#fic: if i’m being honest (it scares me to death)

[hippolotamus]

Hippo my lovely 💕

21 - this is a very long hug now sort of hug

If it sparks joy 💕

It did! Eventually (sheepishly kicks at the dirt) Enjoy, lovely 🦛💞🐥

For the full experience may I recommend

if i’m being honest (it scares me to death) | T | 2926 words

Just got in. See you tomorrow.

Buck pockets his phone and enters the apartment — it’s not home, never really has been — his movements slow and easy, like he’s floating. Buoyed by the sort of love and contentment that can only come from spending an evening at the Diaz house. A few precious hours of dinner, then playing Boggle and Scattergories until Chris begged off to play an online game with his friends. His limbs are loose and humming, like his veins have been injected with liquid starlight. Even the air around him feels syrupy sweet and pleasant. The kind of thick, protective cover that nothing negative could hope to ruin.

He drops his keys in the bowl and immediately walks to the fridge to put away the Tupperware container of leftover mushroom and chickpea meatballs with zoodles for tomorrow’s lunch.

Eddie picked the recipe, saying he wanted to try it. No particular reason, he just did. He’s been doing that more lately, choosing dishes he would make anyway and subbing in vegan ingredients.

Buck took notice immediately and makes sure to show his gratitude in heaping platefuls and commenting on how delicious it all is. He knows from experience that it’s all too easy to end up with dried out, inedible food that shouldn’t be fed to anyone. It’s the least he can do for his best friend making the effort to cook something special just for him. Even if said best friend will never admit that’s why he’s doing it.

At times, if Buck lets himself look too closely, it feels a lot like something else. These acts of service feel a lot like love. And it is. The sort of love two best friends who would do anything for each other have. Buck’s not naïve enough to think that Eddie wouldn’t do the same thing for any of their friends or family. But at the same time it’s also more? Deeper. A sacred bond or formula shared just between them. Like learning Bobby’s chili doesn’t work without the cocoa powder. Someone could try a million different ways and it would never turn out right.

He wants to be brave enough to name this thing they’ve been building since promising to have each other’s backs. This relationship forged in fire, mud, and tsunamis. Built on collapsing foundations, busted down doors, lightning strikes, and ‘Because, Evan’.

If he could be part of Eddie and Christopher’s lives for everything, he would do it in a heartbeat. But that always seems like too much and not enough to ask for. Because Buck is too much and not enough. Acceptable in measured increments for precise amounts of time. For now — probably forever — he tucks that dream away in favor of focusing on what he does have.

With the leftovers safely put away, he grabs a beer, twisting off the cap and listening to it slide across the countertop, finally slowing to a stop next to the utensil caddy. It’s… loud. Too loud for such a small object. Or maybe the apartment is just too… cavernous? Empty?

Buck leans back against the counter, taking a lengthy sip and visually assessing his space. He has things. The right amount of things, even. After all, he’s one single person. How much could he need? He drowns the thought with more beer when his mind tries to remind him of six cheese lasagna and couches and having the answers.

He decides it’s not worth ruining his still relatively excellent mood by worrying over something as trivial as a chunk of metal, and moves out to the patio. It might do him some good.

The atmosphere is filled with the sights and sounds of the city at night. A complex symphony of traffic, music and people wrapped in an LED haze that starts at the street and drifts slowly upward. It’s a familiar melody that, just like the apartment, isn’t home but does its best to provide comfort.

He manages to pick out a few stars peeking through. Not full constellations. Those are impossible, staying hidden like the ancient giants they are. It’s nice to still be able to see the twinkling specks, even if they’re nothing like some places he’s been.

On the ranch in Montana he would lay on the hood of his Jeep and stare for what felt like hours. Feeling small, but also like something was waiting for him. Like he was part of something bigger that he just hadn’t discovered yet. Looking at the sky now doesn’t feel that way. More like being at sea, adrift and searching. Waiting to be found, though he’s not quite sure by who or what.

