#We can turn fish into fuel

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are,)

(Prompt) (Previous part) (Next) (Masterpost) (Ao3)

(Part four peoples!!!)

Either something went wrong with that transmission or he was going to be stuck on this planet for 99,999 hours. Both options didn't bode well for him but one was clearly better than the other.

Ancient's how long was 99,999 hours? With a number that big he was looking at spending around ten years waiting for a rescue team to show up and help them. If everyone wasn't dead by that point they'd probably have built a super cool society with Deepsea bases and nuclear power that they'd have to give up. In ten years he would've figured out what the heck was going on with him and brought them home himself. Though, ten years would give him an excuse for why he was still around the same age he was when he left. Wipe the PDA's data beyond recovery, blame the most annoying creature or plant as what shrank him, and refuse to elaborate any further.

A transmission error was more likely than his brilliant hypothetical scenario. When a spaceship as big as the aurora crashed there was bound to be some interference. Whether that interference be artificial or not was still unclear much to his dismay.

At least he had a scanner, that was a big step for him in his progression. A lot of the actually helpful blueprints were corrupted in the crash and supposedly the scanner could help recover them. Scanning fragments of salvaged tech would be the quickest way of recovery all things considered. Destroyed beacons, singed seaglides, and trashcans were scattered all throughout the shallows, pollution likely reaching farther than what he'd explored. With a crash, this big damage likely extended much farther than what was visible to him.

Not only did their ship crush who knows how many creatures and plants, the regular and radioactive pollution would screw over future generations of fish! It was the intergalactic equivalent of a catastrophic oil spill and he was an unwilling participant in it. Something deep inside him ached at the thought of him being a participant in a planet's destruction.

Chunks of broken spaceship were bad enough for the environment on its own. Batteries, trash, fuel, and hundreds of pounds of manmade resources that'd take hundreds if not thousands of years to decompose. Every scrap of metal, every piece of plastic trash no matter the size was something to poison, choke or kill the local wildlife. Sam would be furious, this wasn't a case of natural food shortages or extreme weather, this could very well be an extinction event! Nuclear power was the default for Alterra's larger ships, and if it wasn't already, the aurora was soon to start leaking radiation all over the place!

This was one of the few life-bearing planets humanity discovered! Hundreds upon hundreds of planets have been discovered within humanity's years of space exploration but life existing without human intervention was still rare. Metal, rock, and gas were what were all that were usually brought back in the beginning. As humanity's technology advanced, they went farther into space, with more habitable planets being discovered and an uptick in thriving alien life. There was always a continuous stream of new discoveries in their universe, alien floras and fauna being discovered as often as they went extinct. Even so, it'd be a cold day in hell before he shared responsibility for any aliens going extinct.

Genetic mutations, Birth defects, and massive amounts of death were the first things that came to mind when radiation was brought into the picture. Radiation was the biggest issue so far, the melted spaceship could be recycled, no matter what Alterra's stupid rules told him he could and couldn't do. Trusting a corporation to clean up their own messes was like asking a toddler to clean up their toys; it would only lead to a conniption fit and a half-assed job. It was unclear how long he was going to be here and if when he met up with the other survivors, the need for materials would only increase as time went on.

Scanning and salvaging would have to wait until the next morning. Darkness shrouded the ocean outside his life pod, making it twice as dangerous to be out there tearing wrecks apart. Bioluminescence wasn't a skill he could put on his resume just yet nor was any kind of night vision. It would be both dangerous and annoying to swim around aimlessly in the dark when he had a perfectly good life pod he could relax in.

Standing in the safety of his lifepod, Danny ran the scanner up and down his body, the tech lighting him up a brilliant blue.

"Performing self-scan. Vital signs follow continuous pattern; no adverse effects identified. Detecting tracing amounts of foreign bacteria. Continuing to monitor,"

The PDA chimed and if Danny were an actual infant like the stupid tablet insisted he was he wouldn't have understood a word of those sentences. But since he wasn't a baby he could properly understand that there were alien germs in his body that really shouldn't be there.

Yeah, That seemed like a problem but it wasn't the reason his powers were short-circuiting. Before they even entered the atmosphere his powers were going wonky. Everything felt the same as it did before he came in contact with this "Foreign bacteria" There were no physical symptoms to complain about so maybe it was just his PDA's way of warning him he was coming down with an alien cold?

Whatever it was, Danny bet fifty bucks the metal muncher was what gave it to him. The creature had a face that screamed "Hey! look at me, I have all the diseases!" Now he was no marine biologist but scrap metal and electrical wire didn't exactly seem like the healthiest snack to chew on. Although, with the resemblance it had to crocodiles back home, one could only wonder if it swallowed metal to help with digestion?

Jagged teeth like the ones on the metal muncher weren't exactly suitable for grinding up food. Finding out the Metal muncher's stomach was full of rocks would be the least surprising thing that's happened today. Metal salvage from the Aurora was way too big to work as a stomach stone so it was more likely the creature just liked chewing on metal. It seemed just as interested in the titanium deposits as it was with the salvage so maybe it was a natural way to file down or sharpen their teeth? Hopefully, the metal munchers were smart enough to avoid chewing on wires that were actively sparking.

Opening a note function on his PDA, Danny began scribbling down everything he'd learned from his encounter with the metal muncher. Easily distracted, aggressive, territorial? Deciding everything he’d seen today was their normal everyday behavior would be stupid. There were new variables in the creature’s environment that could impact its behavior. Continued observation would be helpful as would scanning the animal in the morning. If Danny was going to be stranded on an alien planet you bet your ass he’s going to be studying the local wildlife while he’s here.

“A proper sleep schedule is imperative to the physical and phycological development of young children, " A chime played on his PDA closing the notes app without any warning. A repetitive string of Z’s overtook his screen making it impossible for him to navigate through the applications. Cheeks burning Danny turned the thing off and on again stomping with a huff when the same thing happened when it booted up again.

Taking a deep breath Danny sulked over to the storage unit. It was the only flat surface in this Lifepod he could lay down on and one could only pray to the ancients that the lid wouldn’t cave underneath him. Sleeping on the floor was out of the question. biohazardous goo coated the floor, still liquid enough to slosh around with the erythematic motion of the sea. Naturally, due to preferences, Danny decided to curl up on a surface that didn't have his melted organs on it.

________

Slithering through a barren seabed that once flourished as well as one could in a dying ocean. Mourning the lives that were lost today, he'd failed all over again. His youngest had been the one to see the precursors building raise into the sky this time. A blast strong enough to shake the island that it was built on shot out into the sky. They'd expected something to crash into the water soon after but what they hadn't expected was the size of what hit the waters.

Miles of the seafloor was torn up, and thousands of animals were dead. Jason said it was ironic, even after the precursors wiped themselves out they still found ways to destroy the planet. Bruce thought it was just cruel. It was by sheer stroke of luck that none of his kids had been close to the reaper's breeding ground at the time of impact. All of them managed to remain relatively unharmed when flames and giant pieces of rubble fell from the sky.

Surviving reapers flocked to the sight of the impact, shielded, unseen through the cloud of upturned sand and rubble. It wasn't until they caught a reaper with a familiar-looking creature locked in its mandibles, red blood spilling into the waters as it once had a decade ago that they realized it was happening again.

Nearly all who they'd found near the impact site had been unresponsive, charred, or mangled with their organs strewn out through the sea. In the clutches of the predators now circling the site dying in their arms no matter how quickly or carefully they managed to pry them from the brutal maw of the reapers. Within minutes of the impact, they'd already had a death count in the dozens. It was horrific, little bodies so much like his and his children's more vulnerable forms, dulled claws of younglings that had not yet grown old enough to hunt for themselves. Worst of all was looking into their dying eyes and seeing the agony and confusion of a sentient creature facing a brutal death just as their lives had begun. But that was the death count before the others landed.

Eggs with metallic shells and odd patterning landed all throughout the crater some even landing in the cold darkness of the void where they couldn't be retrieved. Their landings had been much gentler than the initial impact. Immediately the little ones began crawling out of their shells, confused and scared, physically weak. It wasn't uncommon for the precursors to deform the unborn, kidnaping and experimenting on children who lived and died in agony. Malformities ran rampant in this batch of younglings. Instead of soft faces and the vibrant, expressive eyes, they'd come to associate with these children, there were pitch-black, featureless heads smoother than sandstone but solid as titanium. There were points when a child that looked perfectly healthy would go limp for seemingly no reason and never move again. A sped-up gestation period was known to cause problems, let alone a hatching that was induced by precursor technology. As much as it killed him to admit, these younglings, while more abundant were sicklier than the small batch of three that'd fallen years ago.

Most if not all the healthier young ones died from the elements before they could reach them. It was devastating for Dick to find the youngling he'd been guarding in his territory, covered in the luminescent cysts that foreshadowed a certain death. The children got scared when they tried to protect them and when these children got scared they had a tendency to die from it.

Every single death felt like a personal failure. It's like nothing they could do would ever stop the hurt that the precursors continued to cause a thousand years after their extinction.

"Hey... B?" Dick's voice echoed in his mind a reassuring reminder that his son was safe and close enough to contact them. However, the emotions that came in with his son's words were anything but reassuring. Stomach filling with dread he settled on the sea bed just preparing himself for devastating news.

"We've searched the entire crater- none of them survived," A wave of grief hit him like a tsunami when Dicks words sunk in.

"Not the entire crater, there's still the one that landed in the shallows," Tim chimed in.

"We watched that egg for three hours and nothing crawled out of it," Steph groaned and Bruce could almost hear the dramatic way his daughter threw herself into the sand.

"Plus it was smoking and smelled of rot," Duke added somberly, slowly gliding through the impact site by his side.

"Geez, none of them even survived long enough to start building this time!" Dick exclaimed a mournful edge to his usual cheerful tone.

"Tch, pitiful," Damian finally decided to chime in, disappointment clear in the juveniles voice

" Who's pitiful? The babies who died today or the precursors who set them up for death?" Jason questioned, a dangerous edge seeping into the bond.

"I think it's obvious who I was talking about Todd," Damian spat.

"Considering how obsessed you are with what the last group created no, it's not obvious demon spawn," Jason sneered.

"Guys!" Dick snapped. "Arguing with each other isn't help and it sure as the lava zone is hot isn't going to make you feel better for long," Murmurs of agreement rang throughout the bond.

" One of us should still keep an eye on the egg in the shallows," Bruce clutched a piece of metal in pitch-black claws, gills flaring as he swam underneath an egg floating upside-down on the ocean's surface. "Maybe they're just late bloomers?"

"...Maybe?"

"I guess it's possible,"

"Not likely,"

"Tch, if it's already rotten getting our hopes up is pointless," Damian added to the chorus of replies.

"Try saying that when we have new baby siblings swimming around," Dick beamed.

"I will not because it isn't going to happen," His youngest argued pointedly.

"Awwwww, someone's worried they won't be the guppy of the family anymore!" Dick cooed much to Damian's dismay and everyone else's entertainment.

"I am not!" Damian snapped his voice louder than Dick's despite him being the farthest from the impact zone. "If anything I'd be glad someone else would be the victim of you people's constant smothering!" Damian spat, his words lacking any true venom.

"Whatever you say kiddo,"

"Shut up Grayson!" Laughter rang out through the bond followed by teasing and cooing. A reminder that despite everything Bruce still had living children and he hoped it would stay that way long after he passed.

( @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim )

#I always hated how we can't salvage all of the wrecks #I understand it in the “It's a video game you can't destroy the map” sense #but what do you mean we can't pick up the supply crates?? #What do you mean we have to leave who knows how much plastic and man made materials in the ocean??? #We can turn fish into fuel #Turn a battery a wiring kit and a single piece of titanium into something that can warp gravity #I refuse to believe recycling is where the line of possibility ends #dpxdc #DPXDC #dcxdp #I don't know who still want's to be tagged? #tw character death #minor character death #subnautica au

[allywthsr]

LITTLE SPOON | (l.norris)

summary: Lando’s never been the little spoon before

wordcount: 1.3k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: it’s rather short, but I didn’t know what else to write

You’ve been dating Lando for a little over three months, in these months you‘ve tried to see Lando as often as possible, which was a bit tricky sometimes with his crazy schedule, but you still made it work.

Today wasn’t a day made for Lando, when he woke up this morning, it was raining and he noticed that he forgot to charge his phone and he didn’t have the time to charge it, his portable charger was also running low on battery, so he had to fly to England with only twelve percent. When he was at the MTC, he sat in the simulator and didn’t get the results he wanted, and Oscar was quicker in almost every sector. And in the cafeteria, they only had foods involved with fish, and the only thing that wasn’t near a fish, didn’t taste good. That almost ruined his day, the cherry on top was when he was on his way to you and stopped for a small grocery run, he got crowded by his fans outside, someone must’ve posted that he was in a Tesco in London. After taking pictures with almost everyone, he looked at his phone and saw about ten missed calls and at least twenty messages from you, asking where he was and if he could bring some extra apples. With a groan, he went back inside and prayed that no one else was waiting for him, and luckily there were only about ten people this time, he quickly said hello to everyone and hopped back into his car, which was also running low on fuel and he had to get gas, taking him even longer to be in your arms.

The last thing that almost made him cry, was when he went up the stairs to your apartment and with the heavy bags in his hands, he didn’t see a step and tripped, luckily he didn’t get seriously hurt, but the groceries were now all over the floor and his knee was hurting from the fall. After collecting it and putting it back into the bags, he had enough. Enough of this stupid day. He rang your doorbell and stomped passed you directly to the kitchen where he unloaded the food, with a surprised look you followed him.

“Hello to you too, my darling.”

“Sorry, bad day.”

And with that, he turned to you and fell into your arms, you caressed his back and kissed his neck and cheek repeatedly, wanting to comfort him.

“What happened?”

“It all started this morning with me forgetting to charge my phone, being shit in the simulator, bad food, and don’t get me started on the huge crowd that stood outside of Tesco, I also fell up your stairs.”

You immediately pouted and pushed him away to look at him, “My angel, is there anything I can do?”

“Make me food and cuddle”, Lando said after a while of thinking.

You nodded and kissed his lips with a smile, you knew he needed to be babied now, you sent him to the couch where he put on his favorite show, while you made dinner. You didn’t waste too much time preparing a fancy dinner, some pasta, and a sauce, but you knew that was his comfort food, your pasta.

Normally you sat down at the dinner table to eat, but you figured he needed his comfort show and the couch tonight, the day clearly wasn’t nice to your boy, so you could be to him.

With two plates in your hands, you made your way to him, he was lying on the couch with a small pout while checking his phone every now and then.

“I‘m finished with dinner, can you sit up so you can eat?”

He nodded and scooched a little to the right, so you could sit next to him and share the coffee table, you placed the plates on said table and sat down. You kissed his shoulder, “Enjoy your meal, Lan, after that, we can cuddle or whatever you’d like.”

“I‘d like that, thank you for making dinner, I wanted to help you.”

“Don’t worry, we all have bad days sometimes.”

You both started eating and silently watched the show Lando put on, you let him be in his head and think about the day he had. Lando and you quickly finished your meal and he immediately leaned back against the soft cushions, you knew he wouldn’t be doing anything today.

“Can I put the dishes in the dishwasher quickly or do we want to cuddle now?”

“If you hurry with the dishes?”

“Always.”

So you quickly put the dishes in the dishwasher and grabbed a kinder chocolate bar that you could give to Lando, maybe that would cheer him up a little, you always kept a small stack of these in case that Lando gets a sweet tooth and needed chocolate.

When Lando saw you coming back, he laid down and opened his arms, for you to lay in.

“Don’t you wanna be the small spoon today? I want to comfort you.”

“Nah, I‘ve never been the little spoon, I get comforted when I hold you in my arms.”

“You’re a walking cheeseball, aren’t you? I brought you a kinder chocolate bar.”

He quietly mumbled a ‘Thank you’ and already opened the package of the small chocolate before you could lie down.

You moved in front of him and he closed his arms around you and snuggled with his face in your neck, inhaling your scent he loved so much. Your hands found their way to his‘ and you caressed his knuckles and played with his long fingers, both of you were silent and enjoyed the peace that lingered in the living room. You knew Lando was exhausted so it was no wonder that he fell asleep pretty quickly.

You hated to wake him up, but you knew if he would sleep on the couch he would have back pain tomorrow, so you carefully turned around in his embrace and kissed his chin. Slowly caressing his cheeks and repeatedly kissing his face, everywhere where you could reach him. Slowly he opened his eyes and groaned, he needed his sleep and hated getting disturbed.

“Should we move this to the bedroom? You‘ll be more comfortable there.”

Lando nodded against your neck in which he had put his head after opening his eyes. You got up and pulled on his hand, he got up after looking at you with a pout and you walked into the bathroom where you two did your little night routine. When you went into the bedroom, Lando laid down on his side and opened his arms again, waiting for you to slip in.

“What if I‘m the big spoon tonight, you’re still not feeling too good, and it can be very comforting.“

“I don’t know Y/N, I‘ve never been the little spoon, I want to protect you and hold you close.”

“I‘m still close to you when I cuddle you, come on, let’s try it out, we can switch back if you don’t like it.”

“You won’t give up, will you?”

You shook your head and he scooched a little more to your side, you laid down and wrapped your arms around his body, caressing his tummy, you also slipped a leg between his. It felt good having him in your arms and cuddling like that.

After a few minutes you felt him moving, “And? What do you think?”

“It’s the best fucking thing ever, you’re never gonna be the little spoon ever again, only if you have a bad day, baby.”

taglist: @millinorrizz @jamieeboulos @loxbbg @noneofyourfbusinessworld @myownwritings

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine #little spoon

[slu7formen]

luke castellan x fem!reader

Luke has been making fun of your ‘unnecessarily absurd beauty routine’ —as he liked to call it— for the past week, so, you decide to drown him in it, just to see how much he can handle.

warnings: just a single use of the word b1tch, fluff at the end <3, little use of yn

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

i. the eyebrows

“Ow, ow, ow! That hurt!”

“No it didn´t!”

“Yes, it did!”

“Shut up and hold still”

“Ow! You´re pinching my skin, you bitch!”

“That was fully on porpuse”

A chorus of laughter erupted from the nearby bunk beds. Most of the boys, Luke´s half-siblings, gathered around you both, enjoying the show, eyes gleaming with mischief as they witnessed their usually stoic and confident counselor reduced to a whiny mess. Luke´s head was leaning on your thighs as you plugged his eyebrows with some dangerously sharp tweezers.

“See, that´s what you get for making fun of a girl” Travis Stoll, the elder of the Stoll brothers, joined in, a smirk on his lips. "We all warned you about messing with her” he pointed towards you.

“Shut up, Travis!” Luke spat.

You enjoyed the way his face was turning red, from embarrasment and because he was trying so hard to hold back his tears.

“You know, Luke” you started, plugging on another thin hair which earned you a little curse whispered from his lips. “You can always just, give up on the bet”

You found yourself enjoying the sight immensely. The perfect Hermes´ cabin counselor who'd spent the past week mocking your beauty routine,– here he was, sprawled across your lap, a prisoner of your tweezers.

“There´s no way in hell I´m letting you beat me that easily" he declared, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

You couldn't help but smirk. The bet had been born out of sheer frustration. For the past week, Luke had been relentless in his teasing about your beauty regimen. He'd mocked the meticulous way you cared for your eyebrows, the endless battle against unwanted body hair, the whining about the occasional pimples even when you spent a good twenty minutes locked in the bathroom cleaning your skin. He'd called you high-maintenance, a slave to societal expectations, and everything in between.

Finally, you'd snapped. "Alright, Castellan" you'd declared, eyes blazing. "How about a little bet? If you can handle a full day of 'girl stuff,' I'll clean your cabin for a week"

The look of surprise on Luke's face had been priceless. He'd scoffed, of course, overconfident and utterly clueless about the sheer torture involved in waxing, tweezing, and mud masks. But fueled by his arrogance, he'd readily agreed.

Now, here you were, watching him squirm on your lap like a fish, a testament to his underestimation of the situation. A wave of satisfaction washed over you. It wasn't just about winning the bet, though that was certainly a perk. It was about showing him, in a slightly sadistic way, that there was more to "girl stuff" than he thought. It was about proving that self-care wasn't about vanity, but about feeling confident and comfortable in your own skin.

“As you wish, little baby”

Chris suddenly appeard in your vision, the satisfaction on his face plagged as if he was enjoying this more than you did. “You know, yn” he called out, you momentarily stopped, accidentally giving Luke a break. “Luke has a little hair situation going on under his arms”

“What!?” Luke blurted out. His siblings laughed again.

“He does?” you asked Chris, looking down at Luke and patting his head like a little kid.

“Oh, yeah” Chris smirked. “Maybe that could be the next step, don´t you think?”

“I´m gonna-” Luke tried to get up from his bed, hands reaching out towards Chris. He took a step back just as you grabbed Luke by his shoulders and pushed him down again towards your lap.

“I´m not done with you yet, tough guy. But Chris´ right. Get your hairy armpits ready”

ii. the waxing

You pulled out a box of waxing stripes. Luke, oblivious to the impending torture, was too engrossed in examining his newly sculpted eyebrows in the hand mirror you'd provided. A satisfied smirk played on your lips. The eyebrows looked fantastic – perfectly groomed without being overly feminine. Because yes, he asked you to keep them as close to their natural shape as possible.

“Shirt off” you declared.

His head whipped towards you, eyes wide with horror and disbelief. His half-brothers, mirrored his action, erupting in a chorus of whistles and catcalls.

"Excuse you?" he sputtered, h is voice a touch higher than usual.

"Damn," Connor drawled to you. "at least ask the guy out first"

You rolled your eyes. Luke shot him a withering glare, but beneath the bluster, you could see a flicker of nervousness.

