#seriously though hit me up if you down 👀

[saphic-with-t]

Very late night thought, but if I were to make an OC for “A Court of Fey and Flowers” would any of y’all want to make one with me so we can get together and make some messy regency era relationship triangles and knots and so forth?

I’m Eepy and might fall asleep soon, but if you hit me up I’ll respond as soon as I can.

[nvoirs]

Leon taking the fem reader’s virginty for the first time, but he is an experienced gentleman and the reader is a sweet girl who has been corrupted by the likes of this man. 👀👀

Can you include Praise and body worship please?

I'm so sorry this to so long, I hope you like it <3 Also I apologise if my writing font and style keeps changing I'm just trying to figure out what works best for me.

Leon was every woman's dream man. He had the looks, the charm, the personality you name it. His witty, flirty nature made the ladies giggle and swoon for a matter of fact. So although it had been a good six months since you and him started dating you still questioned yourself as to why he chose you? You were a boring plain Jane, not some glamorous Marilyn Monroe that swept Leon off his feet.

Six months and only kisses remained. Don’t be wronged though, the kisses could be very heated and you loved it. You craved more though, you wanted Leon to touch you lower and lower until-

Snapping out of your trance when you saw Leon himself crouched in front of your hunched over form on the couch.

“Hey, are you good? Looked like you were hypnotised.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, doing fine.” You sighed.

He raised an eyebrow, a quizzical look that basically said you seriously lying to my face?

“Tell me what’s up, promise I won’t laugh.”

To be honest Leon was also getting distracted, not by daily stresses but by yourself. That low cut top you wore was just a little too low, and your lips looked nice and soft, plump and coated in a sparkly peach pink gloss. It took all of his willpower not to take you right then and there. He was aware you still suppressed your virginity, and he did not want to rush you into things you may possibly regret.

“Okay.. Leon, I want to take it to the next stage with you.”

No way did you mean what he thought you meant..

“Yes, I mean sex.” The pinkish blush evident on your cheeks slowly crept up as you squeezed your hands together waiting for an answer head hung low.

“If that’s what my girl wants, I’m going to give it to her.”

Taking your hands in his he guided you to your own bed, slowly pushing you into the soft, foamy mattress. His lips mushing with yours as he sloppily kissed you trying his ever so hardest not to quicken things. He wanted your first time to be special, gosh he was so lucky knowing he was your first.

You bit your lips as you watched from below him, a string of saliva following as Leon broke the kiss. He could taste the peach flavour of your lips, pulling off his t-shirt his naked torso on display for you to gawk at. His incredible build had you in a trance, the way his muscles and biceps flexed deliciously when he leaned back down onto the bed.

“Gonna make you feel so good baby, you hear me? Now lift your legs.”

You complied to his soft request, lifting your legs and hips so he could shimmy of your pj shorts. The cold air hit your thighs but was enveloped in a warmish, wet feeling. His tongue. Leon moved his head towards the apex of your thighs beginning to gently kiss them before moving to the inner thigh. He looked at you before diving down to place a flurry of ticklish open mouthed kisses before sinking his teeth into one thigh.

You jolted at the sudden change in demeanour it felt surprisingly good sending a shock straight to your now throbbing core. His nose nuzzled against the cotton of your underwear, right on the soiled part that had been stained by your arousal oozing itself out of your sensitive cunt.

“Smells s'good, can I take this off for you sweetheart?” The string of desperate whines were all Leon needed to know that yes you did want it. Taking his sweet time pulling down your panties completely off and staring at your glistening treasure. So wet and aroused just for him he couldn't wait to dig in.

“Baby this all for me, hm?” Bringing his ring finger to your wet folds flicking upwards to get a little moan out of you, your hips bucking into the air.

“I'm gonna put a finger in, gonna make you feel real good you hear me?” Your furious nodding made Leon's arrogance grow, coating his fingers in your sticky slick he rubbed at your entrance.

“Please Leon, put it inside.”

“It'll hurt angel, but I promise It's gonna pass real soon.” Before you could respond he'd eased his thick, long fingers into your tight, wet hole making you cry aloud. Gripping his free arm, squeezing it as he began to slowly thrust his fingers inside of you. The pain began, but ended just as Leon had mentioned it would. Pleasure clouded your thoughts, you'd been missing out if this is what it felt like to be fingered. But maybe it was just Leon and his skilled fingers.

His pace never faltered, wanting you to reach your first proper orgasm with him; he added a second finger stretching you out invitingly for when the time came. Broken whines and gasps left your dry throat, pressure building  in your stomach you couldn't speak your words lodged in your throat as you came all over Leon's fingers.

“That's right baby all over my fingers, gonna lick it all up f'ya.”

Slowly pulling out, Leon had a sly smirk painted across his angelic features. If you were this loud with only his fingers, how would you react to his cock? Well guess he'd find out very soon. Bringing his fingers to his pinkish lips he licked them teasingly, looking at your blanked out expression.

“Are you ready for the real deal, my angel?”

“Yeah Leon please, want your cock inside me.”

Oh so straightforward you were, it's one of the things that Leon absolutely adored about yourself. He had no idea how you were still a virgin, but maybe you did believe in destiny and waited for him. His low growl felt possessive, pushing you back into the plush pillows he unbuttoned your low cut pyjama top before chucking it aside. Just as he had suspected from earlier you were wearing no bra. He chuckled, grabbing both your breasts and kneading them between his fingers. Thumb pads dancing over your hardened nipples, grazing them teasingly before latching his sweet mouth onto one. Your mewls made him weak to the knee, his excitement grew in his pants wanting to desperately be inside of you just as much as you wanted it.

Sliding his pants and briefs of his meaty thighs, Leon advanced towards you again spreading your legs forcefully before leaning down into your ear. “M’gonna make you feel so, so good you look so pretty like this baby.”

“Please Leon.” Your gentle request made Leon’s heart flutter, he really just couldn’t get enough. It felt so intimate, you trusted him and he wanted to prove to you that he was the only one for you.

Grabbing himself and positioning at your tight entrance he pushed in, the acoustic melody you made somewhat between a cry and a moan made Leon soften as he allowed you to adjust to him.

Crystalline tears filled your eyes from the pain of your boyfriend stretching you out and making a home of you nestled deep inside. Sniffling you managed to speak up, tapping the blonde's shoulder. “Can move now Leon- please.” Obeying Leon began to slowly thrust into your guts making your shaky breathing louder, the air felt stifling hot and you didn’t know where to look as you locked eyes with his pale blue ones.

“Aw my baby, shh It’s okay now why’re you crying my darling? Did It hurt you a lot? I’m so sorry my love, do you need anything?” Leon’s million questions floated right past your mushy brain, but you requested one thing.

“I want you fuck-” You whimpered as he sped up hitting a particularly treasured spot of yours but you continued your sentence. “To be closer ha- to me please!”

Leon closed the distance between your sweaty bodies, his chest pressed against your boobs, his hold on your thighs tightening as he ploughed your guts out. “S’ pretty, so gorgeous I love you so much.” He was met with an a Capella of mewls before he felt you cumming around his cock, your fucked out face blanking out while coming down from your high.

“Come on baby one more for meh, can’t let you off. It's your first time you need at least two, trust me.” And before you could even respond he was already overstimulating your insides, your fingers curled in his honey coloured hair. His face buried between your tits, you could smell his hair that lavender shampoo he always used, he smelled so damn good you had your eyes fluttering shut.

“Cum with me baby, I know you can c’mon please, please?” Leon’s guttural groan had you cumming for a second time tonight, you felt his warm, thick cum drip inside of you pulling out and collapsing on the bed. Leon caressed your shoulder lightly kissing the small freckle you had there.

“Thank you Leon, I love you no one can change that I pinkie swear on it.” You stuck out your finger cutely.

Just as he had thought, such an unpredictable and straightforward little thing, but he stuck out his pinkie all the same.

[ikkosu]

I would love something, anything with human reader (gn) SSAU, stuck between Prowl and Pharma <3 maybe they’re a mechanic? Or just a nurse? I love how you write the two dorks. They’re just sooooo 👀💚

BETWEEN A ROCK AND A WALL

a/n : ah!!!! my favorite person!!! it's been a while pookie jkjk I am excessively obsessed with them, as well LITERALY (I kid you not. It's about time I write an, ahem, threesome with them

"Have you tried reporting him for harrassment?"

Oh, you've have enough.

Your datapad hits the surface of your desk with a clink, not without letting out a growl of frustration that all the more tightened the coil of a headache, brewing in your temples.

Just a visit. It's just a visit. It's just a visit. He's just being himself he's just—

"You know what, Prowl? You're so damn petty sometimes."

You swivelled to face him, but the cop-bot perched in your chair, your chair, inspecting your work-cubicle, pretends to look away.

Like, he didn't just pester you the whole hour on ethics of trying to fire your own boss and slandering your note-taking skills.

(yellow? seriously? any other highlighter you can choose but you picked yellow? disgusting).

"You should know your adjectives, by now. I wouldn't call that petty. A term I'd prefer is being Strategic." He clipped. "But I'm sure, given how your emotions normally regulate your, whatever you have, is a brain — you wouldn't be able to comprehend such a notion."

He's made a habit of making everything sound so reasonable, it's baffling. You round your desk, stopping short in front of him. Prowl retaliates your scowl by leaning back against the chair. He tips his helm until it hits the headrest and his eyes, flaring blue, peered over the crook of his nose.

You know he's got that stupid bastardly smile underneath the facade.

"What do you want?" You huffed out.

"A simple, round the block, routine checkup. Nothing important. "

"Yeah? Yeah? You're, like, three fucking planets away from your station. I'm sure that's plausible."

Where's Max when you needed him most to beat his ass?

"Anything is possible if you think it to be so."

Oh, you're this close. This close. You look to your watch, groaning internally. Around three hours more you're due for an operation. And you're not even prepared yet! You're supposed to go through your notes on how to yank out a gut from it's slot, not having a verbal spar with Cybertron's number one asshole.

"Look, I don't know what beef you've got with the guy but I thought you're the enforcer here, mister goody two shoes. This is illegal."

He scoffs at that but doesn't seem to regard the last part, however. " It's your boss now, huh."

"Excuse me?"

"Last I heard he was the boss." The chair creaks as he shifts on the spot, looking incredibly out of place in that plush, black office wheeler. " What, did you pucker up your lips and appeased his ego to botch that spot?"

"What?" You sputtered. "Botch that spot? What are you— No, No!— He's my boss!— I— What do you want me to say?"

"That you're not his playtoy." He crosses his arms.

"I'm not!"

"Then, call him by his name." He grits his teeth. "Don't say 'my boss'. It sounds corny. It sounds stupid. You sound stupid." A digit juts your way and you scoff, holding yourself back from commiting first degree murder. " And, you know what's even better? Just don't talk to him. Ever. Not even a look or a smile. Is that understood?"

"Prowl, i—" You sighed, dragging a palm down your face. "Please, tell me you didn't come all the way here to Delphi —all the way here — just to tell me that."

The corner of his mouth tugged up a little. He looks away to hide it, though. "I'm paid to serve the law after all."

"Oh, yeah? You're paid to shut the fu—"

"My, my. That's not a pleasant way to address a man of law, now is there darling?" A low voice crooned behind you and you feel his servos curling over both sides of your waist, chassis against your back. Pharma rests his chin on your shoulder and a chesire grin is directed to the enforcer.

You don't dare to look behind you, but you're also not strong enough to lock eyes with Prowl who's got a death grip on the arm chair, teeth gritting, digits digging into the cushion. Eventually, he stands up to his full height, stepping close, you're almost sandwiched between the two like a smore.

"Doctor." He clips.

"Enforcer." Was Pharma's drawl. "Here to fetch your little pet?"

He bristles, door wings piking up at the term but doesn't regard it. "Here to take them far. How much for a forced unemployment?"