It reminds him of a documentary he watched once about otters. The mothers fluff up their pup’s fur and leave them to float while they hunt for food. The babies are powerless to do anything except spin in a circle until she returns. Sometimes Buck feels like that. Like somebody has given him enough support to turn in place but not actually go anywhere.

He casts a look at the table and chairs and finds himself thinking of fixing, being at your worst, trying again anyway, and— no. Clearly being outside isn’t helping, so Buck returns indoors, hoping the television will prove to be enough of a distraction.

As he searches for something to watch, it seems reasonable he just needed a better place to focus his attention that isn’t his own inner chatter. He’s already slightly irritated that the vibrant glow from earlier has faded so significantly. Maybe there’s still a chance it can be recovered.

He quickly settles on a cooking program and that gets him smiling again. He doesn’t even particularly care what’s being presented, just that it evokes the same warmth as being welcomed home and brown eyes with flecks of gold. At least until the next episode comes on.

This one features a couple, a husband and wife posed in their studio kitchen. They’re surrounded by pristine white cabinets, gleaming mixing bowls, and perfectly measured ingredients that will make a stunning something-or-other. When it’s complete they’ll pull it from the stainless steel double oven to be served on the prop table that’s been set like a photo shoot for Better Homes & Gardens.

Buck can’t help but notice how they move in harmony, fluidly traversing around each other, like a ballet. Like partners. Maybe it’s all for an audience, but it looks genuine. Not the type of movement that’s choreographed or faked. He stares, scrutinizing every instance of adoring looks and playful gestures until something within him finally cracks.

The hollow ache that usually lives in his chest suddenly feels deeper. Wider. Like it may actually break through and tear him apart, causing him to wonder how such emptiness can feel so massive. As if his ribs are slowly cracking open, snapping one by one, stretching the skin while crushing his lungs and heart. He wants to scream or something. Anything to untangle the mess sitting under his sternum.

Through rapid, gasping breaths Buck tries to refocus, to take himself back. Even just fifteen minutes. Is that so much to ask? Returning to blissfully, ignorantly, mindlessly observing?

Despite what he wants, the screen remains unchanged. Mr and Mrs Fucking Perfect carry on with their routine, blurred and watery in front of him. And Buck – he’s spinning in circles again, too helpless to do anything except wait. Except he doesn’t want to. He’s so tired of drifting and circling and clinging and pausing.

It’s just- when he’s the guy who’s always trying to fix things that are out of his control… what is he supposed to do?

🍠🍠🍠🍠🍠

Eddie puts the last of the dry dishes away in the bottom cabinet, and not a moment too soon. He’s got an early shift in the morning and has to get to bed. He could have left them in the rack for tomorrow, but it gave him extra time to mentally replay the earlier parts of the night. Like watching Buck smile, all pleased and fond, every time Eddie thanked him for a helpful cooking tip. Or watching Chris break out in a full belly laugh at one of Buck’s corny dad jokes.

It really is a form of self-torture sometimes, having Buck over for dinner and homework and board games. Pretending they’re a family and this is a normal everyday thing he gets to have.

He tells himself it’s for Chris, too, but he also knows that’s a blatant lie. If Chris wasn’t a factor Eddie’s pretty sure he’d invent any and all reasons to spend more time with Buck.

Eddie sighs and lays the dish towel over the sink edge. The ridiculous one that says Silence of the Yams over a print of a sliced up root vegetable. It came as part of a set Buck and Chris gave him last Thanksgiving. It’s probably not a coincidence he uses this particular one the most. The shade is a nearly identical match to the burnt orange sweater Eddie always likes on Buck.

There are times it feels like he’s not the only one with all these feelings welling up inside, trying to prevent them from bleeding out through his pores and spilling onto Buck. Like there’s something in the casual touches and glances that pass between them. Something electric and charged that’s more than bros or friends and decidedly not platonic.

One day, maybe, he’ll work up the nerve to tell Buck what’s in his heart. To ask him on a date and hope he’s not fucking up the best relationship that’s ever happened to him and his son. For now he’ll take whatever Buck is willing to give. Even if it only ever comes in the form of shoulder nudges, zoo trips, and Keeping the Peas housewares.