You held up the waxing strips. “It´s time for your armpits, champion” you announced with a playful lilt in your voice. You began rubbing the strips together to warm the wax.

He whined, pulling his camp t-shirt over his head, revealing his well-toned torso, and throwing it over a nearby bunk. You stole a glance at his body for a microsecond, a slight red blush coloring your cheeks. His brothers were quick to start a echo of whistles.

He flopped down heavily on the bed, one arm raised awkwardly above his head. To your surprise, there wasn't as much hair as you'd anticipated. But that didn't diminish the sheer terror radiating from him. You stifled a laugh. "Relax, Luke" you said, your voice gentler now. "The tenser you are, the worse it'll be."

His brothers leaned in closer, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them. You carefully pressed the strip against his skin, smoothing it down with the practiced ease. He held his breath, his entire body tensing in anticipation.

You inhaled sharply yourself, then you ripped the strip off in one swift motion. Luke let out a yelp that would have made a banshee proud. His face contorted in pain, and his free hand clenched into a fist. His brothers erupted in laughter, their amusement fueled by his pain.

"Alright, alright" you said, trying to sound sympathetic despite the laughter bubbling in your throat. "Deep breaths, Luke. If you don´t relax, it´s gonna hurt more"

He glared at you, his voice laced with a hint of betrayal. "Easy for you to say."

Ignoring his grumbling, you ripped off another strip. A chorus of gasps filled the room, and Luke let out another yelp, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.

"See?" you said, holding up the strip adorned with a few stray hairs. "Not so bad, right?"

He wanted to murder you.

"Don't you use anesthesia for this?" he wheezed after a particularly harsh pull on his other armpit, his eyes watering slightly.

“We´re not babies, Luke” you replied, shaking your head. "Just good old-fashioned grit and determination. Besides, you wouldn't want to miss out on the full 'girl stuff' experience, would you?"

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity —at least for Luke—, you finished. His armpits were as smooth as a baby´s butt. His brothers, unable to resist themselves, reached out and slapped the freshly waxed skin, earning them a swift kick each from a now-furious Luke.

iii. the skincare

"Skincare? Seriously?" Luke asked, sitting down on your bed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You all went to your cabin to continue his so claimed ‘girl´s day´. You would´ve paid to take a picture of your sisters´ faces when they saw you walk in with a bunch of boys following you behind.

“Just lay down, princess” you declared “I´ll bring my stuff”

He leaned back against the your pushy pillows, getting comfortable.

“First time on a girl´s bed?” Chris asked, earning a few laughs from his siblings.

“Shut up” Luke spat.

You came back with your washbag, full of different products that nearly gave Luke a heart attack. You had to assure him that this time, this wasn´t gonna hurt. At least not the first part, but you kept it a secret.

"Alright, beautiful” you teased. “Let’s get started. First thing’s first. “Cleansing”

You dipped a soft washcloth in warm water and began gently wiping away the dirt and sweat from his face. Luke closed his eyes, a look of unexpected serenity washing over his features. You noticed him get loose under your touch, a slight smile playing on his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture of surprising compliance.

“Wow” he said. “This is actually quite nice”

"See?" you said softly. "This isn't so bad"

He opened one eye, a playful glint mirroring your own. "Not bad at all" he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice “Guys, you should try this."

The Hermes´ cabin boys leaned in closer, their usual boisterousness replaced by a quiet attentiveness. They watched as your fingers moved with a practiced ease, cleansing Luke's skin with a tenderness they hadn't seen before. They saw you take some cleanser, and rub it softly against Luke´s skin.

They all exchanged glances, a new kind of curiosity flickering in their eyes. Usually, the sight of anyone touching Luke, let alone his face, would have elicited a barrage of teasing. But seeing you, your movements gentle and practiced as you gathered a gentle cleanser, they found themselves strangely mesmerized.

"Well, he looks chill" Connor added. "Could you clean my face sometime, yn?"

You chuckled, throwing a playful glance thorwn at him. "Maybe later, Connor. Right now, it's all about Luke's glow-up."

Next came the toner, followed by a light moisturizer. Luke remained surprisingly still, his eyes closed, a contented sigh escaping his lips from time to time. His brothers, bored by the lack of drama, started to get bored.

Just as you were about to get some eye patchs, your eyes drifted on a little tool inside your washbag; your blackhead remover. An idea came up to you.

"Alright, Luke" you announced, a hint of warning in your voice. "Time for the fun part."

You reached for a steaming hot towel and pressed it gently against his nose and forehead. He inhaled deeply, the steam opening up his pores.

"This feels so nice" he mumbled, his voice muffled by the towel.

A slow grin spread across your face. "Oh, it gets better" you said, an evil spark in your eyes.

You grabbed the blackhead extractor and, with practiced ease, began gently removing the unwanted blemishes.

Suddenly, Luke's eyes flew open, a look of pure horror replacing his previous serenity. "Wait! What are you doing?" he shrieked.

"Shh" you hushed him playfully. "Relax. These little guys gotta go. Trust me, it'll be better for your skin in the long run."

"But it hurts!" he whined, swatting your hand away with a surprisingly weak attempt.

"Just a little pinch" you reassured him, your voice a mockery he hated. "Besides, if you don't remove them now, they'll grow bigger and poppier, and that will hurt even more."

Luke opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips as you expertly extracted another blackhead. This bet was getting a little harder to beat than expected. He winced slightly, then a defeated sigh escaped his lips.

“So, Connor” you called. “You wanted to be next, right?”

iv. make up

"So," you began, a sly smile playing on your lips as you settled into the chair across from Luke, "you think makeup is easy, right?"

"Shouldn't be that hard, I guess" he mumbled, trying to sound confident. Inside, however, his stomach churned with fear and worry.

You gestured towards your desk, which was now overflowing with an array of colorful tubes, palettes, and brushes – an arsenal of beauty products foreign to the boys' eyes. "Alright then," you declared, a playful lilt in your voice. "Here's a little game. I'll show you each product and you have to guess what it's for. Every one you get wrong? Goes on your face."

Luke's eyes widened in horror.

"Wait, what?" he sputtered, a nervous tremor in his voice. "You can't be serious!"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "But Luke, you just said makeup was easy. This is your chance to prove it!"

"This is cheating" he mumbled, looking betrayed. "You never mentioned makeup in the bet!"

"Technically," you countered, holding up a finger, "it's still 'girl stuff’, as you call it”

A groan escaped Luke's lips. He shot a desperate glance towards his brothers, hoping for some kind of intervention. Charles Beckendorf, who allegedly decided to join the fun, just grinned towards him.

"Don't chicken out now, Luke" he said, arms crossed over his chest. "You can always give up on the bet and let her win”

Luke glared at his friend, silently cursing the day he ever agreed to this ridiculous wager. He sighed dramatically, slumping back on the bed. "Fine" he mumbled, defeated. "At least try your best to make me look decent."

“That´s not gonna be on me, dear”

You couldn't help but laugh at his misery. You reached across the desk, picking up a sleek black tube with a silver cap. It felt cool and smooth in your hand.

"What do you think this is?" you asked, holding it up for him to see.

Luke squinted at the tube, his brow furrowed in concentration. He recalled seeing something similar in movies, actresses applying it with a flick of their wrist. An idea flickered in his mind.

"Eyeliner?" he ventured, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

You arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Huh, correct”

You set the eyeliner aside, a mischievous glint returning to your eyes. Next up, you picked up a thin, wooden-looking tool with a pointed tip. There was a small, round piece of what looked like colored chalk attached to the end.

"Alright," you announced, "round two. What is this?"

Luke studied the object carefully. It did resemble a pencil, but the colored tip threw him off. He wracked his brain, trying to recall anything similar he'd seen in the vast array of makeup products on your desk.

"Uh… a pencil?" he finally ventured, his voice lacking conviction.

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the cabin. Tears welled up in your eyes quickly, blurring your vision slightly.

"A pencil, Luke?" you wheezed, wiping a tear from your cheek. "It’s a lip liner"

Luke's cheeks flushed crimson.

"Lip liner?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper. "For what? Do I need to draw on a bigger mouth?" He gestured to his own lips, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice.

You shook your head, stifling another giggle. "No, no need for a bigger mouth. Lip liner helps define the shape of your lips."

With a shake of your head, you said, "Now the fun part begins. Bring those lips here, handsome."

Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his face hovering a few inches from yours. The air got filled with a strange tension, probably because his brothers walked closer so they could get a better look. His breath hitched slightly as your fingers brushed against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You´re lucky this is the same shade as your natural lip color” you whisper.

“Yeah” Chris adds. “Maybe you should wear it more often, handsome” he reaches out his hand to squeeze Luke´s cheeks, but he´s quick enough to slap his hand away.

“Shut up”

The minutes that followed were filled with a more lighthearted energy. You continued the game, Luke surprisingly getting a few things right – foundation, and even a surprisingly good guess on a shimmery eyeshadow palette.

But he wasn't without his misses. The concealer, a light, creamy formula designed to camouflage blemishes, ended up being applied liberally under his eyes, leaving him with a ghostly pallor that had his brothers doubled over in laughter. Then came the blush. A delicate peach shade, turned his cheeks a comical shade of fuchsia thanks to your deliberately exaggerated application with a fluffy brush.

His brothers, fueled by this new display of comedic gold, howled with laughter. Charles, wiping tears from his eyes, wheezed, “He-, he looks like a baboon in heat”

"Oh man" Travis howled, clutching his stomach. "This is even better than the armpit wax"

Next came the eyelash curler, that strange-looking contraption that promised to create dramatic, fluttery lashes. The moment you held it up, Luke's eyes widened in suspicion. He snatched it from your hand before you could ask him what he though it was.

"What the hell is this!?" he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mixture of disgust and fear. "You girls like torturing yourselves with these things?"

You reached out and gently took the curler back. "No torture involved" you replied. “And since you know absolutely nothing about it…"

He tried to look defiant, but a flicker of uncertainty betrayed him. "I know what it is" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Oh really?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Then what is it?"

You handed him the curler and watched as he fumbled with it, his big hands clearly not designed for such delicate work. He eventually gave up with a defeated sigh.

"Okay" he grumbled, handing the curler back to you. "Do your worst."

The final touches were a disaster, a glorious, hilarious disaster. Every fiber of Luke's being screamed in protest as you handed the brushes over to his merciless brothers.

“Come here, Lookie-Pookie” Travis cooed, his voice dripping with mock sweetness as he leaned in with a thick brush loaded with sparkly eyeshadow. Luke recoiled, swatting his hand away with a glare.

"Don't touch me!”

“Come on Luke, give us those pretty little lips. We need to make sure they're nice and kissable” Beckendorf joined, opening a little lip product tube he wasn´t sure what it really was.

Luke wanted to melt into the floor, his face burning hotter than the volcanic eyeshadow now smudged across his eyelids. The audacity, the betrayal! His own brothers, the supposed bastions of masculinity, were gleefully participating in this humiliation.

“Maybe some of this highlighter will make him look prettier”

He couldn´t believe his own brothers knew what highlighter was except for him.

As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, a mix of horror and amusement washed over him. He never thought he'd feel so violated by makeup. But somewhere amidst the frustration and embarrassment, a strange sense of camaraderie bubbled up. His brothers, usually his biggest tormentors, were doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. And you, the leader of this whole mess, were practically glowing with barely suppressed mirth.

Despite himself, a smile tugged at the corner of Luke's lips. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Sure, he looked like a technicolor disaster, but the shared laughter, the fun, it felt strangely… good. He glanced at you, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Gods” he breathed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "This is the best day of your life, isn't it?"

You couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that filled the cabin. "Hell yeah it is" you replied as you offer him make up wipes.

v. the reconcile

Night had fallen, painting the sky with shimmering stars. The campfire illuminated the campers´ face, its flames dancing higher as the Apollo cabin filled the air with joyful camp songs. Laughter mingled with the strumming of guitars and lyres, creating a symphony of pure summer camp bliss.

The fire itself danced in response to the campers' emotions. It roared a little higher with every burst of laughter, dimmed momentarily during a quiet story, and flickered with a playful intensity as the Hermes boys, fueled by their mischievous exploits, recounted their version of the day's events.

You sat by the fire, poking a marshmallow with a stick, watching the scene unfold. Their narrative, of course, focused heavily on your supposed "torture" of Luke. Specially the Stoll brothers; they painted a picture of you as a ruthless makeup artist, a waxer who pealed Luke´s skin off and left his face shining like marble. Meanwhile, Luke simply sat there, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You noticed the Hermes boys regaling other campers with their story, punctuated by bursts of laughter. And yes, you didn´t like to admit it but, you'd lost the bet. Technically. But watching Luke handle their teasing with surprising grace, a hint of amusement in his eyes, filled you with a strange satisfaction.

You were there by yourself for a few more minutes. The camp sounds filling your ears as you tried your best not to stuff your face in all the toasted marshmallows your sisters offered you. Your hands felt tired, because yes, even though what you did was not too much for you to handle, Luke squirmed and behaved like a worm covered in salt, which only made your work harder.

Just then, a figure settled in front of you. Luke. He held two sticks, each crowned with a perfectly toasted marshmallow. He offered one to you, his usual smirk replaced by a genuine smile.

"Truce?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge.

You couldn't help but grin, accepting the marshmallow with a playful jab. "Truce"

He sat beside you, the marshmallow on his stick disappearing in one swift, hungry bite. Suddenly, you leaned in closer, feigning seriousness. "Oh dear" you said, your voice laced with mock concern.

Luke raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What is it now?"

"You've got a blackhead. Right, there" you declared, pointing to a non-existent imperfection on his nose.

His eyes widened in mock horror. "No way! I´m not letting you touch my face again" He swatted at your hand playfully, but you were quicker.

"Hold still, you wriggly worm" you teased, pretending to grab his nose. A playful fight ensued, a flurry of limbs and laughter. You managed to land a swipe at his cheek with a gooey bit of marshmallow.

Finally, breathless with laughter, you both settled back down, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the quiet camaraderie. As you bit into your marshmallow, a comfortable silence settled between you.

"So, about that bet" he began, wiping his marshmallow-streaked hands on his cargo pants.

You turned to look at him, still chewing on another marshmallow and a piece of melted chocolate. "Yeah?"

"I don't want you to clean my cabin" he explained.

"Why not? I lost the bet" you replied, surprised by his sudden declaration.

He looked at the sky, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, but… We're kind of a mess, actually. I would feel bad if you did it alone."

"Aww, Castellan, are you worried about little ol' me?" you teased him, squeezing his cheek playfully. He blushed a deeper shade of red, looking positively flustered.

"Maybe" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Okay, here's a deal" you continued, trying to cover your own blush. "I'll clean your cabin, but you have to help me. I really don't wanna get into dirty-underwear-business."

Luke considered this for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. "Deal. But I'm warning you, there might be some things you shouldn´t even try to touch with bare hands. And I mean Travis´ and Connor´s bunks”

From a distance, a group of campers — a mix of Hermes, Apollo, and Hephaestus cabins —watched your exchange with keen interest. The playful teasing, the way your hands brushed as you made your deal — it was all too much for their already overactive imaginations.

"I bet you fifteen bucks he's gonna ask her out by the end of the week" an Apollo camper, Lee, declared.

Chris snorted. "That's weak. Twenty bucks says he does it tonight."

hiiya, just thought I could write something different to what I usually do. hope you enjoyed <3 🩷

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x reader #pjo x you #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x yn

[disneyprincemuke]

glitter * mv1

it's the morning after a party, and you find yourself tangled up in bed with your boyfriend

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: fluff!! (which is rare for me)

notes: the first one for my 2k sleepover!! my requests are open for my 2k follower sleepover event!!

“darling, wake up.”

the grip around your waist tightens and your back is pressed up on max’s chest. his lips linger on the back of your neck as his thumb traces circles on your bare waist.

you hum in response, your hand covering the back of his that laid on your waist. “good morning, love.”

“it’s 1pm. we need to feed the cats and eat something ourselves,” he whispers. the bed dips behind you and when you open your eyes, max is looming over your shoulder with a smile. “good morning.”

“5 more minutes,” you mumble. you shuffle in the bed, adjusting the duvet as you turn and force max back down into the bed. you throw your arms around his bare torso and bury your face into the pillow. “i’m too tired to get up.”

he shakes in a chuckle, making you pull away and furrow your eyebrows to glare at him. he simply grins at you and moves the stray hairs from your face. “you said that at 11am when i tried waking you up.”

you groan and drop your head onto the pillow. you put your fingers over his eyelids and force them close as you bury your face into his chest. “i’m saying it again now at 1pm. go back to sleep.”

the sun barely illuminates the room you share. you don’t know where the cats are, and while you are concerned about them, sleeping is the only way to cure the pounding you feel in your head.

max had thrown a party the night before, celebrating the end of the 2023 season with the grid. he had it in your house and invited everyone that could say yes. and he threw a raging party.

it did end at 5 in the morning, fueled to last that long with endless party games and loud laughter. you can safely admit that you drank a little too much knowing that you had nowhere to be the next morning.

you didn’t take into account how hungry the cats would be at 1pm. in your defense, though, you’d drunkenly filled up their food bowl before you fell into bed with max at 6.

“but we have to get up,” max mumbles, twirling a piece of your hair on his finger. he presses a kiss to your temple then rubs your shoulder gently. “some of the guys stayed over — carlos is making pancakes.”

you have to admit the pancakes that carlos makes is absolutely delectable. but it’s not enough to convince you to get up.

“he’ll make some for me later if i ask.”

“bold of you to assume that.”

“i know he will. he loves me.” you tighten your grip around him and yank him closer to you. “shut up, max. i’m trying to sleep.”

“then i will get up, okay?” he whispers, slowly untangling himself from your arms. “i’m very hungry and thirsty.”

you frown as the bed moves and the warmth of his body leaves you. you peek through an eye, watching him bend down to get his shorts off the ground and pull it up his legs.

“do you want any coffee? what about water? i’ll bring it up to you, if you want,” he offers, turning to you as he pulls his shirt down. “what about orange juice?”

but you didn’t want to be in bed alone. so now you’re slowly pushing yourself up the mattress, ignoring the way your world spins and head pounds with every second passing.

“darling, get back in bed. i’ll get you what you need.” his voice wavers as he rushes over to your aid when you stumble at the edge of the bed. “i’ll get you some pills for the headache.”

“i want pancakes,” you mutter as you fish for your shorts resting peacefully on the hardwood floor. “and i should help you clean. it’s my house too.”

“it was my party. you just sit back and relax until you feel better,” he says. he pats your head, grabbing the headband sitting on the bedside table peacefully.

he gently pushes your hair back and slides on the top of your head. "are you sure you want to get up now?"

you nod your head, eyes scanning the floor for the shirt you'd thrown somewhere here in the middle of the night. instead, your attention catches a picture reflecting a ray of sun onto a small patch of the wall.

you wobble over to it and pick it up, a polaroid picture of you and max from the night before. it's a tame picture from before the night had gone wild: you're in the kitchen by the fridge with a bottle of beer in your hands with his hand around your waist, and your head on his shoulder.

you're sure that there's another somewhere, later in the night when you're both flushed from the alcohol and giggling on the couch with your legs on his lap.

"there's more pictures on the coffee table downstairs," max chuckles, towering over you from behind. he holds up a piece of clothing by your side, the shirt you'd been looking for seconds ago now accounted for. "were you looking for this?"

"it's my favourite hangover shirt," you giggle, receiving the shirt into your hands. when you put it on, it rests just below your thighs, covering your shorts very slightly.

it's max's shirt from his teen years, no longer fitting him as he grew, but it fit you perfectly on days you prefer loosely fitted clothing. you tuck the hems of the shirt into your shorts and pull it out to give yourself some air.

"ah, you've got glitter all over you, darling," max laughs, his thumbs grazing over your forearm where the said glitter sits on your skin.

he squeezes you three times before he drops his hand to his side, eyes scanning your body for more traces of glitter.

"laugh all you want but you've got one on your cheek too," you tease as you lift your hand up to try and scratch it off. "this is going to be ass to get off."

"you're the one who suggested getting glittery party hats, darling, i don't know what to say," he shrugs as he turns and walks over to the door. "let's get some food and start our day."

"okay," you mutter, walking over to him. you stop by the door where he is and lift your chin. "i had fun last night. great party."

"it was only great because you helped me throw it."

#heh #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke milestone #disneyprincemuke sleepover

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 29

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Slightly graphic depictions of labor and childbirth A/N: Maybe a cliffhanger. Maybe not. You'll have to read to find out! ;) Daryl is definitely ooc in this. I'm sorry, I tried to get as close as I could to how he might react. Also, the saying he uses is one we use in the south that means "how is that relevant?" You'll know it when you read it, lol.

“About 4cm now. Progressing nicely.” Hershel informed, wiping his hands on a cloth that Carol had provided. 

Rick and T-Dog were out doing yet another night run in the van. It was also low on fuel but the map showed another town close by. Fuel, gloves, and other necessities were on the list. Glenn was on watch with Daryl for backup if anything happened. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it couldn’t be helped.

Thumper was calling the shots at that point. 

Before the men had left, Daryl had confiscated all the blankets except for those that were for Lori and Carl. When Glenn began to complain, one look from the anxiety-driven archer had brought the young man very close to hiding behind Rick. While some blankets were used for your comfort, others were fashioned into a tent-like structure over the bare branches of a decently sized bush. You needed some sense of privacy. 

Carol and Lori had dug through the maternity clothes that hadn’t been lost on the road and found a button up dress. It was comfortable and made things much easier than leggings. 

After your immediate needs had been met, Daryl then perched himself just beside your shoulder and hadn’t moved since. 

“S’the number we’re aimin’ for?” He asked with frustration lacing his tone, making sure the blankets were back over you and tucked tight to keep you warm. He had been muttering to himself how he wished he had made time to read the rest of the books. Daryl was not a man that liked being in the dark on anything. It made him feel helpless, as you had learned over the last several months. 