"Oh, nothing much. I usually do it for free, but this one..." Pharma leans close and you yelp when his chassis pushes you forward to press against Prowl's, you guessed it, chassis. "—Is an exception. You see, officer, I actually quite like having this one around. Keeps my arduous moments flourishing, my lonely nights — occupied."

Prowl lands a servo on your shoulder. "Yeah. Figured as much." He grits out.

"Oh, not really. It doesn't have to take much assuming." Pharma straightens up, a servo on the other side of your shoulder. "While, its all in good fun, we three all have a job to do, yes? Best you leave them to their devices now."

He was about to tow you away when Prowl's unrelenting death grip on your shoulder prevents you from moving. "I'd rather not."

"Is that so?" Poison spools out from that drawl.

"Your audials doesn't seem to be of optimum order. Mind If I smoothen out the creases?"

You winced, looking at your watch. Shit. Shit. Shit. Of all times Pharma had to come in, he takes the opportunity when Prowl is here?! You need to prepare yourself right now. That patient isn't going to pull out a gut themself, and they aren't sewing their lungs back, either. If you could just....wiggle from the rooks of their grip and slowly slide away to— Prowl clamps a servo on your waist. Pharma, clutching your shirt.

They hold you close.

Oh, forget it.

A wide, terse grin eases out on the jet's face. "Perhaps your t-cog would need a diagnosis as well. Oh, no, no not just your t-cog. Something else. As a doctor I would'nt want my patient limping for...." He whispered lowly. ".... undercompensation, given how you're strutting around...."

Prowl let's out a low growl in his throat. "Oh? How about we head out side and hunker down a nice 'smoothening out?"

"Don't try me, enforcer." Pharma's mood isn't much better but unlike Prowl he's got a good facade holding up. " You've got what's coming and it won't be pleasant. I suggest you step out now."

Then the bastardly smile curls the corner of his cheek. "Let's test out that theory, then."

Oh, dear.

[luckycharms1701]

the perfect date with the boy in orange 👀

how do you think he'd plan it out..?

not me swooning over here thinking about this. time for some dumbass (affectionate)

doing bayverse because i've already done a couple of dates with rise mikey, the loml needs some attention too

Mikey jumps into the weight room and sighs. Heavily. He paces a bit, then sighs again. He positions himself so that Raph can see him out of the corner of his eye where he’s using the punching bag. He sighs again, then throws his hands up when he still doesn’t get a response. “Raphhhhh….” he whines, causing his brother to grunt in irritation.

“What is it Mikey?”

“I need your help!” Raph rolls his eyes.

“With what Mikey?”

“Planning my date with my angel!”

That makes Raph pause. He grabs the bag to stop it from swinging into him as he looks at Mikey incredulously. “You asked them on a date without planning it out first?? And you’re coming to me??”

Mikey blinks at him. “Yeah, of course.”

Raph looks down at the punching bag and gives it one last strong punch before releasing it and moving to his reflex bag. He starts aggressively punching it, jumping around to avoid its recoil. Mikey is about to give up and go sulk in a corner when Raph speaks up. “Don’t they like ballroom dancing or whatever? What if you took them dancing?”

Mikey’s eyes widen and he points at his brother. “Yes! They love ballroom dancing! I can take them dancing!” His excitement almost immediately dims though, and he puts his head in his hands as another thought occurs to him. “Awww, but I can’t dance!”

Raph is silent for another minute. Mikey starts to pace while muttering to himself. “Ain’t that shit just footwork? You should be fine if you work on your footwork,” Raph finally offers.

Mikey whirls around and points at Raph again. “Yes!” He runs off without another word, yelling Leo’s name.

Leo is confused but happy to see Mikey taking his training so seriously. He drills Mikey on footwork for several days. By the day of the date, Mikey has never been smoother on his feet.

~~~

Mikey watches nervously as you emerge onto the roof of your apartment building. He sees your eyes soften as you take in the candles along the edge of the roof and the rug he found to lay down as a makeshift dance floor. The elation he feels at knowing you like it so far almost makes him whoop, but he manages to suppress it in time. Be a gentleman! He repeats Leo’s words in his head as he approaches you.

He picks up your hand and lowers his head to kiss it, keeping his eyes on yours. “My lady,” he purrs, and is rewarded when your eyes widen and your breath catches. “May I have this dance?”

You visibly swallow, and he has to tamp down another whoop of joy. He is killing it today. “You may, good sir,” you reply a little breathlessly. Mikey grins at you and escorts you to the dance floor, hitting play on the boombox he has set up on a nearby air conditioning unit.

The classical tune he’d chosen weaves around the two of you as you assume the beginning position of a waltz. It is at this point that Mikey realizes two things.

Dances have steps.

He never learned the steps.

Mikey’s face must be reflecting his panic, because you pause and regard him for a moment before your lips twitch. “Forget something darling?” Your drawled question has Mikey’s face growing hot as he hangs his head in shame.

“Hey, hey, none of that now,” you release his hand so that you can lift his head. “How about I teach you the steps?” You smile encouragingly at him. “I would love to teach you so that we can dance together.”

Mikey’s embarrassment slowly eases as you lead him through how to do a basic box waltz. You are endlessly warm and patient, showing no signs of irritation at all. Mikey is grateful for the footwork training Leo gave him, it is coming in handy now.

By the time you need to leave, the two of you are able to do a shaky waltz around the roof. Mikey’s embarrassment is gone, replaced with happiness and awe at how amazing you are. He once again brings your hand to his lips. “Angel,” he purrs, then releases your hand to cup your cheek. “Thanks for your patience.” He looks down, still a little bashful about his ridiculous blunder.

You once again reach out and raise his head. This time you lean up and kiss him tenderly on the cheek. “Thank you for this date! It was perfect.” Mikey beams down at you as you smile up at him.

It’s at this moment that he knows you’re the one for him.

~~~~~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic @writinandcrying @xnorthstar3x @morenovix218

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #2

(Well this is surprising. Not really sure if this idea will make any sense, but here we go.)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas

✦

Danny, as Ghost King, gets summoned by the Legion of Doom(?) to help end the Justice League. Except for this summoning fic, they literally summon him off of a GIW lab table where he was being experimented on. Danny is bleeding, barely conscious, and having a really horrible time. This garners a split reaction. Some villains, while surprised, are indifferent. Others are horrified. Not really sure which villains would be which except maybe Lex Luthor(1).

When Danny gets patched up, Lex learns later on that day that he's one of the people responsible for helping pass the Anti-Ecto Acts. However, he only helped passed it to get the people who kept sending it to finally desist, thinking it was all a hoax/big joke and that it wouldn't really matter in the long run. Now he knows it wasn't just a big joke and now that he sees the results of that decision, he regrets it.

While the Legion of Doom isn't short on medical supplies, it's not a great environment for healing, villain or not. Plus, he's kinda useless for the reason he was summoned if he's this seriously wounded. So, he does something he's never done before. He tips off the Justice League about the injured teenage monarch and skedaddles back home and out of the way where he can also start figuring out a way to take down the Anti-Ecto Acts.

Meanwhile, Team Phantom (Sam, Tucker, Jazz, and Valerie. Maybe Wes too for extra humor? 👀) finally have a lock on Danny's location now that he's no longer in a GIW facility--they have ecto-signature blocking technology. They all suit up and get there way before the Justice League and have already taken out the villains still in the LoD HQ by the time they show up and are in the process of trying to transport Danny. The League are a combination of surprised, impressed, and concerned. They invite Team Phantom back to the Watchtower so they can help treat Phantom's injuries.

It's here that the League learns about the Anti-Ecto Acts and what had happened to Phantom to put him in such serious condition. Outraged, a team is organized to hit any GIW facilities and free any citizens of the Infinite Realms while Batman and a few others stay behind to help dismantle the Acts. Team Phantom manage to get the League to agree to have at least one of them on each team they send out, since they have more experience dealing with the GIW and ghosts alike.

With the combination of the League and Lex Luther (unknown to them), the Anti-Ecto Acts are dismantled and the captured ghosts are freed and Danny is all healed up, though still traumatized. His friends help him deal with it--Jazz plus Black Canary are especially invaluable in his psychological healing process. Meanwhile, the JL are incredibly impressed with how knowledgeable and well-trained they are for having no mentors to teach them. Even more so once they hear all the battles they've fought along side Phantom.

The JL come to a decision. They invite all of Team Phantom to join Justice League Dark, the JL subdivision for magic/the occult. After talking it over, they all agree to join.

✦

Thats where it ends unless you wanna continue it from there.

Notes:

(1) Which villains do you think would be sympathetic to Danny's condition? I don't know any of them well enough to pick. Do you think Lex Luther would actually feel sympathy for Danny? Small redemption arc? Do him and Danny meet again at some point on somewhat good terms?

(*) Maybe continue it with reactions from the Team from Young Justice? Maybe they're upset that some out of town teenagers got a JL invitation before they even got theirs? In response the JL have Team Phantom meet and train with Team YJ to get them to realize why exactly they were invited to join.

[roachesforthewin]

My Personal TIMKON Recs List

i made this for my friend recently and thought i’d share it here because you tumblr bitches love pain and little gay dudes (just like me fr)

all of these have good young justice, batfam and superfam (though sometimes it’s minimal) representation (because i don’t read them if they don’t have good rep, sue me). Plus Tim and Kon personality and character accuracy, obviously.

Also these are all Ao3 recs because i like to consider myself as not a heathen

Funk Ass

- sun kissed by merils

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48882055

beach episode, queer young justice fr fr, Kon rep is off the charts (ashgs quite possibly the conner rep of all time, just the phrases he uses /$)/ so real!!)

- Baby Talk Me Down (Take Me Out) by sage (lemontongues)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25384345

ahhhsh this one is unfinished but i desperately wish it was, either way great fic and great character rep + conner civvy life insights

- Out of The Frying Pan, Into the Casserole Dish By JpegdotJpeg

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41005416

martha kent (& the superfam!) is the best person ever, plus tim is the most autistic little dude (we love him sm)

Haven’t finished but amazing rep/haven’t read yet but plan to

- Robins and other flightless birds by Ionaperidot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607170

ahsgshsh this one qualifies for [literally kill yourself after reading (pain)]category but i put it here just cause :-| uhh BW adopts fucked up kids good for him: JJ!tim, Catatonic!jason COA!dick etc

- Straight on ‘til morning by merils

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43401684

haven’t read this one yet but i’ve heard really good stuff about it! plus good kon character development/ exploration (from what i’ve heard)

- there you were by mindshelter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599205

the blorbos deserve pain, don’t you agree? (i haven’t read this one in a hot minute and have forgotten what it’s about but i remember it being good)

- Buy Back the Secrets by sundiscus

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43137879/chapters/108412977

okay no this one LITERALLY AHSGGSGS bro just read it, uhh civvy tim and superboy interactions, 5+1 things, good sibling Jason (a rarity unfortunately), funny ass dialogue

sexy times (good for them)

disclaimer! none of these fics are like solely focused on smut, but that plays a large ish role thats why they’re in this category

- take me to the airport (call me from the platform) by Hayleythewriter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47970586/chapters/120950194

This has an idiots to lovers tag…there’s not much more to say. except for great sibling relationship portrayal of Damian and Tim that doesn’t involve murder attempts Yay!! (DC wouldn’t even dream of it)

- What happens in Vegas by Ididloveyou_once

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32850109

Stupidest bitches alive fr (mostly tim) + Cassie Sandsmark being a bitch, we love to see it! and and and it has an interesting subplot/s so woowoo, also minor Birdflash👀

- Scions by winterlive

https://archiveofourown.org/works/375897

Conner Luthor is a bitch and i love him + lex luthor is a good dad WHAT!?! oh HA and Clex which is soo good.This was honestly one of my favourites sheerly because of good character representation and BW not being a terrible father

