#but had less defenses and crumbled in about as much time

[cattatoir]

What if we were two supernatural beings from diametrically opposed factions, neither of which encouraged or explained true agency or emotional maturity, and we spent millennia building a rapport with each other and slowly committing acts closer to our unspoken shared cause rather than our factions’ and our only defense was the semblance of antagonism and dedication to our factions’ aesthetics and ideals until we had to speedrun acknowledging our true feelings and ideals under pressure from an almost almighty being who’d carefully reviewed all our interactions before engaging us?

[n0tamused]

Hello! may i request a dr ratio fic where he randomly turns into an owl and now reader has to find a way to turn him back into a human, while reader finds a way, they take care of dr. owltio! its basically your typical "oh no my s/o turns into something and now i have to deal w it!" fanfic😭🙏 Ive seen silly tiktoks of veritas being an owl bc it resembles him so well🥹💗

A/n: I love those tiktoks sm bro 😭 They're so cute, I went to work on this as soon as I could. I hope I did this prompt justice, enjoy!

Contents: Veritas Ratio x GN! Reader, fluff, Owltio!

Words: 2465

“Quit your back talking” you scold, voice sharp as you whip around to glare at the bird on the table. Poised even in this fragile form, the big owl straightened its back, standing a little taller and letting out an accusatory ‘whooo’ at you. Despite the mild irritation you felt, from almost hearing all he had to say in your mind in human tongue from his irritation of being turned into this, you couldn’t help the way your face crumbled into a grin. Lifting a hand to rub the bridge of your nose, you take a moment to simply breathe and bask in the irony of the situation you find yourself in. Cackling you shook your head, trying to hide your amusement behind your hand, but the sound already reached the bird’s ears and he was already sauntering over to the edge of the desk as if to scold you for ‘not taking this seriously enough’. 

More coos came from him as you offered no response, but this time much less sharp but more defeated as his big wings stood half outstretched - it’s not everyday one gets turned into an animal, and Veritas was certainly not adapting swiftly to the clumsy yet deadly feet of this avian. His walk was awkward as he shuffled across the desk, his feathery back now turned to you as he looked for something.

Audibly letting out a soft ‘awh’, you approach the desk again, muttering an apology to him. Your words are met with his head spinning around to look at you 180 degrees, cartoonishly funny and beyond amusing. “I’m sorry alright.. No need to go  sulking about. Doubt you’d be able to do much like this anyway, and goodness knows I’d burn in hell if I just left you- leaving you like this'' you cackle a little as you reach out to rub the top of his head. He ducks away, so you leave him be. “I will help you out, okay? We’re in this together, but you’ll have to be a little more cooperative with me, Veritas”

He looks at you, clicking his little beak as he swishes his way to another corner of the desk, flapping his wings, and only then do you realize just how hot it was in the room, a warm breath of air making the layers of clothes stick to you like second skin. It must be no better for him with all those feathers. “Lucky you, I’m off work for the rest of the day. How about we get you a bath, hm?”

 Just like before, the owl’s head turned around, but this time its big eyes looked at you in a way they appeared to praise you for such a fantastic idea. Ever the person to not ask for help, had you not asked, the owl would have stayed here to swelter in the heat. “You like that, hm?” you coo at him, unable to hold back the mirth you found in the way he behaved - it is still a mystery for how long he’ll stay in this form, so it’s best to enjoy every moment while you could.

“Sometimes I wonder if you love those baths more than you even love me” you say out loud, holding your arm outstretched so the big bird can hop onto your forearm, you see it’s feathery ears perking, and another angry 'hooooo' went flying out from him, his chest puffing out in defense, scolding you for even posing such a stupid statement while he can’t verbally refute it. Sure, the doctor never directly spoke of his affections for you, but it should be without a doubt he favors you in more ways than one, and he definitely loves you more than his baths.

Nonetheless, you respond to his noise with a small smile as you carry him to the bathroom, a low hum coming forth from your throat as the silence due to the absence of his voice feels odd. You never realized before how much his voice filled your every day, specifically at home, although the silence between the two of you as you relaxed or went about your own thing wasn’t rare either. 

As the water began to fill the tub, Veritas found his purchase on one edge, watching as the water swirled inside, cool and radiating, tempting him to simply hop in right away. Not wanting to risk him drowning, you stopped the water from filling the tub whole, leaving enough water for him to sit comfortably in. “You need help getting in?” you asked as you looked at the big owl who, without a word(well, sound), hopped into the water, big wings spreading across as much as the tub would allow them to go. Water engulfed him from all sides as he splashed and dove his head swiftly underneath the water before coming up to shake the water off his face. Chuckling, you crouched down and rested your arms on the edge, one arm extending lower so the fingers could touch the water and flick some water on your beloved lover-turned-bird.

“WHOO” he says, a light gurgle in his howl as water splashed into his beak, prompting him to give a fast shake of his head. Now soaked and finally cool, he let his wings simply hang in the water with only his head bobbing on the water’s surface. It was like a purr, his next sound, a soft little ‘huuuu’ as he let his big eyes fall shut as the coolness licked up his feathers.

“I suppose this will have to become the new routine, until we can get you to turn back, that is” you comment as you look around for that one thing you never saw Ratio’s bath go without. The little duck floatie wasn’t too far off, standing on one of the shelves beside the bathtub, watching over the precious bathtub like a little guard before you retrieved it to sit beside Veritas. He looked at the duckie, which looked much bigger than he remembered, then up at you, then back at the duckie’s googly eyes. A sigh followed as the bird went back to cleaning himself off, his tail flicking back and forth, spraying water at you. 

Holding up your hand over your face in a frail attempt to shield yourself didn’t deter Veritas from subtly (but not so subtly) trying to splash you with the cool water. From the flap of his wings and down to the swish of his big tail, the water came flying at you. You laugh after the initial splash hits you, in disbelief at his action but no less happy to see it happen. And in retaliation, you cup your hand in the water and splash him back. “Don’t spray your water at me, you reek, you big bird!” you tease, earning a rather alarmed look from the bird before he dove down under the surface, fluffing his feathers as he came onto the surface to ruffle them. He yelled at you, bopping over to where you were and nudged at your hand. 

“You want me to wash you?” you guessed, and you guessed right as the next cry was more urgent as he extended one clawed leg up to grab around your fingers and draw you in. “Oh, yes, we can’t have you stinking up the place, no sir. If we do, then who’s to say we won’t have someone knocking on our doors to ask about the smell” you keep up your playful demeanor, fully knowing you will earn another earful from Veritas once his beak is turned back to human mouth. You giggle nonetheless, reaching your hand to begin and rub into his feathers. “I should go get you some bird-safe soap too, I don’t want to risk it with the soap we have” You tell him, and he seems understanding enough, a soft coo meeting your ears as a reply.

So many thoughts swirled in your head as you thought of the way you carefully had to handle his wings and the ways to help him turn back to his normal self. Ideas fell short from reality, sending you back to square one. Bringing this situation up to some of the higher ups at the Intelligentsia Guild seemed as the most plausible idea, while simultaneously being something that would most likely earn dislike from your lover here. While you took time to think of possible ways to help him, you could only hope that prolonged transformation like this had no dire side effects.

Three days flew by quickly. Books piled up on your desk and around the house, and the Guild has provided quite some solutions to your little problem - they were eager to get the genius back in their midst, but you only wanted to get Veritas out of this form. 

The weird food concoctions you had to feed the poor man(bird) made you feel sick, but he took it like a champion, only sighing, inhaling and then eating the food. Sometimes he’d fly around the rooms to get his exercise in, or to distract himself from the horrid tasting food; sometimes he’d wait for you around the kitchen to give him a sweeter tasting thing to cleanse his pallet, and other times he’d simply nap. You found out he slept a lot during the day, reminding you of cats. Your own sleeping schedule had gone to ruins and that was no fault of his - you simply wanted to help him where you could and spend time with him, entertaining him or feeding him. 

Yet, you couldn’t deny that the poor sleep has quickly caught up to you as you stifle another yawn. Now it was your time to relax in the bath, and the water did wonders to your muscles and mind alike. Suds slid down your neck and dipped back into the water as you sat down the scrubby sponge down aside in favor of resting, submerged up to the chin in the bubbly water.

No wonder he liked baths so much, you think, mind blanking otherwise. A distant flutter barely made your mind perk, until the small clink of claws on the bath’s edge had you flinching. 

“Veritas!- Didn’t I say that you should at least chirp if you fly towards me” With a small sigh you relax again. For all his big wings, he still flew as silently as the breath of the breeze.  You’d never get used to it. “Do you need anything, I'm afraid I can't help you right away, I’m a bit busy now” you mutter, your lower lip touching the water before you tilt your head up at him. His owlish eyes looked at the water, then at you, before he performed a small hop, landing on your knees that barely touched the surface of the water. “Want to join me, huh..? You know, you really shouldn’t, this isn’t that bird shampoo I bought for you” Veritas puffs his feathers in defiance, noting how the water was now deep, but with you a breath away, he let himself fall in. The suds rising and sticking to his feathers.  He cooed and squawked, flapping his wings and splashing the water. 

You quickly dipped your hands underneath, finding his clawed feet and offering him purchase so he doesn’t struggle, even if his big wings did a great job at keeping him afloat. There could never be a lack of caution, 

“Ratioooo” you whined, frowning and preparing to give him an earful before the weight in your hands grew tenfold, a sudden flicker and a flash of light blinding you to what actually happened in that fragment of a moment. Gasping you felt some water splash into your nose and mouth, the chemical taste of soap making your frown and hiss while the water being splashed over the floor alarmed you to no end.

“Ow-!” you winced, pulling your hands back from underneath the weight. Coughing resonated in the room, and this time it didn’t come from you.

“Veritas!?” Without even seeing him you recognized him, the mere sound of his coughs being enough to make your heart spring with mirth and a sense of triumph. You pushed back, the bathtub suddenly becoming too crowded, and looked up at him. Water dripped down his body, and before he could reply, his knee caught onto the slippery side of the tub, gravity pulling him down into the water and over you. Water splashed more, but you could only open your arms to catch him.

One had slipped underneath you, holding your upper back while the other held onto the edge of the tub to keep himself from falling any lower. He cleared his throat, blinking the water from his eyes. As you cheered his name and held him so closely, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, his cheeks struggling to fight the blush from rising up to them. Despite the initial shock and a wave of frustration that the soapy water caused by irritating his eyes, he couldn’t help but bask in the pure mirth you oozed. A childish joy that could stifle even his irritation - especially his. 

“VERITAS!” You cheered, all fatigue leaving your body as you held him again, your fingers not meeting the feathers but smooth and wet skin of his muscled back. His wet hair stuck to his forehead and a few stray hairs poked at his eyelids until he pushed his hair back. His mind reeled at the sudden loss of his much lighter form, and far more complicated one. Although he yearned to be human again for all the time he spent in his owl form, now he found it weird to feel fingers at the ends of his arms again. But what he had missed the most was this hold around his shoulders. 

“IT WORKED! You’re back, finally!” Your voice rang in his ears, reminding him of the ugly taste on his tongue and the shame he felt when you brought him into the HQ of the Guild, him perched on your shoulder and standing taller than the others - as always. 

“I told you- I-” he sputtered, but only groaned as words failed to form on his tongue. Has he gone mute from only cooing and howling?  “Pftt..” he chuckled, low and raspy as he pushed himself back, reeling you back with him to properly sit in the bath. He watched you lean back for only a few moments, your big smile forming the apples of your cheeks while your wet palm cupped his cheek. It made his breath hitch, and he’d be damned to admit, but he was sure his heart skipped a beat as well. Not wasting another moment, he pulled your back into his embrace, his face hidden away over your shoulder.

“You’re enjoying this far too much” Veritas spoke, even as a smile stretched across his features.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[heartfullofleeches]

best friend yans partner making reader cry and yan realizes that it’s not their arms that reader runs to for comfort anymore🫢

You're happy for them.

In the beginning, it was just you and them. Growing up, they had always been a quiet kid. Clung to the hip of the first person who gave them the time of day. You didn't regret your decision then and you don't now. The years you had together were some of the best and you could only wish them happiness going forward. You were so proud of them for building the courage to broaden their friend group... You only wish they let new people in without shutting the old out.

You promised yourself you wouldn't cry when you found out you had to share them with someone else. You promised you wouldn't cry when they cancelled plans to focus on their new relationship. You promised you wouldn't cry when they finally replied to all your calls and texts just to put an end to your life long friendship.

You don't blame them for saying goodbye. It'd hurt less if they had done it in person, but you're adults now - friendships and silly promises are secondary when you've found true love. That's what they said this was in their final message to you- and so you believe them. Won't have much time for movie nights and hanging out like you used to while they're building a life with someone else, so you were bound to drift apart anyway. Everyone always said a bond like yours would stand the test of time, but clearly they were wrong. The best thing you can do for them and yourself is keep your chin high and swallow the tears. As much as it hurts, you won't cry. You won't cry.

"Ugh.. are you are stalker now? It's kind of pathetic for you to cling onto someone you never dated When will it get through your thick skull - they don't need you anymore."

You won't cry. It was pure coincidence that you ran into them again. It makes sense after all the time you've spent together the places you frequented would align. Your old best friend and their new lover had taken a trip to the mall on the day your new acquaintance had taken you to your old stomping grounds to cheer you up. Their partner was like a vulture - watching you from afar and awaiting the second you both were alone to strike. Honestly, it seemed like they didn't even notice you which only teared down another layer of your fragile defense. You want to go home, but you had to wait for your companion. Unlike others - you'd never leave anyone behind.

"They told me all about what it was like when you were younger. How you sucked up every minute of their time and made every thought they had all about you. You're honestly disgusting, you know that?"

Your throat tightens as you're backed into a metaphorical corner. That's not true. You tried to be there for them. They're the one that rejected everyone that wasn't you. Is that really how they viewed you? How they felt about you? Sharp intakes of air build up to the first exasperated wail that rips itself from you. It all crumbles from there. Tears pour from your tired eyes and spent heart. You try so hard to keep it in, wiping at your face and muffling your cries with quivering lips - but they only flood harder. Your aggressor attempts to flee from the scene of the crime as two pairs of footsteps quickly approach.

"Y/n?....."

"Y/n!...."

Sneakers squeak along the mall floor as one sprints to your side, going out of their way to jam their elbow in the ribs of your aggressor as they squeeze past them to get to you. The other stands stagnant as their lover nears - watching as you fall weightless into their arms. They draw back the foot pointed in your direction at first witness to your cries.

"Baby, what happened! Are you okay? This is why I told you to come into the store with me. Calm down, breathe. It's okay. I'm here."

Soft fingers brush away your tears. They dry quicker against someone else's skin. Your head falls to their chest, ears tuned to the gentle beat of their heart to calm the frantic beats in your own. Your companion takes their hand in yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as you follow their instruction and breathe in slowly.

"That's it.... I'm right here. I'll always be right here for you."

Their words are like a dagger to those unfortunate to listen. A blade dug deeper by your redden eyes and the small smile that forms as you gently squeeze your savior's hand. Once upon a time, it was their hand you held when at your worse - just as yours had pulled them out of the wreck their life was before they meet you. You used to be each other's shoulder to cry on. Safe houses from a world that never understood you or bothered to care. They long for that moment in time, but in that instance it all felt too perfect. If they hadn't let you go and found comfort elsewhere they'd only hurt you in the end - crush and buried beneath the weight of the ever-changing, conflicting tide of their feelings for you.

Laughter draws them back to the cruel reality they now face as punishment for their selfish decision.

"I'm fine now - I swear!"

