#slowly but surely hopping on this ship

[memopmiff]

can u please draw yuezula😭🫶

Your wish is my command. I love princess x princess 💕

[scoonsalicious]

Like A Fairy Tale

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true.

Warnings: Language to make Steve blush, mentions of alcohol use, implied sex, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.4k This is my very first posted fic, and I am very nervous but I hope you like it! If I've missed any warnings, please tell me so I can add them. Much love and thanks to my bestie @jmeelee for indulging my obsession and dropping everything to read this when I sent it to her <3 Please pardon any spelling/grammar errors.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3 I write for 18+, so minors DNI. _____________________________________________________________

Once upon a time, being Bucky Barnes’ girl had felt like living in a fairy tale. He was everything your younger self had ever dared to dream of in a Prince Charming– attentive, affectionate, kind, and oh, how he made you laugh! You were the envy of all of your friends, the very definition of #couplegoals, and you thanked your lucky stars every night that the two of you had found one another, despite all the odds.

But fairy tales aren’t real. 

You weren’t sure exactly when it started, but somewhere in the third year of your relationship, after you’d moved into a handsome brownstone in Brooklyn together, after you’d adopted a fluffy white kitten, Bucky started pulling away from you. The steps that took him from you were small at first– he was taking on more and more missions, opting to stay gone for longer periods of time. Days would go by, and they’d turn into weeks, then a month or two at a time would go by where you wouldn’t see him. 

At first, it hadn’t been terrible– Bucky had always made sure to contact you each and every day. A video call whenever he could, a phone call or text when he couldn’t, but slowly, so slowly you barely noticed, the calls stopped coming all together. Sure, he’d answer when you called him… when he could, which wasn’t always possible on a mission, and you hated acting needy and taking him away from his work, so eventually, you stopped reaching out, too. 

When he was home, you were like ships passing in the night. You always offered to take time off of work so you could spend some time with him before he was set to head out again, but he never wanted you to jeopardize your career on his account. Your reunions would always be passionate, but short-lived, a few hot and heavy nights before he took off once more to save the world. 

You tried not to let it bother you. You really, really did. His job was so important. People’s lives relied on him. Where did you get off getting upset over that? So, you kept it to yourself. Until you couldn’t. Not any more.

“Y/N,” your best friend, Lainy, cornered you at her annual New Year’s Eve party, “where’s Barnes? He’s been leaving you to go solo for months now. I don’t think I’ve seen you with him since Mark’s St. Patrick’s Day Party.”

Ouch. “He’s working, Lainy,” you told her, not wanting to admit that March had been the last time the two of you had gone out together, let alone spent more than three days in a row in each other’s company. 

“Yeah, he was ‘working’ over the Memorial Day trip, and the 4th of July BBQ, and Jack and Alice’s wedding, and your aunt’s funeral.” You cringed internally as she applied air quotes to ‘working.’ “And he was ‘working’ on your birthday, and Christmas. Babe, he’s been leaving you alone for almost an entire year. What’s going on? Are you sure there isn’t someone else?”

The worst part was, you knew there wasn’t, or at least, no one individual. When he’d first started distancing himself, of course another woman was the first thing that came to your mind, and you weren’t proud of yourself, but you’d gone through his phone to search for evidence of an affair… multiple times, and repeatedly came up with nothing. And bless Bucky’s heart, but he didn’t have the technological know-how to hide an infidelity from you. Granted, that didn’t negate the possibility that he was randomly hooking up with people while he was away. You’d have to be stupid to not consider the possibility.

You could have asked Steve. You didn’t think Captain America had it in him to lie to you about something like that, but you didn’t want him reporting on your suspicions back to Bucky, nor did you think you could stand to see the look of pity in his eye if he had to tell you that yes, Bucky was cheating on you while you anxiously awaited his return every night. So, you kept the suspicions to yourself. 

Your conversation with Lainy had left you deflated. Here it was New Year’s Eve, and you were alone, the man you loved god knew where– just not with you. How many more holidays and milestones and everyday nights were you going to spend by yourself, waiting for a man who never seemed to want to be home with you anymore? This wasn’t the kind of life you wanted, the kind of life you deserved. 

You made your way to the kitchen to refill your glass of wine. You’d probably already had too many, but you needed to drown the despair that was slowly filling you up. As you poured an exceptionally generous glass, a man entered the kitchen. You recognized him– Harris, a cousin of Lainy’s who had flirted with you relentlessly for years before you had started seeing Bucky. 

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up upon seeing you, “it’s been awhile.” He enveloped you in a friendly hug. “How’ve you been?”

You smiled and exchanged pleasantries, catching up on the overall brushstrokes of your life. 

“I’m sorry about your breakup,” he offered gently, after you’d exhausted the usual small talk.

“My breakup?” you asked, brow piqued.

“Last few events I’ve seen you at, you’ve been alone. I assumed you and Barnes…” he left the thought floating, the implication hanging in the air: Barnes has left you alone, I assumed you broke up.

You huffed out a laugh. God. Was your relationship actually over and you were the only one dumb enough to not see it? 

“If you aren’t seeing anyone,” Harris continued, “I would really love to take you out. You’ve gotta know I’ve been into you for ages, and I figure if I don’t shoot my shot now, who knows when I’ll have another chance.”

You cocked your head and looked at him, taking in his earnest demeanor. Here was a man who genuinely wanted to spend time with you. Why were you waiting on someone who no longer wanted to be around?

“Um, I might have to get back to you on that, Harris,” you told him before excusing yourself. You needed air. 

You found yourself on Lainy’s balcony, the air deceptively mild for the end of December in Manhattan. Alone with your thoughts, you pulled out your phone and dialed Bucky’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

“Someone asked me out on a date tonight,” you said into the recording, your voice choked with tears you didn’t want to shed. “And I think I might say yes, because, honestly Buck, what are we even doing anymore? You’re never here, and I’m always alone. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to not let it get to me, because your work’s important. I know that. I do, and I’m not begrudging you for your job. But… but I can’t keep on like this. I can’t even remember the last time we spent more than three days together. Isn’t that crazy? Three days. Everyone thinks you’re cheating on me. Did you know that? You’re away so much that everyone I know is convinced you’re fucking someone else. Maybe you are, or maybe you already left me, but I’ve been too stupid to notice; if that’s the case, you could have just told me.” 

You kept your composure as you left the message. You weren’t angry at him; you never could be. You were just tired. So tired, and so lonely. 

“All I know is that it’s another night where I’m all by myself, wishing you were here, wanting to talk to you, to feel you, and you’re just… not. You’re off doing something, or someone, more important than me, and I used to be okay with that, but I can’t be anymore. I deserve more than waiting on you, Buck. I deserve to be someone’s priority. I really wish I could have been yours, the way you were mine. 

“So, let’s just call it, okay? Your heart’s obviously not in it anymore, and mine is too tired of being hurt and alone. We’ll have to figure out what to do about the house. I’m keeping Alpine, though. You haven’t been here for her, either, and it wouldn’t be fair of you to take her if you’re never going to be around.”

Inside, you could hear the rest of the party as they counted down to midnight. When they reached zero, the night erupted in fireworks, and you could hear cheers and cars honking their horns throughout the city below you.

“Huh,” you said into your phone, “it’s midnight. Happy New Year, Buck. I hope it ends up being a good one for you, and I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you decide you didn’t want to spend this last one with me.”

You hung up the phone and the tears finally fell as you slid down the balcony railing until you were crouched on the floor. You weren’t sure how long you sat there crying, but eventually Lainy found you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and ushering you into her spare room. She helped you change out of your cocktail dress and into a spare pair of pajamas, and helped you wash your face before tucking you into bed. She left you with a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead, promising that tomorrow would be better, that the next best chapter of your life was about to begin, but as you drifted into a fitful sleep, you couldn’t find the will to believe her.

You woke the next morning with a throbbing headache, the alcohol and the tears doing nothing but dehydrating you into agony. You grabbed your phone to check the time, but the battery had died in the night. From the slant of the sun coming in from the guest room window, it looked to be late morning or early afternoon. 

You changed back into your dress, thanking Lainy for her help and making a small joke about doing the walk of shame in your clothes from the night before. You avoided her questions about what had happened, promising to go over it at length at the weekend after you’d had some time to process. You weren’t in the best headspace to get into at the moment.

Fortunately, your best friend knew you well enough not to pry, and you said your goodbyes, plans for brunch on Sunday having been made. You weren’t eager to get back home, to be surrounded by reminders of Bucky, when all you wanted was the man, himself. But he was your ex-boyfriend now, you supposed. You were going to have to come to terms with that sooner than later. Besides, Alpine needed to be fed, and you weren’t going to abandon her.

Your keys clicked in the lock as you opened your front door. “Al, baby,” you called, kicking off your heels and closing the door behind you, “Mommy’s home. You hungry, sweetie?”

You began making your way back toward the kitchen when a loud crash from upstairs got your attention. You rolled your eyes; what had the cat knocked over now? 

But then there was the roar of a body barreling down the upstairs hall and toward the stairs, leaving you frozen where you stood. You cast a glance to where you’d left your phone in your purse by the door. Too far away to reach in time to call for help as the intruder came pounding down the stairs. 

A massive figure rounded the corner, nearly knocking you over.

“Bucky?” You blinked, sure your eyes were playing tricks on you, but no– there he stood, and he looked like shit. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. He’d obviously been wearing the same clothing for at least a day, if not more.

“Y/N,” he breathed, throwing his arms around you and wrapping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. “Sweetheart, I was so worried.”

“What are you doing here, Buck?” you asked him, pulling away from him. God, you wanted to let him hold you, but you just couldn’t. Not anymore.

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, blue eyes desperately searching yours. “I got your message. Doll, it fucking broke my heart. I came straight home, but you weren’t here, and I was terrified that you were gone; that you’d left me for good.”

You scoffed. “I’m not the one who leaves, Bucky.”

He flinched at your words. “I know, Baby. I know, and ’m so sorry. I had no idea. I shoulda known what leavin’ you so much was doin’ to you, ‘cause it was doin’ it to me, too. When I heard you say that people– that you– thought I was cheating on you, that I had neglected you so much you thought I found someone else, that I could ever love anyone else, ever want anyone else– I’ve never hated myself more, doll. I can’t stand that you even had those thoughts in your head for one second, because it’s always been you. There’s never been anyone else. You’re it.”

“Then why have you been gone?” you asked him in a whisper. “If there’s no one else, and I’m it, why don’t you ever want to be with me? Why do you keep leaving?” 

Bucky ran both his hands along his face. “God, it feels so stupid now,” he said with a sigh. “But I was trying to save–”

“Trying to save the world, yeah, I know,” you interrupted him, annoyed. “Trust me, I’m well aware that I can’t compete with that. But I needed to know you thought we were worth saving, too, and you never did.”

Bucky started laughing then, and you scoffed. “Wow, you don’t have to rub it in, Bucky.”

“No, no– Sweetheart, no!” he shook his head. “That’s not it, at all. Hold on.” He went to the foyer and grabbed his go-bag; you had missed it when you walked in. Coming back to the kitchen, he put it on the table, opening it up and extracting a folded piece of paper and handing it to you.

It was a real estate listing for a farmhouse Upstate, with acreage on the Hudson. You and Bucky had talked about what kind of house you would buy if the situation had ever presented itself, and it was almost as if you’d dreamed it up.

You looked from the paper back to Bucky. “I don’t understand,” you told him.

“It needs pretty extensive renovations,” he told you. “I wanted to take on enough overtime to have the money for them and make a good dent on the mortgage, but it needed more work than I originally thought. And, I have to come clean– I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you about where I’ve been spending all my time.” He looked up at you through his lashes, head bent down in shame.

“But… but, you said there wasn’t anyone else,” you stammered, heart ready to beat out of your chest. 

“Oh god! No, and I mean that! There isn’t, I swear! God, I’ve fucked this up so bad!” Bucky tugged at his hair in frustration. “I’ve been going on extra missions, but sometimes, Sam, Steve, and I go Upstate to do some work on the house, to cut down the costs so I could still make my timeline.”

“You already bought it?” you asked, your voice flat. You were in shock. “You want to move out? Away from me?”

Bucky moaned in distress and drew you to him again. “No! God, I’m doing this all wrong. I want us to move there, together. To make it the perfect house. The perfect home for me, my wife and our stupid fur baby.”

You stilled at his words. “I’m sorry, your what?”

Bucky smiled at you sheepishly as he reached back into his go-bag. “I’ll have you know that I had an entire plan. Was gonna have the house ready by Valentine’s Day. Take you up there as a surprise, ask you properly, but I fucked that up, so…” He brought his hand back out, holding a small burgundy velvet box. He opened it to reveal a vintage engagement ring, a sapphire instead of a diamond. Your favorite stone.

Bucky got down on one knee. “Y/N,” he began as his voice choked up a bit with emotion, “I know I fucked up for the last eight months. I would completely understand if you can’t forgive me, but I need you to know that I love you. I have only ever loved you, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making up for the fact that, even for a moment, I let you think that you weren’t the most important thing in my life, my number one priority. Will you marry me?”

“Buck…” you began, not sure how to phrase what you were about to say. “What about your job? I can’t keep coming in second to the rest of the world, and I get that it’s selfish of me, but–”

“I quit,” he said simply.

“What?” Your eyes were wide with shock at his statement. 

“The second I heard your voicemail, where you said you wanted to call it because I was never there, I told Steve I was done, that I needed to start putting you first. It wasn’t even a question. I’m officially retired.”

Your mouth hung open. You had hoped he would cut down on his missions, but for him to have quit completely… You gently tugged him to his feet, taking the ring box and running a finger across it.

“It’s lovely,” you told him softly. “Absolutely perfect; exactly what I would have picked for myself.” Bucky beamed at you, pleased. “But I can’t accept it.” His face fell as you gently placed the ring back in his hands. 

“Oh,” he whispered, eyes growing glassy. “I… um, I understand. I fucked up, hurt you. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“I still want to be with you, you idiot,” you admonished him. “But you did hurt me, and we’ve been apart for a long time. We need time to find our way back to each other again, okay? Ask me again on Valentine’s Day, just like you originally planned. Don’t do it now just because you fucked up.” You leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him. “And if it helps make you feel better, I’m probably going to say ‘yes,’ anyway.”

Bucky grinned at you. “Really?” he asked. When you nodded, he picked you up and spun you in  a circle before pressing his lips to yours as if he hadn’t touched you in months. “I promise you, Sweetheart, I’ll do anything I can to make this up to you, I swear it.”

“Anything?” you asked with a smile. “I think I know where you can start.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked you. “And where’s that?”

“Take me to bed, Bucky Barnes,” you said, kissing him again.

Without a word, Bucky swung you over his shoulder and ran with you up the stairs, your squeals and giggles echoing behind him.

Much, much later, when you lay sated together tangled in limbs and sheets with Alpine snuggled next to your heads, Bucky played with your fingers as you rested your head on his bare chest.

“So, Doll,” he said, kissing the pads of each of your fingers, “you gonna tell me who had the nerve to ask my girl out on a date?” 

You laughed. “Lainy’s cousin, Harris. I suppose I’ll have to text him now and tell him I’m not interested.”

“Hell no, you’re not interested,” Bucky chuffed. “Gonna have to remind that punk you’ve already got a boyfriend. The position has been filled.”

“That’s the thing, though,” you said, planting a kiss on his nose. “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, do I?”

Bucky’s face fell. “But I thought you said–”

“I’ve got myself a fiance.”

