotesquely, and his features were twisted in pain, eyes screwed shut. She stared in horror, unable to move, to breathe. “No,” she whispered as time slowed to a crawl, the thunk of arrows into the other side of the table drowned out by a woman’s sobs.

She reached out and cradled Theron’s face in shaking hands. “Oh stars, please...”

He grunted in pain, then cracked open his eyes, concern briefly replacing the agony etched there. “No, don’t. Don’t cry,” he murmured. “I’ll be alright; I can Heal myself, remember?”

Another sob escaped and she clamped a hand over her mouth, surprised to find tears on her cheeks. Nodding, she closed her eyes and dashed away the tears, drawing her focus back to the here and now—and the very real danger awaiting them across the room.

Reaching out with a small tendril of magic to see what they were up against, she found the soldiers at the door woodenly preparing another volley of arrows, and nearly two dozen soldiers waiting outside as backup, should the first group fail to take their quarry. Making things worse, every one of them was under the control of the Shadow King.

And here she was with practically no magic left and only two damned knives.

Movement from the bar area caught her attention: A’lema and her wife Pirri were carefully making their way to Sanna’s makeshift shelter. The former Sentinel bore a large shield in one hand, sheathed sword in the other, with a bow and arrows slung over her shoulder.

As soon as the pair made it behind the table, A’lema waved her hand, and blue lights danced through the air before coalescing into magical armored knights, who squared off with the Shadow King’s soldiers. Perri immediately got to work inspecting Theron’s wounds.

“So,” A’lema asked cheerfully, “what plan are we on now?”

The casual question snapped Vassanna out of her panic. “Unclear,” she answered. “There are, however, two dozen more troops outside, waiting. For how long, I’m not entirely sure.”

“Well, shit,” she murmured and fired off an arrow that exploded with a flash, blinding the enemy.

Theron let out a groan of pain as Pirri worked to remove his vest without causing more damage. At a second, calmer glance, the wounds weren’t nearly as bad as Sanna had thought: one of the arrows had hit the muscular part of his upper arm, not his chest. The second was higher up, nearer the collarbone. At least his lungs and heart were safe; the arm would be an easy fix, but the shoulder still had her worried.

“She may not have healing magic, but she’s damn good and has patched me up more times than I can count. Just so you know.”

“Aww, thanks for the compliment, my dearest.”

The banter between the couple warmed her heart. A’lema and Pirri would keep Theron safe; Sanna felt it in her bones. All she had to do was take out enough of the enemy to buy them the time needed to escape.

Resting her hand on A’lema’s arm, she met her gaze. “There are too many of them. I think we may have skipped over the rest of the plans and landed at the last one.”

With a whispered curse, the innkeeper nocked another arrow and sent it flying toward the enemy before handing her sword to Vassanna with a nod. “It may not be your own, but it’s good Tythonian steel. It’ll serve you well.”

“The honor is mine.” She turned to her prince. “Theron, can you walk?”

He glanced over, grimacing. “Yes, but—” He hissed. “I’ll be fine.”

She tilted Theron’s chin up so she could meet his eyes one last time. “Go with them now. They’ll get you back to Orgus.” She kissed his forehead, then picked up A’lema’s sword, testing its weight and heft. “Don’t look back when you go. That’s an order.”

The confusion on his face shifted quickly to understanding, anger, horror. “Absolutely not,” he barked, reaching up with his good arm and grasping her wrist. “We started this together, we’ll— You promised me ‘until the end,’ unless you’ve forgotten.”

Sanna’s stomach twisted and she blinked away the sting of tears again. “We are running out of time. You must go with them: these people cannot lose their king.”

“And I can’t lose you,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

Her eyes grew wide as his words sank in.

“You will not throw your life away today. I won’t—” He stilled, pain stealing his words. “You’re a brilliant fighter and strategist, dammit; come up with something else.” The words came out as a near whisper, but they carried determination and pride.

“Look you two, we don’t have all day,” A’lema muttered. “I’m running out of arrows and they’re running out of patience with my magical decoys, so let’s get moving.”

Pirri finished wrapping a bandage around Theron’s arm; he winced as she tightened the knot. The bloodied arrow lay on the ground and terror tore through Sanna.