- Trust Fall by Ididloveyou_once

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31654376

Again good sibling rep between all of the batboys, mostly Damian and Tim tho YAY! (it’s seriously a rarity do not take it for granted)

Literally kill yourself after reading these (Pain)

- when your bf hits the street and turns into meat that’s amore by CarrionCarnival

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40318824

self explanatory title, heavy gore :loved it, literally my favourite fic on this list (i adore gore what can i say)

- You are Shaking Fists and Trembling Teeth by Bored_Liege_bow

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47679967

implied TimKon, aftermath of conners death Rip timothy d-w

- my dear devoted delicate by blenderfullasarcasm

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48556555

pushing daisies au, sad af + good exploration of loss on tim’s part through his life

[from-izzy]

that's him, that's just who he is | tbz choi chanhee | new

"At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”

​PAIRING » tbz choi chanhee (new) x gn!reader (proofread twice—lmk if i made a mistake!)​ TROPE/AU » ​friends 2 strangers, highschool au!, non-idol au!, idol au! (chanhee towards the end) GENRE​ » angsty angst angst, unread messages, comforting friendship, supporting friendship, you both attend the same music academy, you both are preparing to become celebrities/idols! WORD COUNT » 4168 (no seriously, 2k word limit who?) ESTIMATED READING TIME » 15 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » financial difficulties, stress relating to: money, music, balancing friendships-work-school, upwards comparisons, failure at achieving dream job (reader's side), unsupportive teachers

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

my third story! i take it back when i said that the second is my favourite story because this is my new (no pun intended) favourite story. i had to stop multiple times because it hit me too many times 🥹👍

well...the self insert is really real here 🫂 and this got seriously personal (let's see how many times i say this with this series 👀)

big respect to chanhee for balancing his education, preparing to be an idol and having a part time job 🫂 i respect him so much

thank you for reading honey bee ☘️🐝 @sanaxo-o and happiest birthday to you!! this story isn't much of a gift since you've read it before but there is the other one hehe 💕

Unlike most of your other lessons, this one passed by as quickly as a blink of an eye. It might be because the air conditioner in the room was set to the perfect temperature or the way the tie around your collar didn’t suffocate you too much or maybe, it was the way that you were practically showered with a bunch of compliments as soon as you took a deep breath from your diaphragm, lifted your cheekbones and sung your heart out.

Swiftly, you smile at the affirming nods that your teacher gave you, writing down her notes to the three-minute performance that you were assigned to for the last month. Across the whole month, you recall the way the tip of the pen scratches the plastic board vigorously, tapping rapidly and furiously throughout the longest three minutes of your life. Usually, you would be assigned a new song every three weeks or have two songs to practice for five weeks. On the times that you didn’t succeed, it would be a hell lot of criticism, tears and punches on the wall as soon as you exited the small studio. Heck, even with the times when the tears made it out in the room, you could tell that even though she toned down her volume, those eyes looked at you no further than disinterest—sometimes she would unmistakably roll her eyes too.

It has always been in short, sickening.

Those were the times that you wanted to just rip out your vocal cords, swear that you would never sing again, not that you even could at that point, and run away from the one thing that gave you life in your tiring days.

“Pick a song.”

The statement made your head slightly crane forward towards your suddenly easygoing teacher. You let out a confusing hum and question to which she responds with an amused smile.

“I can…choose?”

“You can’t truly be a singer if you don’t know what songs fit you best or if you need someone to pick what songs you should sing. You don’t have to choose a challenging song yet. You’ve been singing for the past half year and you’re good at it, but you really only found your style recently and I would rather you focus on further developing it.” She shrugs leisurely after, “It’s up to you though.”

Either way, I’m still going to get paid.

Numerous song titles juggle in your mind, the different lyrics and tunes playing in your head as the memories of your lives flash through their respective melodies. However, it wasn’t easy for your mouth to announce any of the songs, your mind thinking of all the technicalities within each song that would definitely challenge the fragile, insecure side of you.

But art is a special type of hobby.

It’s one of those hobbies that no one would ever be able to ‘perfect’. Somebody would always criticise and pick it apart ruthlessly—and you would always have to pick up their words and carry them deep within your heart.

“Are you sure?” The way that she tilts her head to the side after writing down your choice says everything.

But you stood your ground.

You’ve been in love with this song for so long and all you wanted to do was to learn it properly. Who knows when you’ll be given the chance to pick again? So, with the bravest smile and the most convincing nod that your shaking body could give, she does her final notes on that worn-out notebook of hers. She also recites your homework and expectations for the next lesson before excusing your presence from the room.

You couldn't wait to scream the excitement out of your body, tell your parents and your best friend about what just happened, analyse the song and its technical aspec—

"I just don't think you'll make it."

You halt your steps and your journey. For such a good music academy, these rooms seriously needed thicker walls. You were genuinely surprised that you were still able to focus on your lessons (most of the time) through all the electric guitar, drum kits and unfortunately, other singers who were unable to hit those certain high notes.

It's times like these that you wish the academy could invest in their building more. You were lucky that your lesson room is located at the end of the hallway meaning that your criticism could only be heard by you, the teacher and maybe the two rooms in front and beside yours.

Chanhee wasn't so fortunate, being at the very front, the first door on the left. It left him vulnerable. The voice cracks, the times when he would go off tune or the rare times when he missed his count. It would all mercilessly be heard by anyone who would pass by just to go to the toilet or refill their empty, cold coffee mug.

You stood next to the wall where the glass doors of the lesson door, biting your bottom lip and you noticed how Chanhee wouldn’t even say anything to his teacher’s words. You could imagine how he had his head hung low, nodding occasionally at the words and was forced to repeat the same line over and over and over again until he got it right. You prayed silently in your heart and mind that time would go quicker for him so that he could walk out, breathe in some fresh air and take a break from the suffocating practice room.

When the door clicks open, Chanhee has that tired, sad smile to you that he gives most of the time. Your eyebrows fell a little but you were still able to give him an encouraging one back.

“No?” You asked even though you very much knew the answer.

“No.” He quietly affirms after a short pause.

“I’m still proud of you though.” Just like any other day at school, after lessons or any other time, you lightly punch his shoulder, him chuckling and shoving you back. “I guess…that’s why they’re called ‘lessons’ after all.”

The realisation of your words made Chanhee groan. Lessons that are made throughout a lifetime—one that he has been attending for a year and a half unlike you who only started at the start of the year. He gave up his time with his friends, time to study which most of society thinks is the best way to secure a well-financed job, and gave up his money to buy clothes for himself that he just walked past whenever he knew he would get tempted. All those part-time jobs, ones that would go late into the still busy nights of Seoul or the ones early in the morning before school when most people would still be snoring, were all done with his dream that someday his voice would be heard by the world.

“How did yours go?”

You know that you should just be truthful. You both have been stuck to the hip for the last few years and Chanhee is not an easy person to deceive. Plus, you need to take into consideration as well of lying at this current moment. You didn’t want Chanhee to think that you were trying to make him feel better by potentially pitying him. What good would that bring to anyone right now in this situation? That’s not what friends do.

“I was given a chance to choose a song.” The small genuine, congratulatory smile that Chanhee gives makes you relax your back into the wall further, the tension easing away from your body. “I also managed to get through that vocal run that I’ve been agonising and crying to you about for the past week.” You slump your body against the wall as you recall your homework, “But she gave me more scales to use as runs for practice.”

“Scales really do suck.” Chanhee whispers to you teasingly, once again getting pushed by you.

“Yeah.” You acknowledge shortly after. “But it does help me with my breathing and flexibility which I highly suck at.”

“Hey,” he scolds your words lightly, “at least you have a distinctive sound and know how to put emotions according to the sound. My teacher just said I sound generic.”

Yes. That description for Chanhee—no, just any singer—is weird and you would dare to say, highly misleading.

If we’re talking about musical terms, every single singer has a unique timbre. Even if the note stays the same, every person will have a different tone colour because well, every person is different. Saying that a singer has a generic voice, highly contradicts the definite concept of instrument timbre.

You know how much this troubled Chanhee even though he tries his best to hide it. The comments about his timbre have been repeated so many times that it’s got to him a lot. In the beginning, he would just smile bitterly and indicate that he wouldn’t want to talk about the lesson, kicking the group of stones on the pathway to release his anger. However, as you both grew closer after an assigned duet performance, he was able to open up to you little by little, slowly but surely, keeping the friendship that grew even after you did your ending bow to the audience. He would still hide a little bit of his feelings to himself, embarrassed that he would talk about himself even though you reassured him that it was completely fine.

To him, how others see him is the most important thing for him. From the compliments that would grow the contagious smile on his face, to the heartbreaking crying scenes that he would hide from the rest of the world, all those words he took to heart so that he could improve himself as a person—and in this case, as an artist. In this harsh world, the words that would be spat out by teachers would be so deeply etched in a person’s heart that all of a sudden, giving up everything that they have worked so hard for would be easier done.

It’s during those times that you and Chanhee would lean on each other, reassuring each other not to run away from the weekly lessons and giving comfort after each one. Chanhee is internally grateful for the times that you would hold his shoulders, lightly shaking his frail, tired body before giving him words of encouragement. He would do a similar thing for you when you feel like you didn’t progress, stopping your self-criticism and pushing you to keep going. To you, he would just let you cry on his shoulder as you hug him tight, patting your back calmingly.

The light snowing season greets the both of you as soon as you exit the building. For you, your next destination is home but for Chanhee, ninety-eight percent of the time it would be his job at the barbeque restaurant, the seafood restaurant or even that new Chinese restaurant that he recently just started.

Given the good results of your lesson, you selfishly wanted to have some fun but the words died down in your throat when you slightly turned your head towards your friend. His black hair still peaked out from the beanie that kept both of his ears warm, the scarf that you gifted him hid the slight downturn of his lips and the physical expression of his heavy heart. His eyelashes fluttered away the snowflakes in the cold but still bright night and his rosy cheeks only grew brighter and more evident the slower the journey to your next destination would take.

“Just a little penguin in his somewhat natural habitat?” Your attempt to get a response out from him is successful when you see his cheekbones rise—the same way that they would rise whenever he sings his heart out.

“What a way to start a conversation.”

Your heart lightens at your successful attempt, linking your right arm with his as you continue to walk down the still-shared path that makes the distance between all your worries and yourself further away. However, like all journeys, you finally arrive at that one spot.

The one that split into two different roads, unlike the one you have been walking a few minutes ago.

The right road would take you both to safety, warmth and relaxation.

The left road would force you to unlink Chanhee’s arm, sending him to the busy, loud civilisation where he would put on his apron and raise the pitch of his voice fit for customer service.

“Are you…off to work?” He senses the sadness lingering in your voice and the way your right hand tightens around his forearm even through the thick, winter clothes.

“…yeah.”

“I see.” You managed to muster a stable response tone. “Come on, I’ll drop you there.” You turn your body towards the crowd but can’t go too far due to the other set of feet that stays grounded on the worn-down, cold stone floor, “Chanhee?”

“Maybe…” Suddenly, the sky starts to sprinkle down its pretty shapes of ice. “I’m just not meant to be a singer.”

You gasp quietly, the faint white exhale slowly disappearing behind the dark background. Seeing the tears finally slide down his cheeks made you realise one thing: he’s opening up. He’s doing the thing that he has tried to hide from everyone. In tune with his emotions, your eyes started to build their layer of moisture, the wind making it harder for you to keep your tears in. You couldn’t think straight, your free arm wiping your eyes to rid the hardships from your face while trying to give Chanhee words of encouragement.

“You’re going to get ther—”

“What if you had to give up so much,” He cut you off, gasping and inhaling more air to accommodate his crying, “earn so much money, gave it away and it didn’t give you good results? Whatever it may be…An event, a trip, an investment.” His voice gradually trails off as he lists life occurrences.