“She needs to be at 10cm and the baby needs to be in the correct position before she can push.” The old man positioned the ear tubes of the stethoscope before pressing it against several spots on your belly. “Heart beat is strong. Everything is looking good.”

You had remained quiet until that moment. “Do I just—I don’t know—lay here?”

“Walking encourages the cervix to dilate and soften. Once you dilate a little further, the contractions will likely be stronger, whether painful or not.” The calmness that man practiced really made you want to strangle him with that stethoscope. “Make sure you don’t go alone, and—”

“She ain’t.” Daryl snapped. 

Hershel shot him an admonishing look. “As I was saying, take breaks. Sleep when you can. I’ll check you periodically. You’ll need to keep timing the contractions, son.” Daryl nodded. “Sip small amounts of water, no food. Keep me informed of any changes. And as unpleasant as it may sound, if you feel the pressure and urge as if you may need to have a bowel movement, call for me immediately.”

You, as well as Daryl, reared back, lips curling. 

“The fuck that gotta do with the price’a fish?” The archer queried, not so nicely. 

“Settle down. The pressure from the baby’s head moving into the birth canal can feel similar to that.” Shaking his head, Hershel shuffled his way out of your tiny tent. 

Finally alone, you turned onto your side and scooted your upper body toward Daryl. He stretched out his legs so you could rest on his thigh. 

“Get some rest.” His hand wiggled beneath the blanket and rubbed up and down the length of your upper arm, but moved to your belly when another contraction took over. Without prompting, he slid his warm palm around to your lower back and applied the least bit of pressure, rubbing small circles. You buried your face into his thigh to ride it out, but you had to admit the light massaging helped, if only a little. 

“You’re supposed to be—” You were panting when you rolled your head to remind him, but found the watch already lifted to eye level, his gaze shifting from it to your stomach. 

“Sleep if ya can. I got this.” His brow was furrowed in concentration, your heart swelling and warm. Any worry you had entertained of him running when things got real, just gone in an instant. He was there. He was there. 

“I’ll try.” You whispered, the pain finally an afterthought. You felt him slide his hand back to the side of your stomach before you let yourself succumb to exhaustion. 

“Sorry, Sunshine. Doc says up, so up ya get.”

You let Daryl take your dead weight and pull you up by a grip beneath your arms, making it as difficult as possible so you might get to stay in your warm little nest. You were still at 4cm. Hershel had said you had to start walking to help labor progress. 

“This isn’t fair.” You whined, rubbing your back once you were upright. The pain that accompanied each contraction had lessened but was still ever present. “Can’t you walk and I dilate?”

Daryl snorted. “Don’t think that’s how it works.” He placed a careful hand on the small of your back and kept your pace, slow as it was. 

“Okay, then how about if it gets worse, I kick you in the balls and punch you in the kidneys so you can participate properly?” You were only half joking. 

“If it gets ya through this, I guess.” The archer shrugged. You regarded him with a skeptical brow arched. 

“You’d really let me do that?”

“Hell nah, but s’the thought that counts or some shit like that, right?” He didn’t even try to dodge the smack you aimed at his shoulder. 

“You’re hilarious.” You deadpanned, even as you leaned into him while you strolled in circles around the perimeter. The moonlight caught the watch in his right hand, his finger tapping against the casing. Bless him, he was taking his role of supportive partner very seriously. You gasped when the next contraction came, stopping to bend slightly and breathe through it while Daryl secured an arm around you and flipped open the watch. 

When it was clear you weren’t falling, he slid his hand to the middle of your back and massaged the length of your spine using gentle pressure from the heel of his palm. He never said much—if anything—during the episodes themselves, but kept you informed of the timing of each one. 

“Oh, goddamnit, this one sucks.” You managed through clenched teeth. You swayed slightly when it was over, grasping blindly for the man next to you. 

“Thirteen minutes since the last’un. A minute, twelve.” He was slow and careful when turning you back toward camp. “Let’s getcha back to Hershel.” 

You shook your head. “One last loop, then we can go back.” Daryl didn’t say anything but you felt him tense. “I’m sure. They’re just getting a little more painful in the stomach, less in the back.” 

He still hesitated. “Alright. One more.”

Hershel stepped into your path before you started the second loop, allowing Daryl to fill him in on the last contraction. 

“Do one more. Rest. And then again.” The old man ordered curtly. 

Once he had vanished back toward the small fire, you mocked his words. “Rest and then again.” Daryl shook his head beside you. “I mean seriously, how much help can walking actually be?”

“Fuuuuuck!” You were digging your fingers into the blankets below you, swatting away Carol’s hand when she tried to dab your face with a piece of cloth. Daryl was sitting beside you, wide-eyed and lost, the watch forgotten by his leg. Hershel was between your knees, sporting his medical gloves that had been brought back by Rick and T-Dog. 

The archer cleared his throat. “She alright?” 

“Do I look alright, Daryl?!” You hissed, making an admirable attempt at breathing the way Carol was instructing. The contraction finally ended and you fell back onto the folded blankets. “I’m sorry.” You found his worried blue eyes easily and fumbled for his hand. 

“S’okay.” He whispered, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. 

“She’s at 6cm. We can still time the contractions but I think she may need your attention more than that watch does now.” Hershel reached for the item and placed it in his pocket once Daryl handed it over. “Keep moving but stay closer, no more perimeter walks.”

Daryl nodded, you whimpered. 

“I’ll be back soon to check again. If we’re lucky, things will move a little faster now that you’re in active labor.” Hershel left the tent while Carol fixed your dress. 

“I know it hurts, but you two will have little Thumper in your arms in just a matter of hours.” She smoothed your hair and tucked it behind your ears. “You’re doing great.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing great.” You murmured, ducking your head almost bashfully. “I’m really sorry I snapped at you, Daryl. It just—well, it hurts and it’s hard to think.”

“Ain’t mad.” He tried for a half smile but it was weak. “Better than gettin’ kicked in the balls, I reckon.” You laughed and squeezed his hand. “Guess we oughtta getcha up again.”

“I’ll help.” Carol offered. You could see that a refusal was on the tip of Daryl’s tongue but he never voiced it. With Carol under one arm and Daryl under the other, you were pulled upright. 

Your body already felt wrung out and sore, and the epic finale hadn’t even begun. Still, you allowed Carol to pass you off to Daryl. 

“We movin’ on? Be better to find a house or somethin’.” He looped an arm around your back, following as you shuffled your way around. 

Carol shrugged, not touching you but keeping up with your small strides. “Both vehicles have fuel but Hershel isn’t sure we should move her. He thinks the baby will come soon and she needs to be kept in one place.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back in frustration. “She is right here. And if my opinion matters, I’d rather not—” The contraction came on strong, halting you suddenly with your hand fisting into the lower part of Daryl’s vest. The archer stepped around in front of you, rough but gentle hands grasping your wrists to guide your arms to his shoulders. 

“Try to breathe. Sometimes humming or even moaning helps, like an outlet.” Carol advised while rubbing your back. 

Your head fell forward against Daryl’s chest, a deep but quiet moan muffled against the firm muscle beyond his shirt. His hands had fallen to your hips, his body followed you as you swayed back and forth. The episodes were growing more intense, coming closer together and lasting longer. It wasn’t difficult to surmise that things would be growing more difficult to handle. 

“Ain’t nothin’ we can do for ‘er?” Daryl asked quietly above you, each word blowing his warm breath over the top of your head. Carol must have answered in the negative because his fingers flexed against your hips. 

The skin of your belly was pulled so tightly that you swore it would tear open, the muscles feeling as if they would pulse right out of the gaping hole your torn flesh would leave. 

“Shit.” You whimpered, your voice finding its way back during the last dregs of pain. You almost didn’t register warm hands gliding up and down your sides, a smaller hand on your back. “I don’t want to have the baby here.” You argued weakly. “It’s too open. Things will be too chaotic, too loud.”

“I know, Sunshine, but the doc says—”

“I don’t want to risk Thumper here in the open, Daryl. With—with walkers or people.” With enough strength having returned after the pain, you lifted your head, eyes pleading. “Please.”

The archer was visibly upset. He was just as vulnerable as you were at that moment, torn between what he felt was right and what Hershel said was for the best. His tongue wet his bottom lip before he pulled it in between his teeth, looking to Carol for guidance. 

“Could lay down the seats in the van. Use the back.” He suggested. “Plenty’a room an’ if we need to move fast—”

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable.” Carol agreed, rubbing your back in a few soft strokes before beginning to move away. “I’ll go talk to Hershel. You two keep walking.”

You watched her go, turning your gaze up to Daryl when he shifted back to your side to urge you along. “Gotta keep movin’.” You groaned, dragging your feet with your head falling back in frustration. 

You were in the middle of a contraction, when you heard it. A snarl, a raspy growl much too close. You were already clinging to Daryl and breathing through the pain that was readying your body for Thumper’s arrival, but you’d have to let him go. He had to protect the baby. And to do that, he had to protect you. 

But he didn’t move. He was nearly vibrating, rigid beneath your hands on his shoulders. He was just as scared as you were, even more so. He knew he could take the walker but that would mean letting you go. He needed to protect you but he wanted to support you. He had told you he'd never let you fall and you knew he had meant it.

“Go.” Your hands slid from his shoulders, down his chest before they released him completely to clutch your belly.

His boots disappeared from your view of the ground but you couldn’t focus after that. The pain was growing in intensity, immobilizing you with your lips tightly pressed to withhold the cries that vibrated behind your teeth for release. You couldn’t, you just couldn’t make a sound. You’d attract more, endanger everyone. You’d endanger Thumper. Daryl. 

There were scuffles. More snarls. Tears were threatening your waterline. Pain was coursing through you like a serpent, slithering around each muscle and tendon and pulling them tight. You felt disappointment and guilt over all the agony when your mouth fell open with a guttural moan, your will to cut off the scream that begged to follow barely holding true. 

“D—Daryl.” You cried out. And he was there, hands on your face, your biceps, your belly. 

“M’here. M’here. Gotta move, though.” He swept you up with the slightest strained noise. “Gonna getcha to the van. Gonna find somewhere safe for ya.” The pain was fading. You could focus on the dark blood on his face, the dirt and grime. 

“Herd?” You whispered. 

“Ain’t your fault.” His expression emanated fear and stress. “The hatch.” Someone was with him. The small hands that opened the back of the van and spread out the blankets, those were Carol’s. She sat a pile of smaller blankets and squares of fabric toward the indents on the floor where the seats had been stowed. 

“Get as many in the truck as you can! In the cab and the bed!” Rick was calling out at the same time that Hershel climbed into the van. Daryl was careful when he placed you inside, climbing over you before pulling you further in to make room for Hershel and Carol. 

Through your haze of exhaustion, you saw Rick climb in the driver's seat and Maggie beside him. That meant that five others had to somehow fit into the truck. 

“Is everyone okay?” You asked, eyes pleading with Daryl for an honest answer. 

“Yeah, they’re all good.” He nodded, smoothing a hand over your hair. 

The van was moving, though you didn’t realize when it had started. Hershel was between your knees when another contraction came. It felt like only moments had passed since the last one. In the safety of the van, though you couldn’t be bothered to consider that, you bowed forward with a scream. Daryl gingerly worked your fingers loose from the blanket to take your hand. 

“She’s at 9cm. This baby is coming soon.” Hershel didn’t move this time, he and Carol began sorting things that you couldn’t see. Panting, you leaned to the side, knowing Daryl would be there. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed. 

“What—” He swallowed audibly. “Tell me what I need to do.” 

“Just be with her.” Carol poured some water from a bottle onto a piece of fabric and passed it across you for Daryl to take. “Wipe her face, put it behind her neck.”

The archer’s hand was trembling fiercely when you felt the blessed cool cloth touch your forehead. The moan that left you was not one of pain but utter relief. “Oh, that’s nice.” You breathed. Your skin was on fire, every cell of your being felt twisted and wrong. But that trembling cloth wiping at your face grounded you, centered you around what your body was preparing to do. 

You were so close to being a mother. 

But that didn’t stop the scream that ripped from your throat when the next contraction tore through you. You sat up, propped on your elbows with your eyes screwed shut. Tears leaked from the corners, the wailing cutting off into wretched sobs when you felt Daryl’s forehead fall against the crown of your head, his mantra of m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry shattering you into a million shards. 

You couldn’t tell him it was okay. You couldn’t remind him why you hurt. You couldn’t reassure him that he was the one you wanted and you were more than happy to do this with him. For him. You didn’t have the breath. 

“Don’t push, Y/N. Not yet.” Hershel’s tone was even but not cruel, his gloved hands on your knees. 

“It fucking burns!” You shrieked, squeezing Daryl’s hand until you were certain you felt the bones shift. The contraction let up, the fiery sensation dulling but ever present. 

“What’s happenin’?” Daryl sounded breathless. Terrified. You were still catching your breath when you looked up at him. His tan skin was white as a sheet, no color in his lips. His blue eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them. From tears or fear, you couldn’t be sure. 

“The baby’s in the right position. Y/N, it’ll be time to push soon. It’ll be very important for you to listen to everything I say. Can you do that?” Hershel wasn’t looking at you, between moving around things Carol was handing to him and keeping a constant eye on your progress. Distantly, you wondered why it was Carol at his side and not Maggie. Maybe because you were close with Carol? For your comfort? 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.” You turned your attention back to Daryl when his grip on your hand loosened slightly. He swayed, the pallor of his skin growing more concerning. “Daryl?”

The archer shook his head almost violently. “M’good.”

“Okay, I just—oh, fuck, already!?” You grit your teeth as your stomach tightened, a visible shift beneath the fabric of your dress. 

“Maggie, can you climb back here?” Hershel requested calmly. His eldest said nothing but maneuvered her way into the back and on your opposite side. “I fear we may lose Daryl at any moment and Y/N will need support.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Daryl snapped but it was a weak effort. He inhaled deeply and began squeezing your hand to keep you from dislocating his fingers. 

“Here.” Carol passed him an opened bottle of water. “Drink a few sips. You’re white as a ghost.”

You were barely aware of everything happening around you, shaking almost violently to refrain from bearing down until Hershel told you to do so. It was bordering on excruciating. 

“Jesus Christ, it feels like you’re holding a flamethrower to my fucking pussy!” 

Hershel sighed while Maggie and Carol chuckled and Daryl snorted out a quiet nice, Y/N. 

“It’s just the birth canal stretching to make room for the baby.” The veterinarian explained coolly. 

“Just?” You mocked. “Just, he says while it’s my—oh Jesus fuck!” With all the presence of mind you could summon, you managed not to start screaming at Daryl for putting you in that position. You knew that beyond the pain and fear, you wanted Thumper in your arms more than anything in that fucked up world. 

“Okay, Y/N,” Hershel patted your bare knees just at the tail end of the contraction to ensure he had your attention. You had fallen back against Maggie while Daryl held the cool cloth against the back of your neck. His hand was vibrating your skull to the point that you nearly asked him to move away. “You’re ready. On the next contraction, you need to push.”

“God, your calm voice makes me want to kick you in the teeth.” You didn’t mean it—mostly. Hershel must have known that because he chuckled. You could feel the next contraction already building when the van lurched to a stop, throwing everyone in it. 

“We got a herd in front of us!” Rick called from the front. 

“Go ‘round it! Turn ‘round! Just keep ‘em off us!” Daryl yelled as the pain peaked. “Fuck!” He bellowed when your hand began to shake with how hard you squeezed his own. 

“Push!” Hershel shouted over the bumps and jerks of the van doing whatever Rick had deemed best. “Good, good!” He began to countdown from ten while you screamed.

You were being torn open. Thumper was going to rip you in half on their way out. Your throat was raw, surely bleeding from your wails. When the old man reached one, you fell back against Maggie but Daryl’s hand was there too. 

“Maggie, Daryl, hold behind her knees. Help support her legs. It’ll keep her hips open.” Both moved forward, taking you with them to sit you up a little straighter. Daryl had to release your hand to hold you and your leg. The archer hissed with the pressure against his abused palm. “Perfect. Alright, Y/N. A nice, strong push this time.”

You almost snarled. “Last one wasn’t good enough?”

“Easy, Sunshine.” You felt Daryl's lips against your temple and yearned to keep them there. 

“I’m sorry, Hershel.” Once again, the man simply smiled. Lori had told you that childbirth in the movies was often dramatized but so far, you weren’t seeing the truth in that statement. When the contraction reached a crescendo, you leaned forward while Maggie and Daryl held your legs steady. The pain was extraordinary. You almost wished you could see what was happening, but any train of thought was derailed with Hershel’s next words.

“The baby is crowning!” 

Gasping, you swallowed hard, glancing at Daryl—who had a front row seat to what was happening—and then back to Hershel. “Crowning?”

“The head will be out soon.” 

“All this and we don’t even have the head out?!” You screeched, just as your stomach rippled into a rigid mound and you were pushing again. This pain was different. Thumper was definitely ripping you apart. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! It burns!”

“S’that—” Daryl cleared his throat and swallowed, swaying on the spot. “S’that normal?”

“Perfectly normal.” Hershel glanced up at the archer, back down, and then up again. “Carol.” He needn’t say anything else. The other woman was moving to grab the back of your leg and let Daryl fall against her so he didn’t smack his head on the side of the van.

You were completely unaware, your entire focus centered on the inferno between your legs. There was no way any woman would willingly do this unmedicated. Never in your life had you wanted drugs more than you did in that moment. Thumper. Thumper, Thumper. You chanted internally, even as your vocal chords vibrated harshly with your screams. And just as you thought you would lose consciousness from the pain, it lessened. It hadn’t disappeared but comparatively, you would take that over the prior. 

“The head is out!” 

Panting, you smiled but then fell into confusion when you saw Carol beside your leg and Daryl slumped against her. “Daryl? Daryl?!” You shifted but Maggie held you still. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Hershel chuckled. 

“Who knew a man that could gut a walker without batting an eye couldn’t watch his baby’s head come out?” Carol smiled but began to act, jerking her shoulder to jar the archer. “Daryl. Daryl, wake up. You don’t want to miss this.” He stirred and started to lean back. “Think you can take a look without losing it again?”

“Shuddup.” He shook his head hard, grunting. His hand was the first thing to move, sliding beneath Carol’s to take hold of your leg. Then he was looking at you. “M’sorry. That was—fuck, m’a pussy.” Maggie was moving your hand and pulling you forward as you watched your partner. 

Then your fingers were touching a soft, albeit slimy, head. 

You gasped. “Daryl.”

The man gulped, but then sat up on his knees a little. You watched the fear and apprehension melt away into awe, his jaw loosening, eyebrows rising, and eyes beginning to shine. “S’that—”

“That’s Thumper.” You were able to say before Hershel announced your miniscule break was over. He didn’t need to say a word, your body was already letting you know. Daryl’s hold felt stronger now and he was watching with an awestruck intensity that just made your heart want to explode even as you rode out the waves of agony. You were going to be a little family.

Then, out of the blue, you could feel something was different, wrong.

“Her—Hershel—Ow, fuck—” You fingers clawed at Daryl’s chest, his wet eyes going wide with concern. The contraction ended and you were gasping and swallowing convulsively, feeling nauseous regardless of your lack of food. Daryl’s eyes were darting back and forth between you and the old man. “Daryl, something—something’s wrong.” You could tell the baby had not moved an inch during the pushing, but not only that, it felt like they had actually pulled back toward your opening. 

“I know.” Hershel’s voice had lost the calm and was taking on an emergent edge. “The baby is stuck.”

Panic flashed over Daryl’s face in the form of anger. “The fuck ya mean stuck?!”

Still trying to catch your breath, sweat dripping into your eyes, you thought for certain Daryl was going to jump across your leg and attack the old man. Thankfully, he remained at your side. Trembling and breath stuttering, but he wasn’t moving. 

“Shoulder dystocia. The baby is turned in such a way that the shoulders can’t fit through the pelvis. Carol, I will need your help, please.” You were already on the edge of the next contraction when Hershel nearly barked “Y/N, don’t push.”

“What the fuck’re ya doin’?” Daryl snapped, leaning over your leg to investigate. So many emotions were battling for dominance in his expression that you couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was feeling.

“Daryl, please.” You pleaded, trying your hardest not to sob. For once, you cared nothing about being self-reliant or what the group thought of you and how much you needed Daryl. As you fought through the pain and against your body’s natural insistence to push, you just cried. Daryl kept a hand below your knee, too afraid to move unless Hershel gave the okay, but he leaned as far as he could to hold you without influencing your position.

“S’okay, Sunshine. S’gonna be okay.”

“Y/N, listen to me. I can feel the shoulder.” Now, the veterinarian’s tone was just downright frightening. “Maggie and Daryl are going to pull your legs back on the next contraction. I’m going to apply some pressure above your pubic bone. It’s not going to be pleasant, but if I’m correct, the head should come and then the baby. I need you to push with all you have, do you understand?”

You pressed your cheek further into Daryl’s chest and nodded, hiccuping through ragged, exhausted breaths. When the contraction began to tear through you, Maggie and Daryl reacted immediately, pulling your legs toward your belly while you curled inward with a guttural scream. Hershel pressed into the area just above your pubic bone, the pressure only compounding the whirlwind of pain you were already caught in. And then it was over and you let the two supporters take your weight.

The van rocked again, but was ignored. Hershel looked at Carol gravely and shook his head. 

“S’that ‘bout?” Daryl hissed, trying hard for your sake not to lose his cool.

“It didn’t work.” Before Daryl could speak, the old man continued. “We’re going to try one more time. If it doesn’t work, there are a couple of other things we can try but time is of the essence. The baby isn’t getting the oxygen they need like this.”

“Whatever ya gotta do. Just take care’a both’a ‘em.” 

Hershel nodded. “Alright, same thing, Y/N. A big, big push for me.”