“Burn it,” she cried, and Pirri glanced over in confusion. “The arrow. Anything with Theron’s blood on it. Tenebris uses blood magic, and the stars only know what he’d do if he got a hold of that—”

The fire in the hearth roared, blazing with a fury that nearly bowled Sanna over. An old lesson dredged itself from her memory: fire magic was highly effective in neutralizing other forms of magic—especially blood magic.

“Wait,” she breathed as an idea took shape.

There was, unfortunately, a drawback to fire magic: it was incredibly dangerous and difficult to control, and if you lost your hold on the fire, well... a wildfire would blaze through anything in its path, including magic-wielders.

Desperate times, however, called for desperate measures.

“I need you to stall them for a few more minutes. Don’t do anything reckless, but I just need a few minutes,” Sanna said. Setting the sword down, she hurriedly sat in a meditative pose, hands held open before her.

One deep breath to center herself. Then a second.

A third for good measure.

Reaching out toward the fireplace, she beckoned the fire to her hands. Hello there. Come to me, help me. Her instructor had taught her to treat the fire as though it were alive; it would give more respect for the sheer power it held and if one happened to find a Sprite, that would be even better.

Why should I help you? You’re the one who put my family in danger in the first place.

Sanna’s eyes flew open with shock and she stared into the fireplace. Stars above, they had a fire Sprite! If today weren’t already going so horribly, she’d count herself the luckiest person in the lands.

You’re the only one who can help us all, Sanna thought as she closed her eyes again. Fire Sprites hated to be bound against their will, so she felt certain that it would want to destroy any trace of Tenebris’s blood magic. The people attacking us don’t want to be in this situation either. They’re trapped, held captive by the Shadow King.

Her hands tingled with heat and she glanced down to see the Sprite flickering in her hands, leaving sooty trails on her palms.

For the first time since she’d escaped from Arkanis Hold, Sanna purposely dug up all the memories she’d hidden away, safely out of sight. From the seemingly innocent dagger slash across her jaw from one of the soldiers who quickly retreated, to the moment Tenebris cast the spell binding her to his will to, oh stars, all the terrible things she did under his control.

Outrage and disgust radiated from the Sprite as it experienced her memories.

Please help them. Don’t let them have any more memories like this.

Sanna held her breath, uncertain of what would happen next. The glowing fire in her hands had moved past uncomfortable, drawing near unbearable. Sweat beaded on her brow and trickled down her face.

Stars, she was hot.

Yes, it hissed. I will free these people and scorch those who would control the innocent. But what will you give me in return?

Anything I have is yours. She could hopefully summon up enough magic after this to get into the nearest Sentinel safehouse, but that was a problem for the future; she would deal with it then.

One step at a time.

A rasping chuckle echoed through her ears before the fire melted into her hands, searing up her arms and through her chest.

The intense heat was unforgiving, all-consuming, overwhelming; she could barely draw a breath. Shouts echoed through the building, mixing with the screams etched into her memories. Clapping her hands over her ears did nothing to block out the noise.

Just as Vassanna was certain she would burn forever, an icy cold swept through her, sending uncontrollable shivers in its wake. Her teeth chattered; she hugged herself in a vain attempt to stop the trembling.

“Sanna? Vassanna!” Theron’s right hand was clasped tightly around her upper arm, pulling her closer. He tried to reach with his other arm, which was a mistake: blood seeped from the arrow still lodged near his collarbone and he groaned, leaning back against the table with a grimace.

Shifting closer, Sanna cradled his cheeks in her sooty, blackened—yet miraculously unburned—hands. “I’m here.”

“Your nose is bleeding,” he murmured, eyes still closed, and she swiped the back of her sleeve across her face.

“Not anymore.”

He pried one eye open and frowned. “You look like shit.”

A near-hysterical giggle bubbled from her lips. “Thanks, so do you.”

(They both missed the matching eye rolls from their hosts.)

“What about the soldiers? What did you do?”

Oh, stars, what had she done?

A whoop from A’lema drew their attention and Sanna poked her head above the table. To her pleasant surprise, most soldiers strewn across the floor appeared to be breathing still, though there were two piles of dark ash alongside the living bodies.

“Some chose the shackles of your Shadow King in exchange for power over the subjugated,” the Sprite’s voice hissed from the fireplace. “I dealt with them as I saw fit. They would not have gone in peace. The rest will wake soon and leave this place, but the ones who served willingly let their master know that you are here and that my family helped you. He is dispatching more troops to bring retribution upon the Seven Stars. We must leave, permanently.”