You’ve thought about the same thing thousands of times, back and forth, no matter where, when and who you were with. In a world where pursuing art can be a hard, long path, what would happen if nothing good were to come out of it? All your hard work, all your money, all your time…you’ll never be able to get those back.

Is it worth it? Is it worth the gamble?

“I would probably beat myself over it.” You tried to keep your whimpers at bay as you confessed the same answer that would come back every time you went on your downward spiral, “I would most probably always question why I did what I did. If I did the event with someone, and for some reason, they were the ones that made the situation bad, then I would’ve gone back and forth, asking myself if it was worth it. Why didn’t I go alone? Why was I so scared? What was I so scared of?”

Should you move to a different academy? But your teacher is well known. Should you still do it anyway? Knowing that you had to go through many processes and hardships to even get lessons with this teacher. Even if most of the time, you felt like giving up music, surely her experience would lead you to someplace good…right?

“But then…would answering those questions lead to happiness?” Chanhee scoffs at his absurd thoughts. Tilting his head to the sky, he relishes the way the snowflakes land on his pale skin, disappearing when they touch his skin, the side branches melting into his warmth. “Even after answering the question, would you be able to know what to do next? What would it lead to?”

Even though Chanhee was the first one to cry and break down, your wails were louder the more his words resonated within you, touching the parts of your heart that you never wanted to say out loud, scared of where and how your unconscious mind would take you. With everything in him, he untangles his arms to wrap them around your neck, patting the back of your head as you cry on his shoulder. He also lets his tears soak your scarf, resting his cheek on his arm and his chapped wavering lips rubbing against the delicate wool of your scarf, trying his best to soften his cries.

“I just…” One of his hands pats your back, giving you his comfort—even though he probably needed it more than you, “Music and singing used to be happiness that could fit in my pocket. It felt secure and safe. I could just put on my earphones and I’ll feel happy.” You notice the tighter hold after, “But music grew too fast and too big for me that I couldn’t catch up with it anymore.”

You only nod to his words, knowing how much Chanhee sacrificed to pay for his lessons. Some judged him, calling him stuck up and selfish even though they knew that he was independent in his journey to become a singer. It pains you to hear those words come out as scoffs and laughter and soon enough, you hold his hand and cut ties with them all, leaving their flabbergasted faces behind.

The sky starts to cry with you both beautifully in the form of its unique icy shapes. You both watch the snowflakes disappear on the ground, on each other clothing, on your noses. Finding the strength and breath to continue, you slowly push your body away, wiping the last bit of your tears to face your best friend straight into his eyes.

“You’re going to find happiness that you can rely on, Chanhee.” You couldn’t see his lips but you were sure that it was pouting and shivering, “It may be music or it may be something that music brings you. It may be the stage or maybe people who you will come to work with or maybe the people who will cheer you on but I’m sure you’ll find it soon.”

Even with the bustling environment around you both, there was no way that you could have missed his muttering, especially with the white puff of air, “At this rate…”

He feels the weight and pressure of your palms on both his shoulders but he still looks down to the ground where the snow slowly buries the sides of his shoes, “I promise you that if you keep going, I don’t have a single doubt that you’ll find your style. Regardless of what your crappy teacher says, you’re unique and I love your voice.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Wiping the lone tear on his cheek, “The world is going to be amazed when they hear your voice and I'm sure you'll be a good influence to them.”

For the first time in the day, Chanhee finally smiled. You observe the way his eyes disappear into pretty little upside-down moons. His head tilts back slightly, revealing the upturned corner of his lips behind the scarf that kept him warm and his teeth shine brighter with the help of the light from the marketplace behind you. Your hands were able to finally relax and mirrored the same expression back to your now radiant friend.

“Promise me that we’ll stand on the same stage someday.”

But life plays a twisted fate on you both and loves to put more pressure than you can ever carry. Having to move to a different school and a different region is not on your list of expectations. You argued endlessly about the decision to move, feeling unfair that none of your opinions mattered to them as they relentlessly started to look for moving trucks to hire. With the good offer that your dad received and realising that the youngest in the family had no final say, you tried your best to hold back the tears when telling Chanhee the news.

He cries for you and himself, already imagining the loneliness of walking to the music academy after a long day of school and the drags of his feet across the gravel in the night after each lesson. You assured him that you would call often and unlike you, he promised you the same thing. Time told you both that your friendship was still strong despite the physical distance between you both and with time, so did both your musical skills.

The trade-off for talent in your friendship is the less frequent phone calls and text messages. It was decreasing steadily and slowly until eventually, there was no more red dot beside his name on your phone even though you're sure there would be one beside your name on his. When sadness turned into confusion, then morphed into anger, hate and bitterness whenever someone asked you about him, you still found yourself swiping through your many photos with him. Just like how he cries on your last day, you cry from the silence of him.

Thankfully, time did heal your heart even though you couldn’t find a friend like him ever again. Things have changed for you and you were sure that it was the same for Chanhee. You grew taller, changed your hairstyle, hobbies, dreams and aspirations. What time didn’t seem to change however was the delivered sign that never changed with your messages. You let it go and went on with your life.

When you did come back to Seoul, you realised that the city had changed drastically. You wondered if it’s really that or if you were just struggling to remember the city that you once walked around in every day. But unlike your thoughts, maybe Seoul did change drastically. Amid the new but still bustling environment, there was this one cafe that was incredibly packed. Needing to get away from the cold, you entered to be greeted with a well-decorated interior and the gold ‘Happy Birthday New’ balloon shines brightly, especially with the light that is right above it. Many were posing in front of the gold foil fringe backdrop.

You almost didn’t recognise the boy in the picture. You don’t remember when you took your scarf off and picked up a random framed picture in the frame before picking up another one next to it, and another one, and another one. Each showed his growth. You could tell not only from his appearance but also from the bigger stage that he performed along with ten other boys. Suddenly, it clicks and it all makes sense. Hearing everyone else around you talk about him fondly took away the heavy weight that his name brought and a new feeling overtook your heart.

For the first time in a very long time, seeing his face made you smile and it didn’t hurt.

Your phone slides into your shaking hands, swipe open the camera app from the lock screen and point it at the framed picture in your hand, “At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”

You know from the laughter in the space, the feeling of the radiant energy of those around you and the happiness on people’s faces as they point their cameras to their fanmade goods and the interior of the place, that Choi Chanhee has done it. The stage looked extremely good on him, even if the light was too bright and he looked so pale sometimes.

“I’m glad it was you.”

You whisper somewhat solemnly and with a bit of jealousy. Your clenched fist is a puny attempt in trying to keep your tears from expressing the hurt that suddenly hit you as you recall that moment in your life. The multiple rejections to the companies that you auditioned for, the way people on the streets pass by more frequently as their ears and eyes are focused on other’s performances—the night where you listed all your musical instruments for sale and promised that you would never sing ever again.

“You shy, talented, loveable penguin.” And it would seem that his fans agree with the chosen animal with the pouting blue penguin on top of his head. “That’s just who you are, Chanhee.”

Maybe the fame wasn’t for you. Shortly after moving, you found out that the stage was more of a hobby, especially with how you just wanted to stand on stage but never wanted to practise and study music theory properly. You just wanted to shout out the lyrics and sentimentally sing the lyrics of existing songs instead of having your name in an album or next to the credits and royalty rights to the song. But knowing that it fit Chanhee well, it was more than enough for you. He may not have known it before but you wish with all your being that he knows his capability to make others smile, including you.

Even if your broken smile is within millions that he probably would never see from the podium that rightfully held him high.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...' tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿@sanaxo-o @astrae4

[vivalas-vega]

move on / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part two

I’m back !!! I took a little writing hiatus while I dealt w some personal stuff, hopefully not taking anymore writing breaks soon :) I decided I had more story to tell with these two -- lmk what you think!

move on / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part two

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read part one

word count: 3.1k

warnings: some angst, some sadness, best friend rooster!!! (or maybe... 👀 hehe no I’m kidding, unless 👀) seriously we all deserve a roo in our lives. I’ve given reader a callsign in this one, meet birdy!!

The Hard Deck roared with life just as it usually did on a weekend, various Navy personnel and civilians alike celebrating the conclusion of another week but the chatter and music didn’t quite reach your ears as you sat sandwiched between Rooster and Bob nursing a lukewarm cider as your mind was somewhere entirely different. Somewhere softer and sweeter, a moment you had replayed probably a thousand times over the last two weeks. 

“Jake, I’m serious, cut it out!” you squealed, grabbing a pillow to defend yourself from his ruthless attacks but it was no use, it was tossed aside before you could even attempt to hit him as his fingers continued tickling into your sides and pulling giggles from your lips that were like music to his ears. They were so pure and unfiltered, a sound of amused joy though you were doing your best to convey otherwise. He finally rested, giving you a moment to catch your breath and he couldn’t help but chuckle as you immediately tensed below him feeling his hands snake across your waist to pull you closer.

“I come in peace, I promise.” he whispered into your hair, pressing kisses along your collarbone and you sighed in content. 

“You’re a pain in my ass,” your words were entirely convincing as he looked up to see the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth and you looked at him as if he’d hung all the stars in the sky.

“Yeah, but you love me anyways.” He continued kissing along the expanse of your exposed skin.

“Unfortunately.” Though it wasn’t unfortunate at all. He made his way up to your face, brushing your hair back that had been left awry after your unsuccessful attempts to squirm away from his attacks to lay kisses along your cheekbones.

“I love you too, Birdy.”

And then when you awoke, he was gone. No note, no trace, and your logical explanation had been he decided to hit the gym before meeting you on base. Something that happened so frequently you didn’t even question it as you went about your morning. Suspicion didn’t creep in until he wasn’t there in the locker room to greet you, no quip about you slacking on your workouts and leaving you in the dust, and certainly no teasing in your ear as you ran drills in the air all day. But this could be explained, right? When you arrived home and noticed that there were in fact some of his things missing, essential things like toothbrushes and his favorite tee shirts you thought something must have happened back home, an emergency that left him running to the airport without time to even wake you, he’d call you just as soon as he could to tell you everything… but that never came. So now here you were, two weeks later in the Hard Deck as you grappled with the fact that he wasn’t ever coming back. There was no explanation.

Rooster and Bob were having a silent conversation that you didn’t pick up on until suddenly Rooster’s hand on your knee broke you from your thoughts. “So uh, have you heard from Jake yet?” He grunted as Bob reached behind you to hit him in the arm, clearly that wasn’t what Bob had in mind when he encouraged him to engage you in some kind of conversation to get you out of your head… a place they both could only assume wasn’t really a good place to be right now.

“What do you think?” you replied, setting down your glass.

“I’m sorry.”

“No sense in apologizing for something you didn’t do, Rooster.” You got up rather suddenly, muttering something about the cider being useless as you went to seek out Penny at the bar who greeted you with a bright smile.

“Hey sweetheart, what can I get you?” 

“Something strong,” you sighed and she quickly rimmed a shot glass with salt before pouring top shelf tequila and topping it off with a lime wedge.

“Might as well be efficient, right?” You gave her a smile before throwing it back, welcoming the burn as it slid down your throat. The burn reminded you that you were in fact here and alive, and the alcohol coursing through your veins helped you return back to your old self even if only a little bit. Maverick watched with worry in his eyes, shooting Penny a look that she nodded away. Penny had been everything you needed her to be these last two weeks. She was no stranger to being left hanging by cocky flyboys, but what she wouldn’t tell you is what Jake had done far surpassed anything Maverick had ever pulled with her… at least Maverick would give her a heads up, even if only a brief email or phone call. This was something else entirely but she chose to ignore that, and showed up in all the right ways. She always poured exactly what you asked for, knowing the right moment to make you a mocktail with a drop of alcohol in the straw and she never asked you about anything you didn’t provide to her first. Everyone else walked on eggshells around you, not sure of how to act or what to say, and always somehow asked the wrong questions at the wrong times but you couldn’t even blame them. You knew they were trying their best and you don’t know what you would do if the roles were reversed. 