You shook your head, exhausted. “I can’t.” You whispered, your eyelids heavy as hope attempted to flee and you accepted that once again, the world would take from you. It would take from Daryl. “I’m so tired.” You felt movement beneath your left leg and then Daryl’s hand was grasping your chin, firm but gentle. 

“Hey. Cut that shit out.” He wasn’t angry. He was using the same tone you’d heard him use when he had told Thumper to cut you some slack. When he had started communicating with the baby. “Ya’ve gone through hell an’ back for this an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya quit at the goddamn finish line, ya hear me?”

“I’m tired, Daryl.” Your face screwed up in pain as the next contraction began to build.

“Nu uh. Ya ain’t gonna bust into my life an’ fuck up my world six ways from Sunday, make me love ya an’ this kid, an’ then just give up. S’you an’ me an’ Thumper. S’what ya said!”

You blinked at him, slowly starting to sit up.

“I’ve seen ya be a badass before, Sunshine.” Your breaths were coming faster, the contraction nearly on top of you, but you only had eyes for Daryl. “Be a fuckin’ badass now.” His hand left your face and went back to your leg, pulling it toward you at the same time Maggie moved the right one. 

You screamed so loud that you were certain the rocks and bumps of the van were due to your wails alone. Something shifted, you felt it and it hurt. You were on fire and aching at the same time. When the contraction ended, you still felt painfully stretched and bruised and uncomfortable. “Did—did it work?” You panted, grasping desperately for Daryl’s shirt.

“The head is out, the shoulders are turned. One more big push, Y/N. Just one more.”

You breathed harshly through your nose, trying to amp yourself up. Maggie and Carol were throwing encouragement your way, but you didn’t hear them. You only felt Dary’s breath against your ear, his stubbled cheek rubbing against your skin.

He whispered, only for you to hear. “I love ya.” Kissing your temple, he moved back to his spot and when you looked at him, exhausted and crying, the corner of his mouth twitched and he nodded.

You could do this.

When the next contraction ripped through you, the world went silent. It was only you and the pain, white hot and all consuming. You were indeed being torn in half but if it meant Thumper would take that first breath, would open those little eyes to see the world—fucked up or not—then you would gladly be wrenched into pieces. 

The moment the baby slipped free of you, you felt the emptiness. You still hurt, but the worst of the pain was suddenly absent. Sound and sight came back to you in an onslaught that had you sucking in a breath like your lungs had been starved. 

“Is—Hershel, the baby?” You asked, trying to move as Daryl and Maggie lowered your legs. The archer was leaning across your knee. You couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, but his eyes were wide and darting. 

“Doc—”

The ferocious first cries of the distraught newborn echoed throughout the van. Maggie had moved behind you to keep you sitting up while Daryl had staggered backward and fallen on his ass against the interior wall, eyes on the little thing that Hershel was looking over intently. Maggie reached over your shoulder and began unbuttoning your dress, whispering in your ear as she moved.

“The baby needs to nurse, bond with you on your skin and it’ll help when you have to push out the placenta, okay?” You blinked at her, concerned. “It’s okay. It’s nothing like what you just went through. One or two small pushes and it’s out.”’ You nodded robotically, watching Hershel maneuver some sort of tape around a slimy cord.

Thumper was not happy. They were probably cold and that thought made your heart ache. Your baby should never be uncomfortable. Daryl was slowly, clumsily making his way toward you, but wasn’t taking his eyes off the baby. When he was sitting beside you, Hershel finally leaned over you and placed the squirming, slippery baby on your chest.

“Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #pregnant!reader #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl angst #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon twd

[suashii]

kuroo + making dinner ﾉ a late night snack wif him in a college au ? i hope ur week treats u well bbie <3

such a cute suggestion — thank u for sending it! hopefully u enjoy :3

you’re usually better about not leaving a mess by the door when you return to your apartment, but tonight is different. you can’t help but messily kick off your shoes and shed your book bag in the growing pile at the entrance. after a long, draining study session, you can’t be bothered to keep a clean house at the moment. anyway, once you catch sight of your carelessness in the morning, you’re sure you’ll be rushing to pick things up.

“hmm,” you hum, stretching your arms above your head. the action feels good after being stuck in a chair for the past few hours and it seems like now that you’re home, just within reach of your bed, the exhaustion is finally catching up to you. “to eat or to sleep…” you ponder over your choices.

“i vote for the former.” kuroo chimes in from behind you. he replicates your movements, dropping his bag and stretching a bit before he turns and makes his way to the kitchen. “food is fuel, you know,” he tells you matter-of-factly.

“yeah, well, so is sleep. and that sounds like it’ll take a lot less energy than eating.”

he snorts at your reasoning as he surveys the contents of the refrigerator. it’s more bare than he remembers it being—the two of you are past due for a trip to the grocery store. still, he doesn’t let that stop him from trying to convince you to stay up just a little longer for a meal. “fair, but we skipped dinner. you should try to stomach something small at the very least.”

your bed is calling your name, you can hear its tempting whispers from down the hall, but you sigh and nod, joining kuroo in the kitchen to find a replacement for the dinner you missed in favor of reviewing powerpoints. the task seems like a tall one when you get a look in the fridge.

“what do you suggest?” you ask from beside him, “loose lunch meat doesn’t sound too bad.”

he laughs and pinches your arm at your unserious approach, which earns him a pinch back for ever daring to pinch you. 

“what about ramen?” kuroo proposes, lifting an arm to open the cabinet that holds your shared supply of noodles. unsurprisingly, there’s quite a selection of instant ramen at your disposal. “we’re never short on that.”

you take a few seconds to consider it before agreeing—something quick and warm should be satisfying enough.

“take your pick.” kuroo gestures to the multiple differing packages and you point at one—your favorite brand—for him to pull down. he grabs that and one for himself, closing that cabinet and opening the one that houses your pots. the kitchenware clangs loudly as they knock against each other but kuroo doesn’t seem to mind as he juggles the two, carrying them to the sink to fill them with water.

you busy yourself with opening the colorful packages and fishing out the seasoning packs while kuroo brings the pots of water to a boil. other than the gas from the stove and the occasional rustling  of  plastic, a still quiet falls over the kitchen. it’s far from tense or awkward and there’s a beauty that comes with it—being able to enjoy the company of someone without having to share words. and it isn’t lost on you how kuroo tries to take on the bulk of the work, emptying flavor packs and stirring the contents before you get the chance to grab the chopsticks.

he even pours the noodles into your preferred bowl and takes it over to your tiny dining table for you.

“i would have eaten this straight from the pot, you know,” you tell him, sliding into the chair and picking up your utensils to dig in. 

he’s known you long enough to be able to read between the lines of your speech—what you really mean to say is that he made extra dishes that you have no intention of washing. it makes him smile on the other side of the table. “i can handle the dishes.”

“don’t worry, i’ll help you,” you say in between bites. you hold his gaze, blowing on the noodles hanging from your chopsticks. “as long as we do it in the morning.”

he swallows a bite of his own. “deal.”

#omg omg omg i'm sorry this took so long >< #i had an idea of what i wanted to write but #zero time to do so #but! here it is now! so i hope u like~ #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff

[gfcheol]

confidently lost | k. mingyu

pairing: mingyu x reader

genre: smut (this is really filthy i'm so sorry lmao)

word count: 2.8k

tags: dilf!mingyu, divorced!mingyu, babysitter!reader, age gap (reader is in early 20s, mingyu early 40s), daddy kink, sir kink(?), mommy kink (mingyu wants to make reader a mommy), breeding kink, mild size kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex

summary: it's not easy to work your way through college, luckily for you, your babysitting job pays exceptionally well. and your boss is absolutely gorgeous.

you'd never really been fond of the colour grey. the way moody clouds clogged up the sky with cold indifference; or the concrete jungle of the city urged you to succumb to stressful days - it had always left an uneasy feeling within you. there was no warmth to it, no playful side, no joy, nothing.

although you'd found a new appreciation for it, once you started working for your current boss - mr kim mingyu. grey looked different on him. his suits seemed elegant, rather than arrogant. there were no harsh edges around him, nothing cold in his radiant smile or his salt and pepper hair. he was a kind, dedicated and gorgeous man, who always treated you with kindness, no matter how late he came home. and on top of all that, he was also a wonderful father. he was able to make a color as hopeless as grey shine.

"mr kim", he had introduced himself with a firm handshake, keeping his gaze steady as you felt your whole body flare up. "although mingyu's just fine with me. you're from uh- what are they called again? 'tiny treasures', right?"

you must have looked like a fish out of water then, gawking at him with wide eyes and parted lips, as though he had two heads standing on his shoulder. as much as you had tried, your eyes kept wandering to his broad chest and tall frame, feeling almost entranced by his presence alone. "uh- yes, mr kim. i'm currently still in college, so this is me trying to uh- make some money on the side. your daughter's two, right?"

"eunji's birthday is in december, she'll turn three then. i work from nine to five - her mother only gets her every second week of the month, so i appreciate any help i can get around the house", his smile had almost knocked the breath out of your lungs. even then you had known that this was going to be a problem. "and it's mingyu, sweetheart."

"when do you want me to start?", you'd merely replied, voice sounding disgustingly nervous.

his smile had turned into a smirk. "when are you able to?"

working for him simultaneously felt like a dream and like an absolute nightmare. yes, he might be a kind boss and eunji was nothing short of adorable. even his house seemed almost too perfect to be true. you were very certain of the fact that his job probably payed him handsomely - judging by his designer clothes and the many expensive toys eunji was entertained with. and yet, you felt this strange expanding in your chest sensation, whenever mr kim handed you your payment for the day. maybe he made you feel uneasy with his perfect little life as a confident man in his early fortys. maybe you felt like you didn't quite belong there, despite his welcoming presence.

or maybe, just maybe, it was your massive crush on him that fueled your anxiety. but who was to say?

"oh, shi- did i wake you two?", your ears perked up at the sound of your employer's voice, fingers still entangled in his daughter's soft hair. soft snores escaped her parted lips, her tiny arms holding still holding on to your torso. no matter how much you enjoyed hearing eunji's tiny giggles, you still felt relieved once she finally calmed down enough to fall asleep.

"hm? oh no, don't worry, sir", you replied, voice hushed. "uh sorry- do you mind taking her? my legs are starting to fall asleep."

"oh no, we can't have that", he chuckled, rounding the coffee table to lift her up from your lap, placing a soft kiss on top of her head. there were smile lines around his eyes as his beamed down at you and you swore, you could feel your heart skip a beat.

sure, you were quite aware of the age difference between you two. and yes, you were also quite aware of how stupid it would be, to start fucking your boss as someone who needs his money to go through college. but by god - were you not allowed to fantasize even a little bit?

he was goddamn gorgeous. his chest was broad, shoulders wide, biceps bulging even in dress shirts, and worst of all - his smile. there was always this wolfish glint in his eyes whenever he gifted you with a smile that left you questioning your sanity. it felt both, dangerous and exciting - as if you were breaking the rules just by talking to him. sometimes in moments like these, it did feel like he knew what kind of effect he had on you. and worst of all - he seemed like he found enjoyment in it. although you decided it'd best to bury that thought as deep as you could in the depth of your mind. who could afford to hope for something so naive?

your eyes followed him as he carried his daughter to her room, stretching your legs from underneath you. you hummed in relief at the blood rushing to your feet once again, letting your head fall back on the couch. exhaustion spread through your body, only suppressing a yawn with great effort. you were so ready for bed at this point.

"thank you again for coming in so late", mingyu sighed out, closing the living room door behind him with a soft 'click'. "i know, you usually don't really do weekends."

you offered him a faint smile. "oh please, it's nothing, mr kim. was there an emergency at the office or something? if i'm allowed to ask, that is."

to your surprise, he paused for a second, smile slightly faltering, before he moved to run his fingers through his hair. "it's mingyu, darling", the response felt automatic at this point but still never failed to make you feel all giddy. "i know you mean well, but i feel like i belong in a retirement home everytime you call me by my last name."

"i'm sorry, mr mingyu."

he snorted at that, casually leaning against the doorframe. "so she's afraid of using my name, but not afraid of teasing her boss?"

the heat that spread on your face felt unbearable to you, and yet you merely offered a shrug, suppressing the urge to giggle like a teen with a crush. "who said i was afraid?"

"if not afraid then-", his head tilted to the side, glancing up and down your still seated body. you felt so very exposed under his gaze, sinking further into the couch cushions. "is it nervousness? do i make you nervous, sweetheart?"

"n- do i have any reason to be nervous?" your question may have been bold, but the look of surprise on mr kim's face was worth the embarrassment crawling into your skin.

another pause on his end. his eyes trailed off into the distance, chasing something only he was aware of, his hands busy rolling up his sleeves. "i had a date today."

oh. oh fuck.

despite yourself, you felt your heart sink. how silly of you to hold any sort of expectations in regards to him. what did you think was going to happen? he was a grown man, free to do whatever who whomever he wanted, without any kind of obligation to his damned babysitter. "oh?", you flinched at the sound of your voice, sounding meek even to your own ears. "that's great. i hope it went well?"

just like that, he snapped back into reality, attention zeroing in on you. his smiley demeanor faded, replaced with an intensity you usually only saw from him during very particularly draining workdays. "i know eunji has a mother, i'm not looking for a replacement. she's my everything - i'd do anything for her, so it's... difficult to make the right decision on who's allowed into our lifes."

"your date sounds like a very special lady to be allowed such a privilege." mr kim sat on the edge of the sofa, the distance between you feeling almost too much to bare. he nodded along to your words, keeping his eyes trained on your face. were he any other man you'd try to escape his look, but you found yourself transfixed by him - unable to move even one muscle.

"that's exactly my dilemma", he frowned, arm stretching out across the back of the sofa, hand suspiciously close to the back of your head. "i already have someone to take care of my baby girl, and she does such a fantastic job too."

"that's- so kind of you to say, sir." his fingers brushed against your hair and you felt like you could die right then and there. you couldn't help but lean into his soft touch, a faint gasp escaping your lips. "i- i enjoy working here quite a lot! eunji's wonderful. such a quick learner too."

he hummed in response to your neediness, boldness shining through as he inched closer to you, until you felt the hear radiating off his body. "y'know...", he trailed off, voice raspier than just a moment ago. "all i kept thinking, while i sat there with this lovely lady was how i already have my two girls waiting for me at home."

you didn't feel like breathing anymore. "mr kim?"

"fuck-", his hand travelled from your hair to your cheeks, squeezing your lips together between his fingers in a swift motion. his face was so close now, you could make out every fine line on his handsome face, his breath ghosting across your skin. "you always look so pretty with my daughter in your arms. would make any man think."

his lips were so close to yours now, if you wanted to you could simply lean forward to connect yours with his, yet your remained still under him. "i've- i never wanted to assume intent, sir. i love... being around you and eunji."

"tell me you don't want this, sweetheart. tell me and i'll stop at once."

a whine. "i want you so fucking bad, sir."

the kiss was everything you could have hoped for. he tasted like way too expensive wine, feeling intoxicated just by the taste alone. his hands roamed your torso, trailing up and down your sides, groaning into your mouth. you felt electrified connected to him, static shock alerting your every nerve of his taste, his weight on you, his sounds.

"feel so good, sweetheart", he rasped as he grinded against your hips. "let daddy treat you well, yeah?"

the moan you left out at the nickname was involuntary, arching your back off the couch, you felt like a fucking mess. "oh fuck- daddy."

he laughed softly, toying with the top buttons of your blouse. "not mingyu but daddy?", his tongue swiped across his bottom lip. "wanna be a good girl for daddy? so needy for me, fuck."

one by one, he opened your blouse tantalizingly slow, teasing you every so often with a small kiss to the corners of your lips. all you could do was whine out your complaints, holding on to his shoulders, rubbing your palms against the soft material of his shirt. mingyu hissed at the sight of you in your bra, head dipping low to mouth at the top of your breasts.

pushing your chest out, against his face, you whined out a string of curses. your body felt too sensitive, every touch and every kiss setting you ablaze with want. you tried your best to look for any sort of friction, your panties already clinging to your wet cunt.

"shhh", he cooed, freeing your tits out of their confines. "don't wanna wake up our girl, right mommy?"

your eyes widened, head snapping up to meet his dark gaze. even through your hazy mind, you could feel your heartbeat quickening at his words. he met your expression with a smirk. "would you like that, honey? give eunji a sibling? become a mommy yourself?"

your response was immediate, your lips crashing into his once with newfound need, fingers finding purchase in his greying locks. pushing against him, he landed on his back, lying there with awe in his eyes as you climbed right on top of him. the feeling of his hard on in his trousers overwhelming you as you ground your hips against him in a rocking motion. the friction against your clit, letting you moan out in desperate pleasure.

his hands landed on your hips, your skirt all bunched up, revealing your thighs to him. guiding you into a steady rhythm, he couldn't help but gently thrust up into you. he grit his teeth, hissing at a particular pointed angle. "let me stretch you out first."

"n- no, wanna feel you now, daddy", you responded, hands on his pecs. "don't care if it hurts."

"there's no 'if' in this, baby", he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut in concentration. "are you sure?"

frantically, you nodded your head 'yes', hips still slowly circling against him, addicted to the pleasure shooting through you. mingyu softly pushed against you, hands making quick work of his zipper. with a sharp hiss, his cock jumped free, your mouth watering at the sight alone.

he was fucking huge - without a doubt the biggest you ever had so far. his tip already glistening with precum, you reached out with trembling hands, thumb swiping across his leaking slit. "shit", mingyu groaned out, trying his damnedest to keep his hips from bucking up. your fingertips trailed along his greying happytrail, relishing in the subdued noises he couldn't keep quite in.

shifting in his lap, you pushed your panties to the side, shuddering at the feeling of cold air hitting your cunt. "gorgeous", he said, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. "and already so wet for daddy?"

"yeah, all f- for daddy." you let yourself slide up and down his length, coating him with your wetness, before aligning the tip with your pulsating cunt. his eyes met yours for a brief second, the hunger in them almost consuming you whole. without any prior warning, he finally rocked up into you.

not even halfway in, you already felt stuffed, tears forming in your eyes as you worked to accommodate his sheer girth. the stretch was deliciously painful, nails digging into the back of his hands.

mingyu did his best to soothe you, fingers rubbing gentle circles into your clit, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "'m so sorry, baby. i know it's too big", he cooed. "you need a- fuck- you need a second?"

as stubborn as ever, you shook your head with a pout on your lips, sinking further down on him. "hurt so good."

"yeah?", he half moaned, half hummed. "you like getting your cunt stretched out by just a- anyone? or is daddy special?"

once fully inside, you felt yourself clench around him, wetness dripping down his balls. the squelch of you moving up his cock sounded almost pornographic to your ears, the added stimulation of his fingers on your clit, forcing soft moans out of you. "no, just f- for you!"

even though the pace was agonizingly slow, you couldn't trust yourself to move any faster, thighs already trembling from the pleasure coiling in your stomach. though mingyu's resolve seemed to run slim, as he pushed himself off the cushions, pressing his chest against yours. the material of his shirt rubbing against your nipples as he thrust into you again and again, new pace making you head spin.

"oh fuck", you mewled, face buried in the crook of his neck. mingyu showed no mercy on you, his motions swift and smooth, fingers still expertly on your clit, working you towards your orgasm. everything felt like too much and yet not nearly enough. your mind was empty, fully succumbing to the heat in your stomach.

"you gonna cum f'me? let me fucking fill you up?", he grunt out his question.

with a shaky nod, you squealed into his shirt. "yes, fuck! please, sir-"

"oh fuck." and with a loud smack against your ass, you finally burst, vision turning white. you felt his pace stutter at your orgasm, chanting his name like a prayer. and all through that, mingyu kept his pace, fucking you through it like his life depended on it.

as soon as you felt your body go limp from exhaustion, he hoisted you up from his lap, laying you on your back, before he started drilling into you once again. with no more regard to your pleasure, he moved almost animalistic, panting right next to your ear. there was something insanely hot about the way he chased after his own release, using your body however he saw fit.

you let out a whine. "need your cum in me, daddy. fillin' me up to make me a m- mommy."

his hips stuttered at that, pressing kisses to your neck as a reward. "you want my cum?" and with one last thrust he stilled inside you, pumping you full. "then fucking take it."

if you'd felt full before, this was nothing compared to it, ropes of cum flooding your cunt and spilling out of you. you vaguely thought about the promise of pregnancy that mingyu mentioned, a soft smile gracing your lips as you pressed a soft kiss on to his temple.

his hands felt heaven sent as he smoothed over the skin of your thighs, feeling content with the silence between you two. when he finally lifted his head to look at you, there was a glint shining in his eyes that wasn't quite there before - and for a moment, you imagined what he might have looked like at your age. "hi."

you snorted. "hi yourself."

"this was amazing", he leaned to kiss you, careful as not to crush you with his weight. "i meant what i said, sweetheart. i don't want anyone else but you - if you'll have me."

the question seemed almost ridiculous as you grinned against his lips. "you're silly to think i wouldn't."

"hmm", he sighed. "all mine now."

#mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Ao3

[Warning for references to sexual situations towards the end, but there is nothing explicit]

-

“So now do I get to know where we’re going?”

“What part of ‘it’s a surprise’ are you having trouble grasping?”

“The part where we’re driving around in the suburbs in your van on a Saturday night,” Steve shoots a pointed look at Eddie, not without amusement. “I feel like we’re going to end up at some high school party drinking rocket fuel out of Solo cups while you deal out of one of the back bedrooms.”

“Shit, yeah, let’s relive those glory days,” Eddie says drily, then smacks the steering wheel with one palm in emphasis. “No! I am taking you somewhere much better. And we’re almost there, so stop trying to interrogate me. We both know I crack like an egg under pressure.”