Damn.

“Well, at least we keep the important things packed up,” sighed A’lema. “I'll gather what I can; you finish with his majesty, sweet. Sentinel, go prepare for your journey, then you can help me prepare for ours.”

In an exhausted daze, Sanna stood, swaying slightly before stumbling up the stairs to their rented room. She sniffled and tasted the tang of iron as she opened the door. Heading to the bathroom, she quickly washed the blood from her face, but to her dismay, the soot stains left by the sprite were not so easy to rinse away. In growing dread, she removed her bracers and rolled up her sleeves to better scrub away the scorch marks only to discover they climbed up her arms as far as she could see—and no amount of soap or scouring would remove them.

With a sigh, Sanna attempted to make peace with the markings: if they had saved her and Theron, then so be it. She’d carry them as long as they lasted.

Donning her weapons—stars, that made her feel better—she gathered up their saddle packs and made her way downstairs. The horses were quickly tacked up and she turned to help A’lema pack their wagon.

“Do you know where you want the portal to go?” A’lema asked as they heaved a chest into the back. “I’ve only got enough magic left for one, so you’ve got to make it count.”

“What? No, absolutely not,” Sanna said with a shake of her head. “We’ll be on horses; wagons are much slower and you’ll need as much of a head start against the Shadow King’s minions as you can get. You need that portal more than we do. There’s a safehouse not far from here and I need to touch base with Master Orgus after all this anyway.”

“It’s a good half-day's journey from here and our prince isn’t at his prime.”

“We’ll make it. He’ll insist you use the portal for yourselves as well, I can promise you.”

At the innkeeper's dubious look, Sanna continued, taking her hand. “You’ve done far more than was necessary to help us and you’ve lost almost everything because of it. I’m absolutely certain that neither of us wants you to lose any more. And you know the Shadow King isn’t kind to those who support the Shans.”

The threat of the Shadow King’s retribution tipped the scales and A’lema agreed to use the portal for herself—and just in time.

Theron appeared at the door, looking weak and wan but very much alive, supported by Pirri.

“Ready to leave whenever you are,” he said.

#okay so it starts the same #then quickly shifts a bit #knitter writes #medieval fantasy au #MF!AU #OTP: Chips & Guac #i love these mutually pining/protective idiots #I'm pretty sure that bit where he says she looks terrible is my favorite dialogue in the mf!au so far #Theron Shan #Jedi Knight/Theron Shan #(sorta)

22 notes · View notes

jeysbvck · 3 months

Note

You can do it Shan, I believe in you! 🙌

this was in fact the motivation i needed to finish my fic🤭 i just wanted to reply to this after i finished, to say thank you!!😊🥰💙

#shan shouts into the void #wrestlezaynia❤️#i have the best mutuals!!

3 notes · View notes

seishun-emergency · 10 months

Text

Also guys i fuckign missed my one year of playing enstars because i'm a fucking idiot . so. happy late one years to me (jun 21!!!) AND happy 1 year to the day i binged the entire anime in the span of like. one night an dthen two hours the next day (jun 26/27) this is what started me on what is now a year long and counting spiral . i would get emotionally but its 10 am im not awake enough to have emotions yet

#leo composes #I'M. MOSTLY JOKING ABT THAT LAST PART ir eally am soooo grateful for all the friends and mutuals ive made here....#the enstars server shan made....#rae and puddle and reze and khio and everyone i talk to o rmet thru tumblr #running the bigbang has been SO exciting i love. being part of a community and helping that community flourish #enstars has been such a bright spot in what has otherwise been a REALLY hellish year #corny 2 say. or whatever. but its true #not saying enstars saved my life bc it did not. but it did give me a lot to look forward to #a lot of fun things to create! people to meet!#helped me bond more with my qpp since i got them into the game before we started dating LOL #anyways. emotions over i just care a lot abt this idol boy rhythm game and theppl ive met thru it :3

7 notes · View notes

amythehobbit · 6 months

Text

Bought some stuff from Bury Market!