Bucky tightened his grip around you, drawing you even closer to his warmth. “Yeah, okay. I gotta admit I like the sound of that a lot better.”

Your entire relationship with Bucky Barnes might not have played out like a fairy tale, but in that moment, you were more sure than ever that you two would get your happily ever after.

[tinydefector]

Human's effects

More a silly little thing that I had to write out.

Warnings: talks about sex, xenophilia, kinks

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

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Human Effects 2 - characters

Request are open

____

There were a lot of things that fascinated the cybertronians over humans. Their size, body types, skin tones and those soft they are. 

So many of them become so fascinated over the fact that such small and fragile creatures don't have plating to protect themselves but only wear soft fabrics. 

And it slowly leads a lot of Cybertronians to realising they were Xenophiles. 

A list of kinks and fetishes cybertronians discovered from it. 

-size kink 

-skin fetish 

- hair pulling 

- silk and ribbon play

- cum inflation 

-breeding

-pet play

- vore

-fluid play and consumption 

- spiking warming

- Heart and spark syncing 

- new spike and Valve modifications to test on their human lover

There's originally a lot of unknowns about humans, and cybertronians are rather intrigued, for one the first times the a lot of the crew of lost light had encountered them was on black market and high priced pets, and companions. 

There were exceptions such as Perceptor, Ratchet and Megatron who had been around humans before but for a lot of the bots this was their first time seeing them. that is until they are assigned a human communications, relations Ambassador/ liaison. 

But after the black market incident it had led a lot of bots into research over humans. And it just spirals more with them discovering some rather dark history with cybertronians keeping humans as playthings. And finding out their ‘interface equipment’ isn't that different from their own, just more organic and smaller.  

A late night of drinking at swerve slowly devolved into conversation over their local human. Brainstorm sits nursing his drink of engex while he and others of the ship chat away. "So does it fascinate anyone else over the fact that humans don't have natural plating or any kind of protection for their squishy form?" He brings up, he himself had fallen down the rabbit hole of human porn but didn't quite know how to breach the subject with anyone else. 

"Oh Primus, look who decided to join us, thought you were holding up with your Conjunx Chrome!" Swerve said with a chuckle, placing more drinks down. He hopped up onto one of the bar stools and leaned in eagerly, His attention flicks to Brainstorm. "You bring up a good point, Brainstorm," Swerve replied.

 "Those squishy humans are really something else, ain't they? No armour, no defences - I'd be scared outta my circuits if I was just soft protoform all the time!, like i’m so surprised squishy hasn't been stepped on yet" 

Rodimus nodded in agreement. "Yet they've managed to survive just fine so far. There's obviously more to them than meets the eye. Like i've seen some of the things our ambassador can do like the strange stretching"

"I dunno," Skids chimed in. "Seems pretty fraggin' reckless if you ask me. One good shot and it lights out!" 

Rewind shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. Just thinking about all those organics and tubes and who knows what else squishing around in there makes my fuel tank turn." He made a dramatic churning sound effect.

Riptide laughed. "I saw a nature documentary once about these hairless ape creatures the humans evolved from. Now THOSE guys were squishy."

“What in Primus have you been watching?!��� 

“some old earth docs that Percy’s has, bots got a lot of info on Terra and the planet's history” The bots shared a collective laugh at the image. Swerve took a swig of his energon. "Frag, maybe there's something to be said about living on the edge like that! Sure keeps things interesting, its still strange that they are somehow one of the top predators of their planet yet are smaller than half the things they eat"

Brainstorm goes quiet for a moment. "Have you seen how flexible they are?"

Swerve nearly spit out his energon. "Whoa hey, I don't need those kinds of vivid imagery floatin' around my processor thank you very much!, keep the squishy interface vids to yourself" he said, waving his hands animatedly. 

"You have to admit, the way those fleshbags can contort themselves is pretty impressive," Skids added. "Must come in handy for.. maintenance." He waggled his optical ridges suggestively.

Brainstorm nodded pensively. "Indeed. Their non-metal structure allows for feats we could never replicate by ourselves." He took a sip of his energon. "Always makes me curious what other evolutionary adaptations they've developed to compensate for such vulnerability. The potential for scientific discovery is endlessly fascinating with their species and ancestors."

Riptide shrugged. "As long as they don't expect ME to try any of their bone-breaking yoga moves," he laughed. "This chassis is meant for tough stuff, not Twister!"

"You think they would be soft, you know if you interface with one?" Brainstorm asked while downing his drink, the engex was slowly going to his processor loosening his lips. 

"Oh don't give me that look I know for a fact you all have thought about doing with a human at least once! Rodimus I know for a fact you eye them up everytime our little liaison walks past you" He calls out Rodimus. 

Rodimus nearly choked on his energon in an attempt to look innocent. "Wh-what? That's not - I never -" he sputtered in protest, flustered optics darting around at the other bots.

Brainstorm smirked as Rodimus squirmed uncomfortably on the stool. "Oh please, don't try to deny it, Captain. You're about as subtle as a combiner in a supply closet." 

"Roddy's got the hots for squishy, who knew!" Swerve giggled uncontrollably. 

Skids nudged Riptide playfully. "Hey, maybe we got a xenophiliac on the ship!" 

"Alright alright, knock it off you glitches," Rodimus growled, though the blue flush across his face said otherwise. "I was just... curious, that's all. They ARE a strange species."

Swerve tried to contain his laughter. "Ohhh I bet you are more than curious, if you catch my drift!, wanna get up close and personal" More raucous peals of laughter from the group.

Brainstorm stroked his chin in thought. "They do feel intriguingly delicate. I wonder if their flexible frames would be more pleasurable to interface with than our own rigid forms..."

"Have you seen videos of them, they stretch a lot, like a lot, like I know human skin is resilient but i didn't think they were that resilient " Brainstorm states remembering some of the videos he had seen online. Other bots peak up intrigued. 

Swerve choked again as his fuel tank nearly turned inside out. "Brainstorm! That's... more than I needed to visualise, thank you very much." 

Skids seemed a bit less phased. "Fleshbags gettin' their twist on, huh? Can't say I'm not curious now." 

Even Rodimus seemed intrigued despite his earlier protests. "Resilient is an   understatement. I've seen some of the contortions that humans can do - it's astounding that their protoforms don't tear apart." 

Brainstorm nodded enthusiastically. "Precisely! With the right lubrication and technique, I hypothesise an interface with a limber human form would provide entirely novel sensory data."

Riptide shifted uncomfortably. "Not sure I'm ready to dive into the fleshy deep end just yet.”  

Swerve shot him a sly grin. "Aw c'mon Rip, live a little! Where's your sense of adventure?" 

Rodimus tried to steer the subject elsewhere. "Let's maybe change topics before someone needs a wipe down. Or Primus forbid, Magnus overhears you lot"

"I hope I did not hear what my processor just heard" Ultra Magnus states while staring down at the group of drinking mechs. A Lot of bots in the bar snicker at the group getting in trouble. 

"Come on Sir, get that wrench out of you aft, join us!" Skids called out.

Swerve let out an audible squeak at Ultra Magnus's stern tone, almost dropping his engex in panic. "U-Um, Magnus sir! Fancy seeing you here. We were just, uh, discussing..." 

He shot desperate optics at the others for help, but they all seemed to shrink down in their seats under Magnus's disapproving glare. 

Rodimus flashed an uneasy grin. "Just having a friendly debate about alien species, you know how it is. Brainstorm was bringing up some, er, interesting biological points..." 

Ultra Magnus sighed wearily. "I'd rather not know the details, thank you. Some topics are best left undiscussed in public."

The whole bar erupted into laughter at the group's misfortune. "Ah lay off em Magnus!" one patron called out. "They're just havin' fun!"

Another bot piped up. "Yeah, loosen up that rusty chassis and join us! One drink won't hurt." 

Magnus scowled, unamused. But as the encouragement grew louder, he glanced around hesitantly...

Swerve spotted an opening. "C'mon Magnus, live a little! I'll even give you a two-for-one special." He flashed a hopeful grin.

The enforcer grumbled but his resolve was cracking. Against his better judgement, he pulled up a stool. "One drink." Swerve whooped and poured him a double.

They cheer as Magnus sits down to drink with them. Skids speak up. "So brainstorm you saying you'd hook up with a fleshy, get nice and personal with a human" he calls out with a laugh.

Brainstorm leaned forward eagerly. "Why of course! The pursuit of scientific knowledge knows no boundaries. Though upon further review, direct interfacing with an organic might require certain, ah, safety protocols." 

Skids peered at him suspiciously. "Exactly what kind of 'research' are you plannin' on doing Brainy?"

Swerve nudged Riptide with a smirk. "I'll bet ya 20 shanix Brainstorm's just trying to find an excuse to get jiggy with the humies!"

Riptide snorted. "No way, I ain't takin' THAT bet!" 

Rodimus dropped his face in his palms with a groan. "can we PLEASE stop picturing Brainstorm fragging humans?" 

Ultra Magnus coughed on his engex, catching the comment he'd really rather not have heard. 

But Brainstorm paid them no mind, lost in scientific contemplation. "The human capacity for sensory input and feedback would provide a rich study on cross-species interface protocol adaptability..."

"INTERFACE PROTOCOLS?!" Swerve shrieked. The table erupted into howls of laughter at Magnus's deeply uncomfortable expression. It was going to be a LONG night indeed.

“Primus Brainstorm you kinky fragger” 

"Fine then everyone servo up if your not at least somewhat curious or thought about it at least once" Brainstorm calls out to all of Swerve's bars patrons

"Oooh, Brainstorm's putting us all on the spot!" Swerve giggled with gleeful mischief. He raised his servo without hesitation. 

Skids was quick to follow suit, slamming his half-empty glass down. "Frag it, I'll admit it! Those soft squishy bodies got me wonderin' what else they're good for." 

To everyone's surprise, Rodimus sheepishly lifted a servo as well, avoiding optic contact with Ultra Magnus. Riptide shrugged and joined in the show of servos, if only to blend in. 

The majority of bots in the bar started raising their hands amid roars of laughter and drunken encouragement. Only a select few hesitated, shooting nervous glances at Magnus. 

The enforcement officer's expression cycled through outrage, resignation and back to outrage as his gaze swept over the forest of raised servos. "I cannot condone such deviant interest in alien biologies," he protested, voice stiff. 

But as more servos stayed stubbornly aloft, Magnus sagged with a weary sigh. After a long moment, he slowly, begrudgingly raised one massive hand as well. 

The bar erupted into ear-splitting cheers. Swerve howled with glee, banging his fists on the counter. "Look's like we've all got a bit of xenophile in us after all! Even you, Magnus my mech!" 

Magnus buried his faceplate in his servos as Brainstorm cackled maniacally. Once the bar settles back down its Swerve who speaks up with a smirk on his faceplate. "So... which one of you charming mechs are gonna be the first to try and get our lovely Liaison?" He teases. 

Rodimus sputtered into his drink at Swerve's question, flushing brighter. "W-what? I never said anything about actually doing anything!, it's all just fantasies Swerve!" he protested in a hissed tone. 

Skids rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, well they do have a cute lil' figure. Bet they'd be a wild ride..." 

Swerve grinned slyly at Rodimus. "Aw c'mon Captain, don't tell me you ain't thought about it at least once! I bet they'd be real fun to break in, get all soft and pliable..." 

Rodimus smacked Swerve upside the helm. "Knock it off!" He shot a pleading glance at Ultra Magnus as if begging for rescue.

But unexpectedly, Brainstorm was the one who spoke up. "While the organic's flexibility is intriguing, directly interfacing could introduce unknown health risks or cultural taboos. Outside the fact our people have kept humans as pets and companions in the past. A more ethical approach would be gaining consent for strictly observational research."  

Riptide frowned. "Not sure the liaison would go for that either Storm" 

Swerve sighed dreamily. "Just imagine wrapping those soft squishy bits all around you though... bet they'd feel amazing..."  

"SWERVE." Magnus's warning tone silenced the cheeky bartender immediately. He turned back to Rodimus with a sigh. "Despite certain... Curiosities, directly engaging an organics  such a manner would be unwise, dangerous even, not to mention our form are much larger and could harm a human."

Rewind nodded gratefully at Magnus, relieved the subject was shifting. But the mischievous glint in Swerve's optic suggested his teasing wasn't over yet. It was going to be a long night indeed.

"Relax Mags I'm just riling these drunk mech up. Unless you're interested in our sweet little ambassador" he teases, making other bots choke on their drinks. 

Ultra Magnus's icy glare could have frozen Swerve's energon. "Need I remind you this conversation is highly inappropriate and unprofessional," he said sternly. 

But to everyone's surprise, Rodimus let out an undignified snort of laughter. "As if Magnus would ever break protocol like that! He'd probably recite the entire Autobot code of conduct while fragging."

The whole bar erupted in howls of mirth at the mental image. 

Swerve was nearly rolling on the floor. "Can you imagine?! 'Paragraph 3, subsection B clearly states interfacing with sentient aliens requires prior diplomatic clearance forms in triplicate!'" he cried in a mockingly stiff voice. 

Skids were wiping away fuel tears. "Primus if MR. RULES AND REGS ever broke the rules, it'd be one for the history archives!" 

Riptide jabbed Skids in the side. "Ten shanix says he'd have them memorising regulations the whole time!" 

"Twenty shanix says they'd run screaming first!" Swerve shot back. 

The bets and ribbing escalated as more mechs joined in. Across the table, Rodimus shoved Magnus playfully. "C'mon Magnus, live on the wild side for once!" 

Magnus's rumbling huff was the only response. Watching his rigid commander finally loosening up filled Swerve with delight. Somehow, some way, he'd find a way to get Magnus to break protocol yet! It was shaping up to be the best night ever.

"Ohhh let's make this fun. I list some bots and you say if you think they would hook up with a human" Riptide states. "Rung, Drift and Ratchet" he calls out the names.

Swerve let out a dramatic gasp. "Ooh spicy!"

"Rung is definitely curious but way too professional. Might let loose over a couple cubes of engex though!" 

Skids broke into hysterics at Riptide's suggestions. "Rung and a HUMAN?! Rung doesn't even touch his OWN interface panel!" 

Rodimus snorted. "Can you imagine? 'My dear, it seems you're experiencing some psychological interfacing blockers. Please, tell me how that makes you feel.'" 

"Drift guy's definitely intrigued by other species, if you know what I mean. Plus he's artsy so he'd probably appreciate the 'aesthetic'." Swerve responds

"Drift might go for it, he's open to new experiences," Rodimus mused with a grin. 

Brainstorm nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, his spiritual philosophies suggest an openness to cultural exchange that others may lack. I think if he and ratchet weren't together its something he might try" 

"Ratchet. bah! As if that grumpy old rust-bucket would try anything so illogical. Unless she's a doctor too and starts quoting his favourite protocols... then all bets are off!" Skids laughed. 

"Ratchet? Nah, too much of a hard aft. He'd just bitch about human biohazards the whole time," Swerve giggled. 

"Well if Drift was interested I'm pretty sure that mecn could get ratchet to do anything with the bat of his optics" Rodimus remarks.

The table erupted in raucous laughter. Swerve took a playful bow. "Alright bring on the next victims!" 

Riptide rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, how about...Tailgate, Cyclonus, and Whirl?" 