Steve holds both his hands up in front of him, brows raised, the very picture of innocence, as though he hasn’t been trying to pump Eddie for information since he picked him up at his house some fifteen minutes ago.

And Eddie really does want it to be a surprise – he thinks he did pretty well, planning this whole thing out. The effort, at first, had simply been placed on coming up with something he’d thought Steve would like—something surprising and romantic and thoughtful—but the further he’d gotten into it, the more he’d found himself enjoying it, too. He’s never actually been on a proper date, much less planned one, and finding all the little touches that would make this one perfect has actually been fun. Eddie’s looking forward to it.

He only hopes his work will pay off.

He navigates the van around one more turn, past a few more unremarkable cookie cutter houses, and pulls to a stop in front of the barrier rail of a dead-end street, entirely ignoring the raised-eyebrow look of intense curiosity that Steve is sending his way.

The thing about Midwestern suburbia is that it sprawls. There are rambling neighborhoods upon rambling neighborhoods, all with kitschy names like “Maple Ridge” and “Eagle Pointe,” and the city planners seem to forget half of what they’ve built as soon as it’s up. Apart from making things confusing to navigate (Oakview Street runs through three different residential areas, for instance, stopping and picking up again at different points throughout town), it’s created isolated pockets of parks and playgrounds, set aside behind back streets and largely unknown to anyone more than a block away – unless they happen to be restless explorers, like Eddie.

“So… are we gonna hang out here tonight?” Steve asks, glancing around at the neighborhood falling into the darkness of the rapidly encroaching dusk.

“Yes, Steve, we’re gonna have a picnic in my van on the back end of Washington Drive,” Eddie drawls.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t tell me where we were going.” Steve shrugs, smirking over at Eddie. “I figured maybe you were embarrassed.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes his door open. “C’mon, Harrington, we’re almost there.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Steve says, though he obediently gets out of the van and rounds to the back, where Eddie is digging for his supplies.

“Well, now it’s an even smaller almost,” Eddie says.

He pulls his backpack from the back of the van, followed by an insulated bag he’d bummed off of Oliver and the tiny cooler that Wayne takes with him when he goes fishing, draping it all over himself like an awkward sort of packmule and waving Steve off when he tries—twice—to reach for one of the bags to help.

“Okay, fine,” Steve finally says, shaking his head. “Lead the way, Mr. Park Ranger.”

“Thank you,” Eddie sniffs, gesturing for Steve to follow him off the street and onto a narrow dirt path that cuts through the thin strip of woods in front of them.

It’s barely a minute’s walk before the path spits them out into a tiny clearing housing a minuscule park. Eddie disregards the neglected jungle gym and the decrepit grill and zeroes in on the reason he’d brought them out here: the gazebo.

“So I’m gonna need just a little more faith from you,” he tells Steve, “and you need to turn around for about a minute.”

The expression on Steve’s face is a familiar one, recognizable even in the fading light as “deciding whether or not to make the bitchy comment,” but finally he simply shrugs and turns around.

“Sure, why not,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie shakes his head, biting down on a smile as he bounds up the two steps into the little gazebo and sets his load down. The thing is in surprisingly good condition, all told; the structure is solid, the picnic table inside is relatively clean, and there is a minimal number of dicks and swearwords graffitied around the inside (barely noticeable in the dark, even!). Glancing back to make sure Steve is still facing away, Eddie makes quick work of unpacking his bags.

The candles come out first, a whole slew of the inexpensive white ones that come in jars, picked up from the dollar store, and he dots them around the gazebo railings and across the picnic table, lighting them with the cigarette lighter from his pocket until the space is warm and glowing. The insulated bag is next, providing two foil-wrapped plates of spaghetti that is—thank you, Oliver—still warm. Last is the cooler, which provides two beers. He’s just pulling napkins and forks from his backpack when he hears Steve calling out from where he’s left him standing.

“I’m pretty sure it’s been more than a minute.”

“You’re so impatient,” Eddie shoots back, taking the steps at a leap and jogging back across the grass to Steve. “But I’m done, anyway, so you can turn around.”

Steve does so, his focus going first to Eddie, before his attention is caught by the glow of the gazebo behind him. Eddie can see his eyes go wide in the candlelight, startled first, and then pleased, accompanied by a slow-growing smile.

“Eddie, this is…” he leaves off with a tiny laugh, like he doesn’t quite have a word for it, but whatever he thinks it is, it’s good.

Eddie shrugs. “I know we can’t exactly go out to a restaurant and have a real date, but I promised you candlelight,” he says. “I’m afraid the violinist was booked, though.”

Shaking his head, Steve lets out another little laugh, and then takes a step towards the gazebo and glances back at Eddie.

“C’mon, yeah, let’s eat. Can’t have everything getting cold!” Eddie gestures Steve up the steps and waves his arm grandly towards one of the plates. “I’d pull your chair out for you, but it appears to be attached to the table.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Steve says, swinging one leg over the bench, then the other, and settling himself down. He waits for Eddie to follow suit before picking up his fork and then – just staring down at his plate for a moment. “Is this…” he starts uncertainly.

“It’s the spaghetti sauce you showed me how to make,” Eddie fills in. “Since you were convinced I’d perish trying to subsist on frozen pizza if you weren’t there to force meals on me.”

Eddie hadn’t done much cooking prior to befriending Steve; he could boil water and scramble an egg, but his ability and interest had mostly ended there. Then Steve had come along, earnestly (and transparently) bringing “leftovers” to the trailer to share with Eddie and Wayne, before he progressively took over their kitchen. Absolutely no one had had any complaints about this arrangement, though Steve had insisted on teaching Eddie how to make a few basic staples for himself – among which had been spaghetti sauce.

For a long moment, Steve says nothing, continuing to stare at his plate, brows furrowed.

“…and I haven’t,” Eddie says, trying to break the silence. “Perished, that is. In your absence. Obviously. Not that– not that I think you were really worrying about that, I just mean I’ve been making some of the stuff you showed me. Is all.”

“I’m just… kind of surprised you remembered, I guess,” Steve says, glancing up at Eddie, expression unreadable in the flickering light around them. “I wasn’t sure if you were actually interested or if you were just humoring me, when I showed you all that stuff.”

“I still have all the recipes you have me,” Eddie says – and he does: a small stack of notecards that Steve had stolen from Robin and covered in his surprisingly neat handwriting, detailing things like when to add butter to this and how much garlic to add to that, which has a permanent home in a drawer in Eddie’s kitchen.

“Oh,” Steve says, and nothing more.

“But don’t leave me in suspense, tell me how I did,” Eddie insists, attempting to push past the awkwardness he’d brought upon them while simultaneously shoving his mouth full of pasta in order to keep from pulling out any new touchy topics.

Steve twirls up a forkful of spaghetti and brings it to his mouth, spending a long moment chewing thoughtfully.

“Well?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and swallows. “I mean, I’ve had better,” he says with a shrug, and Eddie experiences a moment of genuine distress before he spots the smirk tugging at Steve’s lips.

Eddie kicks at him under the table and Steve laughs, and Eddie can’t help but join him.

“Don’t be shy, baby, tell me how you really feel,” Eddie drawls, and Steve snickers again.

“Trust me, I will,” he says. But then: “It’s good, Eddie. You did good.”

Knocked off balance by the casual sincerity, Eddie goes quiet, and they eat for a few minutes in silence.

“So,” Eddie finally says, “I’m sure this is a great shock to you, but I’ve never actually done this before.”

Steve glances up at him. “Eaten spaghetti in a gazebo?” he asks, so dry that even Eddie’s not quite sure if he’s being sarcastic.

“The dating thing,” Eddie clarifies, instead of trying to figure it out. “What exactly are you supposed to do on a first date?”

Something about Steve’s expression goes off again – that same, weird, false look he’d had the other day that Eddie hadn’t been able to ferret out the source of. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when Steve shrugs, taking a quick pull from his beer.

“I guess it’s usually the getting-to-know-you stuff. Favorite movie, what kind of music you listen to, hobbies – that sort of thing,” he says.

“Huh.” Eddie screws his mouth to the side, thinking it over. “Seems… kinda boring. But, if you insist!” He leans forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands and batting his eyelashes at Steve. “So, tell me about yourself, handsome.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that’s what you have to do. I’m pretty sure dates are just supposed to be… you know, being with someone you like. Putting aside time just to do something with them,” he says. “Doesn’t matter what it is, you have a good time because you’re doing it together.”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly, his humor fading beneath a bright flare of fondness. “That– that sounds better, yeah.”

“I think so, too,” Steve says, smiling across the table at Eddie.

“Well, then.” Eddie takes a chance and slowly slides his hand forwards until it’s resting over Steve’s on top of the table, inwardly doing a little dance when Steve remains relaxed beneath his touch. “Under those parameters, do you think we’re having a successful first date?”

And that’s when Steve pulls back, drawing his hand from beneath Eddie’s and averting his gaze, shrugging shoulders that have gone tense. “Sure, yeah.” He glances back up and offers a smile that’s trying very hard to be sincere but is underscored by something Eddie still can’t put his finger on. “Seriously, this is really nice, Eddie.”

“What am I saying?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Steve’s brows draw together in confusion.

“I keep saying something that’s upsetting you and I can’t– like, I can’t figure out what it is,” Eddie admits. “But I don’t want to keep doing it.”

“I’m not upset,” Steve says, bristling slightly under the skeptical look Eddie sends him. “I’m not. I’m– it’s stupid, alright? I’m fine.”

“It’s not stupid,” Eddie says, and Steve scoffs.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Well then tell me.”

Frowning, Steve looks back down at his plate, pushing the last few strands of spaghetti around with his fork. “It’s – seriously, it’s dumb. Like, I know that, alright? It’s just that you keep calling this our first date and I guess… I thought of something else as our first date. That’s all.”

Oh, fuck.

Eddie is an idiot. Fuck.

Of course Steve thinks of something else as their first date. He’d thought they were dating, so of course he’d thought of their outings as dates. Dinners, the movies, aimless walks around town – time set aside to be with someone you like, to just do something together. And here Eddie is again, shoving how little he’d thought of those times in Steve’s face.

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and Steve shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I told you, I know it’s ridiculous–”

“It’s not.”

“–and I don’t have to get all hung up over it. It wasn’t even a date if we didn’t both think of it that way, right? So we can just look at this as– like, take two.”

Eddie purses his lips. “Even if we didn’t both think of it as a date, it was important to you.”

Steve shrugs and then, steady and deliberate, puts his hand over Eddie’s, curling his fingers around Eddie’s palm. “Well, tonight can be important to both of us,” he says, offering Eddie a small smile. “And I don’t want to ruin it. I really am having a good time.”

The only reason Eddie can imagine that he would be even remotely this lucky is if the universe is trying to make up for the debacle that was last spring (but then again, seen in the reverse, he can’t imagine why the universe would be inflicting him on Steve; he’ll have to keep thinking on that one). And on the one hand, he’s determined not to waste this opportunity – neither Steve’s good will nor his second chance. But on the other hand–

He can’t not ask.

Shifting his hand a little so he can wrap his fingers around Steve’s, Eddie takes a breath and bites the bullet. “Okay, but what… were you thinking of as our first date?”

For a long minute, Steve says nothing, and Eddie tries not to panic, tries not to assume that he’s just ruined everything by admitting he doesn’t even know which instance Steve is talking about, and mostly fails. But then Steve takes a breath and shakes his head.

“It’s… kinda stu–”

“Don’t say it,” Eddie cuts in sharply, warning, before he can stop himself. “I’m sure it’s not. Tell me about it.”

Steve shoots Eddie a chagrined kind of smile before turning his eyes to the surface of the table. “It was at the diner,” he says, and Eddie only just holds himself back from asking which time, because they’ve gone to the tiny diner off the side of the road near Forest Hills together more times than he can count; it’s within walking distance of Eddie’s place, and it tends to be their go-to when they want to go out but have no particular destination in mind. “It was that first night. The first time we kissed.”

It hits Eddie like a jab to the sternum that Steve chooses to phrase it that way: the first time they kissed. Because if Eddie remembers one thing for certain, it’s that the first night they kissed had also been the first night they’d had sex – and yet it’s the kiss that Steve focuses on. It’s the kiss that had been important to him.

“I guess there wasn’t anything that special about that night. Nothing different. We just had fun,” Steve says quietly. “Pretty sure we drove everyone else crazy fighting over the jukebox, especially since most of the songs in there suck, anyway, and you were telling me about what happened during your last game and you tried to draw it on a napkin with ketchup and a toothpick, which… did not turn out well, and you kept stealing fries off my plate–”

“Because you kept dipping them in your milkshake and I was telling you that it was gross!” Eddie remembers.

“Of course, that part stands out to you,” Steve grouses, though there’s a bit of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Hey, you made a believer out of me. Fries and vanilla shake, I have to admit it’s good,” Eddie says, and Steve’s smile grows a little more.

“But, yeah, like I said, it wasn’t… special, I guess, I just remember thinking that I wanted to do that with you all the time. I wanted to do everything with you all the time, whatever it was,” Steve says. “And then when we were back in your room, sitting on your bed, you were looking at me like– I thought you wanted to–”

“I did,” Eddie says quickly. “I wanted to kiss you. I wanted you to kiss me. I don’t know, I was – kinda turned around about it, but I knew I was glad that you did it first, because I was too chickenshit to ever do it myself.”

Eddie remembers this part clearly; something had seemed different about Steve when they’d gotten back from the diner. There had been something softer and lighter about him that had made Eddie want to reach out and touch – an urge he wasn’t unfamiliar with. He is, after all, queer as hell, and—though he feels like an ass for phrasing it this way, now—Steve is really hot. Of course he’d had thoughts about Steve before; he just tended to ignore them, because they were friends, and the thought that anything more could happen between them seemed outlandish.

But then Steve had leaned in and kissed him.

The first one had been close-mouthed and soft, almost tentative, sweet, but ensuing kisses had been deeper, more wanton, and before Eddie had quite registered the shift, Steve was in his lap and his tongue was practically down Steve’s throat and he’d thought – well, maybe there could be a little more between them. Maybe things didn’t have to change all that much.

He'd rolled with it, and then he’d rolled them over, and then he’d helped Steve get rid of his shirt and he’d ditched his own, and then he’d begun the process of learning how to wring as many sweet, pleasured noises as possible out of Steve.

Now, back at the picnic table in the fluttering light of nearly a dozen cheap candles, Steve is looking at Eddie oddly, like he’s not quite sure what to make of him.

“Well… since I had kind of been looking at that night as when we, uh– got together, I just – yeah, made sense to me. First date.” Steve shrugs.

A frown pulls across Eddie’s face, and he fights to keep it at bay, so he doesn’t give Steve the wrong impression – he’s not upset with Steve, he’s just upset. He’s upset that he can’t look at that night the same way Steve had – that he hadn’t experienced it the same way. He wishes he had; that he’d let himself consider what it might be like not if he and Steve could be friends and have sex, but if he and Steve could be more than that.

He squeezes Steve’s fingers, still wrapped in his own, and catches Steve’s eye when he looks up. “You know… I mean, I know that not all of the time we spent together has the same significance for me that it did for you, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to me,” Eddie says, and maybe it’s all he can say for himself, but at least it’s true. “I love spending time with you. Even when I’m complaining, I’m doing it with joy.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow at him. “With joy?”

“Yep. Entirely joyful complaining,” Eddie says seriously.

“Well, you do like complaining.” Steve smirks.

“I sure the fuck do. It’s what makes us such a good pair,” Eddie replies, and Steve laughs.

They talk for a while longer after that, lighter and easier than before, but eventually it gets too chilly to reasonably keep sitting around. They’d been blessed with unusually mild weather that night, but late October is still late October, and the temperature has dropped since the sun’s gone down.

They work together to blow out all the candles before they end up dropping them in a nearby garbage can once they realize that the wax is still liquid and Eddie can’t put them back in his bag (“Okay, I thought of almost everything,” Eddie insists as he produces a flashlight to light their way back to the van). Eddie turns up the heat before pulling back out into the road, and they take the drive back to Steve’s house in contented silence.

Eddie parks and turns the van off once they’re in the driveway, and Steve watches with curiosity as Eddie gets out with him, but says nothing as they walk up to the front door together.

“Well,” Eddie says once they reach the porch, “I had a great time tonight. D’you think I can see you again?”

Steve blinks at him, doing almost a doubletake as he looks from Eddie to his door and then back again.

“Do you– You don’t want to come in?” Steve asks, a little bewildered.

“Oh, no, I very much do,” Eddie assures him. “But this is take two, right? And I said I was gonna do it right, and that means no sex until the third date. At least I’m pretty sure that’s the rule.”

Steve laughs, but quickly quiets when all Eddie does is smile at him. “You’re serious,” he says, a bit flat with disbelief.

“Completely.” Eddie nods. “I’m romancing you, remember?”

There’s another moment of quiet stillness from Steve before a slow, delighted grin begins to grow on his face. “Well, in that case…” he says, “I had a great time, too.” He leans in and pecks a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips, short and almost shy. “Call me.”

And then he’s gone, the front door closing behind him before Eddie can even register what’s happened.

Eddie barely even remembers getting back into the van, but if he had to guess, he’d say he probably floated there.

It should be ridiculous – he’s had Steve’s mouth on pretty much every part of him, he’s had Steve on top of him and underneath him and crying out his name and begging him for more, he’s had Steve naked and sated and curled around him, and yet it’s one short kiss that nearly short-circuits him.

It should be ridiculous, but Eddie thinks it might actually be the best thing in the world.

Part 8

-

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#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #consistent chapter length? never heard of her #anyway have some date fluff. we've got... a little more stuff coming up #solar wrote

[kp777]

By Julia Conley

Common Dreams

April 25, 2023

Scientists are so alarmed by a new study on ocean warming that some declined to speak about it on the record, the BBC reported Tuesday.

"One spoke of being 'extremely worried and completely stressed,'" the outlet reported regarding a scientist who was approached about research published in the journal Earth System Science Data on April 17, as the study warned that the ocean is heating up more rapidly than experts previously realized—posing a greater risk for sea-level rise, extreme weather, and the loss of marine ecosystems.

Scientists from institutions including Mercator Ocean International in France, Scripps Institution of Oceanography in the United States, and Royal Netherlands Institute for Sea Research collaborated to discover that as the planet has accumulated as much heat in the past 15 years as it did in the previous 45 years, the majority of the excess heat has been absorbed by the oceans.

In March, researchers examining the ocean off the east coast of North America found that the water's surface was 13.8°C, or 14.8°F, hotter than the average temperature between 1981 and 2011.

The study notes that a rapid drop in shipping-related pollution could be behind some of the most recent warming, since fuel regulations introduced in 2020 by the International Maritime Organization reduced the heat-reflecting aerosol particles in the atmosphere and caused the ocean to absorb more energy.

But that doesn't account for the average global ocean surface temperature rising by 0.9°C from preindustrial levels, with 0.6°C taking place in the last four decades.

The study represents "one of those 'sit up and read very carefully' moments," said former BBC science editor David Shukman.

Lead study author Karina Von Schuckmann of Mercator Ocean International told the BBC that "it's not yet well established, why such a rapid change, and such a huge change is happening."

"We have doubled the heat in the climate system the last 15 years, I don't want to say this is climate change, or natural variability or a mixture of both, we don't know yet," she said. "But we do see this change."

Scientists have consistently warned that the continued burning of fossil fuels by humans is heating the planet, including the oceans. Hotter oceans could lead to further glacial melting—in turn weakening ocean currents that carry warm water across the globe and support the global food chain—as well as intensified hurricanes and tropical storms, ocean acidification, and rising sea levels due to thermal expansion.

A study published earlier this year also found that rising ocean temperatures combined with high levels of salinity lead to the "stratification" of the oceans, and in turn, a loss of oxygen in the water.

"Deoxygenation itself is a nightmare for not only marine life and ecosystems but also for humans and our terrestrial ecosystems," researchers from the Chinese Academy of Sciences, the National Center for Atmospheric Research, and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration said in January. "Reducing oceanic diversity and displacing important species can wreak havoc on fishing-dependent communities and their economies, and this can have a ripple effect on the way most people are able to interact with their environment."

The unusual warming trend over recent years has been detected as a strong El Niño Southern Oscillation (ENSO) is expected to form in the coming months—a naturally occurring phenomenon that warms oceans and will reverse the cooling impact of La Niña, which has been in effect for the past three years.

"If a new El Niño comes on top of it, we will probably have additional global warming of 0.2-0.25°C," Dr. Josef Ludescher of the Potsdam Institute for Climate Research told the BBC.

The world's oceans are a crucial tool in moderating the climate, as they absorb heat trapped in the atmosphere by greenhouse gases.

Too much warming has led to concerns among scientists that "as more heat goes into the ocean, the waters may be less able to store excess energy," the BBC reported.

The anxiety of climate experts regarding the new findings, said the global climate action movement Extinction Rebellion, drives home the point that "scientists are just people with lives and families who've learnt to understand the implications of data better."

Read more.

#climate change #global warming #ocean warming #ocean acidification #deep ocean currents #degradation of ecosystems #ocean deoxygenation

[thewritingofamadwoman]

Should I Stay, or Should I Go?

Happy Monday! I hope I did this request justice, tried to keep it light with a bit of angst. Not sure where I want these two to end up but let me know what you think!

Requested by the lovely @caseyandsloan

Pairing: Mark Sloan x Fem!Reader (gave her a name but no descriptions used)

Warnings: A bit of Angst, Mark being Mark.

“Annalise, wait-“

I rolled my eyes at the sound of the familiar voice trailing behind me.

“Don’t you dare ‘Annalise’ me. It’s DOCTOR Grey to you, Doctor Sloan. I have no interest in speaking to you so please go whore yourself to any other attending,”

I continue walking until I reach the nursing bay, pulling out one of my patient’s charts and looking into their case. Mark stood in front of me, and gave me an apologetic smile.