#Mario and sonic at the London 2012 Olympic Games #Nintendo 3DS #retro #retro gaming #Bioshock infinite #funko pop #i follow back #follow for follow #instant followback #looking for friends #wanna be friends?#looking for mutuals #book #Darren Shan #looking for followers #let’s be friends #let’s be mutuals

6 notes · View notes

chaseadrian · 2 years

Note

nina u know i love ur writing and i am in major need of some eddie fluff pls sustain me🙏🥰

hi shannn!!!

we know eddie writes on his hands, but he also writes on your hands. the difference being, he writes stuff like ‘forest @ 415’ or ‘math hw !!!’ on his hand, and nothing but little sentiments on your hand. stuff like ‘i 🖤 u’ and ‘pretty hair today,’ but also just nonsensical scribbles. spirals on the palm of your hand, a stick man on the lower knuckle of your thumb, a skull and crossbones on your wrist. it’s nice to see his thoughts laid out on your skin, even if the thought is ‘i want to draw a spooky tree’

send me a character + fluff, angst, or smut for a hc

#answered*#mutuals!#shan tag #hc game

6 notes · View notes

lurkingshan · 1 year

Text

How many times do I have to see Palm punished because of Nueng’s drama and then watch Nueng stand there and say and do absolutely nothing to defend him because…

#low key hate this dynamic not gonna lie #imo the key to a good whipping boy trope is mutual loyalty and nueng is letting me down so far #he’s not really willing to stick his neck out for palm even in situations where he clearly has power to do so #never let me go #shan shouts into the void

2 notes · View notes

keldae · 5 months

Text

On a small college campus, it didn't take long for rumours to start flying. Naturally, Jonas was the instigator of such things – a little word to Mako that his roommate was seeing a pretty girl, and it became campus news.

Somehow, Xaja didn't notice this.

If she'd been aware of the rumours starting to swirl around her dorm, perhaps she would have been a little less eager to go visit her cute neighbour across the hall. But in her moment of panic, her dismayed screech stifled as her laptop bluescreened, her mind went fairly blank.

“Shit!” Kira exclaimed as she eyed her roommate's computer and the Blue Screen Of Death. “Weren't you in the middle of a paper, too?”

“Yes,” Xaja all but wailed. “And it's the one for Doctor Shan. Fuck me, I need this thing functioning!”

Kira had a thought of someone else who'd probably appreciate that particular invitation more, but kept it to herself. Xaja wouldn't appreciate the teasing about their cute neighbour while in such a moment of panic. “‘Kay, we have a couple neighbours across the hall who are in computer science. Hopefully one of them is home.”

“God, I hope so,” Xaja groaned, unplugging her malfunctioning laptop and getting to her feet. She hurried out of her and Kira's room, knocking frantically on Theron and Jonas’ door. Please, one of you be home… and please, neither of you with ‘company’... She had no interest in interrupting Jonas if he was in the middle of ‘entertaining’ a girl, and the mere idea of Theron being with someone else made a spark of jealousy bloom in her chest.

The door cracked open, and Theron himself poked his head out, confusion in his amber eyes. A second later, he smiled. “Hey there. What's up?”

“Oh, thank God you're here!” Xaja quickly said. “Help!”

Theron's brow creased in a frown. “What's up–?” Xaja turned her bluescreened computer to face him, and his eyes widened. “Oooh shit. Okay, yeah, I can probably fix this. Gimme.” He took the laptop out of Xaja's hands and retreated into the room, holding the door open for her to follow him inside. “Take a seat, this might take a while. Sorry about the mess.”

“I can excuse almost any mess,” Xaja said, relief making her knees weak as she took a seat on the bed Theron pointed to. “I've got two younger brothers, and you're saving my sanity along with my computer.”

Theron shot her a grin. “Okay, yeah, you get it then. Hang tight.” He set the laptop down on his desk and quickly took a seat in front of it, pushing his own computer out of the way. “What were you doing when it died?”

“Working on a paper for the guest lecturer Professor Din brought in this week, and listening to music in the background,” Xaja answered, anxiously watching as Theron forced her computer to a hard restart. “Nothing too strenuous.” She looked up as the door to the shared bathroom opened and Jonas stepped out, yawning. “Hey,” she said in greeting.

Jonas paused, looking back and forth between Xaja and Theron. “Am I interrupting anything?” he asked, a slow grin on his face. “I can go…”

“Nothing like that,” Theron growled out, although Xaja noted his ears were starting to turn red. “I'm tech support today.” He pressed a key, booting into what Xaja thought was the BIOS of her laptop. “Okay, baby, what's going on with you…” he murmured.