"Nope! Since you won't tell me what's wrong, we ain't stopping until you're all smiles. We're going to hit up every store in this mall until it closes and you find something that completely takes your mind off whatever got you down. As your new best friend, it's my duty to make sure your heart is in good shape.... So I can steal it later on."

"You're such a dick...." Nudging their arm with your elbow, you giggle - then sigh. "Well, if you're paying, I guess I can't complain. Best be on our way then."

A passing glances comes not from you, but from the victor of this scenario. Your new best friend locks an arm around your waist, placing a kiss to your hair before mouthing a single word over your shoulder.

"mine."

A hand reaches out as you disappear into the crowd. It's falls not into the grasp of the one its heart truly desires, and instead into the iron grip of the person they chose as a cheap imitation.

"Can you believe those two?"

".... I'm going to fucking kill that bastard."

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hi! I love your interpretation of the yan batfam so much bdnfbfkjfnd I was wonderong how you think Dick and/or Jason would react to a rather compassionate batsis?

She's definitely not on board with their obsession but she can understand where their coming from and gives them like ACTUAL compassion.

Ik you said Dick enjoys having a positive image in front of others most of all his younger sister, so how would he react to her seeing his flaws but still, being kind? Jason strives to be "normal", so much so he spirals sometimes, but like what would knowing/experiencing genuine closeness (not pity or false pretenses) change?

Idk if either of them would redeem their bad habits, but am curious to know what being truly seen and accepted would do to them, especially by someone they care about so much. The bats can have their walls pretty high up after all

A/N: sorry about the late responses. I've been out of it the past few days.

context dick context jay

Okay so when you are dealing with yanderes... you are dealing with extremely unstable people. There are so many ways thus could go but here's just one

Dick

Maybe your compassion makes Dick chill out a bit with his unhealthy tendencies. I think initially he'd still be uncomfortable and bothered that you can see right through him. You can see all his flaws and you don't revere him like the others which is bad. It will still anger him and he'll try manipulating you into loving him like everyone does at first.

A heart to heart with him could work. You acknowledge you know he's crumbling and has really horrible coping mechanisms but that doesn't mean that you don't love him. That you respect him even more because you see just how much passion he puts into everything that he does. It isn't his fault he craves so much validation when he had the upbringing he had but he doesn't have to pretend to be someone he's not to please you. That even if he doesn't smile as much or be selfish sometimes that you won't love him any less. You give him a space to be authentic with you with no judgment.

"erm,,,okay. I'll keep that in mind."

He's a bit taken back by it and doesn't know how to exactly process what you just said. I've mentioned before that he doesn't exactly know how to just be himself because for most of his life he was always being someone that others needed.

He's still on guard for a while. He will dip his toes in the waters by maybe not smiling as much with you or rescheduling your hang out session to go out on a date just to see your reaction. Did you truly mean it when you said he was allowed to be selfish? He was fully expecting you to hate him but seeing just how unbothered you were made him go...oh!

I think this shifts his obsession with you. He's still very much yandere but i think he's much more child-like ? I mean Dick still is obsessed with you and all that jazz but before, he wanted to be the best older brother/father figure. His happiness was dependent on how much you needed and revered him. But now you're becoming his safety blanket for when he's stressed, tired or upset. WIth you he can just lay on your shoulders without speaking and you won't even mind. He can be kind of assholey or dark and you will understand he's just in a mood and what he says never leaves the two of you. You won't take away your compassion or love based on how he acts...the first non-transactional relationship he's ever truly and it's pretty great. He finally feels like a brother and not like he's playing house anymore.

Don't get me wrong, he's still your older brother who gets on your nerves but there's just this mutual appreciation there that lacks with the others.It's clear to the others that he loves you just a bit more than the rest. When it's movie/game nights, he will allow you to sit it out or not tag along to restaurants. He's very protective and defensive over you. He doesn't feel as much of a need to do all that stupid crap with you because if he wanted your time, he could have a peaceful moment on the rooftops with you instead.

Jason

Hmm..i think Jason will just always feel a bit outcasted. There are plenty of people who do care about Jason in the comics but it's hard to relate to someone who's been through what he's been. It's just so unique to him. He knows you don't truly understand what it's like to have spirits of the Lazarus haunting you in your sleep. He knows that you cannot feel the pain of being replaced by someone you're now forced to see as a brother.

When i wrote my last piece a few people took it as me saying the reader found Jason to be odd. Really what it was is that Jason put those thoughts into his own head because he internalized the joke because of his own insecurities. The reader was perfectly fine with Jason being a little off...it made sense as he would've just come back from being dead and is trying to find a bit of normalcy.

It's funny though because while he's trying to be "independent" it's painfully clear he's still very much attached to you and is still unknowingly mimicking you.

I think though if reader sat down with Jason and explained he doesn't need to change or be "normal" because you love him the way he is, maybe he will relax a bit. But i think there would always be voices in Jason's ears telling him he needs to be perfect. My version of jason is around 20-ish year old who is a bit emotionally stunted and disoriented because he's just coming out of the pit. After a few years of being integrated back into the family he'll understand that you actually do love him as a brother and he serves a great purpose even if that purpose doesn't look the same as Dick's.

[cookiekissers]

Good time steemed folk! If it isn't much of a bother may i request a yandere ananas dragon cookie x reader both being hcs and little bit of a drabble please? (They're my favorite dragon and they barely have any fics, much less any male reader fics😔)

[Yandere Ananas Dragon x Male Reader]

[Short Fic + HCs]

[HCS]

Ananas Dragon Cookie is very protective of you, like they are with all the Cookies who inhabit their island, but it's very clear that you are special.

They tend to keep their distance from you so that it's not totally obvious they're interested in you, but they're always watching.

Because of this, Ananas visits your tribe a lot more often to check up on you, but excuses the frequent visits as them wanting to bask in the Cookie's admiration and worship.

However, Ananas Dragon Cookie quickly can't handle the distance between you two even with daily visits. They often spiral when alone in their nest thinking about what you may be doing without them, who may be talking to you, or who may be touching you.

With Ananas being so prideful, these kinds of thoughts drive them insane. They view themselves as the only one worthy of your attention and affection. When they visit the tribe, they will become highly defensive of you when they perceive any Cookie as getting a little too close or friendly with you as a slight towards them.

Ananas Dragon Cookie hasn't confessed their feeling yet, but they already see you as theirs. Their mate.

So expect Ananas to be much more physical with you than anyone else. This is the dragon's way of subtlety marking you with their scent, and telling others that you are taken. (But this is something only other dragons and non-Cookies can pick up on. You are none the wiser.)

Because Ananas Dragon Cookie has picked you as their mate, they will be 10x more protective. Any Cookie who gets too close to you will suddenly be punished by Ananas for messing with what's his.

These punishments will range from a mild slap on the wrist to more harsh punishments. Ananas won't crumble anyone, because they still care for the Cookies on their island, but they will make it clear that no one is to mess with you.

Despite how possessive Ananas is over you, they still don't want to be seen fraternizing with Cookies. So Ananas will often request (aka demand) you, and only you, come to his palace to spend time with them, usually under the guise of giving offerings or doing work for them.

That's when the gifts start to roll in. Ananas will start to shower you with treasures from their hoard. Gold coins, jewelry, relics, trinkets, you name it! Only the best for their mate.

These gifts are another way of them marking you, so anytime you wear something they gifted you, Ananas will puff up their chest and be so smug about it.

The final, and most important gift, comes in the form of a single golden scale. Ananas Dragon Cookie is very prideful, so to give a piece of themself to a Cookie is a big deal and a high honour. You have no idea, but this is essentially a marriage proposal. When you innocently accept the gift, your fate has been sealed.

[ONESHOT]

It was another beautiful day in your paradise of an island home. Things around your village had become more active once the Golden Dragon had begun to visit more often.

It was exciting. Ananas Dragon Cookie was usually pretty solitary and only came down from their nest to check in on the tribe once in a while. So everyone was in a bright mood, Artichoke Cookie played their drums happily, adding to the lively nature of the village.

You were busy gathering fruit for Ananas Dragon Cookie's offering. Sorting through the baskets of produce, you carefully pick out the sweetest and ripest fruits that the tribe had grown and gathered. You added flowers you knew the dragon favoured, and included some pretty shells you had collected from the beach by your home. This offering basket was a special one, as it was a personal thank you from you to Ananas Dragon Cookie for being so generous lately.

Recently, the Golden Dragon had been spending a lot of time with you and gifting you amazing treasures from their hoard. You didn't know what brought on this sudden change in the dragon but your heart fluttered in your chest at each and every gesture. It seemed you had somehow become Ananas Dragon Cookie's favourite, and they had specifically requested that you be the one to handle and bring their offerings to their nest from now on. You couldn't help when your face flushed at the thought of the handsome, strong Ananas Dragon Cookie paying you any kind of attention. They had started becoming affectionate with you when the other tribe's Cookies weren't watching not too long ago. Remembering how the dragon Cookie had pulled you away from the village to embrace you in secret, made your heart skip. The thought of being able to spend extra time with Ananas Dragon Cookie again that day filled your heart with giddiness and you rushed to finish your gift.

The basket was heavy with all the tribute, but you lugged it up the temple steps leading to Ananas Dragon Cookie's palace with determination.

Torches by the entrance flickered and wavered in the wind as you entered the nest. The walls and floor were golden polished stone and the hall in front of you branched off into a maze of different corridors. A long diamond-patterned rug led you to Ananas Dragon Cookie's throne room, where the dragon stalked back and forth seemingly agitated. The Gold Dragon's tail spiky scaled tail lashed back and forth.

"Ananas Dragon Cookie!" You called, announcing your presence. At the sound of your voice, Ananas Dragon Cookie perked up. Their wings opened with a loud swoop and they swiftly flew towards you, gracefully landing in front of you.

"There you are, what made you keep me waiting?" Ananas Dragon Cookie grumbled in displeasure. You peeked up at them bashfully over the basket.

"I wanted to make sure this offering was perfect, " you replied shyly. Ananas Dragon Cookie's grumpy expression slowly melted away. They glanced down at the basket in your arms, filled with fresh flowers and fruits. Oh, they had almost forgotten your visits were mainly to supply offerings.

"I understand. Next time, don't be late." Ananas Dragon Cookie said coolly. You nodded your head eagerly.

You gasped suddenly as the Ananas Dragon Cookie scooped you up in their arms and, using its strong wings, glided to its throne. With a gentle touch, they sat down, crossed their legs, and rested you on their lap, holding you close in the warmth of their embrace. You still clutched onto your tribute basket, trying to hide your flushed face.

Ananas Dragon Cookie noticed the way you were eyeing them and smirked. They gently pulled the basket away from you, and placed it off to the side of their throne.

"Now, why don't we continue where we left off last time, hm?" They suggested, their voice so deep it almost sounded like a purr. Chills went up your back, but you were completely tongue-tied that you couldn't speak. Your face felt so hot that you were sure that you could faint at any moment.

Ananas Dragon Cookie tugged you roughly and made you straddle them. The Gold Dragon grabbed one of your wrists and forced you to wrap your arms around their shoulders. They pressed the tips of their claws against your neck and lifted your chin so they had full access to your vulnerable neck. Ananas Dragon Cookie's warm lips eagerly latched onto your dough, and a rush of excitement ran through you. Your stomach was doing flips. They kissed, sucked and licked your dough greedily. Unable to get enough. Your breath caught in your throat.

Ananas Dragon Cookie drew away from your neck, leaving love bites behind before capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. Their lips were demanding, demanding for submission. It was desperate and full of desire, but Ananas Dragon Cookie was gentle enough to allow you to enjoy their attention. You could feel Ananas Dragon Cookie's strong, yet gentle hands moving across your body, feeling every inch of you.

You let yourself go. You couldn't help it. Ananas Dragon Cookie's kisses and the feel of their touch were addicting. All too soon, Ananas Dragon Cookie pulled back, leaving a breaking string of saliva between your tongues. Your breath shook as you panted softly.

They took a moment to admire how cute you looked like this, and how even more adorable you would look underneath them.

While you recovered, Ananas Dragon Cookie took that moment to pull out a small trinket. They purred and embraced you tenderly. You sighed happily, enjoying being in the dragon's arms. You parted and Ananas Dragon Cookie offered you a necklace.

"This is for you." They said, almost shyly. It was one of Ananas' scales fixed to a thin gold chain. Your eyes widened in wonder and you carefully brushed the golden scale.

"So that I will always remain close to you." Ananas Dragon Cookie explained, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. You laughed softly and accepted the gift, quickly slipping it over your head.

"Thank you." You murmured, looking up at Ananas Dragon Cookie with adoration. The giddiness in your stomach bubbled up, and you giggled, throwing your arms around your dragon protector's shoulders happily and hugging them tightly. The Gold Dragon chuckled and returned the embrace with a smile.

Never, did Ananas think, that they would ever take a Cookie as a mate, but here they were.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Voided

You don’t even remember how this infatuation with Remy LeBeau started, if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s like a slow burn that sneaked up on you—a flame that steadily grew until you could no longer ignore its warmth. Maybe it was bound to happen, living in a wasteland where hope was a scarce commodity, and comfort even rarer. When you’re stuck in a place made for misfits and people who don’t belong anywhere else, you start clinging to whatever fragments of humanity you can find. And Remy, with his charm and his secrets, was one of those fragments.

The days in the wasteland stretched on endlessly, a relentless cycle of survival. You’d leave the makeshift home you’d found with the others, setting out with Remy to scavenge for supplies, to find something—anything—that would make life a little more bearable. Those days were brutal, the kind that wore down your spirit until you felt like there was nothing left but the dust in your lungs and the ache in your bones. But it was in those long, drawn-out hours where the sun seemed to hang forever in a dead sky that you started to see Remy differently.

At first, it was the little things. The way he always seemed to know when to crack a joke, pulling you out of whatever dark thoughts had taken hold. The way he’d notice when you were tired, and without a word, offer to carry the heavier pack or suggest taking a break. It was the way he listened—really listened—when you talked. And you did talk. You talked because the silence was unbearable, a yawning void that threatened to swallow you whole if you let it. If you were left alone with the silence, then you would begin to think. And once you started thinking you weren’t sure if you were able to dig yourself out of where it would lead you.

The silence was your enemy in those moments. It wasn’t just the absence of sound; it was the absence of everything that made you feel alive. It was a reminder of all the things that had been ripped away from you, all the things you couldn’t afford to dwell on for too long. The silence made the wasteland feel even more desolate, more hopeless. It was a void that echoed with your own fears, your own loneliness. So you filled it with words—endless streams of conversation that helped you keep the darkness at bay.

You’d talk about anything and everything, just to keep the silence at arm’s length. Sometimes you’d ramble about the past, about the world before it all went to hell. Other times, you’d speculate about the future, about what might be waiting for you if you ever made it out of this nightmare. And Remy would listen, his red-on-black eyes watching you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t judge. He just let you speak, as if your words were the only thing keeping the world from crumbling around you.

Blade had made comments about your constant talking. He’d tease you about it, saying you could fill a library with the stories you told. But even he would admit that when you weren’t there, the world seemed too loud, too empty. Without your voice to fill the gaps, the silence became oppressive, a weight that pressed down on all of you. In a way, your words were a lifeline, a thread that kept the group tethered to some semblance of normalcy.

But it was different with Remy. With him, your words felt less like a defense mechanism and more like a connection—a fragile, tentative connection that you were scared to acknowledge, let alone embrace. Because acknowledging it meant admitting that you were vulnerable, that you cared more than you should in a place like this. And caring was dangerous. Caring was a weakness you couldn’t afford. But as much as you tried to push those feelings down, they kept bubbling up, impossible to ignore. You were scared of the ‘what ifs’. The ‘what ifs’ are what got you pruned to the void to begin with.