Swerve cackled wickedly. "Tailgate would be way too nervous but he'd try for his Conjunx Cyclonus. Cyclonus would 100% use his broody vibes to charm her pants off but only for Tailgate. And Whirl? He doesn't interface, he destroys! So that liaison better watch her interfacing ports around that lunatic!" 

Chromedome interjects stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Tailgate would be way too nervous and shy, I think. He'd probably short-circuit just from holding hands!" 

Riptide nodded. "Cyclonus has always struck me as the kinky type. Wonder if he's into those squishy bits like Brainstorm thinks..."

"Whirl would frag anything that moves," Rodimus interjected with a grimace. "But I don't think an organic would survive the experience!"

Brainstorm stroked his chin. "Indeed, Whirl's interfacing protocol subroutines seem rather...enthusiastic. Consent might be a fleeting concept. Better to observe from a safe distance." 

Swerve shuddered. "Ugh, don't make me picture that psycho getting 'friendly' with a human! I'm tryna keep my fuel down y'know." 

The names continue being dropped. 

 " First Aid! I don't know if the medic-bot's got it in him to break the rules. But I betcha if he did, he'd be real gentle and caring-like. He'd have them feelin' better than new in no time!" 

Skids grinned devilishly. "Yeah but would they feel better? Aid's so straight and narrow I bet he'd put em in stasis lock from boredom!" 

"Now Perceptor on the other hand..." Swerve tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Bookish type, but you know there's a passionate scientist in there waiting to experiment. Think he'd go slow and methodical, really take his time 'exploring the specimen'." 

"his thirst for organic sciences might overpower his good sense," Rewind remarks. 

“optimus prime, Prowl and bumblebee ” Chromedome interjects with his own inquiries. 

Swerve pretended to wipe away exhaust fumes. "Primus help me, this is gonna be good... Optimus Prime is obviously Mister Morality himself, but you know he's got a secret wild side under all that virtue signalling. Just imagine how freaky he could get with some alien nookie!" 

The bar erupted in incredulous, drunken laughter and cheers. Swerve grinned impishly. 

"As for Prowl, I'm telling you that stick up his tailpipe is begging to come out and play. One roll in the berth with a naughty fleshy and he'd loosen up reeeal nice!" 

"And Bee? He's a sweet kid, but you know what they say, it's always the quiet ones! Between his cute lil' face and that tight chassis, he'd have the human lining up to frag that glitch right into stasis!" 

The bar absolutely lost it, bots falling over each other in drunken hysterics. Even Mirage was struggling not to fall off his chair. Swerve took an exaggerated bow as his audience howled. 

"Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all cycle! Now who's ready for the next round?" More shouts and clanking glasses answered his call. It was shaping up to be the wildest night at Swerve's yet!

 Magnus dropping Megatron's name that really sent them over the edge.

"Megatron?! With the liaison?!" Rodimus howled with laughter, nearly spitting out his drink. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all cycle!" 

But Swerve wasn't done. "Megatron? Now THAT'S an image! 'You pathetic fleshbag, you DARE try to mount the great Megatron?! Grovel before my interface array!'" 

Magnus adds more information which makes everyone surprised " He and the ambassador are rather close" He states

Rewind speaks up from Chromedome’s side. "Y'know... they do have a certain chemistry. I'll bet under all that scowling and chipped armour there's a softie just waitin' for the right tender touch to melt his spark. And they have got sass to spare  bet they could handle Megatron's brooding and snarl!" 

"Twenty shanix says he'd have them trembling and beggin' for mercy in no time flat!" Skids bet eagerly. 

"You're on!" crowed Riptide. "But I still think Perceptor's the real dark horse..."

[wyvernest]

tú eres mi vida

( part 1) (next part)

pairing: miguel o'hara x wife!reader

warnings: a lot of fluff, suggestiveness, foreplay?

summary: with the opportunity of a surprise, miguel makes the most of your honeymoon

He walked away from the hammock with you, hanging over his shoulder, ass in the air, making sure to keep a large hand over it, both to conceal you from wandering eyes and to grope at the plump flesh every now and then.

All you're seeing is the beaten path through the shore's sand and the junction between the beach and the hotel's green gardens. He skips the alley leading to your room, your eyes widening in amusement. You know he's good with directions, as long as you're talking about the spider-verse. Otherwise, in the blissful comfort of your honeymoon, you may have caught him further away from the stoic, attentive leader he's gotten used to being.

"Miguel, baby, you missed it. It's that way." you giggle lightly, tapping his lower back, careful enough not to make him feel bad. The last thing you want to do is blow off his mood.

"I know." His tone is confident, teasing. Your chuckles are silenced abruptly at the reply, utter perplexity taking over you. All the places and facilities around the resort flash through your head one by one, none fitting for what you were intending to do. And you haven't discussed love-making in seawater yet, either.

"Where are we going then?" you inquire, after throughout accession of all possibilities.

"Paciencia, cariño. It's a surprise." He reveals, full of pride and excitement, voice lowered and playful. You shiver, gripping into his waist to support your upper body and look around, scanning for said surprise.

He gets to the entrance of the private beach, still not stopping. With a sudden jump, he hops on the pier, your weight secure over his shoulder. You can't deny the wetness gathering in your panties at the thought of how effortlessly he carries you around, showing everyone that you're his, and most importantly, that he's about to make the most of it.

You watch the waves crashing softly against the darkened wood of the pier, clear and cold. You feel the breeze blow up over your bare thighs, shivering. He runs a hand over the exposed skin, up underneath the fabric of your flimsy skirt, stopping shy of the small mound of your cunt. You squirm slightly, needing his touch up higher, but he retracts his wandering hand and tightens his grip over you.

Finally, he reaches the water bungalows. Small huts connected by piers in a web-like distribution. Your eyes fixate on the king-size bed sheltered by wooden walls on all sides, except for the one facing the sea. Open and free, white curtains flowed by the bed frames, carried on the wind's wings like sails on a ship.

His knees hit the bed before he lays you down on the soft, clean, white mattress, his back facing the open view. You shift under his shadow, scurrying back towards the bed frame, watching him crawl over to you, slow and methodical.

He grabs your ankles faster than the time it would’ve taken you to escape and rile him up further, pulling you under him so that he’s straddling your hips, holding you in place. You lift yourself on your elbows, attempting to move your legs out of the cage, gazing up at him.

“What d’you think?” He asks, toying with the elastic of your skirt.

“I’ve never been happier.”

You drop your head back down on the bed, having stopped fighting the impossible hold he’s forced you in, between his muscular thighs. He smiles sweetly, satisfied with himself.

“It’s been almost impossible to find one of these available. But now that I have you here,”, he bends down, an inch away from your face. His hot breath fans your mouth, and you take it all in, the scent of him, the fresh bedding, the sea breeze. Your eyelids fall heavy, and he closes the gap between you, kissing you slowly, unhurriedly, like you have all eternity to spend together in paradise, and you’re just getting started. And maybe that’s exactly what it is.

You taste his lips, strawberry sweet and ever loving, feeling your eyes roll back at the sensation. He cups your face with one hand, holding you from fainting, and you let him lead. You feel his body move against yours, yearning to be closer and closer. His happy trail rubs onto your stomach, skin to skin. Every ridge of his defined abdomen pushes down onto you, chest rising and falling with each breath.

Struggling to keep up with the kiss, you sense his hands drift lower, to your waist, and you flinch ever so slightly, muscle memory kicking in. You mentally pray that he won’t–

And he does. He resumes his earlier attack, tickling you and abusing all the sensitive and funny spots he knows so well.

You scream through the uncontrollable laughter, fragments of his name that he otherwise hears in a different context, but which he adores nonetheless. His grip loosens momentarily, and you slip away like a cobra in desert sand. Before you can manage to get up and make a run for it, he grabs onto your skirt, his talons ripping through the material, leaving you in your shirt and panties. You protest, but he’s quick to drag you back on the bed. He laughs wholeheartedly, pinning you to the white sheets. You’re more than certain that the racket can be heard from miles away, but you couldn’t care less.

In an attempt to shield yourself, you bring your arms to your sides, tears already rolling down your eyes as you’re running out of breath and energy. He stops, and squeezes his thighs around your waist. You’re not leaving.

As he gathers the white sheets, pulling them over you both, you try to ignore the weight of his half-hard cock that’s now resting on your midriff. Or not.

You run your hands up his burly thighs, over his hip bone and up his abdomen, feeling the muscles ripple with his movements. He gives you a knowing look, bringing the sheet over his head, trapping you in a semi-transparent cocoon.

“Who’s gonna see us? The fish?”, you manage to say, feeling the remnants of an explosive giggle kick back in right after you’ve calmed down.

“I’m not taking any chances. There are speedboats.” he mumbles, as he adjusts above you.

“They’re not allowed so close to the-” he cuts off the rest of the sentence, slamming his lips onto your once again, and just like earlier, he has you melting in his arms in no time. It’s almost embarrassing how he manages to surf you through emotions so quickly and effortlessly, but you blame it on the beauty of being utterly and irrevocably in love. His lips move against yours with expert ease and precision, stopping every now and then to breathe, barely breaking away, as your exhales mix together in desperation and fascination.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist, basking in the heat of his body radiating down on you. A groan reverberates in his chest at the action, resulting in him moaning in your mouth.

You continue to make out in the cool shade of the bungalow, sheltered from the blazing July sun, and every second you feel like it’s the first time again, butterflies in your stomach, heart about to burst.

When he finally parts from you, chest heaving, eyes half lidded, you feel as if you’ve been cut from a lifeline. He moves to your flushed cheeks, the kisses are open-mouthed and slow.

“Te amo. Tu eres mi alma”, he kisses below your temple, “mi corazón-”, he moves to your jaw and right below it, “-mi vida.”

He licks at your neck, kissing the sensitive skin with insistence, pressing himself closer to you.

“Y siempre lo serás.”

link to part one!

translations:

paciencia - patience

tú eres mi alma - you are my soul

y siempre lo serás - and always will be

a/n: ill do a part 3 i actually love this whole honeymoon idea:) i hope its at the very least a bit original with the bungalow and all that

ALSO if you're a native latin spanish speaker please correct me im here to learn and write him as well as i can<3

+thank you everyone for the AMAZING feedback ive received for the first part!! i really hope you like this one and the next just as much

taglist:

@cooch1ecruncher @nvkdjnvjkd @tsukkie-daisuke @noahspector

(it won't let me tag everyone, sorry if i missed you)

[flemingsfreckles]

Safe Space

Synopsis: based off of a request I got (that I can no longer find) that wanted to see reader comforting Jessie, Jessie seeks comfort from her girlfriend after a hard couple days at the Olympic Games.

Warnings: discussion of the Canadian Olympic scandal, that’s it

WC: 1.6k

A/N: hi, I’m on vacation again, so here’s a sort little blurb (I have no idea when this is posting because my time zones are all messed up!) I also may or may not have reviewed this after being awake for like 24+ hours so no promises on the grammar and spelling.

You had quickly wrapped a towel around your body as you stepped out of the shower, hearing a second knock on your door you originally figured it was the hotel sending up the extra blanket you had requested before you hopped in the shower. However, when the knocking continued, becoming more insistent you turned and moved over to the door, double checking that you were covered before looking through the peephole and immediately pulling the door open.

“What are you doing here?!” You said, shocked to see Jessie standing in front of you. “You can’t be here.”

“I know but, can I come in?” Her voice was quiet, she only made eye contact with you in short glances. She shifted her weight, hands fiddling together.

“Jess…” as you say her name she looks up giving you the chance to fully take in her appearance. You notice her slightly disheveled appearance, a frown across her face, eyes watery, her lip had a slight shake to it as she awaits your answer. Your heart sinks at the obviously distraught appearance she had. “Yeah, come in.” You open the door to your own hotel room before quickly glancing into the hallway to see if anyone else was around.

“You’re not supposed to be here Jessie.” You tried to gently remind her as you follow her into your hotel room.

Jessie sighs. “I know, I just, I needed you. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

The Canadian team had spent the last couple of days playing their first games of the Olympics, all wins but outside of the game, everything was a mess for Canada. Everything was a mess for Jessie. Drone scandal, being labeled as cheaters, losing coaching and staff, constant pressure from the press to make statements, nothing about this tournament had been easy.

You knew the pressure your girlfriend was holstering. Not only was she captaining her first major tournament, she was captaining what felt like a sinking ship. She had been nearly silent since the news broke, calling you just to say a hello before falling into silence and letting you speak until other obligations caused you to hang up.

You saw her briefly after the first game, she had looked tired, as did every other player. You got the chance to talk with her, remind her how proud of her you were, how proud everyone was, but you knew she didn’t care to hear it.

By the end of the second game she looked not just tired, but drained. Only coming over to quickly see you following their victory she hardly spoke, muttering a greeting and letting you kiss her cheek and give her a quick hug before she retreated to the locker room, head down as if they had just been beaten.

The third game she hardly looked like herself. Dark circles had formed under her eyes that had slowly lost the sparkle you had become so used to seeing. She hardly smiled, only looking like she was having fun during a goal celebration before her face would return stoic. She hardly even spoke during the game, not to her teammates, not to the ref, not to the other team. She simply waved to you before leaving the field, not utter a word to you, her family, or any fans.

It was unlike Jessie, she wasn’t one to usually let a games or the sport in general ruin her mood for the day, a couple hours sure, but today and this week was different. To say you were worried about her was an understatement.

You worry for her had set in days ago, when the news first broke. You knew your girlfriend well and you knew how she’d likely cope with the situation. Jessie would do her best to take the weight off her teammates inadvertently putting it on her own back. She’d try to hold the team together as best she could, at the expense of herself. She’d stay up late to talk with the other girls, to make sure they felt reassured, not caring that she lost sleep over it. You knew she’d do anything for her teammates, even if it meant hurting herself.

You felt like you were watching your girlfriend break apart, unable to do anything.

When she showed up, unannounced at your hotel room, you knew things were bad. It was so different, she was actively going against the team's rules and guidelines sitting in your hotel room. Jessie wasn’t one to mess around with the rules. She followed them and encouraged her fellow teammates to follow them as well. Thus meaning she never left the team hotel to see you when she wasn’t allowed, she didn’t sneak off, especially not to come to your room, her being here meant she needed you.

“What’s going on?” You said looking over your shoulder at her as you rummage through your suitcase for some sweats. You give her a second to respond and when she doesn’t, you turn around as you drop the towel and pull a shirt over your head.

Jessie is laying on your hotel bed, one arm slung across her eyes, her other resting on her stomach. You watched as she took a few deep breaths, her chest rising and falling. Slipping on underwear and a pair of sweats, you quickly moved to hang up your towel before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Your hand comes to rest on Jessie’s thigh, giving her a comforting rub. “Jess, do you want to talk about what’s going on with you?”

“It’s, just all of it, it’s too much to get into, I can’t do it.” Her voice quivers slightly, to anyone else they might not have noticed, but you knew. “I know I can’t be here but, just a quick cuddle please?” She pulled her hand away from her face, and sat up. Seeing the mix of disappointment and sadness in her eyes made your heart ache. You never wanted to see her this upset over a game, especially one they didn’t even lose.

“Sure babe, but it’s gotta be quick, you can’t be getting in trouble for sneaking out.”

“I know, but I, I can’t be in that hotel anymore, I just can’t. They’re all looking to me, and I don’t have the answers!” Her words stop and you notice she’s suddenly breathing unevenly.

“Jessie, hey.” Trying to pull her attention, you quickly stand up from the bed to squat in front of her, putting your hands on her face. You can see her relax slightly into your touch. “Look at me, Jess, look at me.”