“Tech support?” Jonas asked, tilting his head as he sat down on his bed.

“Blue Screen Of Death,” Xaja answered. “And I have a paper due tomorrow for Doctor Shan!” She didn't notice Theron do a slight double-take at the mention of the guest lecturer.

Jonas winced in sympathy. “Worst timing! Isn't she that guest speaker Professor Din brought in this week?”

“The very same,” Xaja confirmed. “And she's rewarding a bursary for the best paper, and I could really use that bursary…”

“No pressure,” Theron absently said, still fussing with the BIOS of Xaja's laptop. “I'll get your computer back up and cooperating. Don't you worry.”

“Pretty sure he'll put in a good word for you with Doctor Shan too,” Jonas added with a grin. “If he ever accepts that invitation of hers to go for lunch.”

Xaja paused, frowning. “Why would Doctor Shan be inviting you for lunch, Theron?”

Theron looked up from the laptop to scowl at Jonas (who just grinned cheerfully back), then sighed. “She, uh… she's my bio-mom.”

Xaja felt her eyes widen comically. “Doctor Shan is your mom?”

“What, you never connected ‘Theron Shan’ with ‘Doctor Satele Shan’?” Jonas asked with a smirk.

“In all fairness, ‘Shan’ is a super common name,” Theron pointed out. “And I don't think I look a ton like her.”

“Hmmm.” Xaja looked at Theron (or rather, at the back of his head and shoulders), putting the mental image of his face beside the memory of Doctor Shan's. “She mentioned she had a son attending here, but she didn't say it was you…”

“Our relationship is… complicated,” Theron admitted. “She didn't come back in the picture until I was in high school – my grandfather raised me. She was too busy with all her international work to do more than send birthday and Christmas gifts for most of my childhood.”

“... I feel like I just broached a sensitive subject,” Xaja slowly said. “Sorry – I didn't realize it was a touchy subject.”

Theron shrugged. “You didn't know. Don't get me started on my bio-dad – he didn't know I existed until last year.”

“That was a whole thing,” Jonas agreed. “Nice guy, your dad, but he low-key intimidates me. So does your mom, come to think of it. How did you not inherit ‘mildly intimidating’ from either of your parents?”

Theron flipped Jonas off without looking at him. “I swear I'll sign you up for some obscure fetish email list again.”

“Rude.” Jonas stood up, dramatically throwing a hand over his brow. “I can tell when I'm not wanted.”

“Unless you're helping fix this bluescreen,” Theron growled out, “kindly fuck off with your helpful commentary?”

“Fine, then I will. Maybe I'll go out for lunch with your mom instead.” Jonas pulled his shoes on and started heading for the door. “Since her only son doesn't seem interested in seeing her…”

“You are not going out for lunch with my mother!” Theron snapped. “Can't you go find a freshie to hit on or something?”

“You spoil all my fun,” Jonas complained. “Xaja, tell him he's a killjoy!”

“Don't you go dragging me into this!” Xaja yelped, looking back and forth between Jonas (who looked entirely too pleased with this situation) and Theron (who had turned to give Jonas a murderous glare).

“Come on,” Jonas cajoled. “Doctor Shan's hot, isn't she?”

“Theron's being nice enough to fix my computer,” Xaja retorted. “Of course I'm going to side with him – no hitting on his mom! Besides, Doctor Shan isn't my type.”

Theron twisted around in his chair to give Xaja a grin, one that made her heart race a little bit. “Knew I liked you for a reason,” he said, winking at her before turning back to the laptop.

Jonas dramatically sighed and sauntered toward the door. “You two are made for each other. I'm gonna go find something to do – have fun!”

Not wanting to admit how her heart sped up even more at Jonas’ comment about her and Theron being made for each other, Xaja watched as the other student left, then looked back at Theron. “If you decide to strangle him, I can help hide the body. I watch enough true crime shows...”

A snorted laugh came from the computer. “I'll bring the shovel and tarps, you get the ropes and scout out a good location to dump him. But the first priority is fixing your computer. We can plot murder after.”

Xaja grinned, then got up from Theron's bed, stealing Jonas’ desk chair and dragging it over to sit beside him. “Sorry if I'm interrupting your own studying with this.”