At first, it was just the small things—how his voice carried a hint of warmth, even on the coldest of nights when the wind cut through your layers like a knife. It was the way he always seemed to know exactly when to crack a joke, the kind that could slice through the oppressive atmosphere that clung to your group like a shroud. His humor was a balm, a brief escape from the grim reality that surrounded you. And then there were those crimson eyes, always watching, always knowing, like he could see right through you. It was as if those eyes peeled back every layer you’d so carefully built, stripping you down to your raw, exposed soul.

And it scared the shit out of you.

You weren’t used to being seen like that, to being understood with just a glance. You had always been the one to deflect, to joke, to talk and talk until there was nothing left to say. Words had always been your armor, your way of creating distance between yourself and the world outside. But Remy didn’t need words. He didn’t need the noise. He was content to exist in the spaces between, in the quiet moments that seemed to stretch out forever when it was just the two of you. Those moments were where he thrived, where he seemed to understand you in ways you didn’t even understand yourself. There were moments when you’d catch yourself staring at him, wondering what it would be like if things were different. If the world hadn’t fallen apart, if you were just two people getting to know each other under normal circumstances. You’d wonder if he ever thought about you the way you thought about him, if he noticed the way your breath hitched when he stood too close, or the way your heart raced whenever he smiled that mischievous grin of his.

But then the reality of it all would crash back down on you, reminding you that this was no place for fantasies or daydreams. This was a place where every day was a fight for survival, where attachments could get you killed. And so you’d bury those feelings deep, hiding them behind the endless stream of words that spilled from your lips, hoping that maybe, one day, you’d find the courage to let them out.

But Remy, he never complained. Not once. It didn’t seem to matter how much you rambled, how often you let your thoughts spill out in a desperate attempt to drown out the crushing weight of the world. He’d just flash that trademark grin of his, the one that could disarm even the most guarded heart, and let you keep going. That grin—God, that grin—was like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge every time the darkness threatened to close in. It was a smile that promised safety, even when safety was nothing more than a fleeting illusion in this desolate place.

Sometimes, in the middle of your rambling, he’d throw in a sly comment, something quick and clever that would catch you off guard and make you laugh—a real laugh, the kind that felt foreign and strange in your throat, almost like you’d forgotten how. And for a moment, just a brief, precious moment, the heaviness of the world would lift, and you’d feel lighter than you had in months. It was like he had this uncanny ability to find the one shred of joy left in the rubble of your life and hand it to you, wrapped in a bow of charm and wit.

Other times, he wouldn’t say much at all. He’d just listen, his red-on-black eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. Those eyes—they were so different, so otherworldly, yet there was something in them that was deeply human. Something that flickered and glimmered in the dim light, something you couldn’t quite name but felt drawn to like a moth to a flame. When he looked at you like that, it was as if he could see straight through the walls you’d built around yourself, straight to the parts of you that you tried so hard to keep hidden.

On those days, when the air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, it was easy to forget where you were, easy to imagine that you were somewhere else—somewhere safe, somewhere normal. You’d walk side by side, your shoulders occasionally brushing, and it felt more like a partnership than a necessity. There was something about those moments that made the world seem a little less broken, like maybe, just maybe, there was still something worth holding onto.

But deep down, you knew better. You knew this world didn’t allow for things like normalcy or comfort, not really. It was a world built on the bones of the past, where survival was the only currency that mattered, and hope was a dangerous thing to carry. And yet, despite all of that, there was something about Remy that made you want to believe, even if only for a fleeting moment, that things could be different. That maybe, just maybe, the two of you could carve out a small piece of happiness in the midst of all this chaos—a tiny oasis in a desert of despair.

But then, inevitably, the silence would creep back in, like an unwelcome guest that refused to leave. It would settle over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and cold, and you’d feel the reality of your situation pressing down on you from all sides. The silence wasn’t just empty; it was a void, a gaping maw that threatened to swallow you whole if you let it. It was a reminder of all the things you’d lost, all the things you couldn’t afford to think about for too long—the people who were gone, the life you’d never get back, the future that had been stolen from you.

So you’d talk—about anything, everything—because the alternative was too unbearable to consider. You’d fill the air with words, with stories and questions and idle musings, anything to keep the silence at bay. And Remy would let you, because he seemed to understand, in a way that no one else did, that the silence wasn’t something you could face alone. He’d let you talk until your voice was hoarse and your mind was too tired to think, and then he’d flash that grin of his again, that infuriatingly charming grin, and you’d realize that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

In those moments, when the silence was held at bay by the sound of your own voice and the steady presence of the man beside you, you almost believed that you could survive this. That there was something more to fight for than just survival. That maybe, in the ruins of this shattered world, you could find something resembling happiness. And as long as Remy kept flashing that grin, as long as he kept listening, you’d keep talking, because talking was the only way you knew how to keep the darkness at bay. <><><><><><><>

It was on one of those long supply runs that it happened. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the barren landscape, turning the world into a canvas of deep reds and purples. The two of you had wandered further than usual, driven by the desperate need to find anything that could keep your ragtag group going for just one more day. You had been talking—filling the space with your usual chatter, anything to keep the silence at bay. But then, in your distraction, you stumbled over a loose rock, and before you could even register what was happening, his hand shot out, steadying you with a firm, yet gentle grip.

You looked up at him, a laugh already bubbling to your lips, ready to make some offhand comment about how clumsy you were, how you’d trip over your own shadow if given the chance. But the words died in your throat the moment you met his eyes. There was something in his gaze, something that made your breath catch in your chest. It wasn’t just concern or the usual teasing glint you’d come to expect. No, this was different.

In that moment, it was as though the world had shrunk down to just the two of you. The distant sounds of the wasteland faded away, the colors of the dying sun dimmed, leaving only the intensity of his gaze, locking you in place. There was something in his eyes, something deep and unspoken, that made you feel like he was seeing you for the first time—really seeing you. And it left you feeling exposed in a way you weren’t prepared for, like every defense you’d ever put up had been stripped away in an instant.

You could feel the sudden closeness between you, the warmth of his hand still on your arm, grounding you in a way that was both comforting and terrifying. Time seemed to stretch, each second drawing out as you stood there, caught in the weight of the moment. You could see the flicker of something in his eyes, a vulnerability that mirrored your own, and it shook you to your core.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you moved. You were too afraid that if you did, the spell would break, and the moment would shatter into a million pieces. You wanted to say something, anything, but your mind was blank, every word you knew suddenly feeling inadequate. All you could do was stare up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, as if it were trying to break free from the cage of your ribs.

And then, finally, Remy broke the silence, his voice low and rough, like he was struggling to find the right words. “Cher,” he murmured, the endearment slipping from his lips like a secret he hadn’t meant to share. You felt it like a physical touch, soft and warm, wrapping around your heart. “Y’alright?”

It wasn’t the words that got to you, but the way he said them. It was as if he was asking more than just whether you were physically okay. He was asking if you were okay in a way that went deeper, in a way that touched on everything you’d been holding back, everything you’d been too afraid to admit, even to yourself.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice, but when you finally spoke, it came out as little more than a whisper. “Yeah… I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Not really. And you knew he could see it.

The tension between you was palpable, a live wire crackling with unspoken emotions. His hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. And then, just as suddenly as it had happened, he let go, stepping back to give you space. The loss of his touch was almost painful, a cold emptiness settling in where his warmth had been.

You both stood there, awkward and unsure, the weight of what had just passed between you hanging in the air like a storm cloud. Neither of you knew what to say, how to acknowledge what had just happened without breaking whatever fragile thing had begun to take shape between you.

Finally, Remy cleared his throat, his usual grin returning, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Better watch your step, cher,” he said lightly, trying to ease the tension with humor. “Can’t have you fallin’ all over the place now, can we?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you tried to push down the swirling emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to give you any more work,” you replied, your voice too bright, too forced. The moment passed, but it left a scar, an invisible line drawn in the sand between what was and what could be. As you both continued walking, the quiet settling in around you, it was impossible to ignore the shift in the air, the way your thoughts kept circling back to the feel of his hand on your arm, the intensity in his gaze. You replayed it in your mind, over and over, trying to decipher the meaning behind it, trying to understand what it was that had passed between you in that brief second when the world had seemed to stop.

You tried to pretend like nothing had changed, like you could just go back to the way things were before. But the truth was, it had changed. The dynamic between you and Remy had shifted, and there was no going back to the comfortable rhythm you’d shared before. There was a tension now, a charged current that hummed between you, making every glance, every accidental touch, feel like a spark that could ignite something neither of you were ready to acknowledge.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky bleeding into a deep, bruised purple, you found yourself hyper-aware of every movement, every breath. The usual banter that flowed so easily between you felt stilted, forced, like you were both trying too hard to pretend there hadn’t been a crack in the armor you’d both so carefully constructed.

You couldn’t help but steal glances at him out of the corner of your eye, searching for any sign that he felt it too—that same nervous energy buzzing under your skin, the same questions spinning through your mind. But Remy was as hard to read as ever, his expression carefully neutral, betraying nothing of the storm that might be raging beneath the surface.

When he did catch your gaze, just for a moment, there was something there—something fleeting, like a shadow passing over his features before it was gone, replaced by that easy, familiar grin you’d come to rely on. It was almost as if he was waiting for you to make the first move, to say something, to break the silence that had settled between you like a fragile truce.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The words caught in your throat, tangled in fear and uncertainty. What if you were wrong? What if you’d misread everything, and all you’d end up doing was shattering whatever fragile thing had begun to grow between you? The thought of losing him, of losing the one bright spot in the darkness you lived in, was enough to keep you silent, to keep you from taking that leap.

So instead, you both just kept walking, the distance between you both physical and emotional, growing with every step. The temperature dropped as night fully claimed the sky, the cold seeping into your bones, but it wasn’t the chill that made you shiver. It was the weight of the unspoken, the words you were too afraid to say, the feelings you were too scared to admit, even to yourself.

The landscape around you was a wasteland of crumbling buildings and twisted metal, a graveyard of what had once been, but as you walked beside Remy, it was hard not to feel like you were in a different kind of wasteland, one of your own making. A barren place where fear and doubt had taken root, choking out the possibility of anything more.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Remy broke the silence. “We should head back,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Ain’t nothin’ out here worth gettin’ caught in the dark for.” There was a note in his voice, something that hinted at more than just the physical darkness that surrounded you. It was as if he was acknowledging the darkness that had crept into the space between you, the unspoken tension that neither of you seemed willing to confront.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid that if you did, your voice would betray everything you were trying so hard to keep hidden. You turned, retracing your steps back toward the makeshift home you’d made with the others, the silence between you now thicker, more oppressive than before.

The walk back was quiet, the only sounds the crunch of your boots against the gravel and the distant, eerie howls of the wind as it whipped through the ruins around you. You kept your eyes trained on the ground, focusing on each step, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling out of control. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop the questions from gnawing at you.

What if you were missing something? What if this was your chance, your one chance, to reach out, to grab hold of the one thing that made this world bearable? The thought of letting it slip through your fingers was almost unbearable, but the fear of what could happen if you took that step, if you laid yourself bare, was paralyzing.

By the time you reached the edge of your makeshift camp, the others were already gathered around the fire, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames. You could see the weariness etched into their features, the toll this life had taken on all of you, but there was also something else—a flicker of hope, a sense of camaraderie that had kept you all going, even in the darkest of times.

Remy hung back as you approached the group, his presence a steady, comforting weight at your side. But even as you sat down by the fire, feeling the warmth seep into your chilled skin, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been left unfinished, something vital that you couldn’t afford to ignore much longer.

As the conversation around the fire picked up, the usual banter and stories filling the air, you found yourself stealing glances at Remy, who had taken a seat across from you, his eyes focused on the fire, the flames reflecting in his crimson irises. There was a sadness there, a weariness that you hadn’t noticed before, and it made your heart ache.

You wondered what he was thinking, if he was as lost in his thoughts as you were, if he was wrestling with the same questions, the same fears. You wanted to reach out, to say something, anything, that would bridge the gap between you, but the words still wouldn’t come. So, instead, you just sat there, the fire crackling between you, the silence heavy with everything you were too afraid to say.

The night dragged on, the others eventually drifting off to their makeshift beds, until it was just you and Remy left by the dying embers of the fire. The darkness pressed in around you, the only light coming from the faint glow of the coals, casting long shadows that danced across the ground.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Remy spoke, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “Y’ ever think about what it’d be like… if things were different?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. He wasn’t just talking about the world, you realized. He was talking about you, about the two of you.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to find the right words, the courage to answer him honestly. “All the time,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it doesn’t change anything, does it?”

Remy looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, the mask he wore slipped, revealing the vulnerability beneath. “Maybe not,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours, “but it don’t mean we can’t try to make somethin’ outta what we got.”

It was a simple statement, but it hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of your lungs. Because he was right. The world was broken, shattered beyond repair, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t try to find some piece of happiness, some small corner of peace, in the midst of it all.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to see what had been there all along—the way he cared, the way he watched out for you, the way he listened when no one else did. And in that moment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to face this world alone.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out, your hand trembling slightly, and placed it on top of his. The contact sent a jolt through you, but it was grounding, reassuring, and you felt something inside you shift, something that had been locked away for too long.

“Maybe we can,” you said, your voice steady now, filled with a quiet determination. “Maybe we can make something good out of all this.”

Remy’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a glimmer of hope, a tiny spark in the darkness.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Solstice, Shana! more Lady Mo or something else genderbendy?

Tony's spent her whole life proving she was good enough to make it in a man's world. Her own father had written her off as a debutante, but he'd let her spend time in his workshop and look over the papers spread over his desk, on his lap or a safe distance away from all the sparks. He probably thought she liked the pictures and the lights.

She builds an engine when she's six years old, her dress torn and stained with grease and and burning with pride as she grins up at her father.

It's the first time Howard ever sees her and, she thinks, when he stops loving her.

Existing in a man's world is different than being a man. She's not allowed to forget, to indulge, she can't ever be anything else any other way than a performance.

Her whole life is a performance, so maybe there's no real difference.

She can wear broad silhouettes and make sure no one calls her Antonia and keep her hair in it's iconic pixie cut have her employees call her sir - ma'am was her mother, she says with a laugh, and god knows she took more after daddy dearest - and she spends so much of her time having dick measuring contests with generals and business rivals and every man that thinks he can put his hands on her that sometimes it's a shock to remember she doesn't have one of her own.

It's not that she doesn't like being a girl, that she doesn't get a thrill out of outrageous dresses and all her soft curves, that she doesn't like at least seeing something of her mother in her mouth and her nose.

It's just that she thinks that she could be something more. That she is something more.

But that sort of things belong to someone who doesn't have her life, her job and her responsibilities and the eyes of the world watching her every move.

~

She doesn't even think about the fact that the armor is a man, narrow hips and broad shoulders and nothing feminine about his cold curves of metal, until Pepper sees it.

Pepper is quiet after, pressing ice to her bruises as she sits by Tony's hips. Her eyes stray to the arc reactor, a diamond of light glowing between her breasts. A circle would have been a more solid matrix but would have required her to get a mastectomy to make it fit.

She's thought about having a smooth chest before, but in the moment when it was an option that she could reasonably provide to the public - a medical device, for her health - she'd balked, and lost a day to redesign to make it something less, something that would fit and not require her to change to too much.

It had felt like a metaphor, or a sermon, as she'd beat sheets of metal until she bled.

Pepper asks, "Is it to protect your identity? So they don't think it's you?"

Tony stares, caught off guard, her mouth open in answer that she hesitates to give because she knows it's a lie. She doesn't like lying to Pepper.

She softens. "Or is it the opposite?"