He starts his nightly routine, walking a path through the rooms, turning off lights and making sure doors are locked. When the final throw pillow is returned and the last pile is straightened, he hears the tentative knocking.

The noise immediately puts him on edge, setting off his protective instincts. Nothing good can come from someone being at his house this late. Christopher is in bed and Buck has his own key. Eddie tiptoes across the floor to peer through the peephole, shocked to discover who’s waiting on the other side.

“Buck?” Eddie turns the deadbolt, opening the door wide for his friend.

This isn’t anything like the night he came seeking respite from Maddie’s well-intentioned visitor train. Instead of standing tall, barreling past Eddie, Buck stares straight ahead, unblinking and motionless with slumped shoulders that make him appear small. Eddie can see how his eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. He looks utterly broken.

Before Eddie can say his name again, Buck surges forward over the threshold. He falls into Eddie, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and burying his face into the crook of his neck.

Eddie pushes the door shut, not bothering to listen if it latched correctly or not. He returns the embrace, one hand on Buck’s back, the other gently petting his hair as Buck’s body shudders against his own.

He gratefully absorbs each whimper and sob. The way thick, searching fingers clutch at his shirt.

“Shhhh, hey. I’ve got you.”

Buck was fine a few hours ago. What the hell could have happened since then?

“I- I’m sorry, Eds.” Buck begins to pull back, rubbing away the wetness on the sleeve of his maroon hoodie. “It’s late. I shouldn’t have- I’m gonna–” He jerks his chin toward the doorway.

“Uh-uh. None of that.” Eddie lightly grips Buck’s elbow, a silent question. Buck hesitates, looking between Eddie and the entryway, before he acquiesces to letting Eddie tug him closer again.

He wants to do any number or ill-advised things like hold Buck’s face between his palms, kiss away every tear, and murmur every wonderful thought he’s ever had about the man in his arms until Buck believes them. For now he settles for cradling and rubbing soothing patterns and silently loving. He’ll stand here all night if that’s what Buck needs. He can do that.

“I don’t know what happened. All I did was turn on Food Network,” Buck warbles. Then he shakes his head against Eddie’s shoulder, exhaling a world weary breath. A puff of air expelled by someone carrying the universe and trying to make it appear no bigger than a classroom globe. Eddie’s, unfortunately, more than a little familiar.

“That’s not true,” Buck confesses.

The silence returns and Eddie waits for Buck to elaborate on what he means. It isn’t long before the explanation comes, so muted that Eddie almost doesn’t catch it.

“I’m tired, Eds. Of pretending to be happy alone and waiting to be chosen. Tired of holding back just so the wrong person likes some version of me that isn’t even authentic. It’s just all so exhausting.”

I’d choose you. Three words Eddie can’t bear to make himself say out loud, because his best friend is hurting and now is most definitely not the time for that kind of confession. So he holds onto them a little longer, ignoring the sting where they settle back into his heart. A burning pain that only becomes more intense when Buck burrows impossibly closer, continuing to cling to Eddie like a lifeline.

Buck speaks again, sounding unfathomably small and heartbroken. “Am I that hard to love?”

“No.” Eddie’s answer is immediate and unwavering. As true as the night he first decided in front of their captain and an exploding ambulance.

Buck responds with a skeptical huff. “You have to say that because you’re my best friend.”

Eddie slides the hand on the back of Buck’s neck forward, grazing over his cheek and under his chin until he can tip his head up. Even in the darkness, Buck’s eyes are exceptionally blue. Endless depths that manage to steal Eddie’s breath and reflect back every future he yearns for.

It’s been ages since Eddie’s given any serious thought to last first kisses or until death do we part, but he would swear under oath that’s what he sees now.

“No,” Eddie reiterates. This should probably be more difficult and be ratcheting up his anxiety. But it doesn’t. Instead he’s wrapped in a distinct calm. An undeniable certainty, because what he’s about to say is true and however Buck reacts won’t change it. “I have to say that because I love you.”