“You’re doing the best you can, that’s all anyone can expect of you. That’s all you can do.” You try to convince her of the words you were saying, letting your thumbs gently caress her cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m so tired of talking about it, I just need you.”

“Okay, come here.” You stand up, climbing onto the bed to lay down before lifting the covers out so Jessie can join you. She curls her body into your side, her head coming to rest on your chest and her arm draped across your chest, her hands resting just under your breast. “I love you.” You kiss the top of her head, feeling her hum in response.

You run your fingertips along her back, scratching lightly, aiding her in falling asleep. It’s not long before her breathing slows and you feel her completely relax against you.

You remained still in bed, the last thing you wanted to do was to stir and jostle the head that rested on your chest. The arm that was wrapped under her body had fallen asleep a long time ago but you couldn’t move her. You watched as your girlfriend’s phone rang, Janine’s face on the screen, you debate answering it for her before letting it go to voicemail.

Your own phone then begins to ring, this time you answer. “Hey Janine, what’s up?” You whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Hey, have you heard from Jess? I don’t mean to panic you but she’s not in our room, haven’t seen her in a bit.” You can pick up on the worry in your girlfriend’s best friend’s voice.

You look down to where your girlfriend’s head was resting on your chest, soundly asleep. For the first time in days she looked peaceful, she looked like she was okay.

You whisper back to Janine, not wanting to wake Jessie. “I don't want her to get in trouble, but I’ve got her, she’s fine.”

“She’s with you?” Janine asks, sounding confused.

“Yeah, I know she shouldn’t be, but she showed up and I think she just needed a break. She’s sleeping.” You continue to whisper, pausing when you notice Jessie stir slightly.

You hear Janine’s sigh of relief through the phone. “Okay, good, good. I don’t think she’s slept more than a few hours the past 5 days. I won’t say anything, everyone just wants her to be okay.”

“She’ll be back tonight, don’t worry.”

Janine thanks you before hanging up a second later. You feel the weight on your chest get lighter as Jessie lifts her head to look at you. “Was that for me?” She looked up at you with eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Janine just wanted to check on you.” You whisper, bringing your hand to her head with a gentle push in an attempt to get her to relax back against your chest.

“Am I in trouble?” You can hear the worry in her voice.

You give her another kiss to her forehead before running your hands through her hair and down her back to scratch her skin again. “No, not at all, go back to sleep Jess, I’ve got you.”

[midnight-xx]

Hiii, I hope you’re having a lovely day/night! I wanted to request a Hiccup x fem reader (preferably RTTE timeline) where reader is royalty from a far away land and she fled to escape a war within the kingdom and as she fled she met and bonded with a wild female night fury and as they sailed away they came across Berk and met hiccup (this prompt is very inspired by HOTD and I thought it would be cool to mash the two a little bit) thank you for reading this and I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

I love how detailed this is!! I haven’t watched or read HOTD before so I made smth up lmao. They also didn’t end up meeting in berk but shh

SELCOUTH

Pairing: Hiccup x Fem!reader

Synopsis: In the process of escaping war, (name) crashes into the one thing missing from her life. Literally.

Timeline: After the events of RTTE, but let’s pretend they’re still on the Edge

—

—

War. The one thing (name) despised.

Ironically, it was (name)‘s choice to abandon her home and flee. Not for the safety of her people, but for the safety of herself.

She knew that it was wrong. She knew that she should’ve stayed and fought to the death for those loyal to her. However, she didn’t. In an act of selfishness, she left those who trusted her to fend for themselves while she evacuated.

—

(Name)’s feet pounded down the dock as she ran to the ship tethered to the end of it. She wasn’t sure why she was running so fast, as she had no pursuers, but she ran anyway.

After hurriedly untying the ship from the pole it was tied to, she hopped aboard and tossed her bag of supplies to the side before unraveling the sails and starting her journey.

“That’s princess (name)! She’s escaping!” Someone cried from the dock, and (name) turned back only to see the colors of her kingdom’s attackers.

As (name) heard the running footsteps of the soldier, she sailed further into the mist surrounding the island. She glanced back to her homeland, knowing that she wouldn’t be back for a long time, or ever.

The mist consumed the ship, and Princess (name) along with it.

—

Three days and two nights of no sleep later, (name) found herself dozing off but snapped awake at the gentle bump of her ship against land.

(Name) carefully stepped out of the ship, now wide awake, and carefully walked across the wet sand and to the shore.

(Name) collapsed onto the grass beyond the shore and embraced the feeling of solid earth beneath her body. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the dusk sky, watching as the sky faded to navy blue, and stars dotted the sky one by one.

—

(Name) didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she realized she did when she heard a twig snap about ten feet away. Getting up from her spot on the ground, she grasped the sword she had brought with her and faced the dark edge of the woods.

(Name) squinted, and gasped softly when she caught two green eyes staring back at her. The creature stepped into the light of day, and (name) noticed its powerful wings, and rippling muscles underneath pitch black scales.

(Name) gasped and tripped over her own feet in an attempt to get away from the night fury. She had heard tales of other tribes being demolished by this dragon, and she didn’t want to be next.

The dragon inched toward her until it stood right in front of her, then tilted its head down to inspect the fallen woman.

In a panic, (name) raised her sword and pointed it at the dragon quickly. In response, the night fury growled and shot it from her hand. (Name) could only watch as the blade went spinning into the distance.

(Name)’s breaths shortened in fear, but the dragon only watched as (name) panicked. The lack of air eventually got to (name), and she fainted.

—

When (name) woke up, the dragon was gone. Any tracks it may have left were gone as well, and (name) groaned as she rubbed her aching head.

A huff came from behind her, and (name) slowly turned around to see the dragon from before. However, (name) looked into its eyes and say no malicious intent, so she slowly stood up and stepped towards the night fury. The night fury tilted its head curiously, and crooned softly while it matched her strides.

The two met in the middle, and (name) stretched her arm out with her palm facing the dragon. In confusion, the dragon tilted its head and licked her hand.

(Name) chuckled to herself and shook the saliva from her hand, finding the dragon hilarious.

—

Over the next few months, (name) had learned that the night fury was a girl and named her Stelle, for the night sky when (name) sailed to the island.

Currently, (name) was flying bareback on Stelle’s back, on their way to map another unexplored island. The woman cheered as her hair whipped in the wind from the speed her dragon was flying at.

After a few short minutes, the duo landed on an eerily silent island. Furrowing her brows, (name) dismounted her dragon and gestured for the dragon to be quiet while taking careful steps forward.

A little bit of walking later, the two had found themselves at the top of a semi-steep hill. Stelle glanced mischievously at (name) and nudged her forward little by little.

“Stelle, what are you—“ (name) didn’t get to finish before she toppled down the hill and began rolling. —

“Well, bud? What do you think?” Hiccup asked Toothless, gesturing to the island around them.

Toothless merely chuffed and walked off, busying himself with a few pine cones.

“Really? It’s that bad?” Hiccup questioned, but never got to find out his response before he was knocked to the ground like a bowling pin.

“Wha—“ Hiccup exclaimed as he sat up. He immediately noticed the woman who landed on top of him, groaning and glaring up at the hill she rolled down.

Toothless’s pupils shrunk, and he growled at the girl.

“Woah, woah.” The woman’s eyes widened at the aggressive stance.

“Um, could you… get off?” Hiccup muttered from below the woman.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” The woman apologized as she stood up and helped Hiccup from the ground. “My dragon pushed me down the hill.”

“There’s other dragon riders out here?!” Hiccup interrogated in shock.

“No, it’s just me as far as I know… sorry,” The woman explained as her dragon swooped down from above.

Toothless growled again, and the other dragon growled in response, curling its tail protectively around the woman.

“Another night fury!?” Hiccup gasped, and Toothless backed down.

The woman hushed her night fury, and the two dragons slowly approached each other as the two humans watched. Toothless took the initiative, licking the other night fury’s forehead, while the night fury blinked in surprise. The two dragons began to run around the clearing, and the two dragon riders turned to look at each other.

“So, uh… what’s your name?” Hiccup awkwardly attempted to start conversation.

“(Name). What about you?” The woman, now known as (name) replied.

“I’m Hiccup. What’s your dragon’s name?” Hiccup asked with an excited lilt in his voice.

“Her name is Stelle,” (name) responded thoughtfully.

“A girl night fury?” Hiccup’s eyes lit up. “This could potentially be the salvation of the night fury population! They might as well be the only two night furies in the entire world!”

“Slow down there,” (name) jested. “At least let them go on a date.”

Hiccup chuckled and responded, “Maybe we could go on a date…”

“…What?” Name met Hiccup’s eyes.

“Oh, um, nothing!” Hiccup defended, averting his gaze.

(Name) shook her head. “Whatever you say, charmer.”

—

Note: I yapped a lil too much with the stuff before meeting Hiccup but we don’t talk abt that 🎀

links

ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ

[neoneun-au]

ARRIVAL; C.SC

―PAIRING: choi seungcheol x reader ―GENRE: angst, romance, floaty in between sort of fic, lite!farmer au ―WORD COUNT: 2.3k ―WARNINGS: rewritten from my old blog for svt.

The old house comes into view over the horizon. The weathered white boards of the house’s exterior are bathed in the soft pink-gold of dusk as it sits as a proud sentinel on the hill overlooking the expansive fields and orchards before it. Gnarled apple trees, trunks twisted with time, heaving their bounties towards the home; sun dappled honey wheat fields rippling with the wind but always sighing towards the white watchman above. And you, similarly facing, steady gaze directed like a ship to a lighthouse.

It looked the same as it did the day you left, all those years ago. Watching it fade into the quiet mist of the morning as you left it behind to walk forward into the unknown. And now it sits still, unchanged, if a little more weatherbeaten, watching as you walk back into view–travel-worn suitcase clutched tightly in your grip. 

Gravel crunches underfoot as you make your way down the path towards the house–nervous anticipation fluttering in your chest with each step. Hope and fear intermingle in the hollow of your stomach–dancing together like two birds. 

You hadn’t planned your return. Not really. 

When you set out to find yourself in the world beyond the village, you left without a plan in mind. Simply answering a call to your soul. You couldn’t say how long you would be gone or even what it was you were setting out in search of,  but somewhere inside you knew the day would come–whether it be the next day, year, or decade–when you would hear a similar call to return. Back to the fields, back to the house, back to the boy you left behind. 

The splintered boards of the veranda creak under your weight as you walk to the front door–an audible sign of your approach. For a brief moment you pause, hand poised over the doorknob, and inhale deeply. The air smells as crisp with the scent of the morning air and the apple orchard nearby as you remember it. The faint scent of spring lilac and inherited dust. 

Suddenly you feel out of place. An intruder at the threshold of someone else's home. Someone else's life. It was easy to convince yourself as you explored the world that everything would be the same when you eventually made your return. That the house, and Seungcheol himself would still  be there, frozen in time, waiting as he had said he would. But now you were not so certain. The walls of time collapse around you, and you run your hands along the length of them. Feeling the passage of it. How long it has been. 

With a shaking breath you pull yourself back to the present and retract your hand from the knob, opting instead to rap your knuckles against the door. 

You sent no word ahead about your return. No letters or postcards. Just hopped on a train and then all of a sudden, here you were. So you weren’t sure what the welcome would be like. Whether or not you would even be welcome. Was he even home? 

Footfalls on the staircase inside answer your question as your hand falls back against your side and you wait–body coiled in a tight rope of tension, ready to snap at any moment. You take a small step backwards as the door swings open to reveal Seungcheol–sleep still crowding at the corners of his eyes as he blinks you into focus. 

“You’re back,” he states–voice a half-whisper–eyes widening with the surprise of your presence before him. Standing on the porch, coated in the soft morning glow of the sunrise. 

“I am,” you nod slowly, adjusting the suitcase in your grip. Time stretches between you for a moment–thousands of unspoken words flitting in and out with the speckles of dust in the air–and you stand across from each other in silence; the closest you have been in years, but still miles apart. 

Seungcheol clears his throat and steps aside, gesturing for you to enter the house and you let out a shaky exhale before stepping across the threshold. 

The interior of the old farmhouse, much like the exterior, is virtually unaltered from your memories. The same generations of Choi family portraits hang along the staircase, the same light blue eggshell paint adorns the crown molding, and the same floral wallpaper covers the bare boards of the walls. You take a cursory glance around, heart beating with the pulse of a thousand memories, and breathe in the past. 

Seungcheol takes your suitcase from you as you look around and hauls it upstairs without a word. In his absence you take a moment to walk around the ground floor of the house, running your finger along furniture and tabletops. Curious as to how he has filled his time and his home while you’ve been away. The vase of fresh flowers you always insisted he kept in the kitchen window are still there–slightly withered and in need of replacement soon. A small stack of books you had left unread on the side table still sits stacked in the same order you left them–carefully dusted, but unchanged. You briefly wonder if he had picked them up at some point–seeking some answers, some connection to your thoughts in the wake of your departure. 

“Have you eaten?” he asks as he steps into the kitchen behind you, hand ghosting over your back as he slides past you towards the fridge.

“No,” you shake your head, slipping your coat off and draping it over the back of a kitchen chair before taking a seat. With a soft smile you watch as he busies himself gathering a last minute breakfast of assorted fruits and breads. His back is turned to you but you can see the change in him even through the fabric of his sweater. His muscles are more hewn with seasons of work–formed in careful dedication over time. The Seungcheol of your memory is fresh faced with the kiss of youth. Rounded and soft. But the Seungcheol before you now has grown into himself; his jaw has sharpened slightly, his mouth is set in a straighter line. Seriousness creases itself around the skin of his eyes. You try to adjust your image of him to match the current reality but the boy you remember stealing kisses from in the orchards outside remains. 

“If I had known you were coming, I would have gotten some more groceries,” he says by way of apology as he sets the platter of food down in the center of the old kitchen table. 

You shake your head in dismissal and reach for a slice of green apple. Crisp and fresh–no doubt plucked from one of the trees just outside the windows of the house. “It’s fine. This is perfect.” 

You make no move to speak further and he follows suit. Instead you settle into a rhythm of eating in silence. Allowing yourself to slip back into space together–atom by atom getting used to the proximity once more. Birds chirp outside the window, passing the time in chatter and short flights to and from their nests as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky. 

Seungcheol heads into the fields after breakfast. 

You watch as he disappears over the horizon, tools slung over his shoulder, and gets to work tending the crops and plants. There isn’t much to be done this time of you, you recall. Just simple trimming and harvesting a few ripened fruits before they fall to the earth and belong to the insects and critters below. But even what little there is to do takes time, so you take the opportunity to head upstairs and finish recollecting your memories of the old house. 

He had set your suitcase down in the guest room immediately at the top of the stairs. The blankets were pulled taut over the mattress–clean with lack of use–and your favourite pair of slippers were placed on the floor next to the nightstand. You drift out of the guest room and venture further down the hallway, sparing a passing glance into the reading room and the bathroom as you make your way to the bedroom at the end of the stretch. 

A similar feeling of not belonging settles back over you as you lift a hand to push open the door but you brush it aside–curiosity overwhelming any desire to tread lightly. 

The whole house feels like a time capsule. You felt it earlier as you stepped cautiously through each room–your presence a traveler through the ages, unbidden and disruptive to the daily minutiae. As if all of those years you spent chasing some unknown aspect of yourself across the other side of the world ceased to exist the moment you crossed the threshold into this old wood-framed home. No where is that feeling more potent than inside the master bedroom. 