You returned to your friends, arranging the pool table for a new round and Coyote offered to play with you. You tried to hide your grimace, you felt bad for the cold shoulder you’d been giving him. It wasn’t Coyote’s fault, he was just as shocked as you had been but it didn’t change the fact that you knew he’d talked to him, knew where he was and maybe even knew the reason. They were facts that were difficult to reconcile but you gave him a forced smile anyways as Rooster made his way down to the bar to talk with Penny in hushed tones as he often found himself doing these days.

“I don’t want to hear it, Bradley, she’s fine.”

“She’s not fine, Penny. I’m honestly getting scared, she’s either here drinking herself half to death or she’s locked away in her room in the pitch black refusing to speak with anyone.”

“It’s been two weeks, she only really accepted things a few days ago. Give her time.” He looked over to see you lining up your shot as you leaned over the table, smiling as he saw a glimpse of the old you… someone so bright and vibrant, the life of every room you walked into, drawing people to you like moths to a flame. But it was extinguished just as soon as it appeared as you sank your ball and looked up to realize it wasn’t your usual opponent on the other side of the table.

“Cyclone and I talked about grounding her, she’s a risk to herself right now.”

“Do that and you might as well put the final nail in the coffin, Mav.” Penny said, sliding a glass down the bar and shaking her head as the two men looked at her horrified. “I’m serious. There were two things in this world that got Birdy out of bed: flying and Jake Seresin. She already lost one, don’t take away the other. Just give her time, things will turn around.”

But the thing was… they didn’t. Weeks turned into months and everyone watched as you became just a shell of the girl you once were, moments where your laughter would have rang out above everyone else’s were silent and bets amongst teammates were all but ignored. You were as good as you always were in the air, not wanting to give anyone any room to take something else away from you, though you were a little more ruthless. The first deployment had everyone on edge as you put yourself into danger within the first few minutes of the mission, pulling out unnecessary maneuvers that should have ended with you and your aircraft in a million little pieces, and you didn’t even get the reprimand everyone had been hoping for when you arrived back to base because it was that behavior that made the mission a success and you went without the reality check they desperately thought you needed. Nobody knew what to do, and even Penny had reached the point where she was starting to get a little concerned. At month seven there was a knock on your door in the late evening hours that quickened your pace and got your hopes up though logically you knew you would only be disappointed when you opened the door to reveal Rooster.

You wordlessly stepped aside to allow him in as you resumed your previous position on the couch. There was a glass of water in front of you and nothing playing on the TV and Rooster had to take a deep breath to calm his reaction to seeing you this way. He set a beer in front of you and flicked on ESPN to watch game highlights just as the two of you had done every night the last few months. Rooster was at a loss and was showing up in the only way he knew how to. His heart was completely broken seeing you this way, his best friend he once considered the strongest person he had ever met so thoroughly broken by Jake Seresin. It filled him with anger and made him sick to his stomach but he would never show you that. He would wait until you finished your beer, taking the empty bottle to the kitchen and turning off the TV and all of the lights, gently pulling you up and down the hall where the two of you would brush your teeth in your bathroom before he would help you into bed and take up his spot on the couch. Tonight was different though.

“Roo?” It was the first word you’d spoken since he arrived an hour ago and at first he thought he was imagining it as he pulled the covers over you but he knew he wasn’t once he saw you looking up expectantly at him.

“Yeah, Birdy?” 

“Can you uh… I’m sorry, nevermind.” You shook your head as you went to settle in but he placed a hand over yours, eager to do whatever it was you were about to ask of him. You hadn’t asked him or anyone else for anything since Jake had left and he was ready to chip away at this crack you had revealed to him.

“Come on, what is it?” he asked gently and when you looked back to him he could see the fine mist coating your eyes and sending pangs through his heart.

“Can you stay? I haven’t- I can’t sleep and I just… I really want to sleep.” Your voice broke on the last word and before his brain could fully catch up he was kicking off his jeans and sliding into the other side of the bed, careful to keep enough distance to not spook you but that was thrown to the wind when you reached for him. He was quick to pull you into his side and hold you as close as he could. You had dodged everyone's attempts at physical contact with you and he silently wondered when the last time you had this kind of comfort was. The realization it was likely the last night Jake was in this bed with you had him squeezing tighter. You wrapped an arm around him and nuzzled into his chest when he heard it, the sniffles you were trying to conceal.

“Birdy, please talk to me,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “come on, you can’t keep bottling this up.” 

“That last night was perfect.” you said, and he stayed silent, deciding to let you get it out at your own pace and in your own time. “We spent the night with you guys at the bar, we came home and made terrible microwave nachos, and then we stumbled to bed and had sex, honestly really bad drunk giggly sex but that’s what made it good, and then we stayed up talking about nothing in particular. He told me he loved me and we fell asleep and then just like that he was gone. I mean, how do you go from that to vanishing into thin air?” You had never told anyone this, what happened that night when you two left had been a silent question of the entire group but no one wanted to ask you. Because you were right, the night had been perfect. Everyone had an amazing time at the bar and when you yelled out that you wanted nachos Jake was quick to sweep you off your feet and get you home so you could have them. Watching you leave they all thought to themselves they wanted something like that, they wanted the kind of love that flowed so generously between the two of you. 

“I wish I could tell you, Birdy.” he sighed, rubbing reassuring circles into your waist as your fist balled up the fabric of his shirt. He felt your frame begin to shake as you finally let out what you had been holding in this whole time, sobs wracking your body and Rooster just held on tight, whispering reassurances in your ear and telling you to let it all go. 

“I just don’t know why I wasn’t enough to make him stay,” you whimpered and Rooster’s heart cracked wide open. He shifted, sitting up slightly and pulling you with him as cradled your face and wiped the tears that showed no signs of stopping.

“No. Birdy, you are enough. You are everything and if he didn’t see that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. This is not your failure, it’s his.” 

You shook your head, “I just… I keep replaying all these moments, trying to pinpoint where it went wrong, when he made his decision and I can’t- I can’t find it. There are supposed to be warning signs, it just doesn’t make sense.” Another sob overtook you and Rooster pulled you back in, letting you drape your weight across him and wishing he could do more. He adjusted the both of you back into a lying position and enveloped you in his arms, and when your sobs quieted and your breathing evened out he carefully snagged his phone from the nightstand and texted Maverick, telling him he finally got through and the two of you wouldn’t be on base tomorrow, he wanted to make sure you had plenty of time to catch up on sleep. 

Things did finally start getting better. Rooster took a mile with the inch you gave him and you spent your nights wrapped up under covers with him as you finally let him in and the days held glimpses of your old self. Smiles became more genuine, you weren’t as reckless in the air, and you even laughed at Fanboy’s dumb jokes once in a while. It wasn’t perfect, not by a longshot. Rooster held you tight each and every night so you could finally get the first peaceful sleep you’ve had in months, gently shaking you awake when a nightmare rattled your frame but night by night it got better. He eventually returned to his place on the couch, and then one day something changed and you didn’t need him in the house at all. Everyone knew you were still healing, still recovering but you had turned the corner. 

And when Jake suddenly reappeared at the Hard Deck just as suddenly as he had left you took it in stride. Everyone subtly watched as your two figures sat on the beach just beyond the window and waited for you to break, but that moment never came. When you returned and took Rooster’s beer from his hand they thought you would be angry, maybe at least cry, but you didn’t. You went right back to heckling Pheonix at the pool table as if it had never happened, but Rooster knew. When he drove you back to your place he sensed the silent turmoil waging a war on your mind, and walking into the foyer of your home you didn’t even need to ask. He followed you down the hall, where the pair of you settled into bed and you crawled into the arms that had grown to feel like a second home to you. 

“He said he was sorry,” you finally said, breaking the silence. 

“Do you believe him?”

You shrugged against him, “I don’t know. He said he still loves me.”

“Did he say why he left?”

“I didn’t ask.” You nuzzled your face further into his chest, eyes growing heavy as he rubbed your back.

“I’m really proud of you, Birdy.” You looked up at this, giving him a soft smile as he looked down at you.

“I don’t know if I’ve told you this or not, but thank you.”

“What for?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“For this. For being here, for giving up several months of your life to constantly be here.”

“Nowhere else I’d be, Birdy.” You laid your head back down and absentmindedly rubbed your thumb along his chest.

“I promise you one day you won’t have to sleep at my place.”

“I mean it, Birdy, there’s nowhere else for me to be until you don’t need me here.”

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” 

“I’d sure hope so,” he chuckled and you laughed with him. “What are you going to do?”

“There’s not much I can do. He’s restationed with us so… I guess figure out how to coexist. I just… I don’t get it. He leaves, I don’t hear from him for a year, then he just shows up saying he’s back and that he still loves me.”

You felt him shake his head above you, “I don’t get it either, and don’t hurt me for saying this but I think you should talk to him.”

“Seriously? What happened to all that ‘him leaving is explanation enough and you don’t need him’ shit you’ve been telling me?”

“Seriously. I know you, Birdy, you can’t be around him without getting to the bottom of it. If you don’t ask him why he left, all the progress you’ve made the last few months is going to go out the window.” 

You sighed, “I know.”

“Plus, I’m fully invested right now, I also need to know.” he teased and you playfully swatted his chest.

“Go to sleep before I push you off this bed, Bradshaw.” you laughed. 

“Goodnight, Birdy.”

[ceilingfan5]

15 "Denim jacket with bleach-painted bone motif" & 11 "If they don’t smile at me today I’m going to eat an entire drum set" and taakitz 👀

“If he doesn’t smile at me today, I’m going to eat an entire drum set,” Taako rants, throwing his apron on the counter. He didn’t intend to get on this topic, and now the words won’t stop coming out of his mouth like a busted gumball machine shooting gumballs and quarters all over the floor. Watch out for some Looney Toons ass shenanigans, word listeners, because here comes a mess. “Like what the fuck? He’s too pretty to be allowed to live. He makes me want to hop in a peanut grinder and become Taako butter and live a better life between two slices of discount sliced bread, you know?”

“With jelly, or like-?” Ren grins at him, wiping down the counters, far too thorough. Taako’s got places to be. 

“Obviously with jelly, Ren, what the fuck do you take me for?” Taako grumps.

“Could be honey,” she shrugs pointedly, still looking very pleased with herself. “Maybe you two can become a sandwich together and ride off into a toaster sunset. Maybe you just need to say, hey, honey-”

“And just declare my intentions so boldly?” Taako puts a dramatic hand to his chest, scandalized as loudly as possible. “You can’t do this to me in the workplace, I’m calling HR.”

“Noooo, not again!” she giggles. “Seriously, though, Taako. If he’s cool enough to play in your band, and wear that sick jacket-”

“It’s got bleach-painted bones,” Taako moans, sliding down the counter and onto the floor. She daintly steps over him, and he briefly considers tugging on her apron strings. “And he plays the drums. And the bass guitar. And I think the cello?” Taako mimes playing a flute. “You know the one.”

“Yup,” Ren says, looking down at him as seriously as she can manage. “That one.” 

“And the guys–I can’t tell them. I shouldn’t even be telling you. No offense. I’m mysterious and private and I’m, I’m going to die alone, and,” he tips his head back, misjudges the distance, and hits the cabinet doors with a too-solid thunk that makes him yearn for the good old days, before stupid fucking phylum Chordata got any wise bone ideas. 

Now, wise bone ideas, he possesses a few. He snickers at his own head joke, and Ren gives him a generous half-smile. He sighs. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” he slides further onto the floor. She keeps cleaning, bless her. “I worry I’m not- I mean, obviously I am cool enough, natch,”

“Natch,” she repeats, not looking at him. He wipes an imaginary tear from his cheek while she can’t see. He’s trained her so well. 