Tony is sore and exhausted and Obie is acting strangely and Rhodey isn't talking to her (he calls her and he'll call again and again until she picks up, but he won't say a word, will just listen to her breathe to make sure she still is and then hang up like a fucking a coward) and she just killed sort of a lot of people and her weapons are where they shouldn't be and every defense she's built up around this question feels like it's crumbling around her.

"Pepper," she says, then can't bring herself to say anything else.

She doesn't want to lie to her.

"I like the paint job," Pepper says, hand soft where it's gripping her shoulder. Tony hasn't had soft hands since her father loved her.

"I like red," Tony says and Pepper's cheeks turn the same color as her hair.

[pochipop]

＃MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — BEING VULNERABLE WITH YOU.

#. synopsis! — how they show their trust .

#. characters! — jumin, zen (hyun), yoosung, saeyoung (707), saeran (ray), jihyun (v) .

#. warnings! — slight angst.

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — come join my discord server? it's newly opened with a fantasy bakery theme! we have emojis from genshin impact, honkai star rail, sanrio, overwatch, pokemon, mystic messenger, and more! a collection of funny stickers, channels to promote yourself, meet new friends, share your writing/art, + lots more! plus, our staff is very chill and friendly! we'd love to see you there! <;33

＃ JUMIN !! ♡

Jumin, who never really thought himself to be the romantic type, but loses himself so easily in his relationship with you that he’d do anything imaginable just to see you smile for him. This sophisticated, pressed-suit wearing, stone-faced man who just crumbles when it comes to you, —who once thought love was some sick ruse made to rope people in and keep them hostage to their feelings, suddenly realizing that this rush is marvelous, and he can’t quite clearly remember a time before his heart seemed to beat for you. This man who swore he’d never love someone enough to put aside everything else on his mind and just live in the moment who sheds that dry cleaned business attire at the end of every workday and lets himself come undone for you. His walls come down and he welcomes you inside, and for once, he’s not scared of what will happen when you see the parts of him that perhaps aren’t as pretty as others. He lets you see the beautiful mess he’s made of himself over the years, and it’s then that he begins to pick up all these tattered pieces, finally preparing to put himself back together again. And recognizing you’ll help him do so is the sweetest comfort he’s ever known.

＃ HYUN (ZEN) !! ♡

Hyun, who stops pretending to be perfect over time and lets you see him in all the stages of healing. This man who often shields himself from the world, hiding behind a mask of narcissistic confidence, who finally lets his imperfections seep through to the surface and breathes another sigh of relief every single time you stay in the aftermath. He lets you in on the insecurities that lap at his ankles much more often than he'd ever had liked to have admitted before. He lets you hold him when he shatters instead of pushing you away, —dulls all his rigid edges to feel your warmth surround him, as if lowering all his defenses for the very first time. The world can be a cruel place to those that have made mistakes, but Hyun feels like he's finally found someone who can look at him for more than just the pretty, well-kempt face he maintains for the public. There's no sense of shame he feels the need to drown in when you let him fall apart in your arms. There's no crushing feeling of disappointment or suffocating feeling of disdain. He's more human than he fears he's ever been when your thumbs wipe the tears from beneath his eyes and you whisper to him that everything will be okay.

＃ YOOSUNG !! ♡

Yoosung, who learns over time how to not let things fester until they’ve built up so much he can’t keep them in any longer. For all he is and might not ever be, he’s come to realize that it’s okay to express his emotions before they reach a boiling point. He comes to you at the onset of upsetedness, —allows himself to feel frustrated without stuffing it down and pretending the problem doesn’t exist until it explodes. He finds that it’s so much easier to be earnest when you never talk down to him or make him feel like he’s any less of a person in your eyes because of it. Sometimes he needs advice, and other times, he just needs someone to talk to. No matter the case, he seeks you out before anyone else, knowing that you care enough about him to value his thoughts and opinions without qualifiers or regulations. He holds grudges sometimes that aren’t good for his own sake, and being shut down when he tries to address them only adds fuel to the fire. Having someone who truly listens and tells him that it’s okay to feel the way he does goes such a long way, —perhaps longer than you’ll ever know.

＃ SAEYOUNG (707) !! ♡

Saeyoung, who lets himself be honest eventually, —who lets himself chip away and then lets you smooth him over. He’s done a lot of things he’s not proud of, and he doesn’t need anyone to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. Whether it was or wasn’t doesn’t matter as much as what he knows he has to do going forward, and the last thing he really wants is to be coddled out of pity. He just wants to be heard, no sympathy necessary, no fawning over the way he sheds the skin he used to wear when he felt like happiness was millions of miles away. He just wants to be listened to. To Saeyoung, it’s the ultimate show of trust to admit to all the things he regrets, let them spill out like word vomit and not have to worry about the consequences. He doesn’t need you to understand, and knows you likely can’t given the specifics of his life’s course thus far, but knowing that you’re keen on carrying the burden with him is such an insurmountable feeling of relief. Finally, someone knows every grimy little corner of his soul and they still love him, still hold him, still want him. . . There’s nothing quite like it.

＃ SAERAN (RAY) !! ♡

Saeran, who lets little things slip as time goes on, —stares a little longer when he passes twin popsicles in grocery stores because he knows you won’t ask why. As much as he likes to pretend that he can fix things by pretending they never hurt him in the first place, there are always scars that linger just below the surface, ready to burst at the first sight of mint-colored liquids or at the first sound of deceptively sweet voices offering commands from the shadows. He carries a lot around with him wherever he goes, and just loving him until the sun dies isn’t a cure-all. You can’t turn back time and shield him from all the things in his life that have left him feeling like a shattered stain glass window. All the love in the world can’t fix the past. But there’s nothing that means more to him than knowing he can lean on you, —even if he doesn’t always do it. There’s such a sweet comfort in knowing he can turn to you when he feels like he’s drowning. And if sometimes that manifests only in letting himself shed a few tears while he eats an ice cream cone outside next to you in the sunshine, then so be it.

＃ JIHYUN (V) !! ♡

Jihyun, who talks about it all a little at a time, —about the good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful; because it wasn’t always bad. There were times before you came in which he’d been so in love that he’d have done anything to stay exactly where he was, to freeze those moments up and keep them in a capsule that could never be shaken. And it’s important for Jihyun to tell you about those things every now and again, to let you in and reminisce on the way he’d once been so sure of it all, so ready to settle down and stay exactly where he was. But it’s equally as important for him to bare the remnants of the betrayal for you to kiss, and hold, and make peace with. He likes to think you understand him better in the wake of it, —that you’ve seen him in a new light every time he sits with you and tells you of the loss, the desire, the yearning, and all the ways he wishes things could have been different for everyone. In the end, he’s here, and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

[sometimesanalice]

Wildest Dreams

Summary: Never in your wildest dreams would you have expected to be waiting at a Naval hangar for a man you’d met two months ago during Fleet Week. Let alone one you’d only known for less than twenty-four hours. (Even if it had been the best sex of your life.)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6k

Warning: fluff, smut, and the return of the summer dress whites (minors dni)

(author's note: this was written as part of @laracrofted's 1989(TV) challenge. It is a prequel to Hey, Sailor, but can be read on its own!)

This has the potential to be the best idea you’ve ever had or the worst.

Although based on the way you kind of want to shimmy out of your too tight skin, you’re starting to think it might be the worst.

You are out of place and out of sorts. There are kids giggling and running around with homemade posters covered in bright neon bubble letters and you aren’t even wearing a bra.

Oh god, what were you thinking?

Never in your wildest dreams would you have expected to be waiting for a man you’d only met two months ago during Fleet Week. Let alone one that you had known for less than twenty-four hours and had sex with within the first two hours of meeting. But you couldn’t think about that too much without your face heating up.

And waiting at Naval Air Station North Island, no less.

Oh, this was a very bad idea.

The happy chatter of excited friends and family of the deployed squadron members, who are due to return within the hour, is bouncing off of the cavernous curved walls of the hangar you’re standing in. Bursts of delighted laughter rippling throughout the space.

And with each passing minute the thumping of your heart pounds a little harder against the walls of your chest. Whether it’s anticipation or apprehension you couldn’t say.

Under normal circumstances the energy would be infectious, the atmosphere around you is bubbly and light, but all it does is make you feel like it is glaringly obvious that you don’t fit in here with the rest of the clusters of families.

That is if your nice yet slightly-too-revealing-to-be-family-friendly dress didn’t already give you away.

The only perk of it at the moment was that the breeze against the bare skin of your exposed back was keeping you from breaking out in an anxious full body sweat in the summer heat.

In your defense, you’d picked this dress out for a reason and had chosen it with a purpose in mind. Even if you were second guessing every decision that has led you here.

Over the last two months, you had changed your mind more frequently than the wind changed direction.

He’d been brought into your life on a high tide of champagne bubbles that had swiftly taken him right back out, leaving a wake of nothing but champagne problems.

Every time you thought about recycling the packet of papers that had taunted you and tempted you in equal parts, you were reminded of the warm brown eyes of the person who had given it to you. And it never failed to set your heart a flutter the same way had when he’d given it to you with that soft, cautiously hopeful smile.

You have the registration form that had gotten you through the heavily secured gate clutched tightly in your hand as if you’re waiting for some uniformed security official to come up to question you then escort you off the base.

Although now it’s so crumbled and creased that you don’t know if they’d even be able to read it.

Worst of all, you had no way to distract your busy mind from all your buzzing thoughts.

They’d taken your phone at the gate, a security measure they’d told you as you watched them tag it with your name and put in a slim cubby for you to collect when you left.

Which might be sooner than you thought, because the longer you stand there waiting and shifting on your feet the more you were fighting the urge to backpedal. To spin on your strappy sandaled feet and hightail it back to your car and drive the legally posted limit only until you made it past those intimidating chain link gates before flooring it, getting as far away from this cheery, happy hanger as quickly as possible.

And yet for whatever reason, your antsy feet and tapping toes stay planted on shiny finish of the industrial cement of the hanger.

This is crazy.

You’d thought it as you slipped on and tied the flimsy straps of your pink ruffled sundress and collected all of your things. Pausing to double check that you had your Driver’s License, Passport, and Social Security card in your purse for the fourth time that day.

This is ridiculous.

You’d thought it as you’d drove along the highway to the Naval base that you had only been to only once a couple of months ago. The sun beaming down on your car with hardly a cloud in the sky. A perfect golden California day, even if your mind was in a hazy fog.

This is foolish.

You’d definitely thought that on loop, like a broken record in your mind, as you’d waited in the long line of cars all done up in window paints and streamers packed with grinning, eager faces all queued up for the same reason.

When you had finally made it to the front of the line, your heart had been pounding away beating a mile a minute. Your palms sweating as you handed over the three-page packet and identification cards to the security working the gates.

The Use of Deadly Force Authorized sign was a stark contrast with the smiles of the officials who greeted you.

You were positive you looked as shifty as you felt. But it seemed the only person who thought you looked like a red flag was you. Because they’d barely given you a second glace as they’d waved you through after checking your paperwork. You had almost blurted out Are you sure?, but managed to keep it together as you waited for the red arms of the barrier gate to lift.

That final hurdle officially out of your hands because you were finally there and soon he’d be here.

During one white wine fueled late night evening on your couch you’d allowed yourself to indulge in those tempting taunting what-ifs.

What-if you went.

What-if you waited.

What-if you met him there.

And in your casual research somewhere between the third and fourth glass of Sauvignon Blanc, before you had scrolled back three years on the base’s official Instagram page and googled the sure-to-be redacted version of the visitor’s map of the base, you’d read that sometimes they’d direct visitors to park in a lot on the edge of the base to be shuttled to the designated homecoming hanger.

Thankfully, there would be no shuttles operating on military efficient timetables for you. Since you’d been directed to a parking lot that sat across from a large hanger decorated with waving and winking banners of bold red, white, and blues.

You couldn’t help release a little sigh of relief knowing that you’d be able to make an easy escape if you needed to.

Because if this was going to take you down, if the sun was going to set on your gleaming gilded what-ifs, at least you could leave with your head held high. Even if your tail would be between your legs.

Just in case, you had built it up in your head.

Just in case, he changed his mind.

Because this was crazy, this was ridiculous, this was foolish. But you didn’t want those memories from two months ago to follow you around like a ghost of what could have been.

You wanted to see what it could be. What you hoped it might become.

You’ve thought about that night a lot.

Flashes of sturdy white twill and toned muscles and a low, raspy voice had kept you up more nights than you were willing to acknowledge. You’d lost time thinking about warm hands and a rich laugh and lips that left hot trails along your body that you still felt like a ley line under your skin.

After the mark beneath your ear had faded, the only proof it all hadn’t been some gold rush dream was the flimsy piece of paper currently grasped in your hand like a lifeline.

Before that night you’d never understood the draw of Fleet Week. It seemed like the type of mess you’d purposely avoided. Nights that left you either with a good story to tell over brunch or in mascara coated tears crumpled like a piece of paper on the ground.

But now, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to think of it without thinking of it and him with only the rosiest of memories.

Your mind wanders as you remember the way he’d made you felt. Of being around him, of tangled up with him. You’re too busy thinking about heated smiles and pretty scars that the sound sneaks up on you.

It starts out as a low rumble that swiftly builds into a roar that shakes you out of that shimmering lavender haze. Cheers break out in the crowd as people flood out of the hanger and onto the tarmac to get a better view.

Looking around you, there are kids pressing their hands to their ears as the squeal and shout in delight. Their faces turning up to the skies as they enthusiastically wave at the aircrafts flying towards the base with perfect precision.

You get as close to the edge of the hanger as you dare. Toeing the line between cracked industrial cement and sundrenched asphalt, still unsure your place in all of this. Not quite ready to fully give yourself up to the swift current of honey hued possibility.

There are at least a dozen jets approaching in sharp triangular and diamond shaped formations.  Clusters of four flying in flawless alignment with one another, their shiny bodies stand out in relief against the cloudless blue skies. It’s a gravity defying ballet as the individual groups merge together in impeccable unison to form one large unit.

Your jaw drops open in awe and your heart soars into your throat at the stunningly impressive sight.

They speed impossibly fast overhead and within seconds all that remains are the contrails of their coming and the knowledge that soon they’ll have their feet back on the ground with the rest of you.

The low, thick whomp whomp whomp of large helicopter propellers approaching behind them in the distance like an echo as more and more of the deployed squadron arrive for their homecoming.

You almost can’t hear it over the steady drumbeat of your heartbeat in your ears.

Because he’s back. He’s here.

After two months of wondering and waiting, you’re about to find out.

It’s all happening now.

“It’s her last fling before the ring! Cheers, bitches!”

You didn’t know whether you were impressed or one enthusiastic woo! away from losing it at the amount of puns Amanda, the maid of honor, had been able to come up with for the evening.

To no one’s surprise, tequila shots and champagne were a dangerous combo.

When the bride-to-be had said she wanted to keep things local and have a staycation type girl’s weekend for her bachelorette party, you and your bank account had been thrilled. It wasn’t until you all had left for the hotel all gussied up in your sparkling hot pink finest to head out for dinner that you noticed all the white uniforms dotting the sidewalks and seated out on some of the outdoor terraces.

It was Fleet Week.

You’ve lived in San Diego for almost five years now. And while running into someone in the Navy was commonplace, in both the grocery store and on the dating apps you’d redownloaded a few months ago, Fleet Week was something that you’d always purposely avoided. Opting to stay home and out of the fray.

However, you were coming off of a break up with a man who had slowly sucked all the color from your world. And this weekend was just the thing you needed to let go, to be unabashedly uninhibited, to reclaim your shimmer.

Your shiny pink dress is three inches shorter and your heels two inches taller than anything you’d ever worn before. There had been a brief moment when you’d felt self-conscious stepping into the lobby of the hotel, aware of just how much skin was on display with short hem and the low dip of the back of your dress, until your best friend had given you the loudest wolf-whistle known to mankind sending you into a fit of giggles.