You feel twenty again. Standing on the precipice of your new life. Kissing your first love goodbye and making promises that you didn’t know you if you would even be able to keep. The comforter on the bed, slightly messed still from sleep, is the same as all those years ago when you tangled yourself up in them with Seungcheol–skin against skin. The only indication of time that makes itself known in the room is the collection of postcards on the nightstand. 

Dozens of them. More from the first few years of your journeys, when you still dotted your ‘i’s with hearts and ended each letter with ‘xoxo’. 

With a swelling heart and shaking hands you pick up the stack of letters, flipping through each one and noting the smudges of ink and indentations of fingerprints on each of them. Some are more worn than others; all clearly read over a hundred times. 

You absorb yourself in the postcards–trying to place yourself in Seungcheol’s shoes when he had received them. Monthly at first, as consistent as you could be considering the complications that invariably accompany a life of travel. Then every few months, every six months, and finally almost no word for a year and a half until you arrived at his front door out of the blue. 

He could be difficult to read when he wanted to be. When his thoughts and feelings felt like heavy burdens to bear and  were thus kept close to his chest, unvocalized until they had to be. Simmering under the surface of steadiness that he presented on the outside. Aside from the small alarm bell you saw ringing behind his eyes this morning, you weren’t sure where you stood with him currently. Whether he felt you as much of an intruder in his space now as you did. 

You lose yourself in reminiscence and don’t notice Seungcheol’s arrival in the room behind you until his arm snakes around and plucks the stack of postcards from your grasp. “I wasn’t sure if you would come back,” he says, dropping the cards into the nightstand drawer. 

“I said I would,” you respond softly, voice on the edge of cracking. “I didn’t think you would still be waiting.”

“I said I would,” he says before slipping past you and heading back down the hall, leaving you with your swirling thoughts.

The day dissolves into night. The thread of the unknown is pulled taut between you as the hours drag onwards and you get ready for bed down the hallway from Seungcheol. Owls hoot in the distance–the only sound breaking up the running of water from the shower in the master bathroom. 

You slip under the covers, curling up on your side, and close your eyes. It had been years since you had been somewhere so quiet. It was almost disconcerting. No sirens, no people, no traffic. Only an owl and the quiet footsteps of one man as he slips into bed two rooms away from you. You lay awake for what feels like hours–blinking into the darkness of the guest room. The silence, unlike the idyllic calm of the daytime, was almost suffocating. It had been so natural when you were younger. Darkness descended and along with it, the world went to sleep. Sound disappeared. But now, after so many years of noise and colour, it was difficult to readjust. It felt like at any moment the long arms of darkness would reach out and grab hold of you where you lay. 

You sigh and before you can rethink the impulse, you push yourself out from under the covers, slip your bare feet into the prepared slippers, and pad down the hallway towards Seungcheol’s room. The door creaks slightly on its hinges as you push it open–a hallmark of its age–and you wince, but Seungcheol makes no indication of waking as you step further into the room. 

Seungcheol lets out a soft sigh as you climb into his bed next to him–eschewing all thoughts of propriety and hesitation that flood your brain as you do. “Is this okay?” you ask, and as soon as he hums his approval you sink into the mattress. Tucking your body into the familiar curve of his side. 

“Where have you been?” he asks, voice quiet–reverent. He shifts his body next to you, adjusting so that your head falls onto his shoulder and his arm is tucked up underneath you, hand coming around to rest against your back. Finally, you think.

“All over,” you answer, afraid that if you give too many details you might break the spell of the moment and remind him of the distance.

“Well,” he sighs, shifting once more. His breath fans out of the skin of your cheek as he leans in to press a soft kiss against it, “welcome home.” 

“Happy to be back,” you smile, feeling the warmth of tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you do so. The final remnants of the lingering energy of intrusion melt away in his arms. You do feel at home–finally after so many years of trying to find it elsewhere. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asks, words broken halfway by a yawn. 

“Yeah,” you nod, sinking further into him as he drifts off to sleep, “I think I did.”

© 2024, neoneun-au. all rights reserved.

if you read and enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought ! its really the only reason i keep writing anything

[thatonepeppi]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧gale dekarios head canons✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊

I CANNOT stop thinking about this man, so I'm going to dump all of my thoughts here, enjoy :)

the format is odd, I have not written in some time, excuse me :3

☾ after the final battle

⋆ after the final battle, the two of you go back to your own room in the Elf Song Tavern, not before a very much needed shower that is. You two care for each other, chatting slowly and longingly at what your next moves are like the two of you have all the time in the world -and now you do.

⋆ Gale tiptoes around the subject of Waterdeep. He longs to be home, he's been picturing you this entire time in his home, doing everything. Making love, cooking for you, having tea in the mornings, how you would look in his bed as the sunlight and the moonlight creep in. Gale wants that life with you desperately, something simple and cozy, and with love in every action.

"Are you still there?" Tav asks, "My hair feels very clean now, especially in that particular spot."

In the midst of his reverie, a subtle "Hmm?" escaped from Gale's lips, abruptly awakened from a trance, "Oh, apologies, Dearest. A lot on my mind -- well I guess not so much anymore," He laughs quietly, rinsing off the bubbles in their hair, fingering through their strands of hair. Wherever Tav was needed, he would be sure to follow, he was certain of it. But still, he was homesick.

Tav frowns, "What's wrong, Love?" They lean into Gale, "You can talk to me, about anything."

Minutes slipped by like grains of sand in an hourglass until Gale finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tav," he began, hesitating as if unsure of his own words, "I... I miss home. Waterdeep," He looks away, "Wherever you go, know that I will follow and happily too. Whether it be another adventure, here in Baldur's Gate, your own home. For you, I would sleep on the ground again, as long as your warm presence is there with me," He looks at them, nothing but warmth and sincerity in his words and in his eyes, "I love you, wherever we go, or wherever you are."

Tav's heart ached at the confession, the weight of Gale's homesickness palpable in the steam-filled air. Without hesitation, they reached out, clasping Gale's sun kissed and freckled hands in a gentle reassurance, giving them a gentle kiss.

"I know, my love," Tav murmured, their voice soft as a caress. "We can go home whenever you're ready. I'll be right here, by your side, every step of the way."

In that moment, as Gale's eyes met theirs with a mixture of gratitude and relief, Tav realized that home wasn't just a place—it was the warmth of their shared love, cocooned in the sanctuary of the bath, and where they found solace in each other's embrace. And though Gale longed for the familiar sights and sounds of Waterdeep, Tav knew that their love would be their anchor, no matter where their adventures took them in the realms.

☾ home

⋆ Gale is giddy from the start of the morning hopping off the massive ship the two of you took to get to Waterdeep. He takes your hand in his as he guides you down his city, excitingly pointing out all the areas he promises to take you once the two of you are settled.

⋆ Stepping into Gale's tower, you are immediately embraced by a whimsical antiquity, the cozy allure of a bygone era evident in every corner. Soft candlelight bathes the space, casting dancing shadows that whisper tales of adventure. Books adorn every surface, their well-loved pages holding secrets and enchantments, while antique treasures dot the shelves, each one a nostalgic relic of older times. Through the grand balcony, the endless expanse of the ocean stretches out, its rhythmic waves a soothing melody. Ships setting sail, the grunts of the dockhands as they tie these giant ships to their posts. In this enchanting haven, amidst the warmth of history and the timeless beauty of the sea, you find a sanctuary unlike any other. Home.

⋆ After settling in, you experience a life like no other. Gale is incessant on cooking you breakfast almost every morning. He knows how to prepare your morning coffees and afternoon teas by heart. Mornings are for the two of you to lounge in bed, holding each other, listening to the crashing waves, feeling that cool—salty breeze caress your warm bodies.

⋆ Breakfast is eaten over the occasional game of lance board on the grand mahogany table. The two of you recounting your adventures, encounters and memories. Gentle caresses and soft laughter are a welcome guest at breakfast. Even at the dinner table it seems like the two of you can't keep your hands off of each other.

⋆ Tara finds her way back home not long after. Its the very early morning, and a rare day where Gale is still in bed. You walk over to the tressym pawing at the large window, demanding to be let in. You smile as you let her in, and her furry body hurriedly makes her way inside.

"About time you let me in, I've been howling for hours, Darling, I feel parched!" The winged cat says, "I was not told that the two of you made it back, what a journey. Luckily for you, I am quite the magical tresseym, a simple spell like the one I invented is no match for miles and miles of road and walking," Tara trails off, making herself at home and out of earshot, you can still hear her grumpy rambling however, "Tav Dekarios!" She yells and you hurry over to see her sitting, licking herself next to an elegant white bowl on the floor, "My dish needs water."

You fill her dish with cold water, making sure to also refill her food bowl, you smile at the thought of you taking Gales last name already, hopefully you and Tara can foster a good relationship.

"And where is Mr. Dekarios currently?," Tara says stretching.

"Still in bed, and very warm if you would like to snuggle up to him."

Tara meows excitingly, "Oh, that sounds divine, Dear. Thank you ever so kindly for keeping him warm," She says as you start to get up, "But before you go Ms/Mr/Mx Dekarios, there is something very important that you must learn. Something that will quickly earn your favor with me."

"And what would that be Ms. Tara?" You question, facing down at the tressym, still at ground level with her.

She looks at you with widened pupils, "A good scratch behind this tressyms ears would be delightful, I will show you how but only once! This is known as my 'Due' and it's been made clear to me that you are quite the capable person to be entrusted with such a delicate procedure," Tara leans her head down and closes her little eyes. She rubs her ears with her paws to show you exactly how she wants to be pet, but to you, it looks like she's just cleaning herself, "You see? Like this, Dear, gently but also with some vigor." She looks back at you, "Your turn, but you must remember the technique."

You smile at the tressym, before going to scratch her behind the ears, silently praying that you are doing something right. She purrs and leans into your hand, making a sweet little content face as it looks like she's getting lost in the scratch.

Tara abruptly stops and clears her throat, "That will have to do, thank you," She trails off into you and Gales shared room. You hear a faint, "Mr. Dekarios! I have arrived!" in a little sing-song voice, and then a groan from a very sleepy Gale.

⋆ Some of your items find their way into the house, Gale is sure to make space for you to fit you into his home. Your shirts sometimes get mixed up, "Is this my book or yours?" is a common question.

⋆ He loves seeing your personality fill his house, items depending on your class are scattered around the tower. If you are a druid, house plants are hung from the ceiling, there is a small succulent on Gale's desk (It replaces Mystra's statue.).

⋆ If you are a bard, he loves to hear your music throughout the house. Gale loves to hear your song from the balcony as he's reading. He buys you sheet music, new strings, equipment. He could listen to you for hours, and most days he does.

⋆ Gale is interested in your interests and makes sure to make time for you to listen to you about your favorite topics. Being seen and heard is very important to him.

⋆ Over time, he does lose the earring. He finds one that reminds him of you. A music note, a sword, a small plant stud, or just about anything that he would relate to you.

⋆Gale loves you more than anything and he wants to make that very clear, even if you feel like these small reminders of Mystra don't bother you, he would rather having something that would make him think of you rather than her.

--

Thank you sm for reading, friends!! its been very long since ive written something and this isn't proof read >.< hope it was okay. Love you!!

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea

I'm baaaacckkkkk

I hope you enjoy. This may be the start of a new series, not sure yet. But I hope you all enjoy!

Pairings: Dracule Mihawk x Reader (Devil fruit user)

Update! This fic has gone through a lot of changes! so new pairing will ultimately be Mihawk x Reader x Shanks!

Summary: Mihawk wakes from his nap near what should be a deserted island. Turns out that you and your dog Hank are its sole inhabitants. One visit leads to another until your island becomes his home away from home.

Masterlist

Devil fruit user reader,

Warnings: none yet!

Dracule Mihawk wakes to the sound of screaming. He is already scowling by the time he cracks his eyes open and sits up to scan the horizon. Seems like he had drifted close to a small island while napping. His lip curls up in a sneer when he hears the screams again, and it has him standing from his perch and using a bit of haki to see what was going on.

There, being chased by a group of obvious pirates, is you. His ringed eyes narrow, and with a dramatic sigh, Mihawk directs his little boat closer to the shore and tosses the anchor over. In a flash, he stands on shore and begins making his way toward the commotion that woke him in the first place. Dracule is not a hero. he would never dream of calling himself one, but even he would not turn a blind eye to a woman in need. He wasn't a monster, after all.

The warlord swings his sword from his back and takes off, boosting himself forward with a little haki. It's laughable how easily Mihawk cuts down the pirates, these men little more than bandits with a stolen ship. However, he is caught off guard when the ground under his feet suddenly becomes cold, near freezing, and he is quick to hop away from the patch of snow that has formed under his feet.

“You ass! I was having fun!” The woman he thought he had saved snarls at him. Mihawk schools his face back into its usual unimpressed look and looks at you. She is scowling fiercely up at him, but all Dracule can see is an upset kitten.

“You should be grateful. I saved your life, you know.” He replies hauntingly and swings his sword back around to latch it to his back, “Why were they chasing you?”

You shrug at him, shifting foot to foot in impatience. You needed to get a move on. Hank was waiting for you back home. “I dunno. They showed up this morning and demanded I give them whatever I had. I told them to fuck off.” She frowns and kicks the snow that has gathered around her. “They didn't like that answer.”

“No, I would imagine not,” Mihawk agrees and looks her over. The woman wears simple clothes, just leggings and a loose tunic, and quite a few years younger than himself. He finds himself oddly concerned. Hmm. How unlike him.

“Are you alone here?” He asks, and the woman looks suspicious immediately. Her shoulder squares, and she shifts into a defensive stance. Dracule wonders if she even needed his help in the first place.

“Yeah? So what?” You demand and narrow your eyes at him. “Why don't you wear a shirt?”

Dracule blinks at her, definitely not having expected that to be her question, “I run hot.” He says and wonders why he is even entertaining this girl.

“Ha, I run cold!” She exclaims, and snow begins to fall around her as if to prove her point. Slowly, she begins to relax after realizing that this man isn't trying to attack her like the last people. She debates with herself for a moment before ultimately giving in to her baser desires. It's been so long since she's had good, human company.

“Would you like some tea?”

Mihawk opens his mouth to turn her down, but what comes out is, “What kind do you have?” He can't help but enjoy the tiny little smile you send him at his question. He is curious as to why you have yet to call him out, and questions why a warlord of the sea wanted with you and your little island.

“I grow my own, so you'll have to come see at home,” you tell him and point south, “If you aren't busy anyway?”

Truth be told, Dracule probably should get back on his boat and sail away to never see this slip of a girl and tiny island again. Go back to his lonely castle and read the hundreds of books just waiting to be cracked open. Maybe even do his job and report to the Marines about this place. But Mihawk would do none of those things. Instead, he gestured for you to lead the way and was rewarded with another one of those timid smiles.

“Hank should still be home. He's my dog,” you inform him as the two of you walk, and it doesn't take very long for your home to come into view. It's a quaint little cottage with rows of flowers and a large garden off to the side. He can see rows of drying herbs in one of the windows and even a smoke room connected to the side of the cottage. A massive hound with shaggy gray fur comes bounding up. It doesn't even bark at him and instead plops right down and starts to beg for attention.

“And this is why you aren't a guard dog, Hank,” you grumble and pat the hound on his massive head as you walk past Mihawk. Dracule eyes the dog before rolling his eyes and giving in to pat the top of his head like you had.