“But what if we’re different flavors of cool and he isn’t into Taako butter? What if he’s, I dunno, fuckin- sriracha, or, or, or,” Taako gestures emptily. “Cubed cheese you have to get at an art exhibition.”

“You’re as cool as cubed cheese, Taako.” Ren sighs, giving up and half-laying on the counter. 

“I know that,” Taako snaps, warmed in the soul or something stupid like that. 

“And he’s a nerd who plays in a band and wants you to like his sick jacket. Just go, hey, sick jacket, and he’ll be like oh my god thank you for noticing, everybody thought I was too cool to come say hey sick jacket and I’ve been vibrating myself to pieces wanting to tell everybody the fine details of the bleach painting process, did you know that human bones are whack-ass shapes? Ulnas don’t look right. Ever.”

“Yeah, what is up with those guys, anyway?” Taako has to rotate his arm this way and that a couple of times, chewing her advice in his head. “I’m gonna fuck my drummer,” he decides, in perhaps not the same breath but certainly a consecutive one.

“Good, I’m glad. Can we close already? I hate to tell you this, but I do have a life outside my hero worship of you. I’m like, my own whole interesting guy.” Ren smiles, straightens up, and offers him a hand. 

“That can’t be right,” Taako muses, and he lets her pull him up. “You don’t even have a last name.”

“Do you?” She cocks an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“That’s debatable,” Taako says airily, and blows her a kiss. “You’re driving dessert tomorrow, bring your A-game. Your A+ game! No, your- uh-”

“I’ll bring my super diamond special reserve game!” she shouts, bouncing excitedly. “Thanks Taako! I hope your drummer wants you!” And before he can even counter that one, she’s off to lock the doors and flip the sign.

Taako’s going home and changing before band practice. Yep.  

[vaile-elenya]

The comedy of RoP is underrated. Nori, Poppy, and the Stranger are iconic. Arondir “this shall be called super.” Nori suggesting names and then the other two, in sync, saying “you already said that.”

In season one, watching Nori and Poppy chase after a wheelbarrow was beautiful.

Berek being the best horse EVER and somehow being the smartest in the room

Other miscellaneous thoughts

1. Arondir is going after Adar, maybe he’ll meet Galadriel

2. I’m picturing Númenor having Elrond on speed dial for random mishaps. “Well he is the first king’s brother, so he must have good ideas like our first king did.” Like he shows up because of the coup.

Númenor: So, Lord Elrond this is our blight. How do you think the old king would taken action?

Elrond remembering Elros’ letters about stupid people: ……

Elros, lingering over his shoulder: For the love of, MIRIEL STAND UP!!

I’m so sorry for spamming your inbox, I have one (1) I can talk to about RoP and that is my dad. 💀 I hope you appreciate the carnage on your inbox

Never apologize for sending asks! I love them 🖤 Timezones and life may keep me from replying instantly, but trust me, I read them, think about them, and wait for the stars to align so I can sit down and properly respond 😂

And YES, humor in RoP is pure gold!!! Its that kinda blink-and-you-miss-it type of comedy that just hits for me. Like, that line about supper was so smoothly delivered that I didn’t realize Arondir was joking until he said the last word 😆 And Isildur sinking in the swamp, totally drowning, but still being like, “nah, it’s all good!” absolutely sent me 💀

I love that they’re sneaking in some bits of humor here and there, and not, you know, leaning heavily one way or another. It’s not too comedic but not dull either.

I think I’ve seen in the trailer that Arondir is going to be fighting in Eregion, so him meeting Galadriel is like 99.9% happening. But can you imagine his face when he sees her just chilling with the orcs? 💀 Like, “Excuse me, ma’am, but what exactly is happening here??”

I'm thinking, though... Arondir is focused on getting his revenge for what Adar did to Bronwyn and the Southlanders. Galadriel is just about to make some alliances with the Uruks. What if we get this super intense moment where Arondir’s about to take out Adar, but Galadriel stops him like she stopped Halbrand once, because he’s useful for now??? 👀 I don’t know, but I need it in my life

AND IF I SEE ELROND INTERACTING WITH THE NÚMENOR PLOTLINE IN ANY WAY I SWEAR I’M—

Okay but seriously, the idea of the Númenóreans treating him like Elros 2.0 is hilarious. BUT what if they’ve never actually met him? What if Elrond’s first introduction to them is during the chaos of the downfall?? Imagine Elrond meeting Elendil and Isildur and just having a full-on meltdown because they remind him so much of Elros. I CAN’T

[icallhimjoey]

Are you still gonna post any Christmas fics 👀

merry christmas to all, and to all a good night Wordcount: 1.3K

----

Core Christmas Memories 🎅🏻

"I don't want to say it's a bit much, but... it's..."

"It's a lot." Joe agreed with you, but he smiled proudly as he stepped back and admired his work.

Joe had turned your full living room upside down. He'd drank some of the milk, ate some of the biscuits, and then made the place look like Father Christmas had been drunk when delivering presents.

There were throw pillows strewn about, some of Hazel's lighter toys carefully placed onto the tree, chairs from the dining table knocked over and some placed upside down onto the coffee table. Your throw blankets had turned the dining table into a den and you knew Hazel was going to particularly love that a lot. Joe had placed everything down very carefully, and had taken his job very seriously.

"Hazel's not gonna know what hit her,"

"She won't understand, babe," you warned with a smile. "She might be too young still, I don't know,"

"Never too young to at least feel a little wonder," Joe kissed you on the cheek before turning off the lights. "Of course, we're gonna be so shocked," Joe instructed as you made your way into the bedroom. "So shocked," you confirmed. "She'll copy us immediately and then won't shut up about it for years to come,"

Slipping into bed, you were quick to find each other and cuddled up close together.

"You think?" you asked, and prayed that Joe was right.

"Absolutely, are you joking? The time Father Christmas brought presents and absolutely wrecked the place? This is core memory type of shit, trust me,"

You hummed in satisfaction, so very pleased that Joe was putting so much effort into his first proper Christmas morning with you and Hazel. You feared it would end up being mostly memories for himself, and that everything would be completely lost on Hazel.

"What's your first Christmas memory?" you asked, trying to at least drive home your point a little.

"Oh, I was definitely two."

You couldn't help but laugh softly.

"Yea?" you nuzzled closer.

"Oh yea, absolutely."

"Mine's from when I was like... eight," you said, and made Joe burst into loud laughter, only for you to immediately shush him through giggles of your own.

Hazel was asleep down the hall and had been particularly difficult at bed time that night. You didn't blame her, though.

Joe had been chasing her around after dinner, growling noises and all, climbing over the sofa and jumping over chairs. It had Hazel running, screaming and laughing, trying to find safety in your arms as you sat on the sofa and watched them. Hadn't worked. Joe's tickling fingers had found her in your lap just as well as he would've found her anywhere else. Hazel was left intoxicated by her own giggles and Joe's crinkled eyes as he saw his effect on her.

It had been the most heartwarming before-bed entertainment you had ever had, but it riled Hazel up so much, it was nearly impossible to wind her back down. Especially now that she was in her new big girl bed that she could easily climb out of whenever she so pleased.

It had taken you a long time to put her down.

"She's going to love it, I just know it," Joe said and you felt him press a kiss to your temple.

You woke up by Joe launching himself from your bed and flying into the hallway. You were sure that he heard Hazel in her bedroom and was quick to go and get her.

For a second, you thought maybe you'd get some morning cuddles in bed with them, but when you heard Joe coo, "Hazel, it's Christmas morning!" from her bedroom, you knew it was probably smart to swing your legs over the edge of the bed and get up and out as well.

There was no way you were going to miss this.

Meeting each other in the hallway, Hazel in her soft Christmas pyjamas and her tangled, messed up hair, Joe in a white T-shirt and his boxers, you all had a cute half cuddle together where you and Joe had a kiss, wished each other a merry Christmas and tried to get Hazel to say it too. Little Hazel was still too sleepy to want to speak and let her head rest on Joe's shoulder as he held her.

"Wait, let me get my phone," you said, rushing back to the bedroom to grab it from the charger.

You were going to need to film this so at least you could maybe show Hazel one day when she was older. Artificial memories from photos and videos were memories none the less, weren't they?

"Did Father Christmas come by? Will there be presents, do you think?" Joe spoke softly as he waited for you before opening the door to the living room.

You opened the camera app, swiped to video and started recording as Joe gave you a questioning look, already holding the door handle.

"Yea?"

Joe looked at the camera briefly as you nodded, and then his eyes turned to Hazel as he opened the door.

Joe had left the Christmas tree lights on the night before, for maximum magic in this moment. It was still dark outside, and the clustered lights lit up the room just enough for Hazel to be able to see the mess, the plate of half eaten biscuits and a massive pile of gifts underneath the tree.

Joe gasped loudly and watched Hazel closely for her reaction. Hazel stared into the room with a blank face, sort of panning around the space, and then rubbed an eye with a small fist.

You filmed Joe's face, and realised that, actually, the face you wanted to remember from this moment was Joe's. Joe, who was so excited he got to be a proper father to your baby girl for Christmas now. Joe, who had spent night after night wrapping up gifts, wasting so much wrapping paper and tape because he kept doing it wrong. Joe, who had taken care that you had all the food you'd ever need for Christmas day in your fridge. Who had taken the time to make your living room a big old mess, just because he thought it would be so very special for Hazel. Hazel, who barely understood what Christmas even was, but would surely be excited to unwrap some gifts and find new toys inside.

But Joe looked so excited. So full of wonder. Full of love.

You filmed Joe and Joe alone, zoomed in on his expressions as he whispered things to Hazel, feigned shock at the state of the place, eyebrows up so high on his face as he pointed around at various areas.

You filmed Joe as he squeezed your daughter tightly, pressed a kiss to her cheek just before she pointed at the gifts under the tree and he put her down.

Joe smiled at the camera when he saw that you didn't follow Hazel with it, and pointed for you to pan to her. You did, and filmed how she inspected the gifts, not even slightly bothered by her toys in the tree, or the chairs on the coffee table.

Joe walked into frame and sat down next to Hazel by the tree and you watched over your phone, wanting to see them without a screen in between you, and you felt a surprise tear escape your eye.

"Hazel," you called softly, and it made her look up at you. "Merry Christmas, baby,"

"Mehwy Gibsmas," Hazel said back and smiled at you through sleepy eyes.

Maybe these weren't memories meant for Joe, or for Hazel.

Maybe these memories were meant just for you.

-----

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @jenisnotlost @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff - (tag list currently full)

[wildelydawn]

that trio fic of ferran, pedri and gavi sounds super good like, i'm listening 👀📢

Alright my friend, buckle the fuck up because I have 1500 words for you (none of it is smut, this is just the lead up). I might end up finishing this some day because I've outlined the rest at the end, but for now, enjoy.

-

“Fuck, I just want someone to get me off,” Ferran complains as soon as they’re back at the hotel. 

Pedri had every intention of just going to sleep. He’s not one to drink, but after being told, “We’re on vacation,” for the hundredth time that night, he decided to have “something fruity, since he’s from the tropics,” as Gavi so eloquently told the bartender. She had rolled her eyes: either too drunk herself to realize who she was serving or simply totally oblivious to football. 

“It’s not the tropics,” Pedri had argued exactly once before getting lost in a mango strawberry something. God, was it sweet. And no one stopped him from ordering three more, especially since Gavi would complain about his beer and then “hold” Pedri’s drink for him.

Yeah, real clever.

So when he fumbled around with his wallet to get the hotel passkey out, his first stop was going to be the horrendously expensive mini fridge to drink all the water he possibly could. But leave it to Ferran to invite himself in and for Gavi to follow them around, his tail between his legs like a wounded dog at the shelter.