“Don't worry about it,” Theron quickly assured her. “I'd rather be doing you a favour than working on Doctor Trant's coding project.” He shot her a grin. “I still owe you one for letting me sleep on your floor the other week.”

“We're even now,” Xaja laughed. “At least until the next time Jonas kicks you out for the night.”

“Which will hasten his demise,” Theron muttered. “Okay, I'm going to run a couple of processes that'll take some time, but should recalibrate the glitch that gave you the BSOD…”

For a second, Xaja thought she could quite literally kiss Theron for fixing her computer. But wait, that would be entirely too forward of her to do that. He hadn't said anything that made her think he was interested in her in that way – and a handsome, charming, endearingly awkward guy like him? There was no way he was single. No, kissing him was entirely out of the question. So she instead settled for beaming at him. “You're a literal lifesaver, Theron. Thank you!”

The grin she got back sent butterflies rushing through her stomach. “Anytime.”

***

Jonas barely waited for Kira's “Yeah?” after he knocked on her door before letting himself into the room across the hall, inelegantly flopping into what had to be Xaja's desk chair. The taller redhead looked up from her textbook. “Theron gets to be the hero of the day? Or is he gonna make Xaja actually cry for her computer?”

“Theron's got an uncanny touch with making BSODs fix themselves. I'm sure he'll get Xaja's laptop fixed up. Maybe she'll kiss him out of gratitude and he'll figure out she likes him.” Jonas grinned impishly at Kira's snort. “I'm a closet romantic at heart, what can I say?”

“You're also delusional. I've known Xaja long enough to know she's so chicken with making moves on cute guys – and she definitely thinks he's cute.” Kira smirked. “Unless Theron charges for his tech support in kisses or dates, she'll never make a move on him.”

Jonas groaned. “And Theron doesn't want to girlfriend-zone a girl he likes as a friend, even if he's pining for her. Maybe I should threaten to hit on her if he doesn't make a move…”

“I think they'd both kill you,” Kira laughed. “I'll keep trying to encourage her to flirt with him. He can't be so oblivious that he misses a pretty girl hitting on him, right?”

“You haven't known Theron long enough if you think that.” Jonas sighed, then dug his phone out of his pocket and texted Thexan. <Can you be a creep for a second?>

Thexan's response came back a minute later. <Whyyyy…?>

<... You're asking me to go listen for sex noises from the bathroom? Are you for real?>

Thexan's response took a few minutes longer. <Invoked ‘older twin’ rights and made Arcann do it. He says ‘fuck you’, and also he heard nothing but Theron trying to explain computer shit to Xaja.>

Jonas sighed in annoyance at his oblivious (or chicken-shit) roommate. <Thanks.> That done, he looked up at Kira and shook his head. “Well, so much for leaving them alone. The twins didn't report anything happening that they heard.”

“You planning on just hanging out in here while waiting for those two to be done?” Kira asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nope. I'm going to utilize some drastic measures.” Jonas stood back up. “Doctor Shan is still getting meals at the cafeteria with the rest of faculty, right?”

“Yeeeeeessss?” Kira slowly answered, tilting her head.

“Excellent.” Jonas grinned and turned for the door. “Don't tell Theron, but I'm gonna get his mom involved in this.”

“Doctor Shan is Theron's mom?” Kira blinked, then shrugged. “Yeah, okay, I can see it.” She looked over at Jonas as he started opening the door. “You know he's gonna kill you if he finds out, right?”

“What he doesn't know won't hurt me,” Jonas called back, waving over his shoulder and smirking as he left the room. “Toodles!"

“... Did you just say ‘toodles’?” Kira asked incredulously as the door closed behind Jonas, saving him from having to answer her. He chuckled, then started sauntering down the dorm hallway. Doctor Shan was a very diplomatic sort, from what he'd heard and seen of her. Maybe she could help drop Theron some subtle hints.

And if not… well, this would still be entertaining as hell for Jonas, and the rest of the dorm.

#kel writes #theron/xaja #swtor #college!AU #theron shan #xaja #jonas balkar #in which Jonas is not nearly as helpful as he pretends he is #but he definitely ships it #so does everyone else on campus #mutually pining idiots #xaja is oblivious #BSODS: unintentional wingmen

10 notes · View notes