“You know, I know his name now, but I've yet to have the pleasure of knowing yours.” Mihawk follows after you, and a tiny smirk plays on his lips when he sees your face flush a pretty pink.

“God's, I'm sorry about that,” You laugh and run your fingers through your hair before offering the handsome man your hand and introducing yourself.

Mihawk grasps your hand, noting that you indeed do run very cold, “Dracule Mihawk,” he rumbles and waits for the inevitable panic that his name usually causes anyone he comes across.

“Huh. I like that. It suits you. Especially your eyes,” You tell him instead, and Mihawk finds that he likes You even more than he thought he would.

“Thank you,” he mutters quietly and follows you through the open door of your home. The inside is just as cozy as on the outside, and he has a hard time not immediately investigating the tall stacks of books that seem to be piled on every available surface. Most of them look worn and smudged, as if they'd been drowned in water.

“Sorry for the mess. I don't have company very often,” you murmur with a bit of wince and clear a chair for your guest.

“Nothing to apologize for, Darling,” Mihawk assures you and examines the rest of your home. It's cluttered, yes, but clean and more or less organized. He cuts his eyes toward you and smirks again at the sight of your flushed face. It seemed that you were not very used to being called any type of pet name.

You cough and rub the back of your neck, “Anyway, tea is this way,” you lead him to the kitchen where strings of dried herbs hang from the ceiling. You point at a group set away from the others and point out which is which. “The peppermint came out nicely this year, probably my favorite so far.”

“I'll have that then,” He watches as you dither around the kitchen, bringing a chipped kettle to a boil and pouring the two of you steaming cups of tea. He blows gently and then sips, humming at the pleasant coolness of the tea.

“Very nice,” he compliments and watches intently as you blush even brighter than before. Mihawk finds that he enjoys making you light up.

You quietly thank him and take a small sip of your own. He can feel your eyes on him, but Dracule doesn't particularly mind your curiosity. If earlier was any indication, then you had absolutely no idea who he was, and Mihawk would prefer to keep it that way.

“And thank you for earlier, with those men,” you speak up, and Dracule ticks a brow up at you, “I could have handled them, but definitely not as quickly as you did.”

“Mhm. You are welcome. The tea is a good enough reward,” the warlord teases, and you laugh quietly at his quip. After that, it's as if a dam broke. Conversation flowed between the two of you, and Dracule found himself hard pressed to leave when he looked outside and noticed that the sun was setting.

“Ah, I should be on my way. It is late, and I don't want to disturb you any longer,” Mihawk mentions. Truthfully, he wouldn't mind staying longer, but there were things he actually needed to attend to.

You blink and jerk your head to the window. It's near dusk and the sun paints the sky in hues of pink and purple, “Oh, I guess it is pretty late, huh,” you murmur and try to keep the disappointment out of your tone. Today has been one of the best days you've had in a very long time. You would miss Dracule Mihawk.

The warlord makes a split decision and stands, only to step close to his host and gently place a knuckle under her chin. He lifts her face, and she looks up at him with stars in her eyes when he swipes his thumb over her bottom lip, “Don't worry, Darling. You'll see me again,” he assures her softly.

You wet your lip, tongue ghosting over the pad of his thumb, “Promise?” You whisper, and Dracule gives the young woman a smile that will forever solely belong to you.

“Of course, sweet thing,” Mihawk murmurs and reluctantly pulls away. He grabs his sword and hat, fixing them to their proper places before he heads to the door, “I'll see you again.”

You watch him go, heart beating loudly in your chest as you stand to watch him out the window. When he disappears from sight, you plop back down and cover your flaming face with your hands. You couldn't wait to see him again.

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @browneyedhufflepuff @foggyturtleknightangel

[pedropascallme]

Stupid For You

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

Summary: “‘What do you think, kid? Do I sound like your dad?’”

Warnings: Use of gendered titles (“wife” and “mother”) but otherwise just longing and a little fluff?

AN: Read part two here

Soundtrack: Stupid For You by Waterparks

“I could bring you in warm…or I could bring you in cold…” You hopped around in Din’s old chest plate, doing your best impression of the Mandalorian as Grogu watched on, gurgling happily and reaching up for you.

“What do you think, kid? Do I sound like your dad?” You picked him up, cradling him in your arms as he continued to babble nonsense. You had finally figured out, after days of being unable to stop him from crying, that all the baby really wanted was his father. It had been an accident that you had found out, really; it just happened that Grogu had gotten himself stuck in an old pauldron, and it just happened that you really wanted to try on some of the armor for yourself, and it just happened that you had to bring the kid everywhere with you—otherwise you would end up in a ship piloted by a wild-child who enjoyed tearing apart anything he could reach with his tiny baby hands.

Din had been gone, what, four days now? Not too bad. He had been gone longer before. He often returned to the ship after a little over a week, battered and bruised, and all you had to do was make sure his son was fed and happy. You were essentially just a glorified babysitter, although sometimes you liked to think of yourself as a sort of makeshift mother; you really did love the kid. Still, the longer you spent on the Crest, the longer you cared for the child, the longer you spent time with Din, growing increasingly fond of the few words you shared with each other (including a few in what you assumed was Mando’a that you couldn’t understand. What in the fresh hell was a “mesh’la”?) you couldn’t help but…miss him?

It was stupid. You were stupid. You knew his given name, and you knew he was a Mandalorian, and you knew his freak baby was capable of a little too much. Everything else was more or less a mystery to you. He seemed to like it that way, and you weren’t really in any position to change it at all. Making any move he was uncomfortable with could result in losing your job, the one true connection to anybody else that you had. Maker, you had seen what Din could do; worst case scenario you’d end up in carbonite. And, really, what would the galaxy’s scariest bounty hunter want with a wife? Not that you were thinking that far in advance, but weren’t you?

Stupid.

The child yawned, big eyes drooping slightly as you walked him to his floating bassinet. He continued to try to keep conversation with you, small patu noises here and there.

“I hear ya,” you placed him down, “but how about we continue this conversation at a later date?” He squawked and you put your hands on your hips, jutting out your knee in an attempt to properly emulate Din. Grogu made a sound that seemed like a laugh, eyes closing slowly as he tried to fight off his drowsiness. 

“This is The Way.” You whispered to him, still trying to bring him peace of mind by pretending. You could feel that he missed his dad—guardian—whatever—every time Din went out during these long periods. And, hey, pretending to be as fearless and powerful as Din was fun for you, too. It kept you and the baby from going stir-crazy. It made you both feel a little safer when you put on the old, beat-up armor and acted like you were an unstoppable Mandalorian. Grogu’s breathing settled into a soft rhythm, signifying that he had lost his battle with sleep. You closed the top of his crib, turning on your heel.

“Is that what I sound like?”

You stopped in your tracks.

Din stood before you, still as a statue.

“W—I just—”

“I think my voice is deeper.” He walked forward, only taking a few strides before he was directly in front of you. 

“You have a modulator.” You tried your best to avoid his gaze, heat blooming in your cheeks as you had been caught in the act of imitating—mocking—your boss. Your caretaker. Roommate? Boss.

“Mm.” He stood still before reaching his arm out in front of him, a gloved hand making contact with the chest plate you were wearing. He wrapped his knuckles against it, and you felt the vibrations of the metal over your chest. You could feel your heart in your throat. He was back, without any warning, without so much as a hello, and now he was standing before you, this beautiful man without a face, making what must have been the first purposeful physical contact you two had ever had.

“Where did you find this?”

“The-the kid found it. Kept rummaging through your, uh, wardrobe…” You trailed off, unsure if that was the correct word to use for the tiny storage space on the ship that Din had the habit of throwing spare capes and old clothes in. “He likes when I wear it.” You tried to sound like you weren’t pushing down the feeling of intense humiliation.

“You’d make a good Mandalorian.” Din dropped his hand. “It looks good on you, cyare.” 

He stayed in front of you for a few moments, peering through his visor and examining you. After a few moments, he turned, walking away and up to the cockpit.

You stood where he had left you, raising a hand to where he had touched the armor you wore. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid… 

You're playing ring around my head I wear you like a halo You're a symphony, I'm just a sour note

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Friday

Hi, it's my weekly "Fuck It I started a new wip bc I have commitment issues Friday" post. Decided to hop aboard the Buddietommy train with my usual introduction to a ship (give them kids).

Tagged for FIF by @aroeddiediaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @dangerpronebuddie @inell @daffi-990

and @neverevan (btw I'm so over this tagging glitch of Tumblr's, when will it end??)

This morning, Buck wakes up in the middle. It’s his preferred spot, with Tommy’s arms circled around his waist and face smooshed into his shoulder, while Buck’s head rests on Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s arm is slung haphazardly over Buck’s shoulder, his fingers tangling in Tommy’s soft, brown curls, and his cheek is pressed into the top of Buck’s head. He can feel his hair fluttering with every one of Eddie’s exhales, and he’s pretty sure Tommy is drooling on his arm. On the bedside table beside them, the baby monitor crackles to life as a small, high pitched whine pierces through the silence of the morning. Eddie’s chest hitches as he wakes, and he shifts beneath Buck’s weight as he moves to silence the monitor. “G’mornin’” he mumbles when Buck presses a kiss against his pec. “How long you been ‘wake for?” “Not long,” Buck replies with a yawn. He’s dying to stretch out, his legs cramping a little, and there’s the small matter of an awake baby that needs tending to, but Tommy is a dead weight against his back, and the man shows no signs of waking – not even when Eddie traces his finger from Tommy’s hair, down his nose and over his lips. “We gotta go get the gremlins.” Eddie begins to gently ease himself out from underneath Buck, pressing a kiss to his birthmark when he whines in protest. “It’s okay, I’m just gonna bring them in here. Stay in bed.” “You can’t carry them all by yourself,” Buck retorts as he begins to wiggle out from underneath Tommy, sending Eddie an exasperated look when the older man tightens his arms around Buck’s waist, his brow furrowing in his sleep. “Help me out here?” Eddie snorts as he watches Buck shimmy across the bed with Tommy chasing after him the whole way. Tommy’s always been a clinger in his sleep, something Buck was delighted to learn, but it has made early morning wakeups difficult. It’s not unusual for Eddie to have to step in, as he does this morning. Circling the bed so he’s on Tommy’s now-empty side, Eddie spreads himself out so he’s blanketing Tommy from behind. Tommy’s arms slowly loosen around Buck as Eddie cuddles Tommy close, pressing a small line of kisses from his shoulder, up his neck and onto his jaw. “Tom, hey, let go of Buck, sweetheart, he’s gotta get up,” Eddie whispers as he kisses up to Tommy’s ear, finishing with a gentle brush of his lips over Tommy’s earring. Tommy turns in Eddie’s arms, rubbing his nose against Eddie’s jaw, and yawns deeply. “Whassgoinon?” he slurs sleepily as he squints his eyes up at Eddie. Buck watches his boyfriends from the foot of their bed, his heart swelling until it feels fit to explode as Eddie kisses Tommy’s forehead and strokes his fingers through his curls, slow and gently bringing Tommy into the land of the living. He itches to join them, to burrow back under the covers and hold Tommy and caress his fingers over Eddie’s arms and kiss their knuckles, but a quiet, yet insistent cry permeates through their bedroom wall from the room next door, and Buck is reminded of why they’re getting up in the first place.

NP tagging @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard @babybibuck

@spotsandsocks @bibuckbuckgoose @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @jesuisici33

@wikiangela @loveyouanyway @exhuastedpigeon @kitteneddiediaz @thekristen999

@slightlyobsessedwitheverything @actuallyitsellie @idealuk @dangerpronebuddie @simpingforhotfictionalcharacters

@loserdiaz @elvensorceress @underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998

@steadfastsaturnsrings (lmk if you want to be added or removed or if you want to be on my buddie taglist and not bucktommy/buddietommy, it's hard to keep up with who's where)

[noproofread]

The Regular (NSFW)

i have to stop listening to chase atlantic

Shanks x afab!reader (no pronouns used but feminine traits are present)

oral (male recieving), public, masturbation, dom!shanks if you squint, Shanks is turned on and needs reader to help him right then and there, skull fucking, idk standard porn lmao.

word count: 1,004

masterlist here

The red-haired pirate entered your bar again. He had been frequenting your bar for the past couple of months as his crew was docked on your island awaiting repairs for their ship. Through mutual flirty glances and suggestive one-liners, it was no secret both of you had something. You purposefully wore skirts that kept getting smaller the more he came to the bar. His crew had commented on your ass, making their captain upset. It seemed he believed that he was the only one who could talk about you like that. To objectify you. You weren't opposed to it, you reveled in it. You would bend over in front of him, teasing him, tempting him to grab you and take you right then and there.

It was a fun game, to see how far you could go before he would break. It had to be a matter of time, he could barely look at you without excusing himself to the bathroom to take care of himself. You loved to watch him get red as he uncomfortably waddled to the bathroom, barely making it inside before his hand was in his pants. You started it by wearing low cut shirts first, making sure to lean forward just enough to where he could see into your shirt. However, you quickly found that mini skirts did it for him. You began wearing them more often. Some with slits on the side to really get him going.

You looked forward to seeing him in your bar. This time was no different. Your skirt was so small it was practically nonexistent. Red-haired Shanks sat at the bar, his face was a deep crimson. He was visibly frustrated. He used his index and middle finger to gesture to you to get closer. You bit your bottom lip and obliged, leaning over to Shanks. “Look at what you caused… Now you have to fix it.” He whispered in your ear as he pointed to the growing bulge in his pants. You looked at him, your face feeling hot as your heartbeat quickened. Trying your best to contain your excitement, you pointed to the back. He shook his head, quickly hopping over the bar. He began unbuttoning his pants, you quickly glanced across the room. Nobody was paying attention to you, they were all engrossed in their drunken conversations. Shanks chuckled under his breath.

"Kneel down sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched, looking back at Shanks. Noticing his pants were now pooled at his feet. Your mouth salivated as you scanned his dick. You nodded, looking into his eyes. His eyes closed as soon as he felt your breath on his erection. You licked the tip slowly, running your tongue down to the base. A hiss escaped the red-haired pirate as he threw his head back. You shushed him, you didn't want your patrons to realize what was happening mere feet away from them. He laughed breathlessly as he nodded in agreement. You carefully began placing gentle kisses on the shaft. Shanks’ hand found its way to the back of your head, gripping a fistful of your hair. “Love, I’m not here for games.” He reprimanded you.

You nodded your head, not breaking eye contact. You slowly took him in your mouth. You felt him twitch a little as he got used to the warmth surrounding him. “fuck~” a hushed whisper fell from his lips as he instinctively bucked his hips forward, hitting your throat in the process. You had little control of your movements, being pushed onto him by the hand that was gripping the back of your head. Low grunts and soft moans left Shanks, just soft enough that they blended in with the loud chatter of the environment. You used one of your hands to massage your clit, needing sensation to take care of your pooling arousal that had dampened your panties.

Seeing Shanks enjoying your mouth did things to you. The way he threw his head back with his eyes closed. His brows were furrowed as he focused on the rising feeling within him with every thrust. Your fingers slipped beneath your panties as you rubbed gentle circles onto your clit. Quiet moans formed in your throat. Shanks looked down at you, admiring the way you looked wrapped around him. He watched you play with yourself as you sucked his dick. Drool covering him completely. Just the sight of you was enough to make him cum. An echo of soft “yeah’s” came from the red-haired pirate, making complete eye contact with you. Your own movements became sloppy as your fingers were completely coated with your slick. You pumped two fingers into you as your thumb rubbed your clit. You felt a heat build up in your stomach. You held your breath at times to keep you from screaming out his name. Your pussy felt hot, throbbing sensitively into your hand as you tried to get yourself off. You held Shanks’ gaze, feeling yourself inch closer to your release. Shanks bit his bottom lip to contain his grunts as he climaxed, shooting sticky cum into your throat. You swallowed it, watching him hunch over as he sighed deeply in satisfaction.