Yeah, all three of them are coming home alone. Except Ferran’s the only one who’s actually mad about that.

“I can understand both of you being alone, but I seriously thought that one girl was down.”

Pedri tries to catch Gavi’s eye, to silently ask Which girl? Ferran had talked to at least a dozen.

Gavi, though, is far more insulted. “What do you mean you understand us being alone?”

Ferran groans. “Well, you look like you’re twelve, and Pedri’s wearing those awful jeans, so. Let’s face it. Not the best wingmen.”

Pedri looks down at his outfit. “What’s wrong with how I dress?”

“If you have to ask.” Ferran sighs and plops down on the couch. 

Gavi snorts. “If you were any better with women, you wouldn’t need a wingman. Or to chat up a whole fucking bar.”

Pedri agrees, but he’s finally managed to get the cap off his water. He drinks heavily, polishing off the first bottle before cracking into another. His head isn’t so fuzzy. It was worse half an hour ago, when they were in the cab, but standing is a bit of a struggle, and, God, is he thirsty. 

“Says the guy who talked to exactly two people before getting piss drunk.”

“I’m not piss drunk,” Gavi argues back. “Why does everything have to be about getting laid? Why can’t we just be on vacation and have fun?”

Pedri shoots him a dirty look. “Bro, going out was your idea!” 

“If we had it your way, we’d never go out again.”

“Yeah because we wasted four hours, a couple hundred Euros, for nothing. I could’ve stayed home and watched-”

“Oh here he goes, fucking Game of Thrones-”

“I still haven’t watched the ending!” Pedri shouts. “I thought we were supposed to be relaxing!”

Ferran leans back into the sofa cushions, watching the both of them. “As much as this is entertaining, I’m still mad at you idiots.”

Gavi turns back to Ferran. “Why are you mad at me?!”

“Because neither of you helped and you probably made it worse-”

“Okay, for the last time. We didn’t prevent you from getting laid. Take it up with your tiny dick and terrible pick up lines.”

Ferran scowls. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious! We’ve been here two days, and it’s like you’re hellbent on getting your dick wet!”

Pedri nods along because Gavi is right. Ferran has been on the prowl since they landed. He even hit on the lady at the lobby, who flushed very prettily before making a show of her wedding ring while checking them in. 

“You’ve got a couple million. Hire someone,” Pedri says without thinking. Both Gavi and Ferran stop their squabbling to turn to Pedri, shock on their faces. “What?”

“Uh, wow. He must be sloshed.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Pedri groans, a hand over his eyes. He needs to pee. Drinking water that fast, not smart. “It’s a solution.”

“Yeah, no thanks man. I know you’re into the whole MILF thing, but I would prefer someone from this generation.”

Pedri registers the insult. Ferran poking fun at his tenacity to run after older women, but the slight comes from a man who’s sitting alone on his couch, positively bitchless, so he’s not that offended. 

“Damn, what was her name again? Maria? Do you think I could find her on Insta?” Ferran has his phone out. “She has to be on Tinder.”

Gavi turns to Pedri. “He’s hopeless.”

“It’s only 2:00AM,” Ferran scowls again. “Just because you guys are prudes doesn’t mean I have to suffer.”

“Can you go suffer in your room, then?” Pedri asks, but Ferran pays him no mind.

“None of these girls look like they give good head.”

Pedri groans. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Spoken like a true prude-”

“Theoretically, men do suck dick the best,” Gavi says solemnly. Pedri doesn’t know how or from where, but Gavi’s managed to find a beer to crack open and drink. 

“What?”

“I mean, girls can suck dick pretty well, but obviously a guy would know better.” Gavi takes another sip of his beer as if debating dick sucking skills is just another conversation topic between the bros. “Because he’s a guy.”

“What?”

“Are you stupid?” Pedri asks abruptly. “Or just drunk?”

Ferran holds up his phone. “I’m trying to figure out what he’s saying while swiping!”

“He’s saying that because guys get their dicks sucked, they probably know how to suck dick better than a girl,” Pedri explains. He feels his ears getting redder at each time the word “dick” leaves his mouth. 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Ferran says with a laugh.

“Well, have you ever had your dick sucked by a guy?” Gavi challenges. 

“Uh, no,” Ferran chuckles. “But I’ve had some pretty great blowjobs before, all from women. So, if you don’t mind…” Ferran points to his phone.

Gavi snorts. “Good luck with that.”

Pedri anticipates the conversation to be dead but Ferran, who’s never really been one to shut the fuck up, immediately complains, “God, this app sucks. What is wrong with this city? Is no one trying to get laid?”

“Maybe they just don’t wanna suck tiny dick,” Pedri giggles, then bursts out into laughter. He laughs and laughs, turning away from them as Gavi and Ferran continue their argument. God, I need to pee.

“Everyone’s probably too drunk to get laid-”

“Then why are they on the fucking app as available-”

“Just give up already!”

“No, I’m horny, and I’m going back out there.”

“Really? Really? You think that’s safe?”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s safe, I came here to party, you’re both fucking downers, and I’m gonna get my dick wet, like you said I should-”

“Get on the couch-”

“No, I’m leaving- what are you doing-”

“I’ll fucking do it-”

“What the fuck-”

“You said you wanted to get your dick wet-”

“Wait, Gavi-”

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Pedri announces to literally no one before throwing the bottle over his shoulder and walking to the bathroom that’s across from the kitchenette. He shuts the door behind him, sighing at the peace and quiet. Thankfully, it seems Gavi and Ferran have stopped fighting.

Maybe they’ll leave now.

Pedri unzips his allegedly ugly pants and pisses into the toilet, yawning as he does. Of course, it would be nice to be with someone right now. But he’s woefully single, and, to some degree, Ferran is right. His love for older women doesn’t translate well into finding a steady relationship. Not that he’s on the hunt for one. As much as they failed tonight, he can’t deny wanting intimacy. Nor can he blame Ferran for being so goddamn feral. They’re on this vacation to blow off steam. 

Maybe tomorrow night, we can actually go have fun.

Pedri resolves to be a better wingman as he washes his hands and towels them off. He opens the bathroom door and comes out to the living room, ready to tell his friends that tomorrow’s a new day, with new women, and a new chance at love.

The words die in his mouth when he sees what Gavi is doing with his.

“G-Gavi?”

And Ferran is just sitting there, on the couch, his pants shoved down to his ankles, a wicked smile on his face, half shrugging like “What? It just happened!” Like Gavi tripped and fell mouth first into his lap.

“Care to join us, Pedri?”

(Okay, so after that, Gavi proceeds to blow them both before they basically reduce Gavi to a total mess. I'm talking about bullying Gavi a little bit since this was his idea, and then praising him for sucking dick so well. Ferran insists on fucking Gavi first because he's the one who's actually desperate for it while Pedri is just awestruck, like "God, that's my best friend and he takes cock like a champ" before deciding that he needs more of Gavi's mouth. They end up spitroasting Gavi to high heaven and basically swapping between who gets his mouth and who gets his ass. And of course, it ends in some snuggling after. Maybe Ferran leaves halfway through the night because he's like "Okay, that was nice, but I do actually want pussy at some point" but Gavi and Pedri wake up late and fuck in the shower because that's what best friends do.)

EDIT: This is now a full story on Ao3.

[angstyaches]

If you are taking drabble ideas👀 something angsty with Charlie and Shayne with “Are you okay? You don’t look okay.” ? Just an idea. (Not me being hit by lightning whenever I see you are about to write somehting🙈) @writing-whump

June Drabbles 2024

Thank you, Sol!! It's definitely more of a short fic than a drabble.

Word Count: 1,277

CW: anxiety, fear, nausea.

___

“Shayne!” Charlie yelped.

Before Shayne could turn his head to see what was wrong, he felt Charlie’s hand slap against his stomach. His jacket was grabbed and given a rough pull, dragging him back from the edge of the path just as a motorbike whizzed past.

Shayne saw the red pedestrian light then. A truck flew through the crossing, blurring his vision, and his knees felt weak.

He had thought that seeing Charlie would have put an end to the nervous energy that had been building inside his body over the past few weeks, but it turned out that being in the presence of the thing that you spent twenty hours a day worrying about and four hours a night having stress dreams about did very little to soothe the nerves. Butterflies should have swooped in and relieved the knots in his stomach once Charlie was by his side, but apparently, it was possible for a stomach to twist and flutter all at the same time.

“Are you okay?” Charlie was still gripping Shayne’s jacket with both hands. He was eyeing Shayne up and down, and not in the drinking-in-him kind of way that usually followed their reunions. “Because you don’t look okay, and you almost just flung yourself into traffic –”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Charlie's mouth gaped, as though he couldn't believe that that was all Shayne had to say in response, but he said nothing.

Shayne shifted his feet, lining the toes of his boots up alongside the edge of the concrete. His heart was hammering in his ears, but he could barely hear it over the constant background roar of the traffic.

“Still not used to the city.”

“Yeah! Clearly." Charlie's hands hovered as he let go of Shayne's jacket. "What, do you just never leave the house unless I’m visiting?”

Shayne turned his face away from Charlie and flexed his jaw, breathing hard through a swell of nausea.

"They're still keeping you cooped up?" Charlie hummed uneasily. "That kind of sucks."

Across the street, the red standing figure switched to a green walking one. The colours seemed to blur and sway when Shayne blinked.

“Light’s green,” he mumbled, but Charlie didn’t move, so neither did he.

Charlie tilted his head so that Shayne’s couldn’t dodge eye contact for a couple of seconds. Fuck, Charlie was so pretty. His eyes were an even deeper shade of blue than Shayne had remembered. But they were so full of worry.

Next thing he knew, Shayne felt a hand rest against his temple, then brush across his forehead. Another surge of adrenaline almost tugged Shayne’s legs from under him.

“Seriously. You don’t look good,” Charlie frowned. “Your eyes are all glassy.”

“I’m fine. Just…” His mouth was dry, but Shayne tried to swallow. He couldn’t bear the concern in Charlie’s eyes, not on top of everything else, so he dropped his gaze again. If the tightness in his throat would have let him, he’d have tried harder to explain how being in the middle of the city, just a speck in a flat, noisy sea of people, made him feel. And how much worse it was that Charlie was here too, in the very same position. Exposed. Vulnerable.

“It feels weird,” he said quietly to the pavement. "Being out here."

He felt Charlie's gaze still pinning him, and his stomach twisted.

"It's not Ryan and Nancy who keep me in the house," Shayne said. "It's me. It feels... safer."

“That’s – oh.” Charlie turned to face the road again. He absently reached out to press the crossing button. “I – I mean, I offered to meet you at Ryan’s. We could have just hung out there.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Shayne said through his teeth. The fact that a few other people had wandered up and were waiting for the lights to change did his anxiety no favours. “So you could spend the entire day feeling like shit because of Nancy’s magic. Sounds like a great time.”

“And this is better?” Charlie was obviously not as concerned by the presence of strangers as Shayne was because he did not lower his voice at all. His eyes darted gently back and forth between Shayne’s, the creases between his eyebrows never easing up. “Lovely, it was bad enough a minute ago when I thought you were sick, but you’re this nervous..."

“I’m not – I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine, I’m…” Shayne rubbed his hands over his face and tried to catch a breath. It also didn’t hurt that he could hide his expression from Charlie for a few seconds, because holy fuck, those eyes were torturing him in ways he couldn’t explain. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just –” 

“I-I think…” Shayne inhaled sharply. Stupid trembling. It wasn’t fair for him to be the one who broke down.

He lowered his hands and gulped once more around the knot in his oesophagus. The sidewalk was empty again, aside from the two of them; they had missed another turn of the lights, the little red figure returning to tell them to continue staying put.

“I think I need to go home. By myself.”