And instead of shying away from the eyes that had been drawn to you in that moment, you sparkled.

You didn’t quite feel like your old self yet, but you were on your way. You liked this version of yourself so much better than the shell of a girl you’d been before. You liked the one who could be bold and brave and bejeweled.

The upscale bar is packed and it’s just the kind of lively atmosphere where tonight’s bad decisions could become tomorrow’s good stories.

It felt less like a club and more like a large stylish living room, with its cozy clusters of oversized chairs and couches. Pockets of the room were cast in a soft lavender light, while the rest was awash in a golden glow from the massive modern chandelier that ran the length of the room. Gleaming brass accents were offset with the warm tones of the wooden paneling that lined the walls. It was soft, lush, and inviting.

The music was good and there was even a small dancefloor, but it wasn’t so loud that you couldn’t enjoy having a conversation with someone without shouting. The bar looked more like a library than a place to get your drinks with its black leather tufted base and dark wooden built-ins displaying shiny bottles like a prized book collection. And the cocktails were stellar.

It was obvious why so many people had ended up here tonight, both civilians and Naval personnel on leave.

“Oh, hello there,” you hear your best friend practically purr, pulling you from your internal debate about another ordering another shot of tequila.

You look over to see her staring at the door where two tall officers have just entered with a devious gleam in her eyes.

The one on the left was just her type, a pretty boy with the kind of megawatt smile that would have orthodontists dying to get a closer look. He looked the cocky kind of confident now, but you knew if your friend made her move she’d have him wrapped around her finger before the bartenders even announce last call.

The man next to him was the taller one of the two and sporting a mustache that might have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but for whatever reason it suited him very well. Especially when it was paired with that easy grin he was currently wearing as he laughed along with something his friend was saying. Even from across the room you could tell he’d be even more attractive up close.

Their tans and the definition of their arms were offset by the crisp whites of their short-sleeved uniforms. And looking at them you could finally understand the appeal of Fleet Week.

Men like that could easily make a girl lose her mind amongst other things.

You had no doubt in your mind that these two in particular would be a hot commodity tonight. There were already quite a few heads turned in their direction to watch as they made their way towards the bar. Appreciative eyes glinting as they take in just how well they both filled out their uniforms.

Another loud woo! from your group of friends pulls your attention back to them in time to see another bottle of champagne, complete with a bright sparkler, being delivered to the table you had all chipped in for the evening.

At this rate, someone was either going to end up on top of a table or on the confetti covered floor.

You chance another look back over your shoulder towards the two men who’d just saddled up to the bar and are met with a pair of mischievous eyes already trained on you.

An electric touch races up along your spine. 

You’re still a safe distance far enough away to where you can allow yourself to take him in, fighting the urge to hastily look away and pretend it was an accident that your eyes connected when you had definitely been trying to sneak another peek at them- at him in particular. You see his smile pull to the left and his cheek tick up as you hold his gaze.

He’s less than subtle in the way he lets his eyes drag over the exposed skin of your back and down the line of your legs before letting them settle back on your face. When you shoot him a pointed raise of your eyebrow, that smirk on his face just grows even wider.

It makes your stomach swoop, and even worse, it makes your own lips turn up in an amused smile in response.

An unabashed flirt.

There’s no doubt in your mind he knows exactly what he is doing. You’re sure he has practiced this kind of silent conversation many times. That over the years he has polished his technique to a shiny, smooth finish.

You know nothing good can come from a man in a uniform, but a man in uniform during Fleet Week is a different kind of trouble altogether.

And one who looks like that? Big and broad, with confidence rolling off of him in waves?

No, nothing good could come from it.

Taking one more sweep of his face you turn away from him and opt to sip on some cold water instead.

Your best friend is still making eyes with the man with the dimples, so you start up a conversation with one of the other bridesmaids you don’t know as well as some of the others. She was a sweetheart, but you could tell this wasn’t her usual scene so it felt like you were doing a lot of the heavy lifting for the conversation.

It also didn’t help that you were trying and failing to ignore the way it had felt when he looked at you, like sparks dancing across your skin that you could still feel like a phantom touch.

You’re struggling to come up with a new topic of conversation when cloud of white sequins and rhinestones and tulle bulldozes into you.

“Come get a drink with us,” the bride-to-be declares as she hooks her arm with yours and starts tugging you towards the bar.

You see that your best friend is already a couple steps ahead of the two of you and heading in the same direction to the bar, purpose in every step she takes.

“You need a break from free champagne?” you ask with a grin.

“I want something pink!” she sings.

You laugh at her dedication to the theme, “Ok, let’s get you something pink.”

“Yes, let’s,” she agrees.

As you get closer to the bar, you ignore the pull in your stomach and the gaze of the broad man who lingers in your peripheral vision. It had been heady from a distance you had no clue how you’d fair with it directed at you up close.

You’re not surprised in the least when your best friend passes by the open space at the bar and flounces right up to the officer with the dimples. And you’re even less surprised when she takes the shot that was held loosely in his hand and tosses it back in one go, before running her thumb along the bottom of her lip and giving him a sharp, feline grin. The now shot-less man rises up to the occasion and gives her a matching one of his own, the interest gleaming in his eyes.

However, you are very much shocked when your soon-to-be-wed friend all but shoves you towards the man with the mustache.

Your hands dart out to catch yourself on the bar, but one ends up on his thick forearm instead as he reaches out to steady you. His other hand is braced low on your hip, big and warm. Glancing down you can see that his pinky is very near the hem of your short dress.

You toss her a withering glare over your shoulder, but she’s already bobbling back towards the group very clearly pleased with herself.

As you turn to look up at him, all words escape you and your breath gets caught in your throat.

He’s handsome as hell.

And up close, that uniform has the potential to be even more life ruining than it was from a distance.

It is almost obscene the way it clings to the bulk of him. The sleeves of his shirt were stretched out around his biceps and pulled taut across his chest. His pants look almost molded to his thighs and long legs. It’s almost dizzying just how good-looking he is in it.

And you’re absolutely mortified.

“Hey, Sailor,” you say weakly at an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness of how you’ve come to be pressed against his hard body.

He throws his head back and laughs. It’s low and lush, rich and raspy. And god, do you like the sound of it.

But there’s still a rush anxious energy that courses through you, unsure if he’s laughing at you or the situation you’ve both been literally thrust into. You’re tempted to step back out of his reach, but his fingers tighten the gentlest bit where his hand still sits on your hip keeping you in place.

There’s amusement dancing behind his brown eyes and that smile of his up close is even more devastating. And you can’t help but shoot him a sheepish smile in return.

“That’s one way to make an entrance,” he grins.

“I am so sorry about that,” you say gesturing to the gaggle of giggling girls watching on from the corner of the room. You get your feet righted underneath you and take a half-step back.

And this time he lets you, his pinky grazing the skin of your upper thigh as he does.

“I’m not,” he says, leaning against the shiny black and white marble slab of the bar top, “I was hoping you’d come over here.”

You refuse to let yourself get flushed, but the heat races to your cheeks all the same.

Instead you pivot.

“I feel like I should warn you, she’s going to eat your friend alive,” you say, gesturing to your best friend who is looking every inch the menace you know her to be.

He glances over towards where his friend and yours are talking. His friend’s shot has been replaced and they’re both wearing a pair of dueling smiles. Their conversation too quiet to hear, but you know that tone of hers and what it means.

The good kind or the bad kind it was too early in the evening to say.

You allow yourself a brief moment to admire his profile, your eyes tracing over his cheekbones and jaw, noticing a few scars that dot his sunkissed skin.

He lets out a low chuckle and looks back towards you, “Good. Hangman has been a pain in my ass for years. Serves him right. It’ll be good for his ego.”

“Hangman?” you ask, eyebrows pinching together.

“Oh, right. That’s Jake,” he clarifies, nodding over to his friend, “Hangman is his callsign. Bagman if he’s pissing me off, which is often enough. We’re both Naval aviators.”

Well, that explained the aura of self-assuredness that radiated from the two of them from the very moment you’d seen them.

The uniform was bad enough on its own, but a pilot?

Trouble was definitely too small a word for this man, he’d need a different category created for him altogether.

“Can’t say I’m too mad at him right now though. I wanted to go somewhere more lowkey, but he said ‘pretty girls like pretty places’,” he gives you a slow smile as his eyes drift over you, “Turns out he was right. But don’t tell him that I said that, he’ll be insufferable.”

And then he has the audacity to wink at you.

You absolutely will not be getting tangled up with a pilot. But you were definitely up for a little fun, and decide there is no harm in indulging in some friendly banter.

“So are you going to tell me your callsign or do I have to guess?” you tease.

“It’s Rooster.”

You swallow down the quip that comes to your mind first, and ask instead, “Do you come with a first name, Rooster? Or did the Navy claim that too?”

He has Bradshaw emblazoned on the nametag on his chest, but you’re so curious to find out the answer. You’ve never been so interested collecting breadcrumb pieces of someone before, there’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes you want to know more.

“I’m Bradley,” he grins wider, holding out his hand to you.

You look from him to his big hand and then back to him again, debating on how much you want to give him in return. He lifts a playful eyebrow his hand still outstretched as he waits for your move.

So you put your hand in his and give him your name.

Rooster repeats it back as if he’s testing out the way the syllables and consonants of your name feel in his mouth. And if he’s slow to let go of your hand, you let it slide without a comment.

“Well, since it’s Fleet Week and all, Bradley Rooster Bradshaw, I think would be pretty unpatriotic for me to not buy you a drink as an apology for my friends and for subjecting you that poorly executed line.”

His features take on a very contemplative look as he lets out a low, quiet hmm.

“I don’t know about that,” he deliberates.

“About the drink?” you ask, fully prepared to make a hasty retreat before you make yourself look any more ridiculous than you already did.

“No, about the line,” Rooster says, whiskey smooth, “I think it was pretty effective.”

“Really? That’s all it took, huh?” you laugh, “You must have been stuck on that ship for a while.”

Flagging down the bartender, you order a couple shots of chilled tequila.

You see Bradley reach into his shirt pocket, pulling out a few loose bills to pay. There’s definitely nowhere for a wallet to go in those pants. Sliding in front of him, letting yourself graze up against him just the slightest bit, you tell the bartender to put the shots on your group’s open tab. You can see them still spying on you, so it was the least they could do for a free show.

You spin towards him and rest your elbows on the bartop behind you with a grin. He just smirks and shakes his head at you with a look that you’d almost want to call fond if you’d actually known him for longer than ten minutes.

“So, how long were you deployed? Are you headed back to wherever home is after this weekend is over?” you ask.

“I’m actually stationed here permanently in San Diego,” Bradley says, pausing for a moment before continuing, “But I am headed out for a two-month deployment tomorrow.”

He’s looking at you closely, as if he is trying to gauge your reaction to him showing you his cards so early. Here today, but gone tomorrow.

This open honesty from him makes him even more attractive in your eyes. He’s the type of man who could so easily wreck your plans if you gave him the chance to. And for a split second, you can almost see the end before anything can even begin.

“Well, it’s nice of the city to give you such a nice send-off then,” you say lightly, ignoring the twinge in your stomach.

Thankfully, the bartender returns with the chilled shots, you thank him and then hand Bradley one of the shot glasses cheers-ing him with your own, “To Uncle Sam’s overly inflated defense budget.”

He snorts and watches as you raise the glass to your lips. Feeling bold under the warmth of his gaze, your tongue darts out as you lick the smoked salt off the rim before swallowing down the shot, not breaking eye contact with him once.

You’re beyond delighted when notice the tips of his ears are a little pink as he throws back his own. The heaviness from earlier shifting into a more exciting kind of tension as your gazes bounce off of each other.

Bradley leans a bit into your space as he sets his empty glass on the bartop, “Can I let you in on a secret?”

“Only if it’s a juicy one,” you counter, more than happy to take the bait.

“It wasn’t just the line. Your little tiara thing is doing it for me too,” he says reaching out and adjusting the rhinestone Bridesmaid headband that you’d completely forgotten you were wearing. His thumb skimming over your temple as he withdraws his hand.

You could handle an unabashed flirt, but a charming unabashed flirt whose smile was setting off a flurry of butterflies in your chest was not on the agenda for tonight.

“Do you want to swap, Rooster?” you tease nodding your head towards the white and shiny black-rimmed hat that is sitting snugly on top of his head.

“Nah, I don’t think I could pull it off as well as you do.” He shoots you another wink, one that has your toes curling in your pretty-but-too-tall heels. “Plus, mine is technically government property. They don’t let just anyone wear it, not without earning it.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes dip down to your lips.

The shot of tequila makes you brave enough to contemplate asking just exactly one would have to do to earn a turn wearing his hat, but the two of you are startled out of bubble you had found yourselves in at the sound of a sharp slap.

You peer curiously around Bradley to see Hangman looking equal parts shell-shocked and starry eyed after your best friend as she struts away from him with a swing in her hips, her hair bouncing with each step.

“I should-” your own eyes betray you by slipping down to his parted lips when you look back at him, “I should go check on her.”

“You don’t have to go just because Bagman is an idiot. Let me get you a drink and return the favor. Please,” he says, his big brown eyes asking you to stay.

“No, I really should. Thanks for indulging my friends and for the company, Bradley. Enjoy the rest of Fleet Week.” Before you can overthink it, you lean in a press a kiss to his cheek. Giving him one more smile, one that doesn’t feel as bright as you’d like it to be, you turn and leave.

You hustle to catch up with your friend as she makes her way back to your bedazzled group, “Hey, are you ok? What the hell did he say?”

She waves off your concern with a Cheshire cat grin, “Oh, that man is about to be so obsessed with me.”

Over the next hour it is impossible to keep your eyes from straying back to him. You try to lose yourself to the music on the small dancefloor and in the raunchy girl talk. Every time you dared to take a peek at him, you’d been surprised to see him already looking at you instead of chatting up some other girl.

At one point, he’d even been bold enough to pat the space next to him as an open invitation. You’d simply smiled and shook your head at him, laughing to yourself when he dramatically clutched at his heart in response.

It’s not until a very large bottle of Dom Perignon Brut Rosé is delivered your table, a cheer going up as the bottle service girl discloses who had it sent over, that you’re made to reevaluate your plans for the evening.

The two men are still at the bar, but you don’t miss the satisfied smirk of on your best friend’s face as she helps herself to some of the pink bubbly.

Instead of a glass, you’re offered a threat.

“We all know what she’s doing, but if I see you at brunch tomorrow I’m kicking you out of the wedding,” the bride-to-be cheerfully trills, albeit tipsily, as she presses your clutch into your hand and shoos you away. Officially dismissed from your bridesmaid duties for the remainder of the weekend.

You take the long way around the edge of the room to the bar, giving yourself a minute to debate the pros and cons of what you were planning to do. But as the crowd parts and you see him, still planted in the same place you’d left him, all the bullet-pointed items on your mental list dissolve like sugar in an Old Fashioned at the sight of his warm whiskey brown eyes.

This time it’s no accident in the way you slide up to him.

“Well, Rooster, you’ve got my attention.”

“Good. I like your attention,” he says with an all too pleased grin. “I was worried I was going to have to come join in you over there. The last bachelorette party we ran into kept wanting me to give the bride a lap dance. It looked pretty dire there for me for a moment. You bridesmaids are an intimidating bunch.”

He doesn’t strike you as someone who would shy away from the attention.

“Feral, drunk, horny women aren’t your thing? Or are you just anti lap dance?” you ask with a cheeky tilt of your head.