“Fine, “Doctor” Grey, can you please just hear me out. I came to Seattle to find you, to apologize. I want to be part of your life again. What I did was a mistake, but you have to know that I never stopped loving you,” he pleaded, his eyes begging me to believe him.

My heart wavered, feeling a million and one emotions in a span of a few seconds. Our life together flashed before my eyes; our first date, our time during medical school together with our friends, being best man and maid of honor at Derek and Addison’s wedding, finding out we were pregnant. The last memory to cross my mind however, was the scene I walked into back in New York. The way he and my ex-best friend Addison Montgomery, were in bed together. My gaze immediately hardened once more.

“Here’s what you’re NOT going to do, Mark. You’re not going to show up to my place of work and bat your baby blue eyes at me in hopes of me taking you back. You ripped my heart into *shreads* Mark. I loved you. Part of me still does. But you don’t get to prey on that minuscule part of me. Not anymore. Now get the hell out of my sight before I call security,” I could feel my eyes water as I glared at him, the hurt fueling my heart.

Before Mark could say anything else, I heard a voice I’d never been more thankful speaking up from behind me.

“Is everything alright, Annalise?” I turned to find Miranda Bailey staring at me with her arms crossed, turning her head to shoot daggers at Mark. My sister, Meredith, was standing beside her along with the rest of the interns, looking on.

“Everything’s fine Miranda, thank you. Come on Meredith, I think you and Yang on my service today,” I walked forward, hearing my sister’s sneakers trail behind me. Rounding the corner I paused against the nearest wall and let out a deep breath. Meredith came to a short stop behind me.

“So…who was that?”

I scoffed humorlessly. “That, Mer, was Mark Sloan,”

“Wait. THE Mark Sloan? The guy who slept with your best friend? Derek’s best friend?Jolie’s father? THAT Mark Sloan?” Meredith’s eyes widened comically and both she and Christina looked back down the hall, as if trying to catch a glimpse of the man in question.

“Yup. The one and only jackass,” I huffed. I took a deep breath, put on my game face, and pushed off the wall. Mark Sloan had taken so much from me, and I wasn’t going to let him piss me off at my place of work anymore.

“Wait, wait. Derek’s best friend, who slept with Derek’s WIFE was married to you, Derek’s other best friend? What, was this some sort of doctor orgy?” Christina said as we made our way to our first patient.

“First off, we were never married. We were together for six years. But welcome to the Grey-Sloan-Shepherd family dynamic, Yang. Stick around, there’s so much more to come,” I rolled my eyes as we reached the patient’s room. The day continued and I managed to forget about Mark. That is, until I saw Derek punch him in the middle of the nursing bay. I gasped, along with the rest of the on-lookers before following Derek with my eyes as he walked away.

“That was one hell of a punch, Shepherd’s a badass!” I turned to see Alex Karev smirking to George O’Malley who looked like a fish out of water as his eyes trailed between Derek, Mark, Meredith, and finally to me. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he immediately looked away, a deep blush spreading along his cheeks.

I sighed. Fuck, this was going to be one hell of a fucking day.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The sound of a lunch tray slamming down onto the table tartled me from my deep thoughts. I looked up to see Callie Torres and Miranda Bailey looking at me sheepishly. I nodded and both women sat down, waiting for me to speak first. I rolled my eyes playfully, taking a bite of my carrot.

“Go on, I know you want to ask..”

“Holy SHIT, Anna. THAT’s Mark? He’s fucking hot!” Callie gushed, looking around to make sure the man in question wasn’t around. Bailey scoffed and nudged Callie.

“Torres!”

I laughed at Bailey’s exclamation.

“No, she’s right Miranda. He’s ridiculously hot. But he’s also the biggest asshole on the planet,” I shrugged, taking a sip of my coke.

“Mind if we ask what happened? All we know is that you came to Seattle after breaking up with your ex. There’s definitely more to that if he’s back here begging for you to take him back.” Callie said, smiling sympathetically. I let out a deep breath and allowed myself to think back to the good old days.

“What’s there to tell? He was the love of my life and we were happy. And then he decided to fuck my best friend, in turn hurting both me and HIS own best friend.”

Both women stayed silent, knowing that there was more to come.

“Two years ago Mark and I were the couple that everyone was jealous of. The country’s most well renowned plastic surgeon and cardio thoracic surgeon, tackling New York together. Mark, Derek, Addison and I were truly the best of friends. Addy and I grew up together and when we met Mark and Derek in college the four of us were inseparable. Derek and Addison got married after we all got our PhD’s and Mark and I were over the moon for them.

“A few months after the wedding, I found out I was pregnant. And after seeing how happy Mark was at Derek’s wedding I assumed he’d be just as happy about the baby. I mean, we spoke about our future all the time but I guess it was just all talk to Mark. The second I mentioned I was pregnant, he changed. He started staying late at Cornell, taking on case after case. It was like he was never home. And I didn’t question it, I just assumed he was busy, maybe even working hard to save up for the baby. But one rainy night, Derek and I worked a late together and he offered to drive me back home when we finished up. Since’s Derek and Addison’s place was close by, we walked there so Derek could grab his car from the garage. The second we walked in to the house, we both knew something was up. The sight of a familiar leather jacket on the ground next to a pair of haphazardly tossed heels made my stomach drop. Derek and I shared a glance, both of our hearts breaking simultaneously.

“Derek walked up the steps to his bedroom while I did my best to keep myself from hyperventilating. The second I heard Addison’s gasp and Mark’s voice calling out for Derek, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Derek flew back down the stairs, eyes watery. Our gaze locked and he grabbed his keys and raincoat, pulling me by my hand, doing his best to drag me out of the house but not before a familiar silloutte stood at the top of the stairs.

“Annalise…”

Mark’s voice cracked with shame and my tears finally spilled over. That was the last time Mark and I saw each other. Derek and I immediately went back to the hospital where we spent the night consoling each other in silence. We were shocked. Sick to our stomaches. Devastated. Jolie was born 7 months after that and it’s just been the three of us ever since. I officially made Derek Jolie’s God-Father and we’ve been happy. Mark tried to reach out multiple times but I packed up and left Seattle shortly there after. Changed my number and just lived my life for my little girl.

So watching Derek sucker punch Mark truly made my day. I even got myself a cookie to celebrate,” I took a bite of the cookie in hand and smiled at the women infront of me.

They both looked disheartened and yet happy to have gotten the full story.

“Thank you for telling us Anna. If you need anything at all, we’ve got your back,” Callie said, smiling and placing a hand over mine. Miranda nodded.

“Absolutely. I’ll kick that little shit in the balls if he ever attempts to come near you if I have to,” I laughed and smiled back at them, happy to have friends like them.

Hours passed and I was staring at the OR grease-board while chewing on a twizzler before hearing two familiar voices off to my left.

“Welcome aboard Doctor Sloan, Seattle Grace is proud to have you,”

I turned to see Chief Webber shaking hands with Mark. My mouth dropped open, Derek standing a few feet behind me with the same look on his face. I felt like a fish out of water, my heart racing. Suprise, sadness, fear and rage bubbled inside me and before I knew it, I felt myself explode.

“What the fuck Chief!”

Please let me know if you’re interested in a part two. Do you think Annalise should forgive Mark down the line, or should a new love interest join in on all the fun?

#my writing #mark sloan x reader #mark sloan #greys anatomy x reader #request #mark sloan x reader insert #mark sloan fanfic

[waynes-multiverse]

Rehab – Epilogue

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, some crack, a bit of fluff and angst, hard decisions, a lot of goodbyes & all the feels

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: We're here, babes! End of the road! Thank you guys so much for everything. This was a wild ride, and I'm glad I had you in my passenger's seat 💚

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 8 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Epilogue: twin flame

You’re gonna be nowhere The loneliest kind of lonely It may be rough goin’ Just to do your thing’s the hardest thing to do…

“Morning.” Y/N smiles brightly as he stirs and slowly wakes. “Wakey, wakey, sunshine.”

Blue eyes flutter open and fearfully widen, his brow scrunches in confusion as he looks around and scans his environment. He tries to wiggle free of the handcuffs around his wrists, keeping him tied to the metal bed frame.

Not that it matters – he can’t leave either way.

She turns off the radio with a blissful sigh. “You know, that was one of his favorite songs. Your father’s,” she clarifies. “He sang it all the time. It was fucking annoying.”

“Why the hell can’t I move? Get me the fuck out of here,” the man in a sky-blue hospital gown demands and lifts his head off the mattress, only a few inches, attempting to get up.

Needless to say, that attempt is futile and fails miserably.

“Don’t strain yourself, John, or you might shit the bed. And I ain’t cleaning that mess… You’ve been in a coma for three weeks,” Y/N tells him with an amused smile. “Oh, and you can’t move because you’re paralyzed from the waist down. I even doubt that meager dick’s still working.”

His nostrils flare and let out a huff. “It’s Homelander, you bitch. No one calls me by that name.”

“Yeah, not anymore.” Y/N twitches her shoulders in mock apology. Her mouth curves into a Machiavellian grin. “Scared yet?”

“Where the fuck am I?” he growls through gritted teeth, upset by her blatant disrespect.

“You’re at a rehab facility for former supes. I mean, it’s discontinued. Abandoned, really. It’s just you and me,” she replies flatly and then forces a customer-service smile to her lips. “So, guess I’ll be your nurse for the day. How are we doing, you–”

Her brow furrows as she tries to remember the exact words, pensively pursing her lips.

“Wait…” She holds up a finger to stop him from interrupting her as she fishes out a crumpled piece of paper from her jeans pocket. She squints her eyes in concentration as she skims over its content.

“Ah yes!” With a smile, she clears her throat and reads from her paper. “So, how are you doing, you bootlicking… carpet-munching… cockboy?”

Homelander frowns at the insults. Y/N does too, but for a different reason as she shakes her head.

“Jesus fucking Christ, your dad’s handwriting is an atrocity,” she mutters as she tilts her head with narrowed eyes at the paper in her hands.

The blond man’s eyes narrow in both shock and confusion. “How do you know my father?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m his wife,” Y/N says and smiles complacently. “Which technically makes me your step-mommy, but let’s not go there, you–… Wait.” She peeks once more at the paper in her hands. “You cumguzzling… cowfucking… cuck fluffer.” Her brow draws up, impressed. “Huh, nice. Little alliteration going on there. Guess all those books paid off…”

“Can we skip to the part where you tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?” Homelander snaps impatiently, annoyed with the shenanigans.

“Alright, your dad sent me here to, you know… gloat,” Y/N says simply and shrugs, flashing him an easy smile. “He wanted you to know that he’s the one that put you into this damn bed. Funnily enough, he once woke up in this very room, tied to a bed. Not in a kinky way, though. Although, he probably would’ve loved that…” She chuckles fondly. “This place really changed him, but I doubt it’ll do the same for you.”

“And why the fuck isn’t he here telling me this, huh?” John asks with a challenging look. “I didn’t reckon him for a fucking coward.”

Y/N’s facade cracks a little at his words, a vicious smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, he was not a coward. He was the bravest man I’ve ever known. He was and is a fucking hero and surely getting celebrated as one.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and grabs the remote from the bedside table, switching on the TV. A news report flickers across the screen. It’s a recording from a few weeks ago, but Homelander doesn’t know that. It shows a row of celebratory parades held all over the country. A statue of Soldier Boy is being erected next to the Statue of Liberty.

Homelander finally defeated. Soldier Boy dies a hero in fierce combat. America breathes a sigh of relief.

Homelander watches the news and reads the taglines as they scroll in front of his eyes. His mouth is agape in bewilderment before Y/N switches the television off again.

“Everyone loves him… and fucking hates you. Like spit-on-your-grave hate,” she summarizes and watches his face darken. She rises from her seat and smiles down at him. “Have a nice life chained to that bed till you rot to death, you dickfaced, inbred, garbage-eating fascist.”

With a wide smirk, she then leans down and whispers into his ear, “Those were my insults, by the way.”

“Well, he’s dead, and I’m fucking alive, which means I won,” Homelander snarls from the bed with a contrivedly triumphant sneer, rattling with his handcuffs. He’s close to an explosion, she can tell.

“Yeah, you’d be telling yourself that if it makes you feel better…”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N turns her back. As she marches out of the room, Homelander’s furious screams of agony haunt the clinic’s empty hallways, but there is no one here to hear them anymore.

Project Bloom has been disbanded. There’s only a handful of CIA nurses left, tasked to take care of Homelander until his hopefully slow and painful death. If someone decides to hold a pillow over his head at any point, she supposes she wouldn’t be that mad about it either.

Homelander is history. Soldier Boy is dead. And Ben is at rest.

Finally, Y/N can leave this godforsaken place behind her.

Y/N slides into the driver’s seat of her Prius, her head falling back as she exhales a long, exhaustive breath and rubs her temples. That damn brat gave her a fucking migraine with his whiny bitching.

“Finally,” it huffs from the backseat. “Took you long enough. How the fuck did it go?”

Y/N blinks into the rearview mirror and catches a set of expectant green eyes. Her hand drops from her temples as she chuckles.

“Your handwriting is horrible,” she says as a response and pulls out the paper, pointing at a word. “What the hell is that one?”

Ben leans forward between the seats and squints his eyes. “Mmh, pube flosser,” he supplies and frowns. “You didn’t use that one?”

Y/N sighs. “I think he’s got the gist without it.”

“Yeah, but that was a good one,” Ben mumbles and sighs disappointedly. “Did you play him the song?”

“Yes, I did. I played him the song and did everything else you wanted me to do,” she confirms patiently. “You know, you’ve got a weird knack for torture.”

“Thank you. It’s a gift.” Ben blushes and adjusts his baseball cap. “Did you sell it properly? You know, acting is a skill. The most important thing is to–”

“Ben! For the love of God, shut up or I’ll run you over with my car,” Y/N snaps. If he gives her one more acting lesson, she swears she’ll turn herself a widow.

“Fine.” Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes back. “Did he fucking buy it?”

“Yup, he surely thinks you’re dead. Like the rest of the world,” Y/N says and shoots him a smile over her shoulder.

He matches it and scratches his shaved chin, letting himself fall back into the seat. “Good. So, we’re done, right?”

“Yeah, he was the last stop on our list,” she replies quietly, her smile mixing with sadness. “How’s the arm?”

“Good, good…” He nods, his head bobbing thoughtfully as he clutches the scar on his right bicep. “Healing nicely. Finally got a real war wound. Always wanted one.”

“Okay, then… Let’s go, I guess.” With a heavy swallow, Y/N turns the ignition and starts the car.

“You know, I’d really love to kiss you now,” Ben notes, heartache swinging in his voice, and finds her eyes in the rearview mirror.

Y/N bites down on her lip and nods. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice…”

Three weeks ago…

A guard gestures down the hallway to the restrooms, but as soon as Y/N rounds the corner and is out of sight, she takes a turn in the opposite direction.

The good thing about a super secret government facility that’s not supposed to exist is that it only comes with the necessary manpower. There’s no abundance of guards at every corner. It’s quiet and desolate.

Moreover, no one expects a silly and weak human to cause any trouble. It surely has its advantages to be constantly underestimated.

Y/N finds the lab she’s passed on their way in, where she spied a glass fridge with vials of different colors. It’s guarded, but only by one person. It’s sloppy, honestly.

A flirty ambush, a stab to the neck with a dull pocket knife, a stolen keycard, and she’s inside. She drags the body in, too, leaving no trace of her crime behind.

Her fingers rummage through differently labeled flasks. There’s plenty of blue and yellow, but not the poisonous green she’s looking for.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” she mutters to herself as she desperately searches every drawer, every goddamn cabinet of the laboratory.

Out of breath, she stops and grips her temples, shoulders slumping as her mind spins. She wants to curse and scream, but that would draw too much attention. She knows she’s running out of time. No one takes that long to fucking pee. Decisions have to be made quickly.

She grabs a blue vial.

Rolling down her sleeves, she walks nervously back into the control room. Neither Mallory nor Edgar pays her any mind. Everyone’s eyes are glued to Soldier Boy and Homelander. Father and son. It’s biblical.

It’s as if she isn’t even there.

Her veins twitch, her blood boils. It’s tingling in her fingertips.

“Little help would be fucking appreciated!” Ben yells as he wrangles with a defunct Homelander.

Stan Edgar’s smile. So vicious. So cold. So calculating.

She knows the air in the room is about to shift. Her hands ball into fists by her side, gather their energy.

He gives his command. She screams.

“No! That wasn’t the fucking deal!”

Edgar doesn’t even look at her fully. A sideways glance is all she’s worth. “Take her out, too.”

Mallory sees it first, her eyes widening when she realizes what’s going on. It’s too late to warn anyone, however, her cries for help unheard as the acid rots her throat.

Edgar and two guards are next, metal weapons melt and mix with a puddle of human soup on the ground. Then, she goes after the one that got away.

The third guard hurries inside the prison cell, but Y/N slips through the crack of the door before it slams shut. The first gunshot goes clean through Homelander’s spine, but the second is deterred and only strikes Ben’s arm as the guard bubbles to a pond, a hot spring in the concrete.

Ben clutches his bleeding wound with a hiss before his green eyes lock with hers. They widen, and it takes him a moment to make sense of it all.

“Y/N, what–”

He takes a step forward. She takes a step back.

“Don’t come near me,” she orders him with panic blinking in her eyes like a flashing alarm. Her chest rises and falls with every anxious breath.

He holds his palms up high, surrendering. “It’s okay.”

Ben carefully walks around her and steps over the bubbling human puddle on the floor. He peeks outside the door, purses his lips, and nods in impressed satisfaction.

“Those little blobs outside–”

Y/N bobs her head at his unfinished question. “Mallory and Edgar plus two guards,” she replies.

“Nice job.” He whistles lowly and shoots her a devilish grin, taking a step closer. “Gotta say, I’ve never been more turned on by you. I’m getting fucking hard.”

“Ben!” Y/N scolds and backs away from him until she’s pressed against the wall. “I told you, don’t touch me,” she warns him again.

Ben’s smile fades as he recognizes her fear. His features soften, the jokes disappear. “Hey, it’s alright. Twenty-four hours and you’ll be fine again. Just gotta get through it.”

Y/N shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. Ben’s brow knits in confusion, his face stern.

“What-… Why are you shaking your head?”

A tear escapes and streaks her cheek. “It won’t go away in twenty-four hours,” she chokes out. “They were out of Temp V.”

Ben’s face drops at the realization. “No, no, no… Tell me you didn’t fucking do this!” he yells.

“They were going to kill you! What was I supposed to do?” Y/N explains tearfully.

“Die, Y/N! You were supposed to let me fucking die!” Ben’s jaw tightens as anger surges through his body.

“I didn’t let you die the first time! What made you think I would let you fucking die right now, huh?” Y/N cries through gritted teeth, her hands balling into fists. “Stop trying to kill yourself. You fucking promised me!”

Licking his lips, Ben swallows. He’s quiet, running a palm over his face while his mind races a mile a minute. “Okay… alright,” he says finally, his voice significantly calmer now. “Where did you get the Compound V from?”

“There’s a lab here,” she replies in the same calm manner.

“They got more?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Ben nods and finds her eyes. “Show me.”

Y/N presses her lips into a thin line, shaking her head once more. “No.”

His anger returns, nostrils flaring as his brow creases. “What d’you mean no?”

She swallows thickly. “Look, if you really wanna do this, then I won’t stop you,” she says, a pleading glimmer haunting her eyes. “But you finally got a chance. You can live the normal, boring life. You can go on road trips, see Mount Rushmore… I know you want to.”

Ben swipes his tongue over his teeth and averts his gaze. He pinches the bridge of his freckled nose, and Y/N can see that she’s right.

“I’m not even sure if I want powers,” she continues after a pause. “But at least this time it was my choice. And I don’t regret it if it means I got to save you, okay?”

When Ben finally looks at her, it breaks her heart. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Y/N gives him a sad smile. “I know… And you won’t be. I promise.”

Their attention is then temporarily drawn to a groan on the ground. Y/N’s brow furrows as she looks at Homelander’s body and notices his fingers twitching.

“Is he still alive?”

“Looks like it,” Ben replies. But as Y/N gets ready to take care of the problem, he stops her, holding out his flat palm. “Wait, wait, wait… Judging by the wound, he’s gonna be a fucking vegetable. It’s a waste of a kill.” He then grins mischievously at her. “I’ve got a better fucking idea. The other question is: how the fuck do we get outta this place… alive?”

Y/N’s mouth opens, but she doesn’t have an answer aside from a helpless shrug for him. This is as far as she has planned. Actually, she hasn’t planned any of this at all.

“I might be able to help with that,” a woman’s voice sounds behind her.

Y/N’s eyes widen as she recognizes the newcomer, her mouth parting anew in both surprise and shock. Ben, on the other hand, furrows his brow and glares at the stranger as if she had just spoken Russian.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ben prompts and then leans closer to Y/N, whispering in her ear, “Kill her.”

Y/N frowns, but her eyes are glued to the young woman in front of her, the familiarity sinking in. “I can’t,” she grits through her teeth.

“Why the fuck not?” Ben asks now loud enough for everyone to hear, including their guest.

“Because I’m the president,” the woman replies, smiling complacently. “And an old friend.”

Ben’s brow creases even more. “President of what? Cunt-town?”

“The United States, Ben,” Y/N tells him flatly. If she could kick his leg right now, she would. Leave it to her husband to get them both killed.

“Wait, a skirt is president?” Ben arches an eyebrow and mutters, “No wonder this country’s going to shit…”

“Charming,” Victoria Neuman says with a small sigh, but seemingly unbothered by the old-school views. Much like Y/N, she ignores the comment and doesn’t take offense to it. “I can see why you married him,” she adds wryly, looking at Y/N.