Charlie opened his mouth and let out a sound like he'd been punched. "What do you mean?"

“I know you came all the way here to see me, and I really needed – I really wanted to see you. I love you, I love you so fucking much that it hurts, it physically hurts me when we’re apart, but being together puts you in danger, and that’s worse, and if being apart from you means you’re safe, then – then that’s fine.” Shayne winced and shook his head as the reality of his own words struck him like a fist to the gut. “No, it’s not fine, it fucking sucks, but it’s – it’s better. It’s better, isn’t it, Charlie?”

“Stop.”

Shayne looked up. He hadn’t even realised he’d been staring down at his and Charlie’s shoes on the concrete.

“Stop. Protecting. Me,” Charlie said. “I know that’s the real reason you left. I – I hate to say it out loud because it makes me sound like a self-centred prick, but I know it’s the real reason you do a lot of the things you do.”

He knows. He knows. It was as though a line running through Shayne’s brain had just been fed a little slack after being pulled taut for a long time. His shoulders sagged a little along with it, and the muscles in his jaws started to tremble beneath his skin.

A sad smile tugged at one side of Charlie’s face, his eyes brightening with tears. “Correct me if I’m wrong and if I am just a self-centred prick.”

“You’re… You’re not.”

“But you did it. I’m safe, sweetheart. It’s done, and you can…” Charlie paused, letting out a sigh as Shayne dropped his forehead against his chest. He cupped a hand against the back of Shayne’s head. “You can stop now. You can let yourself stop.”

I don’t know how. Shayne felt the last of his defenses shrivel way under the gentle fingers that were now tugging their way through his curls. His hands found Charlie’s waist and he curled his fingers into the folds of his hoodie. And yet all that had been fueling him since he'd tried to break away from Madelyn's control still curdled in the pit of his stomach.

I don’t know how to stop.

The lights must have changed again, because car engines whirred in place, and footsteps clicked off the edge of the path and onto the road. Charlie didn’t move, so Shayne didn’t either.

I don't know if I can.

[fatuismooches]

💌 anon…NOT talking about dottore??? yes but no he’s always gonna be mentioned bc i have some thoughts

but! it’s childe’s birthday. i think that man would 100% always be bringing his reader home to his parents, and if they were his childhood friend that would be even better 👀 (he definitely was the kind of kid to propose or be like ‘youre def gonna be my spouse in the future :)) u cant date anyone else!!!’ and he takes it SERIOUSLY).

on dottore…there was a trend going around on “fanart trope of you meeting your partners younger self” and we technically already have that with fragile reader! probably holding tiny zandy in their hands and clutching him close to read him something (to help keep their development sharp!) unless it gets painful but…dottore meeting younger reader (like akademiya reader) and just getting a little sad bc he misses his reader being able to do whatever they wanted freely. Even if that meant he had to get jealous because “how dare they set up reader with another lab partner for this project. theyre *my* lab partner for life” and for life it is :)

- 💌

💌 ANON BACK AGAIN WITH SUPERIOR TOP-TIER THOUGHTS!!

Ahhh yes 😫😫 Going to see Childe's family has become kind of a tradition for you, you go to them to celebrate the holidays, birthdays, or literally for no special reason at all, etc. Courtesy of Childe who always escorts you on the boat ride there, and is telling you the whole time how excited they are to see you and that they've missed you so much! (You saw them last month)

Omfg childhood friend Childe 💖 THE ANGST + FLUFF POTENTIAL... Going from little kids playing in the snow to when he falls in the Abyss and he starts acting way different and you get kind of pushed away when he joins the Fatui and you think he doesn't like you much anymore/doesn't remember that oath he made as kids...😶 But yea DEFINITELY It's very emphasized how Childe neverrr breaks promises so when he promises that to you, he's being 100% serious and he always fulfills his promises... Dw the Fatui is covering the costs for the wedding! Also consider: Childe + promise rings, I think he'd want to wait to marry you after a lot of the hardcore Fatui stuff dies down just for your safety so he gifts you that ring as a reminder to wait for him 💖💖

NOT U HITTING ME WITH THE DOT FLUFF TO ANGST... 😧 But omg... I can just imagine little Zandy sitting on fragile reader's lap as they read him a story! Well sometimes the story is a lengthy textbook but that's fine since you gotta keep your brain active sometimes!

For story purposes... let's just say an experiment went wrong... and Dottore suddenly sees the familiar grounds of the Akademiya in front of his very eyes, more specifically the library, and most importantly, you. You, who donned the familiar green, gold, and white hues of the Akademiya's uniform. You, who were hanging off a ladder looking for a book on the high shelves like it was no big deal. You, who were smiling and giggling even though you probably had a 20-page essay due before midnight. You, who looked so happy... just like how he remembered you. Ah, how many centuries ago that was. It seems even he must grow weak to time sometimes.

... And then his eyes travel down to some person calling for you. Who the hell is that? Why are you working with someone besides him? And then he thinks, this scene is probably from before he got to know you. But still...

He idly wonders if he killed that pest in the past, but he can't remember because he doesn't care about his irrelevant victims.

[sinnaminttoast]

We got a balance update and I’m here to give you my nonsensical commentary/thoughts on it

Oh boy am I ready/nervous for what awaits me in this video.

Will I have a nervous breakdown about the possibilities of what this video will contain? Maybe, but you’ll never know.

Anyways…onto my thoughts

Oh??? So smartass is gonna be caught up on what’s going on. Alright…I mean I think we only ever had Geordi’s reaction to magic so this’ll be interesting.

SMARTASS REMEMBERING THE CARDS THING 😭😭 oh they are…let me date smartass plzzz

LMAOOO OH THEY REALLY GAGGED HIM 🤭

Smartass just already knowing magic exists “like yeah…I know people with cool powers exist. So what?”

Yo if I was smartass and someone told me “this involves kidnapping and conspiracy..”

I’M…I’m not mentally equipped for this one Aar bear 😁✌️

Elliot and Smartass are both of my brain cells theorizing about what the fuck is going on.

Someone strong enough to sneak in and sneak out you say??? 🤨

I think I know of a STRONG stealth who can SNEAK around…👀

Not Asher catching strays for no reason. PAPERWORK IS UGLY OKAY?? I understand him.

“Or maybe he just got better at hiding it.” OKAY! Alright! That line right there….WOW OKAY! Let’s not even open that one because as someone who is anxious…😬 oh it’s rough. Let’s just say that line hit a little too close to home.

Okay me and Elliott can be anxiety buddies…

I know I can be unserious but let’s be serious for a sec.

It’s actually so amazing how Erik makes sure we remember how awful the tragedy of the inversion was. Yeah sure we had the inversion videos to guide us through it but even now Erik makes sure we know that it still affected people outside of those characters.

That it left the department in disarray and with people feeling completely lost about what had happened.

Was not expecting to hear a southern accent but I’m not mad.

I want to know how the department has been dealing with Closeknit …CAUSE NO SERIOUSLY! They literally just kidnapped someone 😭

Oh wow…I didn’t know you…okay mysterious agent tell us your violent fantasies of what you’d like to do with Close Knit.

EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED?! 😦

Oh wow!

Elliott is gonna be sick y’all.

“I can’t lose them Aaron.”

So does Erik want me to jump off the edge rn?? /J

“They were so scared… in the dream. I tried to tell them what they had to do to fight it. I tried to help…but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. I’m supposed to be able to protect them. Dreams are the one thing I’m good at. The one thing I know better than anything else…and I couldn’t help them.”

Send the flood. I’m being so serious.

ELLIE AND SUNSHINE I’LL GET YOU OUTTA THERE 🏃‍♀️💨

WELL THE MISSION HASN’T HAPPENED! According to the summit…Closeknit is still up and running so 🫠

THAT HE’S GONNA WHAT AARON??

I imagine that even though it is killing him to think about Sunshine…he needs them like the air he breathes.

(Yes I stole that from a Conan gray song and yes it hurt me to write that.)

“They were a good balance for one another.”

CAN YOOU LET ME BREATHE FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND??

I’ll go get Sunshine myself if no one else will!

And we end with a kiss and uncertainty

So that was the end of that video….

I usually end with a meme but how do I end this without furiously sobbing???

I really tried to be light hearted with this one BUT IT WAS A STRUGGLE TO NOT CRY!

When I catch you Closeknit…oh it’s gonna go down…ESPECIALLY YOU BLAKE😺

I’ll make him eat my foot 🦶 and I’m so serious

[cozyqueerchaos]

Protective Sonic Sonadow edition hc’s?👀💕✨

EEEEE ANON U ARE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE <3 - sonic often fusses over shadow's injuries (which shadow is v unused to since he heals)!! shadow will come home with a gaping wound and sonic will freak out and force him to sit down and let him bandage it lol - on that note, he's very gentle with shadow outside of fights (which often leads to more fights haha) - sonic hates all government bullshit but he tries extra hard to be a dick to GUN agents, on shadow's behalf. shadow says it's unnecessary but GUN doesn't know they're dating so there's no real need to put a stop to it :> - sonic will drape himself over shadow when he feels like shadow's in danger. shadow will be talking to some asshole and/or villain and sonic will walk over, rest his chin on shadow's shoulder from behind, and give them the most threatening smile you've ever seen in ur life - they definitely argue about who gets to give who their jacket when it rains

BONUS,, excerpt from a fic i may or may not ever finish:

The edges of Shadow’s lips quirk, annoyance falling away to reveal Sonic’s fucking amazing boyfriend who worries way more than is really necessary. “Sounds like a good way to kill an afternoon,” Shadow says, then looks very much like he regrets that word choice. 

His face falls, not back into anger but definitely not amused, either. Something sad and quiet. Something Sonic sees more often than the rest of the world ever gets to; the traumatized mess of a person Sonic has fallen terribly, blessedly in love with.

“Hey,” Sonic says, and Shadow raises his eyes from the floor to refocus on him. His arms are crossed, as they always are the second Shadow begins feeling unsafe, but if anything it makes him appear more vulnerable. “I’m okay, yeah? I’m not leaving you anytime soon.”

At least, he hopes not. But who can say, really? They live strange lives.

Shadow makes a pained noise, hands flying up to his quills. He glares at the ceiling like it’s personally wronged him, and it takes Sonic far too long to realize he’s trying not to cry. “That’s not- you know that’s not what I’m upset about.”

“I do?” Sonic asks, because he really fucking doesn’t.

Shadow stops, lowering his hands. He blinks, once, eyes wide and a little bit glassy. “...seriously?”

Sonic shrugs helplessly. He sort of wants to stand up and pull Shadow into his arms until that look is nothing but a bad memory, but he gets the feeling a hug may not be welcomed at this precise moment.

“Oh my god,” Shadow says disbelievingly. He doesn’t sound angry, just… bewildered. “Sonic. You jumped in front of a bullet for me.”

Sonic pauses, thinks back to earlier that day. Huh, yeah, that might’ve happened, but- “I didn’t get shot, though?”

“That’s not the point. There’s a difference between living dangerously and actively throwing yourself in harm’s way.”

“I was protecting you!” Sonic protests, but Shadow’s already waving him off.

“I’ve told you, I heal, you should always allow me to take hits-”

“I’m not gonna let you get hurt,” Sonic snarls, rage surprising even him. Shadow pauses in his rant, eyeing Sonic warily. “And you can’t heal if you’re dead.”

Shadow stands there for a long moment. He stares at Sonic with those steady crimson irises, all unearthly calm, and then says, completely serious, “I would always choose you over me.”

Sonic’s rage dies in his throat, and then it’s back twice as strong. “Well, that makes two of us, faker. Of course I’d die for you.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and Sonic realizes it a millisecond too late. If Shadow was trying not to cry before, now he’s failing at it. “I don’t need more people dying for me, you idiot!” Shadow yells, rubbing at his eyes before they can get any glassier.