“Feral and horny women for sure. And I am very pro lap dance, I’ll have you know. I’m just picky about who I give them too. For example, if you were to ask nicely, I’d be more than happy to demonstrate,” he offers, his cheek ticking up on one side.

He made you feel an exhilarating kind of reckless. And if you were only going to get one night with him, you were going to make the most of it.

“That’s a very expensive bottle of champagne that just got delivered to us.”

“Well, it’s Fleet Week after all.”

“We established that earlier tonight,” you note jokingly.

“So we did,” Bradley acknowledges with a dip of his chin. “And in the spirit of Fleet Week, it seemed like a good gesture to further advance and cultivate better civilian and military relations.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” you laugh.

“Ok, funny girl. Tell me then, what do you think Fleet Week is about?” he asks, settling in and leaning his elbow on the bartop.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Getting free drinks and getting laid.”

“Ok, ok. You’ve got me there,” he chuckles. “Can’t say that hasn’t been part of the draw for me in the past.”

“So you admit you’re doing it wrong,” you can’t help but tease him as you throw a thumb over your shoulder towards the $500 bottle of champagne that’s bubbling away in glasses.

“In my defense, Hangman and I went dutch on it,” Rooster says as he puts his hands up in surrender. “Plus, if you remember, I already had a very pretty girl buy me a drink tonight.” His eyes drag over you pointedly, then lets them linger at your mouth again.

“Only the one?” you ask peering up at him.

“The only one I wanted.”

“And how many others have offered?” you ask, stepping even closer. You can feel the heat rolling off of him in waves even in the well airconditioned room.

He weighs his words before answering, “A few.”

A moment passes between the two of you as crystal-clear clarity settles around you.

The old you would have dropped it, but this version of you, the one you liked being around him was ready to press further.

“So the free drinks have been covered,” you say, fingertips tracing up along the veins of his forearm, “And what about getting laid?”

“I’d be more than happy with a phone number and a date lined up for sixty-two days from now,” Rooster says resting a hand low on your back, his thumb skimming along your bare skin. “But if you wanted, I wouldn’t mind showing you just how invested I am in furthering those civilian-military relations.”

The desire in his eyes makes any lingering doubts in your mind evaporate like a marine layer.

“Is that so, Sailor? How civically inclined of you.”

“Lieutenant Commander, actually,” he says with pride as he straightens up to his full height, his chest looking impossibly broader as he does.

“Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw?” you hum, “Now that’s quite a mouthful.”

The low rumble that escapes his chest makes goosebumps erupt across your body.

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs, pulling you closer as he brings his other hand to the curve of your hip.

“Oh please. You handle multimillion-dollar aircrafts for a living, I’m sure you could handle little ol’ me,” you say with a wink.

It’s a challenge, it’s a dare.

“Yeah, I bet I could too,” he rasps, looking at your lips.

He shouldn’t be so easy to like, shouldn’t have you wanting moremoremore when you’ve known him less than two hours.

You bring your hands to his chest, your fingers toying with the little button near the hollow of his throat, “So, you’re shipping out tomorrow…”

You feel as he stiffens slightly under your palms, but his gaze remains steady on you, “Yeah, tomorrow evening. It’s not the greatest of timing, I know.”

“Well then, I guess if there’s a clock we’re working against, we should probably get this show on the road,” you say nodding towards the door.

You watch as the remorse in his eyes is replaced with a mischievous glint. The solemn press of his lips transforming into a slow, knowing smirk.

And you know he’s game.

“You gonna take me home with you, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse with faux contemplation, looking at him from under your mascara coated lashes, “Do I get a tax break if I do?”

“I’d be more than happy to google it in the cab. And if you do, I’ll even fill out the form for you.”

You see a flash of a grin before he pulls you in for a kiss.

His warm hand and callous fingers glide up your back pressing you against his chest as his lips meet yours. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. Electricity racing from where you’re connected to every nerve ending in your body.

You pull away from him all too soon, smiling to yourself when he chases after your lips.

“I have one condition,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Name it,” Bradley says, dropping another lingering kiss to your lips.

“Maybe two,” you concede.

“Name them,” he chuckles lightly.

“You wear a condom.”

“Of course, that’s a given. What else?” He leans back just enough to adjust your sparkly headband from the way it had tilted back on your head.

“And my last request is… that I get to try on your hat.”

“We can definitely make that happen. Anything you want, baby.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, I’m also pretty set on getting to have your cock in my mouth.”

“Jesus Christ.” His hands tighten on your hips, and his brown eyes turn molten.

“I think I’m looking forward to finding out if you’re an officer or a gentleman.”

“I’m definitely both,” Rooster says giving you an all too confident look that promises he has the skill to back up his words, “At least until these dress whites come off.”

You hear another woo! ring out that you know has nothing to do with another delivery of expensive champagne as he takes you by the hand and leads you out of the jewelry box bar.

There are already a few cabs lined up at the rank outside of the hotel. He holds the door open for you, and you slide in giving the driver your address. You’re not sure how Bradley manages to squeeze the bulk of him into the backseat along with you, but you don’t mind the way his thigh presses against yours or the way he rests his heavy hand on your knee or the way his thumb makes maddeningly light circles there.

He laughs when you hold up your phone to him at the flurry of all capitalized and emoji riddled text messages in the group chat that had been created for the evening. And when the driver pulls up to your apartment building, when you try to pull out your credit card, he passes the man a wad of twenties. Way more than the ride cost with a keep the change as he hustles you out of the car.

“Lead the way, baby,” Rooster croons in your ear, his voice low.

And in that moment, you decide you really like Fleet Week.

Who could resist a man in summer whites? Especially when that man is Bradley Bradshaw! Read Part 2 here!

Thank you for reading!

If you missed Hey, Sailor you can catch it HERE!

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You can read my other stories here!

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[crabonfire]

Engineer! cuddling you for the first time and falling asleep afterwards 🗣🗣💯🔥🔥

character: engie

note: I was reminded my a mutual that I have a fucking tumblr blog 😭😭😭 so here's uh yeah engie posting cause I miss him and also...this one goes out to u moot... xoxo...

also it's 4 am and I wanted to make this short but...yk me...I'm a yapper ☺️

also first 4 paragraphs are just a bit of backstory but you can skip that!!!

warnings: this is CORNYYYY super CHEESY so BE WARNED 🥶🥶🥶🥶

and also I'm making the reader the shy one ❤️ not engie ILL MAKE ONE WHERE ENGIE IS SHY OKKKK calm down

♡♡♡

• I had a lot of different scenarios for this but I'm choosing this one cause I feel like it fits ❤️

• It was a hard day for the both of you. Your team had suffered an embarrassing loss, with scout constantly dying to the enemy's sentries and spy getting caught by the pyro again and again. It was especially bad for you, though. You got three whole kills, a devastating drop from your usual 7.

• And Engie? He got tired of getting his sentries sapped over and over. His usually flawless strategy crumbled at the enemy spy who kept on tearing down his defenses. After he made dinner for the team, you saw him dissappear into his workshop, and not coming out at all after that.

• You tried to sleep it off, but one, you were disappointed in your performance today, and two... you wanted to see how Engie was doing.

It was, what, 2 am? 3? But who cares, right? You missed your boyfriend, and you could tell he was still awake when you walked over to his workshop and saw the light pouring out from the door.

There was no sound as you approached the door. Maybe he was asleep? You hesitated, but you opened it quietly, careful not to potentially wake him.

• But he was awake. His back was hunched over, goggles still attached firmly to his eyes. He definitely had creases in his face from how much he wore them. And that signature hardhat of his. He sat staring at- whatever contraption he was working on.

He didn't notice you, walking over and standing behind him, quietly taking a look at what it was he was so focused on. A little remote, you had never seen it before, but you assumed it had something to do with his sentries.

"What'cha working on?"

• He visibly flinched, not expecting to hear your voice. He blinked, shaking his head and turning to look at you.

"Darlin'! Ya scared me."

He chuckled, his voice was low and rasped as if he hadn't spoken or drank in a while. Now all he wore was a t shirt and more comfortable joggers, atleast he bothered to put on something softer before working.

He gave you a small smile, but you could tell from his voice and the creases near his eyes that he was exhausted.

"What're you doin' up so late? I thought you'd be asleep by now."

He commented very ironically, that smile still plastered staying even with the exhaustion written on his face. You stood there for a moment, before crossing your arms and tilting your head, mimicking that smile.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Another chuckle, this one less energetic and strained. He looked over at what he worked on, "I'm workin' on somethin' that I think will really bring us back. Its just...lots of trial and error." He looked back to you, taking off his hardhat and setting it to the side.

"But I think I'll take a break from that. Did ya need somethin' from me?"

You blinked, realizing that, you didn't really have anything to talk about or do with him. After a moment of contemplation, you shrugged and went quiet when you spoke.

"I...no, not really. I just missed you."

• You two hadn't been dating for very long at all, so admitting all this lovey dovey stuff was embarrassing. You couldn't see his expression too well, but the way his lips curled into a big smile made your knees feel weak. It was like his exhaustion faded at your words, as he fully turned back to you and hummed.

"Ya missed me, huh?"

He felt so happy hearing you say that. He couldn't help it, the sudden shyness in your tone made his heart skip a beat. "I missed you too, sugar."

• Your own lips formed a smile when he said that, and that little pet name? He could make any corny nickname into something cute. You two just stared at each other for a little bit, before he broke the silence with a small yawn.

He murmured a quiet "sorry", which made you giggle. Even if it had only been a minute or two, seeing him had already made you feel better about how your day went.

• You approached him as he sat on his chair, he stared quietly, tilting his head with a smile when you stopped and stood closely over him. You hesitated, but quickly blurted it out.

"Can we...yknow.."

You made a gesture with your hand which he couldn't help but smile at.

"Cuddle?"

It sounded so silly and embarrassing to say outloud. But you two were adults, goddammit. And you had to engage in some sort of cheesy romantic thing if this was gonna be a real thing.

He looked even more surprised then when you admitted you missed him, and somehow, his big smile grew even bigger. He nodded, chuckling once more and finding your hesitance charming.

"Of course we can, darlin'. C'mere."

• He wasn't nervous at all. Well- maybe a little. But definitely not more than you.

"How do I-"

You hovered awkwardly over his sitting form, but he only opened his arms up to you, his hand gently guiding your waist as he pulled you closer. He watched your nervous face, feeling his heart beat quicken at the way you seemed so scared to "mess up" or make him uncomfortable.

You sat down onto his lap, your chests close together as you settled your arms against his shoulders. This was the first time you two were this close. Everything else was just- a short hug or a kiss that lasted a little longer than most. You stared through the lenses of his goggles, it was a little silly but, you found the sight to be endearing. He felt the exact same.

His arms slowly wrapped around your body, making sure you were comfortable, too. You spoke up quietly, feeling a bit more nervous when you realized how close your faces were.

"Is...is this okay?" He only nodded.

"Mhm. More than okay."

• You relaxed a little bit more as you looked at his calm expression, and slowly, wrapped your own arms around him too. Feeling braver, you rested your head on his shoulder and sighed. You had been needing this. His body was so warm, so nice, like an oven.

He had been needing this too. He didn't realize how tense he had been until he calmed down from the feeling of your weight on him, his muscles could relax. He had been waiting for this, honestly. He wished it had happened sooner because if he knew how nice it would feel, he would've done it at any chance he got.

Being able to hold you felt therapeutic, felt comfortable and familiar. He leaned against the table as you settled in his lap, his eyes closed as he could hear the sound of your faint breathing. He hoped you couldn't hear the fast beating of his heart, but you secretly hoped he couldn't hear yours.

• "This is nice."

You mumbled quietly. He hummed softly in response. Your voice sounded so nice to him, so quiet, you could lull him to sleep and he wouldn't complain. He could never complain.

Instinctively, he started to rub random circles around your back, your own eyes closing at the soothing feeling.

• You'd break the silence occasionally by talking about random things that he'd be happy to answer. He was supposed to take a small break and go back to work but...you had fallen asleep. Well, how could he work if you were sound asleep on his lap, hm? Guess it would have to wait till tomorrow.

♡♡♡

was that a satisfying ending I can't tell I'm so tired OMG this was lowkey me rambling sorry for shit writing English not first language + I haven't written in so long kmg.

[kingschclar]

SPOILS OF A PIRATE !

contains : sub!pirate!leona, gn!reader, kind of rough, fingering (anal), eating out his ass, handjob, bit of tail play, bit too much swearing but theyre pirates

leona and you have a little rendezvous after a successful raid

love note — a belated halloween fic because i lost track of time

You shoved Leona against the mountains of gold in the hold, using one hand to tug him towards you by the collar, and the other tossing some of the new loot you’d collected that day. He was huffing, tail undoubtedly uncomfortable pressed against the gold, but something told you that he couldn’t care less about it at the moment. His brows were furrowed, his erection obvious as he growled against your lips.

Biting and pulling at his lip with your teeth, you practically ripped his pants open with the newfound strength and energy from the adrenaline of another successful raid. When your hand cupped his cock, Leona had to pull away, a gaspy moan forced out of the pirate’s throat.

“Like that?” You smirked, making him snarl defensively as you rolled your eyes.

“Talking to your captain like that?” He bit back, though his aggression was short lived as you traced your thumb over the head of his dick. He leaned back further against the stash of your gold at that, hands trying to find purchase in the falling coins and trinkets. You chose to simply ignore what he said, getting on your knees before him wordlessly. He managed a smirk, looking down at you from his position. “That’s more like it.” He almost purred, mistaking your actions as a sign of submission before you freed his cock, stroking it over your face lewdly.

His words were almost stuck in his throat, eyes hungry as his cock couldn’t help but drip out more precum at the way you looked at him in return. Despite his being an apex predator, he felt like he was the prey with the intense look in your eyes. You licked up his cock, all the way from the base before taking his head in your mouth immediately. You were impatient, wanting to see the usually composed, powerful man cum immediately.

Leona crumbled in your hold, lashes sweeping over his cheekbones as you hollowed your cheeks as much as you could. You were making progress, slowly taking more and more of him down your throat. You looked up at him, palms digging into the mountain of gold as he leaned his head back with a guttural sound. He was heavenly, sweat creating an attractive gleam on the cleavage his unbuttoned shirt allowed you to see. You gave in to your urges, maneuvering his legs so that they were on your shoulder, perfect for him to clamp his muscular thighs around your head as you sucked the living hell out of him. You were practically picking him up, pressing him against the now warm metal as your hands left marks on his hips.

He tried to keep from cumming, but the warmth and tightness of your mouth was almost overwhelming to the pirate. His mouth fell open in pleasured groans, albeit soft, and you could tell that he was purposely trying to hold them back. Dissatisfied, you pulled off his cock, making him let out a whine. He was close, you’re sure.

“Oi. Why did y- Shit,” he’d almost whimpered when your tongue pressed against his hole, circling it with intent. You could feel it fluttering and you gave him what he craved, pushing past the tight ring of muscle and making his thighs twitch. You were hasty, borrowing some of the slick on his wet cock to lubricate your fingers, already pushing one in and forcing him to get used to the stretch. That drew a needy moan from him as he grinded down against the finger, his dick now twitching freely, craving your attention.

You continued licking as you put another finger in, bending the two and worming the digits in an attempt to find his prostate. You knew when you hit it, hearing Leona let out the first shaky moan of the evening. You continued your assault on his prostate after that, pulling your tongue out and giving him no time to whine and complain about it. He was fucking his ass down on your fingers as best as he could, the sound of the clinking of gold almost passed as white noise as you took in the beautiful voices he made for you. You could tell that he’d needed it bad, but you’d also gotten the urge to make him beg for it.