The mere sight of him unraveling to your touch sent you over the edge, allowing you to cum all over your fingers. Shanks pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you to him. He kneeled down to your level, scruffing your hair. You were panting, trying to catch your breath. “When you get off work I want to feel all of you…” He whispered, sitting on the floor to dress himself. You felt yourself blush at his proposition. He kissed your forehead, standing up and taking his place at the other side of the bar. “A whiskey neat please. When you get the chance, barkeep.” He winked, shaking an empty glass in the air momentarily before setting down. You straightened yourself up before taking the glass in your hand. “Right away!” You cheerfully replied, winking back at him.

[poppitron360]

Just read Leo’s death scene in BOO and I’m hopping on the angst train before I keep reading and he comes back-

I wrote this short fic just now, about Frank and the Hephaestus cabin dealing with the aftermath of Leo’s sacrifice.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Frank took a deep breath, and approached the Hephaestus table, nervously. He recognised a few of his Camp Jupiter friends sitting with Leo’s siblings. Out of all the cabins, theirs seemed most affected by the battle. They ate their food with a sense of solemn melancholy, talking in low voices. Most of them, particularly the older ones, barely touched their food. Even the Romans, who had barely known Leo, seemed to share in their siblings’ grief. Frank could tell that Leo’s death had hit them all hard.

“Jake Mason, right?” He asked, addressing the guy sitting at the head of the table, slowly turning his spaghetti over with his fork, but not eating it.

“Yeah?”

Frank heaved the large wooden box he was carrying onto the table, trying to avoid people’s plates.

“Leo… he- he didn’t exactly leave a last will and testament…” Frank said, trying to keep his voice from choking up, “But he told me to give you guys this.”

He opened the box, and the campers peered inside.

“The lost scrolls of Archimedes,” He explained, “We found them underneath Rome. Leo’s been studying them. He wanted you to have them.”

“Woah…” One of the campers gasped. The others stared in awe at the scrolls in the box.

“There’s more,” Frank told them. With shaking hands, he reached into the box and pulled out from underneath the scrolls a collection of small, leather-bound notebooks, rectangular in shape, a different gold inscription stamped on the front in Ancient Greek.

“The Valdez Texts…” Frank announced, “Leo knew he was probably not gonna make it out of the battle. He wanted to make sure people could carry on his legacy. He copied all of his blueprints and schematics of the Argo II, all his inventions, all his findings and teachings, his notes, his unfinished projects, everything he learned and discovered- all into these notebooks for you guys to study, make improvements, learn from them, carry on his work.” He looked around at the table, “He told me it was very important that it was shared between children of both Hephaestus and Vulcan. No more fighting. No more stealing. He was a brother to you all, and…” He turned to the visitors from Camp Jupiter, “He told me to tell you he’s really sorry for launching a missile attack on your city… he hopes this helps you rebuild it.”

They all stared, speechless, at the texts.

One of the older-looking girls- Frank remembered her name was Nyssa- reached out and took one of the books in trembling fingers. She flipped through the pages, staring in awe. “Valdez made all this?”

“Well, me and Hazel helped him copy it all down,” Frank admitted, “His handwriting is atrocious.”

He suddenly felt a sharp pang of sadness. Was, he thought, his handwriting was atrocious.

Nyssa chuckled, sadly.

“And Hazel helped illustrate the drawings and diagrams. It was the least we could do to help you guys. And Leo wanted to make sure it was just as much a Roman thing as it was Greek.”

Nyssa handed her copy to one of her newfound siblings from Camp Jupiter, and picked up another, “And they’re ours? To share? The scrolls too?”

Frank nodded, “Leo thought it was only right that you all should have them. All his rough work was destroyed when the Argo II broke apart, but he made sure these made it out.”

It had been Buford’s last act of service to his master. As soon as they’d arrived at Camp Half-Blood, that wonderful little table had taken the crate of valuables and flown away to safety before the ship could explode. Once the battle was over, he had flown back to Frank, and with one last forlorn “Put some clothes on” from the Coach Hedge hologram, the table had deactivated. Frank didn’t want to just throw Buford away, so he’d kept it as a writing desk. He’d study, map, plan, and create on it, just like how Leo would’ve wanted. He planned to take him back with him to Camp Jupiter- a little piece of him to stay with Frank forever.

He looked at the pile of books. He thought it was strange- Leo’s life’s work condensed into just a few notebooks. His entire legacy on the table in front of them. But Leo was a smart guy. He knew these books would be passed down for generations, much like Archimedes’ texts. Every Greek and Roman scholar that people talk about still to this day- Hippocrates, Pythagoras, Galen- was remembered because they wrote stuff down. And Leo knew the importance of that. He wasn’t just giving his siblings some dusty notebooks, he was giving them knowledge. He was giving them power. Frank’s mouth twisted into a sad smile. It was exactly the kind of genius thing Leo would do. He just couldn’t believe he was gone.

He picked up another notebook, and turned to a random page and began to read in his head:

Valdez Philosophy No. 730- One question a good mechanic must always ask themselves is: Is it worth it? Is it a problem that’s worth solving? Is it a machine worth inventing? Don’t get me wrong, I love a Hydraulic Chicken Launcher as much as the next mad scientist- but sometimes the cost of time and materials outweigh the necessity for it.

But if the machine can help out a friend, and maybe even save a life?

That’s never not worth your time.

Frank’s eyes welled with tears. Underneath the words was a sketch of something Frank recognised. It was the pouch that Leo had made for him to keep his firewood safe.

That’s never not worth your time.

After everything they’d been through together, after the way Frank had treated Leo when they’d first met, after all the death-glares and the snide remarks and the passive-aggressive comments that weren’t entirely meant in kindness- Leo still cared for Frank. He still took the time to make sure he could keep him safe. He still felt like Frank was worth it. This kid always put other people first, to the point where he had died to do so. He was brave, and heroic. He was the reason Frank no longer feared fire. He’d changed his life. Frank owed him everything. Now, he’d never get to repay that debt.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Anyway, I’m gonna go cry now. Platonic Valzhang is everything to me.

[loganwritesprobably]

Hi is it possible for you to write about a reader(gn) who takes care of Chopper like he's their child? I've always thought Chopper was adorable and wanted to spoil him like he was my kid.

Dancing In The Rain

Hey anon - thank you so much for this request! It was lovely to write something so sweet, and platonic! It's a little bit short, but I hope you enjoy it

Listen to the playlist Read the fic here on AO3 or below the cut

Notes/Warnings: Chopper & GN!Reader, parental reader, dancing in the rain,

You'd joined the crew shortly after they'd left Alabasta. You met them on Jaya, and you couldn't resist the call to join them - they had such big dreams, and people on Jaya just seemed.. complacent. You'd never achieve anything if you stayed here, so when Luffy offered you his hand at the final moment before they set off to take the knock up stream to find the sky island, you figured at least it would be a cool death if they didn't succeed, and you took his hand. You'd been with them ever since.

You were sailing between islands, with the crew scattered across the deck. The weather wasn't the best you'd experienced but it was enough for you all to be out and enjoying the salty sea air. Nami and Usopp were sitting together, animatedly chatting about something; Zoro was leaning up against the railing and taking a nap; Sanji was doing something in the kitchen, probably for Robin and Nami; Luffy and Brook were sitting amongst the tangerine trees and talking about piracy; Franky and Robin were tucked up together while she read a book and he brainstormed invention ideas; and Jinbei was of course steering the ship. It was sweet. You loved just watching the crew interact, and relax in their downtime between huge battles. It was then that you realised you weren't sure where Chopper was. You took another glance around the ship, and pushing off the wall you'd been leaning on, you noticed he was tucked up with Zoro taking a nap, he'd been obscured by Nami. You smiled, glad you'd spotted him, and relaxed once again.

The issue with the Grand Line is that the weather can be utterly unpredictable. Nami looked up at the sky with narrowed, scrutinising eyes, and after just a few words, she and Ussop packed up to head inside, Robin noticed them go and prompted Franky to follow. Surely enough, just a minute or so later, the heavens opened and sheets of water began falling from the sky in heavy rainfall.

Zoro woke slowly, frowning up at the sky, where Chopper remained asleep on the swordsman's chest. You walked over toward them, smiling at Zoro as you gently woke Chopper. He'd slept plenty anyway. "Gotta get inside, we'll all catch a cold." You said with a soft laugh as Chopper slowly woke, blinking slowly as his brain caught up with what was happening. He looked up and let a few droplets of rain fall, allowing you to pick him up as you did. "Rain actually doesn't make people catch a cold." Chopper told you as he continued watching the rain fall as if hypnotised, hardly even acknowledging you. You nodded for Zoro to head inside, and he happily did so, content to find somewhere less wet to take a nap.

You were about to follow suit, taking Chopper with you, when from beneath the protection of the branches of the tangerine trees, Brook began to sing and play his violin. Luffy joined him shortly after, pitchy as ever. You were temporarily stunned, but found that your heart felt warm. This was your crew - your family. Chopper began to sing along from his place in your arms, and unable to resist, you joined them too. You begin to step and twirl around the deck in something resembling a dance, and after a moment Chopper hopped down from your hold and changed popped a rumble ball, shifting to jump point. He took your hands in his own and the two of you began twirling around to the music.

You couldn't help your joyful laughter, giggles escaping you between lyrics of the song Brook was playing as you spun around the deck with Chopper, becoming increasingly soaked by the rain. It was such a silly use of a rumble ball, but why shouldn't he be able to use them to bring himself joy? He was still a kid, after all. It didn't take long for Luffy to jump down from beneath the trees and join you in the rain, wrapping his arms around you to join your not-quite-dance, and then other crew members quickly came to follow.

You danced and sang while Brook played music, making the most of a good day despite the weather.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: ⊹.🩺. ⊹ :☆｡ﾟ･ ───

Later that night, after dinner, you carried Chopper in your arms toward the med bay. The other boys were still being rowdy, and you wanted Chopper to rest well. You backed into the door carefully to push it open, using your foot to make sure it closed softly, and rested the young reindeer on the bed. He stirred for just a moment before pulling the blanket further up toward his face and cuddling further into the pillow. You sat on the edge of the bed, gently removing his hat and setting it aside, then reached to brush your fingers through his hair.

He was such a sweet boy, and so much had happened in his life. If you could, you'd wrap him up tight and keep him safe for the rest of your lives, because he was just a kid and he should be protected. But his dream was to heal people, and who were you to take that away from him? You left the room briefly and returned with a glass of water which you left beside his hat, so if he wanted a drink when he woke then it was there for him.

Before leaving again, for the last time to let him rest, you leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, carefully tucking the blanket in around his small body to keep him safe and warm. He didn't stir this time, just remained in a peaceful sleep. Carefully so as to not wake up, you stood and left the room, ensuring the door closed as softly as possible behind you. You didn't have kids of your own, at least not yet, but you'd like to think Chopper came close to that.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots

[girl-named-matty]

To see you

This was meant to be a less than 100 word headcanon description that turned into an almost 1k word one-shot that I threw together in twenty minutes. Figured I should share lol. Please excuse any grammatical errors-this is barely proofread.

a/n: this wasn't written with the intentions of it being an Ominis x Sebastian one-shot since they're eleven in this and I don't ship kids together lol. It's more intended to be close friendship but it is up to the readers interpretation!

How many blind people "see" is by feeling things with their hands and that's exactly Ominis' case outside of using his wand--after all it can only do so much.

He had no friends prior to coming to Hogwarts, only his siblings who would rather avoid and a house elf who cared for him. Truly, he believed that the little house elf was the only thing in the world that actually cared about him.

So, when he first meets Sebastian and Anne, they become his best and only friends practically immediately. He'd make more friends eventually but Sebastian and Anne always had a special place in his heart.

His wand could only help him pick out their features so much. He heard them say Sebastian's face was covered in freckles; he didn't really know what those were but he imagined they'd be pretty. But after a while, he just really wanted to see what his best friends looked like.

One night, while he was sitting in his dorm with Sebastian, he couldn't sleep. He had a question on his mind and he was a little nervous to ask it. After all, he was an eleven-year-old boy who wasn't very socialized, and what if Sebastian thought the question was weird? But finally, he found the courage to ask.

"Sebastian, what do you look like?"

"Huh?" "What do you mean by that?"

"What do you look like?"

Sebastian eventually got the memo that Ominis was asking him to describe himself and it occurred to him that his best friend had never actually seen what he looked like. Ominis was actually blind and it dawned on Sebastian in that moment. He never saw Ominis as any different because of it, so perhaps that was why it seemed to be such a surprising thing to him at that moment.

Sebastian slid out of bed and hopped up on Ominis' bed, sitting cross-legged near the end of it. "Well, my hair is brown and so are my eyes, nothing special like yours or anything," Sebastian said as he began to describe himself. "Brown eyes are pretty I guess, but mine are just normal."

"Y-You think my eyes are special?" Ominis asked, having never heard anybody compliment his eyes like that. He had always been told that his eyes were a curse or some sort of bad thing because he couldn't see. To be told his eyes were special made some tears form behind his eyes.

"Well yeah! They look really cool. They're not like normal blue eyes--or even blue at all really." Sebastian said, trying to find a way to describe Ominis' eyes. "There's not really a way to describe them to you, they're just--special."

Ominis went a little quiet after that, processing the words Sebastian had spoken. His best friend really thought his eyes were special. "Thank you," he said quietly, again forming another wave of silence between them.

Sebastian let them sit in silence for a bit before Ominis himself broke it. "Can I see you, please?" he asked, not knowing any different way to ask.

"How would you do that?" Sebastian asked curiously.

"With my hands," Ominis replied, swallowing a bit. "It's like how I read with my hands sometimes. I feel things with my hands and I sort of try to get an idea of what they might look like."

Sebastian tried to imagine what it'd be like in his head before scooting closer to Ominis on the bed. "Sure, that's pretty cool!" He said, wondering how Ominis would think he looked.

Ominis seemed a little surprised that Sebastian had agreed to this so quickly but he was happy nonetheless. Slowly and gently, he placed his hands on Sebastian's face and started to drag his thumbs over his skin. As he felt Sebastian's face against his fingers, he tried his hardest to imagine what he would look like.

His fingers trailed over Sebastian's jaw, cheeks, lips, nose, eyebrows, forehead--every inch of his face. Slowly but surely Ominis got a better idea of what he looked like.

And Sebastian just sat there quietly, not wanting to say anything that could possibly make things harder for Ominis. This whole thing was foreign and interesting to him, but he liked it. He wanted Ominis to know what he looked like.

When Ominis was done and pulled his hands back, he tried to remember everything about Sebastian's face to get a good look. Every curve or bump, how it felt, all to try and see what it'd look like.

"You.. you have a very beautiful face," He said quietly. This wasn't a compliment he often gave, simply because he couldn't physically see people and people hardly ever let him touch their faces. He believed his mother was quite beautiful but she was the only person he had ever given the compliment to before.