“Technically, she wasn’t elected. She was Vice President till President Singer died… accidentally,” Y/N explains, knowing Ben only reads the paper for the sports section and the comic strip. She swallows the thick lump in her throat, her heart thrashing wildly in her chest.

“Ah, I know what that’s code for.” Ben smirks coolly. “Bold move. I can fucking respect that.”

“Yeah, God knows some old fuck’s approval is what I’m looking for,” Neuman taunts, the sarcasm dripping from her red-painted lips.

Ben’s face drops as a bit of anger bubbles up inside of him. That bitch is lucky he’s V-free. He forces a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just saying I would’ve done the same thing, okay?”

“No offense, but you’re too much of a moron for that,” Neuman replies dryly.

Ben’s nostrils flare as he grits, “Offense fucking taken.”

“Okay!” Y/N tries to cut the tension with a nervous chuckle, pushing herself between Neuman and Ben. “How about you just tell us what we have to do to get out of this one?”

“See? She’s smart,” Neuman says and smirks at Ben. “I’ve always liked you, Y/N. You know, when Stan and Grace told me their plan of getting you two involved, I warned them. But they just wouldn’t listen. Everyone always underestimates the orphan. I should know, and so do you. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Yeah, guess we’re MVP, after all, Nadia,” Y/N says and makes it a point to emphasize her real name.

Victoria just smiles in response. “So, since you took care of two problems for me, one in here and one out there, I have a proposal for you.”

“What is it?” Y/N knows she’s really out of choices. Either she agrees, or Ben and her will spend the afterlife together.

“I need a new Chief of Staff. I want you to do it. You’re smart, driven, and I know you wanna change shit around here. You wanna make a difference? This is your chance,” Neuman proposes. “You can’t take the cure again. It’s going to kill you. Trust me, we’ve done studies, and the results are not pretty.”

Y/N thinks for a few breaths. “What about Ben?”

“I guess he can live. It’s not like he’s a threat to anyone,” Neuman says and almost sounds bored. “Hell, for all I care, we can even make Soldier Boy a reformed hero for dealing with Homelander. He dies heroically in battle and quietly lives out his retirement in fucking Florida or some shit. We get him a big fucking statue. It’s good publicity.”

Y/N shares a look with Ben. “What d’you think?”

Thoughtfully, Ben clicks his tongue. He supposes it’s the best deal they can get, and declining it would probably get them nowhere, although he hates everything about it.

Swallowing, the former supe nods. “Alright, let’s fucking do this,” he agrees and states his conditions, “But for the record, I’m not moving to shit-ass Florida. I want a nice lake house in Minnesota.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Minnesota it is.”

“You okay? You ready?” Y/N checks as Ben has made it up the stone steps and halts in front of the big, red door.

“I don’t know. You really think this is a good idea? I’m not sure I can do this,” Ben says and insecurely eyes the entrance.

“You’ll do great, alright?” Y/N smiles encouragingly. “I believe in you.”

“I don’t wanna do this alone. What if I fuck up?” Ben asks.

Amused, Y/N chuckles. “Oh, you’re for sure gonna fuck up.”

The green-eyed man scowls. “That’s fucking reassuring. Thanks.”

“Look, this way you won’t be alone. I’ll wire you money every month and check in as much as I can, alright? You can always call me. This isn’t the end,” Y/N soothes his worries. “Maybe one day there’s a cure that’ll work, and we can be together again for real.”

She forces a weak smile to her lips, although she doesn’t believe her own words. But as long as Ben believes them, it’s enough.

“Okay.” Ben nods and takes a deep breath – in through his nose and out through his mouth. “I think I’m ready now.”

“Good.” Y/N sends him a smile. “You thought of a new name yet?”

“I’m still marinating on it,” Ben grumbles.

“Well, marinate faster. I have to introduce you.”

As they enter the orphanage, Y/N checks them in at the reception and fills out all necessary forms. Ben taps his foot nervously and scratches the back of his neck as they wait before one of Y/N’s former colleagues walks in with a little boy in hand, who’s no older than five.

Ben tries to smile but isn’t sure if it looks creepy, so he stops and opts for a more neutral expression. Y/N, however, immediately kneels down to the young boy and smiles brightly at him. It causes Ben’s heart to ache. She deserved to have all of this, but instead, she gave it all up for him.

“Hey, Benny,” she greets the boy. “You ready to meet your new adoptive parent?”

The boy scrunches his brow in careful suspicion as he eyes his future father-to-be. “I guess so,” he says. “Is that him? He looks like he drives a fucking minivan and offers candy to kids. Are you sure he’s not a pedo, Ms. Y/N?”

Ben purses his lips, biting the insides of his cheeks. The initial smile was definitely a mistake. They’re not off to a good start.

Y/N presses her lips together to muffle her snort. “Yes, Benny, I’m sure,” she replies patiently. “He’s cool, trust me.”

“Fine, whatever.” The kid rolls his eyes. “As long as he’s not fucking vegan like Ms. Teresa. They’re the worst.”

“Ugh, agreed! Do I look like a fucking plant-shitter to you?” Ben asks the boy rhetorically.

“No, you look like a fucking pedo to me,” the boy retorts.

Ben grins broadly at Y/N. “I like the kid. I think I get what you mean now. I see the resemblance.”

“Well, great. Glad you two are hitting it off… I think,” Y/N says with a crinkled brow, although a part of her is doubting her idea. Honestly, it’s wild she’s trusting him with a child. A year ago she would’ve thought that it was insane. “Alright, uh, Benny, this is, uhm–”

“Sam,” Ben proudly introduces himself with his fake name and shakes the kid’s hand. He then notices Y/N’s strange look. “What?”

“Nothing, just… you don’t really strike me as a Sam. That’s all,” she tells him in a whisper-tone, shrugging.

“Oh, really? Well, I don’t give a fuck. I love it,” Ben quips, grinning rather smugly.

“Fine.” Y/N sighs. She turns back to little Ben with a smile. “You guys ready to hit the road?”

“Where are we going?” Benny asks curiously and promptly takes Ben’s hand, dragging the older man through the doors. He’s been waiting to get out of the orphanage for a while, the excitement of finally being able to leave visible in every step he takes.

It’s a fresh start for both of them.

“Uh, Mount Rushmore,” Ben answers.

“Cool! Can we get burgers on the way there? I’m starving.”

“Sure can, kid.”

Y/N can see Ben’s initial hesitance until he eventually accepts it and eases into the situation, holding the boy’s hand tightly. He helps the kid into the car, even puts the seatbelt on, and shuts the door behind him.

Her heart twinges as she watches the two, wishing she could go with them if things were different. However, she knows the risk is too big. She would never forgive herself if she hurt either of them. She doesn’t trust herself enough yet. Maybe someday she can.

“You okay?” Ben asks as he sees the unshed tears brimming in her eyes. He’d dreaded this day for the past few weeks, hoping she’d still change her mind. He hates that this is goodbye, but he supposes he has to set her free now.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Y/N says with a forced smile, but a tear escapes and rolls down her cheek.

“C’mere.”

Y/N protests as Ben slings his arms around her and pulls her flush against him, holding her tightly. He hasn’t touched her since that night, but he doesn’t care anymore. He presses his lips against hers and tastes her one last time.

Breathlessly, Y/N withdraws and sniffles. “Are you fucking insane? I could kill you.”

Ben simply smiles at her. “Hey, if I die kissing you, then that’s a fucking great way to go out. ‘Sides, insanity is contagious,” he quips and sends her a wink. “Thank you… for everything, you know?”

“You’re welcome,” she says quietly and swallows harshly as the tears fall freely now. Not every film has a happy ending. “I guess I’ve done my job as your sponsor. You’ve been successfully rehabilitated.”

Ben snorts. “If by that you mean I’m fucking boring and responsible now then yeah, you’ve done your job.”

“You won’t be bored for long. The kid’s already trying to hotwire the car,” Y/N tells him, laughing.

“Wha–” Ben spins around and points a warning finger at the boy. “Ay! Hands in your fucking lap!”

The kid raises his palms in surrender and yells, “Hurry the fuck up!”

With a shaking head, Ben turns back to her. “Gotta watch that kid like an eagle,” he mutters. He exhales a dreaded breath and licks his lips. “So, I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

Y/N smiles softly, the corners of her mouth reaching her dimples. “Maybe.”

Little Ben gets me every time 😂 Alright, now you may yell and complain, but I love this bittersweet ending 🥲 (But of course, you're welcome to send in requests. Whether it's deleted scenes, bonus shots of a potential future, or some fun Big Ben/Little Ben drabbles)

Thank you so much for reading, for your gifs and comments! It's so appreciated! Without them, this would only be half the fun 🤍

I'll announce future plans soon. The final five of Plastic Hearts will probably be next up. Get ready 'cause it's another wild one! 🌟

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[ereardon]

You Again [Hangman x Reader]

Summary: It’s been five years since you last saw your childhood best friend and first love Jake Seresin. But fate, or coincidence, has you back in Jake’s life and he’s desperate not to lose you again. 

WC: 4K+

Warning: Pining, alcohol, cursing

Miniseries masterlist; part 2 here; part 3 here

The last person you expected to see that night was Jake Seresin. 

Just off the back of a 24-hour shift, you plopped down on a bar stool and ordered a burger and a beer, not caring that it was eleven o’clock or that the crowd was filled with ruckus Navy men proudly puffing their chests in their almost-too-tight uniforms. You rolled your eyes as not one, not two, but three separate men hit on you using opening lines around how much they like a woman who eats. 

The final one, a tall redhead who smelled of jet fuel and desperation, loomed so close to you that he was nearly touching the food before it entered your mouth. 

“Wow, gotta say, I love a girl who really eats.” 

You rolled your eyes. “And what, do all of the twits that you date survive off of photosynthesis alone?” 

A barking laugh came from behind your left shoulder and you saw the ginger visibly stiffen. 

“Lieutenant Seresin,” the ginger said, standing straighter before rushing off, and the name alone nearly left you gasping for breath. 

Jake. 

A tanned arm came down on the bar to your left and before you could even see him you heard his voice. “Witty. About time a girl like you came around.” 

You turned to see him in all of his glory. Green flight suit unzipped just enough to show off his tanned, glistening chest, dog tags swinging from his impossibly taunt neck. His mouth turned up in a brilliant smile that immediately faltered when he realized who you were. 

“Y/N,” he breathed. 

You set the burger down and wiped your fingers with a napkin. “Hangman.” He winced at your use of his call sign. “Been a long time.” 

“Five years,” he said, without missing a beat. He looked you up and down, not in a leering way but like he genuinely was trying to memorize every change in your body that had happened since the night he left. You wondered if you looked different when he wasn’t looking at you in the rearview mirror. “You look good.” 

You crossed your legs, suddenly feeling silly for still wearing scrubs at a Navy bar but you had been too tired and too hungry to change after the shift change started. “I’d say you too, but any ego boost might just make you combust and I heard the Navy doesn’t like it when they waste money on performative assholes.” It came out sharper than you anticipated, but he chuckled. 

“It’s nice to see you, too,” he said softly. In that moment it was Jake, not Hangman speaking. Jake, the boy who had been riding shotgun the day you got your driver's license and subsequently crashed into a neighbor’s mailbox. Jake, who had taught your little sister how to fish. Jake, who had held your hand the day they buried your mother. Jake, who had walked out of your life five years before with no regard for how you felt. Jake, who’s name you cursed at night when you couldn’t sleep. It had always been Jake. Until it wasn’t.

“I’d say the same, but I have a date with this burger, so if you wouldn’t mind leaving us alone that’d be great.” 

He inched closer until his lips were brushing the hair behind your ear. “Y/N, don’t be like this. Can we talk?” 

You frowned and your hands shook as you lifted the burger again and took a wide bite. He pulled back to look at you and you took your sweet time chewing and taking a swig of beer to wash it down. Finally, “Nothing to talk about, Hangman. I’m sure your friends over there are wondering where you’ve gone off to, and I have a shower at home calling my name.” 

His face, those beautiful Adonis-like features, drooped. “Bunny.” The pet name stung rolling off of his lips.

You held up a hand. “Don’t even. You lost the right to call me that a long time ago.” 

He nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He paused. And then, “It’s good to see you, Y/N.” 

Jake gave you his best puppy eyes, and it took everything you had to turn away. “See you later, Jake.” 

He hesitated, and just as you thought he was going to leave you felt his lips press softly to your cheek. “Proud of you, baby,” he whispered, pinching the fabric of your scrub top on the upper arm where you had it layered over a tight white long-sleeve shirt. He smelled the same and even though the bar was crowded and reeked of stale fries and spilled beer you could still identify every note of him within seconds. You hated it, but his proximity, his smell, flooded every nerve ending in your body. And a part of you wanted nothing more than to reach up and press your lips to his before he could pull away. Taste him to see if he still tasted the same as when you were sixteen and drinking his dad’s beer on the roof. If he tasted the same as the adrenaline rush from the first time you two went skinny dipping in the creek. If he still tasted like the dirty vodka martinis you would drink in college while visiting him on break, pretending to be adults but still very much two sheltered kids with no real world experience. 

And then he was gone, back to his group near the corner of the room. You saw a few of the other aviators look at you for a second too long as Hangman made his reappearance. One, a dark-haired woman, sized you up for so long you got goosebumps before finally turning away. 

“I see you’ve met Hangman.” The woman behind the bar set a fresh beer down in front of you. 

You sighed. “Yes, I have.” 

She gave him a long look before turning back to you. “He’s not as bad as you think.” 

You shook your head. “He’s not. And that’s the problem.” 

The bartender flicked her eyes over you and then back to Jake. “I’m Penny, by the way” she said, taking your credit card from where you had laid it on the wood bar. “Let me close you out.”

You smiled and told her your name, and she disappeared with your card and a knowing smile. You sighed, pushing away the plate of food and guzzling down the second beer. 

Just your luck. You had vaguely kept track of where Jake was stationed all these years. Your grandmother had mentioned he was at Top Gun out on North Island, but it hadn’t clicked until you heard his sweet Texas accent creeping into every single one of your pores earlier that night. Of course out of all the hospitals you landed a residency at UCSD, not ten miles from Jake. 

The air was warm but not swampy as you expected. The headlights on your car sprung to life, and you were just about to open the door when you heard him. 

“BUNNY!” 

Closing your eyes briefly, you turned to see what mess Jake had made. He stumbled out of the bar, giddy with liquor, followed by a cohort of aviators in matching jumpsuits. 

“Hangman,” you said sharply. “Go home. You’re drunk and smell like shit.” 

A few of the aviators in the back hollered and you watched Jake’s dopey smile tilt. “Hey, that’s not very nice, baby.” “I’m not your baby and I’m not your Bunny,” you replied as the group edged closer. “Not anymore.” 

The raven haired female from earlier had her hand on Jake, holding him upright. “I’m sorry about him, I don’t know what happened. We looked away for a minute.” 

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. That’s his problem, not yours.” 

Jake lurched forward and the brunette pulled him back, with the help of a handsome, bespeckled aviator. “Come on, Y/N, just one drink.” 

You laughed. “I think you’ve had enough drinks to get the whole Navy drunk, all by yourself.” 

“I’m Phoenix,” the brunette said and you nodded. 

“Y/N.”

“I gathered.” She looked down at Jake who was still being supported by Phoenix and the guy with glasses. “That’s Bob,” she nodded toward glasses. “Fanboy, Payback, Coyote, Rooster.” 

“Hey guys,” you said. “Do you need help with him, or what?” 

“He got up and started running out the door when he saw you leave,” Rooster said. “We were worried he’d knock himself out trying to get to you, so thought it would be best if he got escorted out.” 

You sighed and ran your hand through the front pieces of your hair. “Listen, Jake,” you whispered and he perked up hearing his name falling out of your mouth. “It’s been a long night, OK? For both of us. Just go home. Please” 

“Not before we talk,” he slurred, leaning forward and slipping past Phoenix and Bob. You stepped forward and caught him, stumbling a bit at his weight. He towered over you by at least eight inches, and he smelled like the bottom of a barrel. 

“You need to shower and sleep,” you said and you felt his hands, those familiar hands, melt into your back. Your fingers pressed tightly against his rock hard abdomen. “Doctor’s orders.” 

He chuckled lightly and you pressed him away from you until he was standing unsupported, Bob and Rooster hovering behind him in case he fell. “Doctor. You fucking did it.” 

You nodded with a small blush on your cheeks. “So did you.” He looked down at his olive jumpsuit as if seeing it for the first time. 

“I fucking did,” he bellowed and the group gave a laugh. 

“Night, guys,” you said, unlocking the door again. “Goodnight, Hangman.” 

“Don’t go,” he begged. You sighed again. You knew Jake. He wouldn’t give up. You could see it in Rooster’s eyes too. They all knew Jake got what he wanted, one way or another. 

“Does anyone know where he lives?” you asked. 

Bob nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I can send it to you if you’d like.” 

You took the phone that he offered and typed in your number, and a moment later a text popped up with a dropped pin. 

“Alright, let’s get you home Hangman,” you said as Bob and Rooster guided Jake to the passenger side of your car and tucked him into the seat. The group hovered around while Jake immediately lolled his head against the window. “Thanks, guys. Appreciate it.”

“Not to pry,” Phoenix said, but that was indeed what she was doing and she knew it. “But how do you know Bagman?”

You grimaced. “It’s a long story.”

“We got time,” Rooster said, crossing his arms over his chest. For the first time you noticed he was the only one out of uniform, in a pair of low strung jeans and a God awful Hawaiian shirt open a little too far for your taste. 

You laughed. “Let’s just say we’ve known each other since we were kids. He’s just Jake to me. This,” you swept your arm toward the car where he was passed out, “is a new asshole that I am not so familiar with.” 

“Have to say, we’ve never seen him act like this before,” Phoenix said, giving Jake a look that for a second almost had tenderness running through it. And in a moment it was gone. “You two must have some serious history.” 

Your hand was on the door handle to the car. “That’s one way to say it. Goodnight.” 

There was a chorus of goodbyes as you ducked into the driver’s seat and started the car, a new BMW 5 series convertible you bought yourself as a reward for finishing your intern year. Once the match came through for the residency at UC you immediately started to daydream about flying down the PCH in a little white convertible. It was only a few days old, but now it would be forever tainted with the knowledge that Jake Seresin was the first person to sit in the passenger seat. 

“Mmm,” he muttered and you shushed him before tapping on the GPS coordinates Bob had sent you. It was only a ten minute drive, but you took the roads slow, fearing Jake would get sick in his drunken stupor and even further christen your brand new car. 

You pulled up to the house, a small white rambler with perfectly mowed grass, and cut the engine. It was a sweet little house, and you wondered briefly if he lived alone. Or if you’d find a girlfriend, angry, red in the face, on the other side of the door. 

“Come on big boy,” you said quietly, pulling open the door and nudging Jake awake. You had to tug on his arm to get him to stand, and when you dug your hand into his pocket for his keys he reached up and grabbed your chin with his hand. 

“Looking for something?” he asked seductively. 

“Shut up,” you grunted, pushing his palm away and fussing with the keyring. The first two didn’t fit, but the third slid easily into the chamber and you turned the lock with bated breath, waiting for an alarm or a girlfriend to scream at you. 

Instead you were met with silence. It was obvious he lived alone. No second set of shoes at the door, no framed photos of him with women besides his mother and sisters. A fresh aroma flooded your senses, and you dragged Jake in by his collar. He stumbled in and you slammed the door, peering around to get your bearings. It was small, but quaint and neat, everything you expected from Jake. Even as kids he always made his bed, corners tucked, and his bathroom had been neater than yours. And later, in college, when you had lived off of instant coffee and ramen, organic chemistry books lined your shelves alongside tubes of dried mascara and half-drunk bottles of vodka in a mess that made his mind boggle. Jake had stepped into your junior year dorm with eyes wide at the disarray. Your visit to see him in Annapolis cleared up why: his sheets were pristine, his shoes lined up perfectly against the wall, his uniforms hung crisp in a closet that, unlike yours, did not have anything crumbled at the bottom in heaps so large they obstructured the hanging items. 

You wandered down the hall, Jake at your heels, and found yourself in a kitchen with a round table in the middle. Jake immediately sat down, scraping a wooden chair back so he could collapse into it. You found two glasses and poured water into them, sliding one toward him. “Drink.” 

He groaned and reached out for the cup. Just beyond the kitchen you saw a small hallway with a door ajar. When you pushed past it you saw Jake’s room, neat as always. 

Back in the kitchen, Jake was more alert than in the car. He had one leg crossed over his opposite knee, and was trying fruitlessly to undo the tightly tied laces. You knelt down and pushed his hands away, deftly undoing the boot and pulling it off his large foot. The other shoe came off and you pulled him to standing. 

“Alright, bud, time for bed.” 

Jake reached out, both hands coming to the sides of your face. “Fuck, I missed you.” 

“Not tonight, Jake,” you whispered. “Come on.” 

To his credit, he followed you dutily to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. You sighed and stood in front of him, carefully unzipping his flight suit down his chest, sliding it off of his shoulders to reveal his undershirt that you peeled off. Once the suit was down to his waist you bent over and tugged it from around him until it was down his legs. 

Jake sat in only a pair of dark boxers and socks on the bed, looking up at you. He looked better than before. Muscles rippling under glowy, tanned skin. Like an Abercrombie & Fitch model that you would have thirsted after in middle school. But he was still Jake and no matter how badly you wanted to smooth your hands over his skin, kiss a trail from his neck to where his boxers skimmed his hip bones, you didn’t. You knew the trouble that would lead to.

“I would say shower, but you don’t seem up for it.” 

He shook his head. “Not tonight,” he echoed your words back to you. His hands reached up to grip your waist as you stood in front of him, and a chill ran down your spine. How could you feel him this plainly even with two layers of fabric between you? 