“Wanna cum, baby?” You asked, and he nodded feverishly, combined with a slurred “fuck yes”. You smiled, a smile he would’ve known meant bad news if he could do more than squirm and twitch. You took your fingers out of him for just one moment, hoisting him off the gold and flipping him around, pressing his face against it instead. Quickly, you shoved your fingers back in, making the man twitch and preen with pleasure.

“Be a doll, ask for it nicely.” That almost seemed to make him snap out of his trance, though you were certain you caught a glimpse of his cock jump. He was silent ahead from the sounds falling from his lips, and you could tell he was weighing it out in his head. You weren’t up for waiting, however, and noticed his swishing, twitching tail. You leaned down, giving it a tentative lick and hearing a full blown moan get ripped out of him. Leona was slumping against the pile even more now, ass perked up as your fingers worked relentlessly. “C’mon, ‘Ona. It’s not that fucking hard, is it?” You sneered, warm breath on his tail as you bit down on it, causing the man to finally cave in.

“Please! Please, fuck me. Harder.” He practically spat out, hands frantically grasping at the coins as you could tell he was about to tip.

For the grand finale, you reached around, stroking his dick at the same pace as your fingers. Leona’s voice turned higher, a downright slutty noise filling the hold of the ship as he arched his back too prettily for his own good, undecided whether to fuck himself back or thrust into your warm, slick palm. “Fuck!” He managed to grit out, and you knew that his eyes were near rolling back into his head about now. His tail caught your attention once again, and you couldn’t help but bite on the unexpectedly firm flesh.

That sent him over the edge, and you could confidently say that he’d been the prettiest, most eye catching thing in the room at the moment; the fearsome captain was practically bent over the loot, cum spilling in thick spurts as his legs clamped together, shaking as shockwaves of pleasure buzzed in his veins. He was practically glowing, ears fallen back against his head and the little skin you could see shining with sweat.

You continued to work him through it, now slightly gentler with the man until he was calm again. There was a moment of silence before he turned around, leaning back against the coins with a sigh.

“Cheeky bastard,” he complained, though from hid disheveled state you knew that he’d liked it. You gave a chuckle before gripping his wrists, pinning them to the sides of his head.

“I’m not done, captain.”

[aerkame]

TFP Imagine | Vehicon Reader

Tfp vehicon reader that can actually aim well and almost pushes the Autobots into retreating.

I had this one sitting in drafts for a while now. My inspiration was wondering what would happen if just a single vehicon could actually aim in the show. I noticed they have the aiming ability of a Storm Trooper and couldn't hit a target if they were sitting still.

I may turn this into a series though, I really like this concept.

----------------------------------------------------

Team Prime would take a surprising amount of time to finally notice that only one vehicon is causing them any real damage. They're so used to the same old fights. Vehicons swarm them, but they're pretty weak and can't aim all that well, and either Megatron or Starscream has to step in to drive off the team.

Optimus and Arcee are the first to notice however, watching you take a good defensive position from behind a boulder between two walls, blasting away at the both of them with near pinpoint accuracy. So much so that both Autobots agreed they needed to retreat further back into the treelines. Vehicon blasters are pretty weak, but you're getting enough hits in on their frames that their very metal is starting to dent and scorch from the constant trauma.

They're left wondering in fear now if the Deceptions started training their vehicons seriously with new blasters or if this is a new member of sorts that joined without their notice. Either way, Arcee convinces Optimus you were the main target for now. They needed to get the heat off of them before proceeding with the mission.

-

You ducked behind the stone that was your current defense, catching a moment to check your blaster to ensure it didn't overheat. These things were stupidly designed for Primus knows what reason...the stupid thing kept overheating forcing you to take cover after just one round of shooting your targets. You could've driven the two Autobots further back by now.

You knew it was dangerous separating from the other vehicons like this, but you also knew they couldn't aim for scrap and would probably be offline by now if they tried fighting Arcee and Optimus head on. Besides, you were in a good spot that neither Autobot could get into. The Prime wouldn't be able to fit between the walls and the femme couldn't come in without getting blasted in the face. It was a win in your opinion. Your vehicon friends don't get blasted while you distract the Autobots and wait for backup.

Backup didn't come though.

It had been half an hour now since Optimus and Arcee were pushed further back into the nearby forest from your gunfire. Every attempt to just go around was met with several blasts far too close to the helm and Arcee was beginning to lose her patience. Optimus needed a plan and he needed one soon if they wanted any hope of getting passed you and get into the mines, mines that were unfortunately too small to groundbridge into.

It made sense that Ratchet would call by now, asking what happened and why he hadn't heard from either bots for so long. Arcee explained in detailed the current situation with the dangerous vehicon leaving a very surprised Ratchet snorting in disbelief. A vehicon? Come on, it's probably some fancy new weapon, we all know vehicons can't aim that well. Right?

Optimus cut in affirming the situation and requested backup via groundbridge at a specific location, they needed backup fast before the other vehicons inside the mines left with the energon.

-

Your shoulders slouched as you ducked below the stone once more after a quick peak. Both the Autobots and yourself have started shooting less and less. You were under the assumption that they must have been getting low on energon too by now. And yet, backup still hadn't arrived for you. Anxiety started to fill your frame as you thought about your past life choices that led you here, not noticing the sound of a groundbridge above your hiding space.

Only when the wall next to you crumbled did you notice your surroundings again. You didn't even have time to register what had happened when a giant green mech practically tackled you to the ground making you shriek in surprise.

-

Bulkhead kept your tiny frame pinned beneath his weight, servos in tight stasis cuffs to ensure you didn't try any last ditch efforts as Optimus and Arcee made their way forward, finally able to get to their goal, albeit lower on energon than they'd like.

Arcee came over to get a good look at you, confirming to Optimus you are just a normal vehicon, nothing noteworthy or special about you or the weapon you were carrying. Optimus paused his trek to the mines for a moment, staring deep into your optics as you lay paralyzed beneath the green wrecker. Of course you mustered up all you could just to glare at him and he quietly commed something to what you assumed were the others.

Within seconds of watching the two disappear into the mines, Bulkhead grabbed your limp frame by the scruff and tossed you through a new groundbridge into the waiting arms of the Autobot medic.

[pretty-little-candid-blurbs]

Healing Moonlight

Word Count: ~2000 words

Warning: This fanfic contains mentions of self-esteem issues and emotional distress.

Summary: After a particularly brutal full moon, Remus Lupin awakens with a new scar on his face, triggering deep insecurities. He isolates himself in his room, refusing to eat or let anyone in, including Y/N. Concerned for their friend and love interest, Y/N tries to uncover the reason behind Remus's sudden withdrawal while dealing with their own fears of losing him. With love and patience, Y/N aims to heal Remus and show him that he's not alone.

The sun rose gently, its warm rays peeking through the curtains of the Gryffindor dormitory. Y/N stirred, looking around to find that Remus was not in his bed. This wasn't uncommon after a full moon; he often needed time alone to recover. However, when Y/N went to check on him in his room, they found the door locked.

"Remus?" Y/N called, knocking softly. There was no response. Concerned, they tried again. "Remus, it's me. Can I come in?"

A muffled voice came from behind the door. "I'm fine, Y/N. Just go away, please."

But Y/N knew better. They knew that something was wrong, especially since Remus had never reacted this way before. They tried once more to coax him out of his room, but to no avail. For the next few days, Remus refused to eat or see anyone, and his friends were starting to grow concerned.

Y/N shared their worries with James, Sirius, and Peter, but even they were clueless about what might be going on with their friend. They attempted to comfort Y/N, but the worry gnawed at them all.

One evening, Y/N finally managed to convince the others to let them try talking to Remus again. Armed with determination, they approached his room once more and knocked gently.

"Remus, it's Y/N again," they said softly. "Please, just let me in. I'm really worried about you."

There was a long pause, but then the sound of the lock clicking open reached their ears. Slowly, Y/N pushed the door open and found Remus sitting on his bed, his head hanging low, and his hand on the new scar on his face.

Y/N's heart ached at the sight. They walked over and sat next to him, gently placing a hand on his back. "What's wrong, Remus? You can tell me."

Remus looked up, his eyes filled with pain and vulnerability. "It's this scar," he whispered. "I thought I could handle being a werewolf, but every time I see myself in the mirror, I'm reminded of what I've become."

Y/N's heart broke for him. They had always admired Remus's strength, but now they saw the hidden insecurities that burdened him. "Remus, your scars don't define you," they said softly. "They're a part of your journey, a testament to the battles you've fought and won. And they don't change how much I care about you."

Remus looked surprised, his eyes welling up with tears. "You don't think I'm a monster?"

"Of course not," Y/N replied firmly. "You're one of the bravest, most caring people I know. Your scars are a reminder of the strength it takes to face the challenges life throws at us. And I'll be here for you, no matter what."

Remus's defenses started to crumble as he leaned into Y/N's comforting presence. "I've been pushing you away because I didn't want you to see me like this, broken and vulnerable."

Y/N gently lifted his chin, making him meet their gaze. "You don't need to hide from me, Remus. We all have scars, physical or emotional, and they don't make us any less worthy of love and care. I love you, all of you, scars and all."

A tear escaped Remus's eye, and Y/N wiped it away with their thumb. Slowly, a small smile formed on his face, and he whispered, "I love you too."

From that moment on, Y/N made it their mission to help Remus heal, both physically and emotionally. They brought him food and stayed by his side, reminding him that he was not alone. The other Marauders were relieved to see their friend coming out of his shell again, and they all supported him through his journey of self-acceptance.

As the days passed, Remus's smile grew more frequent, and he became more comfortable with the person he saw in the mirror. With Y/N's unwavering love and support, Remus learned that he was not defined by his scars, but by the strength of his heart and the love he shared with others.

And so, under the healing moonlight, Remus and Y/N's love blossomed, stronger than ever before, and they faced the future together, knowing that no challenge could break the bond they shared.

[velvethana]

PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ waves.

In the quiet glow of the morning, the rare private moments he has with you are Yeonjun’s favorite.

જ⁀➴♡ wc 2k ✧ fluff , choi yeonjun x reader

Love should make you appreciate the life you lived.

This was something that Yeonjun had always believed in.

All kinds of love were believable to him and any form that it came in was welcomed. From the love from his friends to the love from his fans, somewhere along the way Yeonjun had decided that love made the world go around.

Although, there was always that nagging feeling that it was temporary. The fear that things could crumble in an instant.

Yeonjun was rarely an anxious person, oftentimes he’d take things in stride and work his best to improve his faults, building off of them. Despite this dedication, everyone was prone to the stresses of overthinking on occasion— it was only human.

Thankfully with the busy life he led, the time that these thoughts had to take over was little to none. Much less overwhelming and more of an annoyance, days of relaxation would only stir up thoughts of disappointment.

‘Why not spend this time working toward something?’

He wasn’t sure he could ever find a definite defense against that question. Luckily for Yeonjun, nowadays he found those thoughts rarely came to visit and were instead replaced with thoughts of you.

Sparrows of light flew in like spears through the window. It was only the rain that shattered the otherwise deafening silence. The ever familiar grip around you tightened as you stirred awake slightly, taking a deep breath as you nuzzled further into him.

“Are you awake?” You knew that he had already known the answer, recognizing the change in your breathing. He always paid attention to things like that. Even still, you craned your neck up to face him and gave him a small smile before a yawn escaped you.

And he smiled, God, that smile before leaning in to place a kiss on your lips. Neither of you had brushed your teeth but in the very rare mornings that you had to yourself, intimacy came before hygiene.

It was in the very rare mornings like these, Yeonjun realized that he would fall in love with you all over again.

His favorite kind of mornings, perfectly intimate and so private.

The people didn’t need to know about your ordinary happiness, that was just for the two of you.

The moment of peace was quickly disturbed by the sound of his alarm ringing, signaling the start of his day. For a brief moment he considered ignoring it and abandoning his schedules (which realistically, he knew wasn’t possible) to spend more time with you but as if the world was also against him, the birds outside began to sing as well.

With an annoyed huff, he reluctantly pried his arms off of you but not without giving you a few kisses peppered all over face that you affectionally rolled your eyes at.

You buried your face back into your pillow, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you took another deep breath in.

Yeonjun felt his heart swell in his chest as he watched you from the corner of his eye, a dry chuckle escaping him as he began to get ready for his day.

Realizing you’re unlikely to fall back asleep with the newfound empty space next to you, you tiredly scrolled through your phone comfortable in bed. Yeonjun leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom as he began brushing his teeth.

“When I hold you close to me I can always see a house by the ocean,”

His words were muffled by the foam of the toothpaste in his mouth and you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him do his best to get the sentence out without letting any slip out.

It would have made you cringed if you didn’t have a look of obvious confusion on your face, which wasn’t missed by him and he just smiled, mouth full, as you motioned for him to continue.

“Yeah, good morning to you too.”

The words weren’t hard to put together— not when it was something he’d bring up often.

Your future. ‘Our future.’ As he’d say.

Even still, you waited for him to continue.

Yeonjun often wondered if there was a universe where day and night could co-exist, where your secret moments in crowded rooms didn’t have to be so fleeting and he could love you for how long he knew that he was destined to. If his mornings would always look like this.

“A beach house, maybe?”

After what felt like a never ending staring contest, he spit the toothpaste out of his mouth finally and washed off any remaining that had fallen out despite his best efforts.

During this visit back to the bathroom sink, his reflection stared back at him. With his hair messy and unkempt, face a bit puffy and bare, he still smiled.

“Last night with your breathing, I swore I could hear the waves.”

As he wiped his hands and face, he made his return to the doorway and looked directly into your eyes with that dorky smile he always sported. In that smile, you felt all of his sincerity.

Your hands made their way to your face to hide the smile that had clawed its’ way on there as you let out an embarrassed groan, retreating into the safety of the bed.

Still, he just laughed as he finished drying.

“You’re an idiot..”

Despite the harsh meaning of the words, there was no negative weight to them. If anything, the cadence you’d spoken with held nothing but love.

The same bell seemed to ring in your heart and you swore if you heard him chuckle one more time you were gonna grab him by his shoulders and shake some sense into him.

Making his way back to the bed and sitting next to you for a moment, the sinking of the bed made it feel welcoming again.

Even how you were, hiding from him under a mess of tangled bed sheets with your hair mangled just the same, all he could think about was how good you were to him.

Reaching out, his hands gently pulled your wrists away from the shield you put up to protect your face. You shot him a glare in response through your fingers.

That dorky smile was now replaced with one full of confidence and admiration.

“Only for you.~”

Despite your best efforts, you were never a mystery to him.

No matter how much you’d try to hide from him, from the moment he met you he had been determined to show you how he felt and will always feel.

For Yeonjun, you’d given him everything.

The kind of love you only find once in a lifetime, he’d always say.

Since he was surprisingly the more sentimental of the two of you, you found that you’d often keep your own thoughts to yourself.

Not that he didn’t enjoy hearing them, you just never believed you could articulate how you felt as well as he did.

He was happy all the same, ever the giver.

Maybe he preferred it that way, you couldn’t tell.

What you could tell was how earnest he had always been in these moments.

In any moments you’d share, creases and folds in your skin, marks running up and down like drops of rain from the sky were loved and valued all the same in the driest desert, maybe even more.

Any insecurities were quieted as he’d drag his fingers along, connecting marks on your skin like constellations and sealing them in the sky in his mind with a kiss.

In Yeonjun’s heart, you provided a feeling he was convinced that he would never explain in well enough words.

To you, this was ridiculous.

What felt like hundreds of confessions of undying love and devotion never seemed to be enough to him, each one bringing up a new comparison to try and encapsulate the feeling you gave but never feeling quite good enough.

Like a garden filled with flowers, he’d say that you provided that kind of love that bleeds a myriad of colors into the world for miles and miles, and in that moment you swear you’d never seen anything more beautiful.