Sebastian was a little shocked as the words left Ominis' mouth. He had never been called beautiful before--everyone always called Anne beautiful and he was supposed to be "handsome" or something like that. But it wasn't a bad kind of shock. To be honest, it felt nice. This was Ominis' way of appreciating his appearance and it made his heart feel warm.

"Thanks," He said, not really sure what else to say. "You really think so?"

Ominis nodded his head. "Yeah, I really think so."

Eventually, Sebastian slipped back into his own bed. He wasn't expecting anything like this to happen, but he was glad it did. Now they both knew what each other looked like and Ominis just simply thought Sebastian was beautiful.

should I do a pt.2 with Ominis seeing Anne? 👀

[drunkenskunk]

Meanwhile, en route to the Icebreaker...

All was quiet on the Dragon's Tooth. The old IPS-N clipper being used as the home-away-from-Hell's-Gate for the Strategic Response Team was currently on its braking burn towards the Icebreaker Borealis, and the ship's clocks had all been set to the station's local time. As a result, it was close to “one in the morning,” and nearly everyone on board was asleep.

A hatch suddenly opened onto the mech bay. Scarlet stepped through the open door, wearing only a tank top and sweatpants. A part of her knew she shouldn't be walking around in here with bare feet, but she was worried about making too much noise. In fact, she was worried about a lot of things...

Before she knew it, she was standing before her mech: Big Red. An old Everest, battle scarred and rough around the edges, she'd been slowly tinkering with and upgrading the ancient beast over her last several months on the team. What stood out the most was the armored “boombox” she'd had custom fitted to the right shoulder. It housed the barrels, rotor assembly, and firing mechanism of the Leviathan heavy assault cannon, fed by a pair of armored ammo belts and connected to the immense ammo drum mounted on the back. It wasn't the newest addition, but it was certainly the most obvious, especially when compared to the other assault mechs in the militia's rank-and-file.

The war machine was still harnessed and braced in its alcove, completely immobile and powered down: exactly as she'd left it several hours earlier. That wouldn't have been notable, had it not been for the unexpected... calamity from earlier. And it was why she was here right now.

See, Scarlet had ordered some explosive vents for Big Red some time ago; after all, heat buildup during the last few fights was becoming a bit of an issue, so she might as well put that heat to some good use, right? But for one reason or another, she had kept putting off the installation. This was likely because everything had become Completely Fucked in Calliope ever since the arrival of all those warship fleets in system. She'd been way too busy running “all hands, repel boarders” combat drills with a lot of the Hell's Gate militia, on the ever-increasingly-likely chance that they'd need it.

Now that the SRT was on their way to the Icebreaker, she had plenty of time, and Agarin even offered to help her get them installed. Getting the physical parts slotted into the mech went as smooth as every other installation in the past, and everything seemed to be going fine. And then she powered up the mech to install the firmware updates.

The instant the fusion core spun up, the machine started moving all on it's own, ignoring any commands and struggling against the restraints and maintenance catwalks holding it in place. Big Red's distinctive purr – a clicking sound with an unknown source the mech would occasionally make – had turned into a ferocious, almost animalistic roar that Scarlet was sure must have echoed throughout the entire ship. The whole machine bucked and writhed uncontrollably, very nearly ripping the umbilicals out of the bay, and if Scarlet hadn't been strapped in by the assault harness and connected through the cranial jack at the base of her skull, she was sure she would have been tossed right out of the open cockpit like a ragdoll.

Just as she felt like her options were running out, Agarin had hopped into the open cockpit with a grace that she thought shouldn't have been possible for someone so damn tall (did that tail of his help with balance?). He was intent on interfacing with the mech using some of his implants and technical know-how in the hope that the two of them working together could get the machine to calm down... but as soon as the handsome dragon man plugged himself in, everything just got worse.

In truth, Scarlet could barely remember everything that happened. Big Red misidentified Agarin's presence in the system as an attack, battering him through the connection with words like INTRUDER, INTERLOPER, and HOSTILE, repeated over and over again... and because she was hard-wired into the machine as well, her mind was also hit with the same mental assault.

Combat recordings from dozens – maybe hundreds – of past engagements flooded both of their minds. Indescribable death and carnage on an unthinkable scale that she had never before witnessed. Screams of the dead, entire worlds on fire, and the machines who burned them. Pilots murdered by the score, one after the other, their names and faces blending together. Recordings, information, tactical data, and images force-fed directly into her brain through the cranial jack, overloading her senses and layering on top of one another until the horror and anger and pain of it all melted into nothing but noise.

The whole experience only lasted for a few minutes, but it had felt like hours.

What she did remember clearly was Agarin doing some kind of Clanner Space Magic to ask her a simple question: “Do you trust me?” And while she responded with as an enthusiastic “yes” as she could possibly muster right then and there, it was like the mech had also been given pause by the question. Before she knew it, the connection in her mind began to fade, and the mech powered down of its own volition.

That was several hours ago. She stared up at the wedge-shaped head of her mech, and the distinctive mass of cracks around the left optical unit. She half expected it to start moving again to look at her, but the trio of cameras remained shuttered, and the head was still and immobile.

“Can't sleep?” came a voice from behind her, and Scarlet practically jumped out of her skin. She wheeled around and was face-to-holographic-face with Siren, the Dragon's Tooth NHP pilot. She had her arms folded across her chest, and she was looking at Scarlet with a curious expression. Was that amusement or annoyance?

“Wh- I- well... no.” Scarlet stammered out eventually. She brushed some errant strands of red hair out of her face. “I'm just... y'know, I'm still... still just a bit on edge from earlier, yeah?”

“And you thought checking in on your haunted mech in the middle of the night would take the edge off?” Siren asked, tilting her head with her mouth cracking into a smirk.

“Hey, c'mon, Big Red ain't haunted, I just...” she tried to wave it off dismissively, but Scarlet briefly looked over her shoulder to glance up at her mech – as if checking to make sure it was, indeed, still not moving – and then quickly turned back at Siren. “Look, I know we're headin' to the Icebreaker for that party bein' thrown by the Kingdom Aniline or whoever, but you know what things've been like lately. Fer all we know, we're headin' into another fight, an' I... I just wanna make sure he's good t'go, and isn't gonna freak out. Don't want any more surprises.”

“Sorry marine, I'm not letting you boot up that thing again while we're in transit and without proper support,” Siren shook her head. “I heard about the Vent Crab Incident back on the Gate, and I'm not letting you blow any holes in my ship.”

Scarlet screwed up her face in frustration. Apparently that fake Muse post Pearce made a while back (do mechs even know what they're doing or do they just see crab flowing down a vent and think “absolutely not”) was still floating around the Omninet. And, sure, she had accidentally blown up a vent crab (and several bulkheads) with a mech scale rifle round that day, but she didn't even have a Muse account!

“I promise I'm just gonna run some diagnostics,” Scarlet said, holding up her hands in what she hoped was a disarming gesture. “I'll keep him in low-power, won't even spin up th' reactor. Just wanna be sure everything is fine, so I can put my worries to bed an' get some sleep.”

Siren was quiet for a minute, scrutinizing the mech pilot. The holographic NHP eventually sighed and shrugged.

“Alright, go on. But I'll be keeping an eye on things, and I'll have my hand on the kill-switch the second I even get a whiff that something is about to go wrong.”

“Hey now, you don't ha-” Scarlet began, but Siren held up a blue shimmering finger.

“These terms are non-negotiable, marine. Now go on, check on the spooky boy, I'll keep watch from here. But do try and be quick about it. I've got some friends in a game of Fleet Command 5016 on standby, and I don't want to leave them hanging for too long.”

And with that, the Siren hologram winked away.

Scarlet turned on her heel, scampered up the access later, and popped the cockpit hatch as quick as she could, just on the off chance Siren decided to have a change of heart. Once she got settled in the command couch, she flipped a series of switches to start the mech in low-power mode. While the monitors and consoles around her began to hum softly, warming up into a diagnostic boot sequence, she reached behind her head, feeling around for the metal jack behind her seat. She moved her ponytail out of the way with her free hand, and slotted the jack into her cranial port with the other.

The connection was immediate and made her grit her teeth, just like always: a sharp electric buzz at the base of her skull that blossomed into icy fingers prodding inside her brain. The sensation wormed its way down through her neck and flooded her extremities until everything tingled uncomfortably, as if her whole body had fallen asleep for half a second. Then the sensation passed, and a relative equilibrium was achieved between Scarlet and her war machine.

“Alright big guy,” Scarlet said, trying to blink away the sparkles on the edges of her vision. “Tell me what ails you.”

The low clicking reverberated through the cockpit in response, and words quickly typed themselves out on one of the monitors.

<<HOSTILE ARCHITECTURE DETECTED>>

“Hostile architecture?” Scarlet said aloud. “Wait, y'mean the new parts?” She figured that was probably the problem, but she still wasn't entirely clear as to why.

The mech rumbled. A different monitor on the other side of the cockpit flipped on, and began to playback a recording. This was one of the many recordings that had been force-fed in her brain earlier, but it took Scarlet a minute to realize that was what she was looking at. After all, seeing an image on a monitor was a slightly different experience than a video feed overlaid with tactical and sensor data flowing around it like water, and transmitted directly into her mind through a cranial jack. Especially when there had been so much other information to parse.

The recording looked like it was the camera feed of a broken mech lying motionless on the ground, surrounded by rubble. It was hard to tell from the quality and angle of the recording, but she was pretty sure the mech this recording came from was much bigger than an Everest. Even so, the mech itself wasn't the focus: it was the inferno all around. It was like the whole world had been set on fire, and through the heat haze, she could see crude juggernauts marching past in formation. The recording shook with every stomp of their heavy boots, and streams of liquid fire surged from titanic flamethrowers.

More words began to type themselves on the other monitor, drawing her attention:

<<Rec:4533u//Hercynia-MycolFields//Varano,J.(Clover)//DECEASED>>

Scarlet turned back to the recording, with slightly better understanding. This was from 483 years ago? She knew this mech was old, but she had no idea it was that old. Hell, she didn't think the Everest frame was that old. Was that why it looked so different, and... so much larger? Had this machine not always been an Everest? The techs back on Hell's Gate had always joked that the “Rage Machine” was an ancient piece of shit, but... did anyone actually know how old this beast was?

And then there was that word that stood out to her for some reason: Hercynia. That was... Agarin mentioned something about that, after he got Big Red to calm down earlier, hadn't he? Her memory was still a bit fuzzy about that. Hercynia was... it was a planet somewhere, wasn't it? She wasn't entirely sure.

“Hang on, somethin' else is botherin' me. What are those?” Scarlet leaned forward, squinting her eyes, trying in vain to get the grainy picture on the monitor to come into focus. “Those mechs stompin' around, they kinda look familiar, but... hell, if I didn't know better, I'd say they were the same kinda frame Andros Capella was drivin' when he came out of that fire gate.”

Big Red seemed to shudder at the mention of Andros Capella... though, it was probably more accurate to say it sent a shudder up Scarlet's spine, directly through the cranial jack.

“Heh... yeah, I feel ya, big guy. You wanted a crack at him, same as I did.” Scarlet started to chuckle, and patted one of the consoles. “Well, look on the bright side: Pearce murked him, what? Four times in the last fight? An' Cassilda punched him t'death the first time. We'll probably get a crack at him ourselves, eventually.”

The clicking sound briefly grew in volume, before settling back down again.

“Alright, so these mechs yer showin' me. What are they, anyway?”

Another monitor above her and to her left winked on. It showed a wireframe of the mechs in the recording, clearly generated from what looked a mixture of official schematics and tactical data. Again, words began to type themselves out, drawing her attention.

<<U-MEF//GMS-UPA.1//Mk-1.Genghis//Worldkiller>>

“Wait, Genghis? That doesn't look like a-” but she cut herself off before she could finish her thought, as another one intruded. The Harrison Armory license she'd accessed to order the explosive vents was for the Mk II Genghis. Mark 2. She'd always wondered about that. Scarlet looked back up at the wireframe: this squat, brutal looking monster of a mech definitely cut a significantly different silhouette than the smaller, slimmer, sleeker frame of the Mk II... but the more she looked, the more she could see the resemblance.

Before she had a chance to ponder that any further, all the monitors cleared themselves, as a string of more words on the first monitor appeared.

<<Protocol 1: Link To Pilot>> <<Protocol 2: Uphold The Mission>> <<Protocol 3: Protect The Pilot>> <<ERROR//PROTOCOL CONFLICT//ERROR>> <<HOSTILE ARCHITECTURE DETECTED>> <<PROTOCOL 3 IN JEOPARDY>>

“Y'know what... after seein' all that? I don't blame ya for takin' that stance,” Scarlet reached up to scratch at her head. “I wouldn't want somethin' from those big fuckers in me either.”

Big Red rumbled again.

“Protect the pilot...” Scarlet muttered under her breath. “Well... I dunno if it'll help things, but... that's the whole reason I got these parts. I wasn't thinkin' of where they came from, but what they could do fer us, y'know?” She gestured with her thumb above her right shoulder. “That big fuck-off assault cannon we got from the Drake license generates a lot of heat, and I'm not sure I know how to squeeze in any more heat sinks without sacrificin' some structure.”

The screen winked clear, and another string appeared in its place.

<<...PROCESSING...>>

“Hell, if you don't believe me, believe what Agarin told ya earlier. We're all part of a team. Agarin, Fern, Cassilda... hell, even Pearce and that gaggle of NHP's he's been collectin' like playing cards. We all look out fer each other. We all make sure we come out the other side of every fight in one piece. An' that's all I was tryin' to do, yeah? Use whatever I can to keep myself alive, so I can find my Five Minutes, an' keep all them alive.” Scarlet let out a heavy sigh. “I... hell, I don't know if I'm makin' any sense. Am I makin' sense?”

The clicking steadied, and Big Red rumbled in sympathy.

<CONDITIONS//ACCEPTABLE>> <<PROTOCOL CONFLICT//RESOLVED>>

The monitor flickered, and one more message scrolled past:

<<Protocol 3>> <<I will not lose another Pilot>>

“Yeah, don't you worry 'bout a thing, big man,” Scarlet patted one of the nearby consoles. “I'm not goin' anywhere.”

With that, she flipped the switches to fully power down the mech. The connection at the base of her skull went cold, as the monitors winked off and the hum of the consoles fell silent. She reached behind her head to disconnect the cerebral jack, and she sat nestled there in the command couch, waiting for the pins and needles sensation of neurons firing at stimuli no longer present to subside.

And as she sat there, surrounded by silence and darkness, a memory crossed her mind. An errant thread, begging to be pulled.

The memory was one of the visions she'd seen, when the team had been caught in that paracausal labyrinth deep beneath the surface of Botzmann. She still wasn't quite sure of how any of that shit worked, or how a cascading NHP was responsible, but it was like reality itself had been cut up and stitched back together; even time didn't make sense, experiencing pasts that never were, and impossible futures that still might be. And while Scarlet was lost, separated from the others, she had stumbled across a mirror. No words were said, but she somehow knew what it was the moment she saw her reflection looking back at her.

This Scarlet stared at her with tired, empty eyes. She was old and grey, with hands covered in blood... but none of it her own. A trail of death and carnage followed behind her. This was a Scarlet that had never found her Last Five Minutes, because she'd deliberately avoided finding them at any cost. This Scarlet was so good at keeping herself alive, that she had become the last one standing.

This was who she feared she could become.

“Yeah...” she said aloud, to no one in particular. “Guess I'm not goin' anywhere.”