“You’re here.” There was a thread of disbelief in his voice. Almost a stutter. 

“It’s time for bed,” you said, peeling his hands off of you and forcing down the covers from their tight tuck near the pillows. “Come on, get in.” 

Jake crawled under the covers and rolled onto his left side. You went to walk away, and he reached out to grab your wrist. “Thank you.” 

It was uncharacteristic of Jake. He wasn’t a thank you or a please kind of guy. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it. But sometimes you saw the glimmer of the little boy he had been. It made your heart pang for someone you lost. Someone you had long ago convinced yourself no longer existed. 

Instead, you brushed your hand over his hair and cheek and watched him melt into the bed. The clock on his nightstand said it was nearly two in the morning. You had been awake for almost thirty-six hours at that point, and the idea of driving back to your condo sounded like a nightmare. In Jake’s walk-in closet, you pulled out a large Naval Academy t-shirt and slipped it on. It hung to your knees, covering everything it needed to, and you stopped searching for a pair of bottoms. Tip toeing past him to the bathroom in the hall, you brushed your hair back into a sloppy bun and wiped away the mascara that had accumulated under your tired eyes. 

By the time you exited the bathroom, you could hear Jake’s soft snores. In the kitchen, you emptied both cups of water and left them in the spotless sink. The living room was small but cozy, with a three-seater couch and a throw blanket slung over the back. A real fireplace against the far wall held a mantle littered with photos, and despite the tug of sleep against your eyes you wandered over to them. Several of Jake as a child at his grandparents’ ranch outside Austin. One of the full Seresin family smiling in matching Christmas sweaters. A photo of Jake and his mother Pearl smiling wide at his commencement ceremony from the Naval Academy. Your fingers aimlessly picked at the hem of the shirt you were wearing. Just as you were about to turn away, finally lie down, you spotted it. Slotted behind a few other frames so it was just barely visible, there was the photo of the two of you taken at the beach, spring break of your senior year of college. Jake’s parents had invited you two down to Kiawah Island to stay at their beach house, but at the last minute they had to stay back in Austin for work so it had just been the two of you all alone in the big house by yourselves. It was the first time you felt like a real couple, playing house for days on end. Waking up to the smell of fried eggs and bacon and Jake pulling you out of slumber by pressing his thumbs into the arches of your foot. Driving over the bridge to the nearby Harris Teeter for groceries and playfully swatting at him to drop two kinds of sugar cereal in favor of just one as a treat. How the sun had beat down on you until you felt like your skin would melt, and you’d go inside and mix together margaritas for the two of you to drink on the deck, your feet swinging in the pool. Those six days had felt like an eternity. Jake drove you out to the north end of the island that last night for drinks and dinner at The Beach Club. As the sun dipped below the watery lip of the horizon, you told him you had been accepted into medical school in Boston. You watched as his face crumpled, even as he tried to hide it. It meant another four years apart. He took your hands in his and smiled and ordered a celebratory dessert. Told you how proud he was. 

Two months later, it all fell apart. 

In the photo, Jake has his arms wrapped around you from behind and your head is tipped back to smile at him. The sun is glowing on your cheeks, the water behind you sparkling, the sand white and soft and if you closed your eyes you could almost feel it between your toes. 

He has no idea, but you have the same photo framed. It’s the first item you unpack in every new apartment. It’s the last time you can remember being truly happy without a scalpel in your hand or without the beat of a heart thundering through a stethoscope into your ear. 

The light streaming in on your face was worse than any beeper wakeup. You tried to roll over to stop the beam from landing right across your eyes, but the couch was too damn small and you ended up rolling off the side onto the hardwood floor. 

“Fuck!”

You were still on the ground when you heard footsteps and when you looked up there was Jake wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight shirt standing above you with the demonic rays of sun illuminating him from behind like an angel. “Come on, you klutz,” he said, holding out a hand. You flung it toward him and he pulled you up effortlessly. 

It wasn’t fair that he looked perfect after drinking the entire bar under the table the night before. His hair was perfectly tousled and he smelled clean, like he had showered. Judging by the smell from the kitchen, he had made coffee too. You followed him wordlessly into the kitchen and slumped into the chair he had vacated only a few hours before as he slid a blue mug of coffee toward you, already topped with milk, exactly how you liked it. “Drink,” he said, smirking at the irony. You took a sip of the steaming coffee and sighed. 

Jake sat down across from you at the small wooden table. 

“Have to admit I’m surprised to see you stayed,” he said. “And also I’m sorry for being the world’s biggest ass last night.”

You smiled into the coffee cup. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was too damn tired to drive home. I can sleep anywhere after intern year. A couch is a hell of a lot better than some of the chairs I’ve fallen asleep in. Or worse, patient gurneys.” 

He laughed and it rang out into the quiet house. 

“Besides, I thought there was a high chance you’d choke on your own vomit and I don't want my medical license revoked for manslaughter.” 

Jake put his hand over his heart. “I’m touched you think so highly of me.” 

You shot him a glare and went back to sipping the coffee, crossing one leg over the other. It wasn’t until Jake’s eye line focused on your bare thigh that you realized how little clothes you were really wearing. 

“I should get going,” you said, standing up and dumping out the rest of the coffee in the sink and rinsing the cup. 

Jake rose from the table. “Let me drive you home.”

“I drove you here last night?” you said and that dawned on him slowly. He smacked a palm to his forehead. 

“Shit,” he whispered. 

“What?”

“My truck,” he sighed. “It’s still at the Hard Deck.” 

You shook your head. “I asked Bob last night to bring it by.” Walking over to the window, you peered out across the driveway and saw Jake’s cherished black Wrangler sitting in the driveway. A short text on your phone from Bob confirmed the key was under the front mat. 

“You always knew exactly what to do. I missed that about you.” He paused. “I miss everything about you.” You turned around quickly before he could cross the room and do something you’d both regret. 

“Jake.” It came out in a plea. “Let’s not do this, OK? Not again. Last night was a coincidence.”

“Or fate.”

“It was a coincidence,” you repeated, starting down the hall to his room where you had left your scrubs. Jake watched in silence from the door frame as you pulled on your pants underneath the baggy t-shirt, scooping up the discarded scrub top and long sleeve shirt into your arms and breezing past him. “Let’s just pretend you never saw me.” 

“That’s impossible,” he said, following you as you picked up your purse from where you had laid it near the coffee table. “Y/N.” His fingers reached out and brushed your arm and you were shocked that the electricity was still there. 

“Jake.” He knew from your tone. His hand dropped and he watched as you took a step toward the front door. You opened the door and bent down, retrieving the Jeep key from under the mat and tossing it to him. He caught it in one hand. “I’ll drop your shirt off later.” 

“Keep it.” Jake pressed both hands to either side of the open door frame, the bright light of the early sun blinding him a little. Beyond, he could see you rushing down the steps. 

You paused before you got in your car. It felt like no time had passed since that day you watched him drive away. The same truck that had faded off into the Texas sun all those years ago sat fifteen feet away, and it felt like you were losing him all over again. The lump in your throat was back. 

“Bunny.” His voice cracked on the nickname. He looked miserable, standing there on the doorstep. But this time you were leaving him behind. Maybe this time he would know what it was like to watch the person he loved leave without a care in the world. Except you did care. You just didn’t want to. 

“Goodbye, Jake.” 

************************************************************************

Read part 2 here and part 3 here

#top gun maverick imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin #hangman top gun #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Thanks @vacationship for pointing out that Sydney initiates the first touch with Carmy in Review. As an obsessive person, I will analyze the choice to touch Carmy and the buildup to it.

(Warning: This might bring up some annoyance with Carmy. However, the tension and buildup leading to his explosion in this episode are incredibly well done. Looking back on the episode, it speaks to Carmy's character development season 2.)

So we fast forward to Ebra reading the review, revealing Sydney's dish as the restaurant's highlight.

Ribbon of brine, huh?

Carmy was already busy but noticed he didn't initiate eye contact with her like usual. The only time he looks her way is to shake his head in disappointment-hurt-anger that this dish she makes herself and that he says isn't ready. It gets a green light. Really, it's about Carmys not being genuinely ready to change for their relationship to develop. Carmy doesn't do this until fast forward - he loses Sydney.

Maybe the lack of eye contact tells us there's a disconnect, and there will continue to be a disconnect between them throughout the episode. And the GLARE carmy makes at Sydney. Everyone should already know shit about to blow up.

Carmy was ANGRY.

He's nodding in agreement, but you can make it out that he's stewing while sydney is asking for understanding, something he's struggling to give.

Sidebar: it brings up the importance of Tina's say hello to Jeff's friend. Carmy isn't feeling that connection - that friendship right now.so Tina saying that adds fuel to his fire.

Fast forward to more buildup, Richie and Sydney's argument. Carmy comes up with his baggage, ready to end the fight between him, but he is not much help.

Carmy intervenes, and there's still no steady eye contact with Sydney.

Oh and the importance of Sydney saying WE are learning (call back to carmy asking Sydney in 1x03 bridgade, WE want to make this place better, right?). Early on, they established their bond, but Carmy makes sure, maybe out of spite, to say the new system was her idea.

This is when Sydney really notices they are not on the same page. That he's pushing her away.

Which is what makes her make the unconscious decision to touch carmy. A plea to connect again.

Carmy stops like she asks him to through touch. Even though he was ready to walk away, he couldn't help but take a moment to pause even though they're under pressure with time. And for the first time, he really looks at her. His eyes come up even though he's still in his feelings about the whole thing.

That also tells us about Carmy's character. He doesn't talk about his feelings, which reminds me of episode 2x06 'Fishes', where Mikey had to practically drag out of Carmy the reason why he was so angry with him. When Carmy is hurt, he either explodes quickly or lets it brew until it's too late. There's no balance in his anger.

But Sydney helps with this. With their relationship, they want to keep the connection going, and in order to do that, with disagreements, there needs to be a goal to always maintain connection.

Arguments happen even with the most compatible people. It isn't toxic as some naysayers use it as an excuse to this ship. both strives to connect and carmy, although angry stops to give Sydney a minute.

But he still turned away and didn't hash it out with her. He didn't check early on if she was okay. This could be a lesson learned- a blow up may not have happened if he had given Sydney more time and connected with her despite his anger.

This gesture reveals a lot about their relationship dynamic, and looking back, it helps me appreciate Carmy's character growth. His desire to improve communication and become a better partner for Sydney? Sydney being the same way and their efforts to maintain their relationship is what makes the ship so compelling.

#this is why the sorry sign is important #its saying “im mad at you but i still love you #I just need a minute #okay? #sydcarmy #carmy x sydney

[qvrcll]

hiii!! i love ur work!!!

could u pls do an ellie(or abby) period piece where reader is a princess, but ellie(or abby) is a knight and it’s lowk forbidden ykyk?🫣

pink matter

summary: what starts off as a secret, and blatantly innocent rendezvous to the castle stables ends in a question between the strength you possess to deny ellie and the urgency of her that you crave — all in touches and hushed questions.

warning: slightly suggestive but nothing happens, knight ! ellie, princess ! fem ! reader, period piece

a/n: oh lord. this ask made my head spin in the best way HELLOOO. thank u so much for your interest in my works and such a lovely req!! i know this is a little short but i’m thinking of making a part two or something like that… maybe with abby? both of them? dangerous? idk! let’s see :P in the meantime, enjoy :-]

Ellie could never not worry about you. It was a habit now properly buried in the various mechanisations of her being, her footing as a soldier-turned-knight struck in deep mud and sworn to the kingdom she fought for tooth and nail.

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you purse your lips, stepping over the threshold of the stable you’ve seemingly snuck out into. The mud had tapered to rough chalk-like granules beneath the strength of your heels, which embedded rather than sunk with the kiss of the Earth. But you don’t mind — you’d barely swung a glance to the stain dotting your powdered garb, barely acknowledged the swing and pull of your arms against the stable edges, mantels, the way they smelt like trouble for a lady like you.

And yet, Ellie did.

“Princess,” she grunts, in that way that had your tummy churning in the oddest of directions when her fingers crossed the small of your back, warm and stitched with heat as she presses half her side to the back of you, “You mustn’t dirty your garb. If you allow it, I can carry you—“

“That is not necessary” you swallow, barely coherent without a pause to ascertain your breath. Was she insane? Was she just? Was she playing your poor heart with stannic poles as trusses?

Did she know this effect she carried in the very smell of her?

“Of course,” she sounds reserved, now, and you’re afraid you’ve scared her. Well, scrap ‘scared.’ Offended, at most. Left barren of the very services she can offer — her brawn is stalked clean and at the ready; muscle in her arm, muscle in her calf, muscle on her chest. She was a soldier, alright. Still, she’s far more awkward and bony with you, no longer any semblance of the blood and teeth she was of yesterday. Just a dear friend who followed at your heels with more caution than merriment as fuel, “Be careful.”

And you are. For the next thirty minutes, just to prove you can be, if you want to. Your shoes are a scratch dirty but indistinguishable from its acclaimed standards and your dress is smothering, molten quartz against the dirt in the stable. You pet the horses and giggle, try to hide the tense of your fingers and the sweat that kisses your neck when Ellie comes close, tries to balance you on your toes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“See, pet here — horses prefer neck to ear rather than elsewhere.”

“Hush, princess. You’ll get us caught.”

“You make it sound scandalous,” you regard her latest comment, opting to face away and question her with thw stretch of your back facing her as a proxy, “that we’re here. We’re just here to pet the horses, are we not?”

“We are.”

“So? Why must we be so cautious?”

“Because is that really all there is to it…” a tingle of her breath skirts the best of your neck at her sudden adjacency, “Y/N?”

You turn, swivel and nearly fall into the crass below you at the gall of this woman — insinuating just as much was inapt, was it not? Absolutely malapropos, much to the tastes of the kingdom, your parents, things of other importance. And you do open your mouth, in protest…

…only that nothing of such… ‘importance’ comes to your defence. You look like a fish, red and blistering with heat like a teenager caught in a crush, not a princess toes deep in a stable with her sworn knight at knee and lip level. Not like that.

“Well?” she eggs on, and now her fingers pamper the skin of your neck, near the base, where they’ve grown warm and excited with your silence — she glances at you, mischievous and all smiles, for once, and it excites you. Makes you worry your lip against your teeth. Makes you carry the innocent part.

“W-Well… I don’t know… what are we doing, exactly?” you close in on the question, and her fingers flit against your cheek. That you can handle, you think. Hope. Her left palm is heavy on your hip, cradling the flesh so gingerly as she crowds you into the corner of the stable.

Her eyes light, once more, and it takes you seconds to figure the feel of her fingers on your lips. Firm and goading some reaction from you; excitement, thrill, something convoluted and messy.

“You tell me: what is this?” she asks, and her question feels like a weight against your throat in the way she nudges her nose into the flesh of it, tests your limits, asks you silently: ‘Are you willing to take the fall?’

And like clockwork, you offer her no words, but just an answer in the form of action, with her mouth on yours and the spit of each other marking the fervor of it as you go — and the way she holds you against the thew of her makes you forget the mud that has begun to discolour your robes.

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams x fem reader #tlou x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us x reader #tlou x you #tlou imagines

[pie-of-flames]

Ringo's Fish 'N' Chips Recipe

From Mary Frampton & Friends Rock & Roll Recipes, 1980.

There are two closely adhered-to customs in Ye Merry Olde England—both Guy Fawkes Night and New Year's Eve are spent at Ringo's! It's quite probable that I won't see his guests until the same time, same place next year but they're guaranteed to turn up for these two highly important occasions. Guy Fawkes Night is the children's special treat, but the age of the "children" is extremely flexible! Ringo presides over a gigantic bonfire and a fabulous display of fireworks. An enormous party follows which becomes a competition to see whether the kids can outlast the "grown-ups." The kids usually win, of course! New Year's Eve is very special, even more so for a northerner from Liverpool. Certain customs must be respected to bring good luck to the household for the coming year. Everyone piles out of the house, holds hands in a circle, and sings "Auld Lang Syne." Then there follows kissing with gay abandon. Then Ringo, as the host, stands at the front door and welcomes each guest back into the house. Everyone carries a piece of coal and a piece of bread, handing them to Ringo on the way indoors. This is a sign that the house will be blessed with enough fuel and food for the coming year. After that, anything goes! Most of the time, Ringo is resident in Los Angeles. So it will be interesting to see what happens on those two special days in the future. I have a feeling that everyone will turn up as usual. Old habits die hard.

Ring's talent as an actor emerged during the filming of the various epics starring the Fab Four. Although excellent in their own way, none of the films were exactly "heavyweights," and although Ringo has had parts in several films since, I would still love to see him pay a role he can really get his teeth into. He obviously has a lot of untapped talent in that sphere. He's still one of the best drummers in the world and loves to help his mates out on their various gigs. An example of this was his appearance at the Band's Last Waltz Concert. Another was years ago. Ringo and Maureen (they were still married then) came over to dinner and I managed to cook something without onions or garlic, neither of which Ringo eats. After dinner, we all went upstairs to the living room and Peter [Frampton] sat down with his acoustic guitar and played a song for Ringo and Maureen called "The Lodger." Ringo loved it and said he'd be delighted to play on the track if Peter recorded it. He did, and he did! It came out on Peter's first solo album, Wind of Change. What a long time ago that was. We've all gone our separate ways but I'm relying on Ringo's twice-yearly dates for us all to get together again.

RINGO'S FISH 'N' CHIPS

INGREDIENTS

Fish Chips

METHOD

Get in your car, or walk, whichever the case may be. Travel to your local fish and chips shop and ask for cod and chips. Add salt and vinegar to taste. Eat with fingers for best results—I do! 'Bye.

—Ringo Starr

#Ringo starr #the beatles #I rediscovered that I have this book #More Beatles chapters to come #but this is the funniest #kissing with gay abandon #Mary Frampton & Friends Rock & Roll Recipes

[bonny-kookoo]

Can we maybe get a tongue tied Drabble where mc joins one of the boys (or all of the boys) during a vlive? I can just imagine her being super shy and quiet at first, but after a while she gets more comfortable and even talks to army. Just imagine her getting super excited everytime someone comments on how cute/pretty she is 😭

Initially, Seokjin had just wanted to do a regular livestream. But then, Jungkook had randomly visited with you in tow- and so, now, today, the regular live turned into a special one.

"Everyone, it's JK and our puppy!" He offers into his phone still standing on the table, and at that, your tail stops wagging as you realize why his phone is there in the first place.

Jungkook can't help but laugh for a second at your sudden reaction. "You can sit on the side if you don't wanna be on camera." He softly tells you, taking your jacket from you as you slowly take it off, a bit uncomfortable now at the prospect of the fans watching.

It's all fine and dandy when you're with everyone. But today, it's clear that you were with Jungkook only, so it might fuel some not so nice comments. Every staff had warned you about that, after all; don't initiate skinship, don't look at them too much, don't talk to them or in general, just sit there and be pretty.

Maybe if you go that route here too, it might not be that bad?

You sit down in a corner just like Jungkook had offered you, but surprisingly, the chatting fans aren't at all happy about that. Comments flood the screen about where you've gone to, why you're not visible, if you're shy. "Ah, yes, she's a bit shy." Jin says gently, laughing when you look up at that, looking at him from behind his phone. "She usually sits on Jungkookies lap all day!" He jokes, making you absolutely horrified at the potential comments this could cause.

But Jin only laughs as he reads what's flowing in. "Someone said 'I would take that seat too if I could' yes! He's got some strong thighs!" He laughs, hitting the maknae's legs in a joking manner, making the singer shake his head as he hits back.

"Ah, she's not permanently living with me! She just stays over sometimes." Jungkook refers to some comments confused as to why you were with the youngest of the group in the first place. "We don't want her being alone so much, so she's with one of us most of the time." He explains.

"We should go fishing with Yoongi!" Seokjin tells you, and your tail starts to wag as you nod with excitement. "Ah, you're all so unfortunate you can't see her! She's so cute!" He laughs his signature laugh, making you blush, and the comments complain over the lack of you in the picture.

"Does she get into trouble if she's on live? Ah, no, we wouldn't let that happen." Jungkook denies a fan in the chat who's asked about the rules. "I didn't even know he was live, to be honest." He shrugs, looking at Seokjin who now leans back on the couch, holding out his hands.

"Come on now, I never get to have you close, it's unfair!" He complains, and you hesitate, looking between him and Jungkook constantly. "Army, she doesn't like me. I knew it. She only likes our Jungkookie, no one else." He shakes his head in fake disappointment, and at that you slowly get up from the floor to walk closer and pat the head he's got in his hands as he fake-cries.

Immediately, at the sight of you petting the oldest's head, the comments erupt into hearts and emojis. Sure, there's the occasional question as to why you can't just leave or why you have to be there in the first place, but surprisingly, most seem to be happy. "Ah, finally! Now come here!" He laughs, sitting you on one of his legs where you sit, watching the different emojis flood in.

Everything else is too fast to read- but it's not like you could read it any slower either.

"They're all saying how pretty you are." Jungkook picks up on your disappointment, pointing at the phone. "See? Hearts. So many hearts for you." He chuckles when your tail starts to wag, the prospect of being in front of a live audience not too scary any longer.

And though you stay quiet for the entire duration of the livestream, it definitely made your reputation skyrocket practically overnight- news outlets covering every significant moment of the live, while others post screenshots and short clips on multiple social media platforms. The agency itself doesn't like that at all-

Because once the public begins to love you too much, it'll be impossible to get rid of you again.

At least not in the way they had planned.

But for the band, it's absolute heaven on earth watching all the positive comments and reactions from people. After all, they already love you more than enough to want to keep you-

And with rebels like Seokjin who will do what he wants anyways, your place is basically set in stone already.

Because you're not just something for publicity anymore, or social therapy-

You're part of the pack.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #seokjin imagine #jin imagine