Almost immediately after saying this, he’d shake his head, insisting that wasn’t a perfect explanation.

His critique of perfection never seemed justified to you considering that it was more than anyone else had ever given you.

Yeonjun, who loves you with his entire heart, makes sure that you know it.

Even if the explanations weren’t perfect to everyone, they’d always fit how you felt when you looked at him.

It felt perfect enough for you and that was all that mattered in the end— because they were for you. Everything was for you.

His habit of being a perfectionist seemed to span even into his love life, not that you minded.

It ended up being a part of him that you loved all the same.

Something that started out as a friendship, seemingly born like any other through mutual friends and interests ended up becoming an unwavering promise between the two of you to stay together.

You, a book that had no name had drawn him in with only the cover, just to pull him in deeper and deeper as he turned the pages.

Despite this, he swears to you that it wasn’t only your outside allure but also every life story that you’d shared in confidence and every passion you’ve displayed— the things that you had loved in turn made him fall madly in love with you, a million times over.

Maybe the reason he couldn’t explain how much he loved you was because he wasn’t sure how deep it ran. How much deeper it could go.

Maybe if he loved you less, he could talk about it more. Because of this, despite his innate desire for perfection, he found himself preferring the uneasiness of not knowing. The way you left him unusually speechless on any days spent together, he found a new love for those imperfect moments.

The burning of the sun on his skin was never as comparable to the flush of his cheeks those days.

When Yeonjun said he loved every part of you, there was never any hesitation. Never any doubt.

In his mind, he was pulled under the moment he saw you.

With time, your presence became a constant force, existences entangled together like the eternal change of the seasons or the silence in the nights you’d spent together.

Maybe it was in the silence of those nights that he found himself that home on the beach.

A love that recognises and tends every broken bit of each other.

If it was possible, Yeonjun would decide to reread every chapter of your lives together because he was confident that he could pin-point the exact moment he fell in love with you the first time— and every time after that.

Any hardwired yearning for unconditional acceptance was nulled with a single look because when you looked at him, he didn’t feel the need to try.

And such, an authentic connection that goes beyond superficial labels or appearances was born.

“You know, as much as I love your poetic musings, babe… I think you’re gonna be late.”

His eyes widened for a moment, head whipping towards the clock on the wall only to narrow his eyes at the realization.

“Oh— shit.”

With a newfound burst of energy, Yeonjun quickly pushed himself off of his space in the bed.

Pulling a shirt over his head and quickly fixing up his hair, he didn’t bother to turn and see the amusement on your face, knowing that he’d ignore all of his responsibilities for the day to just to sit and stare for a while.

Finally dragging yourself to sit up, you pulled the blankets up with you to keep them close as a replacement for his weight until he returned.

‘I swore I could hear the waves.’

It was often that you’d find his words ring in your mind, unsurprising considering exactly who they came from but the butterflies in your stomach this time seemed even more delicate than usual.

Delicate like the kiss he stopped to plant on your forehead, despite the rush of the outside world racing against him. In those words was the promise of your future.

Anytime he had shared a new reasoning for how much he loved you, which he swore he could make a never ending list, you found yourself growing closer and closer to understanding it yourself.

For you, Yeonjun provided an undeniable sense of comfort. It was a strange, almost alien feeling— seemingly too good to be true but placed gently in the palm of your hand.

To the both of you, this unfamiliar sense of security was simply the beauty of it all.

Reminiscent of a fuzzy feeling that you’d never quite be able to place— a feeling that reminded you of the scent of your childhood home and the desire to return home all at once.

The passage of time and the haziness of your memories.

All of these dazed feelings rolled into what you believed would be your first and last true love. Choi Yeonjun.

Choi Yeonjun, the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on— the one whose voice you could single out in a crowd of thousands of people.

Choi Yeonjun, the most talented man you’d ever met and just about the most annoying sweet talker. The man with the kindest soul who provided the purest love.

Your perfectly imperfect love, Choi Yeonjun.

Regretfully taking the moment to pull away from your warmth, he flashed you that tired smile that seemed reserved only for you in these soft moments.

Staring into your eyes with only his reflection looking back, in them he swore he had seen that love reflecting back at him all the same.

You’d never have to say it, you’d never have to lift a finger when he’s around. He just knew you.

“I’ll miss you.”

Like all the times spent with Yeonjun that were full of laughter and mutual adoration, the muscles in your cheeks began to feel strained. You never minded.

“Promise?”

Creases appeared as the smile that was so uniquely you returned to your face only to confirm his suspicions. The love he chose to share with you was in the right hands. His favorite hands.

“Always.”

You were in love too, no matter how far apart you happened to be, you would both feel it anywhere you went. While he would hear it in the cheers of his fans, you would hear it in the silence of the night. But the both of you would feel it on the way home to each other.

Maybe that house he envisioned on the beach wasn’t that far off in the realm of possibility, maybe he was just dreaming.

Or perhaps the waves he heard that night had been the waves inside of his heart, crashing and pushing towards you the same way they were said to gravitate towards the moon.

Either way, with that sound he swore he could see an eternity with you.

As he rushed out, stumbling a bit over the mess created on the floor of his room, a laugh you couldn’t contain while watching him leave trickled through the cracks of the door he had closed behind him.

Your laugh, the only sound that could overpower the sounds of the ocean.

A sound he knew that he would always love.

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

[fromtheasheslikeaphoenix]

All that ends will begin again

Short Frieren/Himmel self-indulgence because it's either no straight ship for me or pain - so since canon gives pain I give comfort

-

It had been a great many years.. but not since the start of a journey, or the start of war. A couple hundred years, maybe, maybe a few decades less.. A bit of time, for sure, since the end of an age - the era of Frieren, Fern, Stark and their adventures.

She’d known, of course she had, that what she gained she’d lose again. This time more so than before the loss was so.. graspable. She didn’t give up, not on her progress or forging bonds, but.. it wasn’t the same, as for every layer of defenses the interactions had stripped her of, the damage seemed to multiply.

By the time Frieren entered a town she hadn’t been to before, the tales of the hero party made up of her and Himmel, Heiter and Eisen weren’t forgotten, but.. estranged, myths with evidence fading every day.

And yes, even she was starting to notice the strain of time. With each new bond formed and lost, the space her first companions held in her dreams decreased to make way for Fern, Stark, Sein, Denken, all of them. It made her appreciate everyone’s appearances, however short, in her mind just a little more, a little different from before.. but it also opened her heart up to melancholic reminiscing, bittersweet and ever so gentle yet vile.

It was the strangest curse of all, she could have it all yet keep nothing somehow all at once, even spells were slipping her mind due to the sheer amount she’d gathered.

The disease of reminiscing caught her once again as she entered the town. Chatter, laughter, peace in the air washed over her as she headed for the center where her mind quieted at the sight of the statue kept in pristine condition.

Heiter, he’d been just sober enough for long enough to finish his statue. Eisen, ever stoic and unmoving was done first as he’d always been, hers.. well, the eyes were improvised as she’d fallen asleep partway in.. and there he was, sword in the air, smiling, so far gone in history yet young and present.

There was a pain in her chest, a loss of strength in her grip that made her drop the suitcase she was holding. This had started a while ago, honestly probably before they’d even reached “Heaven”.. but she’d still not learned what to do against it. Someone, she couldn’t recall their name, had told her one night that sometimes all you can do is let emotions drown you, until you arrive back at shore for long enough to breathe - and somehow life turned into a lot of that, the longer she remained as all else grew and crumbled in the knick of time.

„Oh my, are you alright? Here-“

Whatever noise had been trying to escape her stopped at once as her line of sight trailed and locked onto the person to her right. It all just stopped.

Light blue eyes, soft and kind. A smile so warm and welcoming. Hair that never troubled their owner, fluffy yet tame. The voice of true charm and kindness that she’d struggled to find again.

The stranger's pupils dilated, as if his subconscious recalled her but then the expression shifted to curiosity and concern, much too genuine at that.

„Is everything alright?“

Frieren felt the corner of her mouth lift, her head nod as warmth and peace enveloped her.

„It’s nothing. I was just thinking that really, all that ends will begin again..“

The stranger's head tilted to the side, yet he laughed a moment later.

„I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about, but I would like to hear all about it, if you allow me to.“

Frieren took a deep breath as she reached for her suitcase that he’d picked back up for her, letting her gaze wander over the ring Himmel had given her many human lifetimes ago that she had continued to wear stubbornly like a vow like it meant a thing. Then she smiled again.

„I would like to.

Maybe it is time for me to settle down for a few decades.“

„Mmmh.. I’m unsure if this town is big enough for two beauties at once.“

The stranger winked and for the first time in this specific circumstance Frieren couldn’t help but.. laugh.

„I’m Frieren. Who are you?“

„My parents named me Himmel, for my outstanding visual similarities to the hero.“

„It’s nice to meet you, Himmel.“

It truly was.

-

Basically a reincarnation starter, Himmel is most probably aware but wants to tease/test Frieren

Hope you enjoyed, I'm just currently brain deep into them and have to go somewhere with it.

[dreamingcricket]

may i request some poly head canons with wyll and gale dating a male dwarf tav ? i am Very Sad i cannot kiss both of them - maybe they are dating each other too, wyll/gale is a very cute ship =]

Wyll was easy to like, and almost easier to love. He was noble, gentle, as ready with a bolstering quip as he was his blade. More than once, you catch yourself gazing longingly after him on the battlefield. If you weren't so busy trying to stay alive, you'd have noticed him looking back. 

An Eldritch blast explodes behind your head, and you whirl just in time to see the goblin crumble, it's weapon missing you by inches. 

Wyll flashes you a grin. "Don't get slow on me now!"

You ignore the flutter in your chest and charge back into the fray. You couldn't afford to be distracted by your feelings. Not here. Not now. 

It's a long shot anyway.

After the grove is saved and the camp engulfed by eager and intoxicated partygoers, you find Wyll standing on the shore of the river. 

You fail to convince him to return to the party, and instead take a seat at his side. "It's a little loud for my taste anyway. Reminds me a little too much of home." 

Wyll throws his head back in laughter. "Some truly mighty feasts then?" 

"The drink alone would kill you."

"You'll have to take me underground sometime. When all this is over, if we survive."

"I will."

You trade stories by the campfire over the coming nights, delighting each other at first with epic tales of heroism, but later, when everyone has gone to bed, stories about home. Wyll began to confide in you, and you moved, night by night, from across the campfire, to to near one another, to painfully close, your hands only inches apart. 

"This is... not how I expected my life to go."

"The pact or the tadpole?"

"Both."

"Are you disappointed?"

"In some ways, yes. But it brought me to you."

His hand moves, only a little bit, but it finally, finally covers yours. 

"I would have liked to do this all the proper way. Wining and dining, and courting and whatnot."

"As if anything about this situation is proper."

He considers for a moment. "You're right. But you deserve the world. I can at least give you this."

He leans down to kiss you, and both of you tumble backwards.

If the others notice your tent is unoccupied and Wyll's is a little full, they don't say anything.

Well, one of them noticed.

Gale was... more complicated. He was pompous, arrogant, and brilliant enough to almost justify his hubris. The two of you clashed often. Sometimes over important things, which routes to take and who to trust, but just as often over petty nonsense, the shape of clouds and how much spice should be used in the soup. The wizard was stubborn, but had clearly not spent much time around dwarves, who have honed stubbornness into an art form. 

Gale backs down. Again and again. 

To his surprise, Gale finds himself happy to do so. He finds himself troublingly enamoured of the particular expression you make when you win an argument, your eyes glinting.

At some point, it changed from arguments to a game, a private jest between the two of you. Not that you'd let anyone know, not even Wyll. And he certainly didn't annoy you any less.

"If you'd put on some decent armour, you wouldn't be injured as often!"

"I can't wear armour, I can't cast in armour!"

"If your stubbornness gets you killed, it's on your head!" 

"And if your constant whinging about the state of my defenses causes the orb to combust, it's on all of our heads!" 

"Fine!" You storm away.

"Fine!" Gale calls after you, red in the face. 

And Wyll just smiles. 

"He drives me mad!"

"Mhmm." Wyll runs his fingers through your beard, comb in hand and a lot of oil nearby, as you rant, hours later, in the privacy of his tent.

"Have you met a more stuck-up, boar-headed man anywhere?"

"Mhmm."

"He won't shut up!"

"Is this about the arguing, or something else?"

"I- What do you mean by that?" You narrow your eyes. 

"You wouldn't be this worked up if he only drove you mad. You would have simply punched him, and left him in a ditch." 

"I concede that. But what are you implying?"

He leans down to kiss your forehead. "Just know, whatever your feelings for anyone otherwise, I love you." 

You hold his jaw, turning his face towards yours. “Are you… do you like Gale?”

“I've had my moments, he has his charms. Are you… uncomfortable with that? If it hurts what we have-”

“The concept of multiple partners, no, but… Gale!?” You sputter. And try desperately not ot think of Wyll kissing Gale no not thinking of that not at all–

Wyll playfully tugs your beard. “Alright, lover-boy, whatever you say.”

“I’m not…”

You realize you have no real defense. Wyll saw right through you, and while that usually made him even more of a delightful lover, in this instance you merely huffed and roll into your blankets. 

You toss and turn all night. 

In the morning, you storm up to Gale as he cooks. "It smells delicious."

"Well if it's not- what?"

"It smells delicious. You're a good cook."

Shadowheart's mouth falls open, and Astarion chokes. 

Gale considers for a long moment. "...Thank you."

"And if you can't wear armour, you should stand behind me." 

And then you leave. 

It turns out, when Gale stands behind you, he feels much safer. Not to mention, he can admire the view. 

The newly brokered peace between you is tenuous, but in the silence where you're no longer shouting, something else blooms. Gale begins to ask about your life underground, and you ask about his magical studies, carefully avoiding the subject of Mystra. It's not that you have any particular interest in the arcane arts, but the way his face illuminates and his gaze becomes distant but intense, it endears you. 

You kneel by the river with him, washing pots and pans after dinner. He takes a sharp breath in. And then he says it.

"I love you."

"... I'm sorry?"

"Shit. That... wasn't how I meant to say that." He scrambles to his feet and looks as though he's about to flee into the brush. 

"I'm not-"

"I don't..." Gale sighs and runs a hand over his face. "I can't ruin what you have with Wyll. I won't do that to him, or to you. If you don't feel the way I do, I'll never speak of it again. But you should know that I admire you beyond words." He takes a steadying breath. "I admire you, and adore you, and even as you infuriate me, I can't help but love you. Desperately. But I understand that you're not free."

You ball the front of his robes in your fist and pull him down to your level. "Kiss me, idiot."

"What about Wyll?"

"Oh, don't stop on my account."

Wyll is leaned against a nearby tree, goblet in hand. "I can't think of a better sight than the two of you." 

You wrap your arms around Gale's shoulders and pull him in for a kiss. You hear Wyll's footsteps, and he's suddenly on his knees behind you. 

Gale pulls back, gasping, his mouth falling open and shut. “I…both? Both is good? I can… both?”

It doesn't surprise you that Mystra was too jealous to require anything but monogamy from her chosen, but there’s still a flicker of some protective emotion as you watch Gale grapple with his feelings. “You don’t need to commit to anything now. Or ever.” 

He takes a deep breath. “I have more than one burning fuse on the end of my life. I’m not giving this up. Not for anything.”

The speed with which he hauled both you and Wyll to his tent is startling. You didn't think the wizard was athletic in any capacity, but he seemed determined to prove you wrong. 

The next morning, as you passed Astarion, he glanced up at you. “So. Are the three of you investing in a bigger tent? You’ll be a circus before long.”

You throw a sausage at him, but make a mental note to search for roomier lodging.