Buck blinks and his mouth falls open in an imperfect o. “Y-you what?” He whispers.

Now that he’s said it once, a second time is that much easier. “I said I love you. And I will always choose you. All of you. Over and over. Every version. If you’ll let me.”

Buck’s eyelashes flutter, fresh tears starting to pool there, and he looks at Eddie with such awe and disbelief, like he can’t accept that someone would genuinely want him. Not that he doesn’t understand the feeling, but it shatters Eddie to think Buck has spent even a second believing he’s unlovable.

“Of course I’ll let you. How is that even a question?” Buck asks, as if they haven’t been dancing around exactly that for years. He stands to his full height, never letting his hands drop, beaming down with the smile Eddie’s claimed as just for him. “But, Eds?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“This has been a really long hug. Not that I’m complaining. I was just kinda hoping I could kiss you. Finally. I’ve been kinda wanting to for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And who is Eddie to deny him that?

“Please,” he sighs into the diminishing space between them. His tone borders on a plea, but this is Buck. The person who has seen Eddie at his most vulnerable, who sees Eddie more than he’s ever allowed anyone else.

They drift closer until their lips brush, just enough that Eddie gets a taste of Buck’s horchata lip balm. Eddie can’t understand needing more than the 3-pack he can get at the grocery store, but right now he’s not complaining about the sweet, cinnamon flavor.

Eddie deepens the kiss, pausing when he can make himself break away, just enough to murmur ‘I love you’, wanting to make sure Buck knows he’s all in. That this isn’t a fluke or temporary, pitying lapse in judgment.

Because he does, and he is, with every fiber of his being. He loves him, loves him, loves him.

Suddenly Buck pulls back, breathless and wide-eyed, his already plush lips kiss swollen, tempting Eddie to bring them back together. “I just realized I never said I love you, too. Because I do a-and I really need you to know that.”

Eddie hums appreciatively, claiming Buck’s mouth again, unable to stay apart any longer now that he knows what it is to kiss Evan Buckley. He submits to the love and adoration and the way they fit like two puzzle pieces, further solidifying how they’re meant to complete each other. He doesn’t know how he ever thought he knew what love was.

There are infinite meanings for different people. For Eddie, it’s painted in hues of burnt orange and blue. Folded in cheesy puns and always having a fresh container of oat milk in the fridge. Stated in facts about retrofitted ceiling tiles and light fixtures; conveyed in I know you did, what are you afraid of, and I misunderstood the assignment.

It’s following his heart on the winding path that led him to a reality better than any fantasy.

#soft prompts #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #fic: if i’m being honest (it scares me to death) #hippo writes

[dollfacefantasy]

Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl. 

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn���t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby Part 1

a/n: I got this in my head and couldn’t find another fic that mentioned it. This is the first fic I've ever written.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/reader

Warning: brief mentions of car crash and cheating

Word Count: 1100 ish

Summary: Jake must defend his call sign to a stranger, and he is on a timer. 

Previous          Masterlist          Next

You checked the timer on your phone for the third time, sighing at the 32 minutes remaining. One hour, every week, socializing with strangers. That was the deal you made with your therapist. 

Eighteen months after a horrific car crash killed your fiancé and childhood best friend your therapist suggested you ‘get back out there.’ It wasn’t just their deaths that you were working through in your twice monthly therapy sessions. It was the fact that she was blowing him when they crashed. You thought that was something that only happened in movies and tv shows.  Your grief was… complicated. 

So here you were at the bar of the week nursing a whiskey sour until the timer on your phone said you could go home. You surreptitiously glance around. Judging by the uniforms of the other patrons and the décor the Hard Deck was a military bar. You massage your temples and check your phone again, 29 minutes to go. 

“Need some company while you wait for your date?” You glance to your left at the southern drawl. An unfairly handsome man in a uniform with green eyes is looking down at you and you stare a little too long. “I’ve been watching you check your phone,” he explains, “he’s an idiot to keep you waiting.“ 

“I'm not expecting company,” you roll your eyes at him. “But thank you for assuming I’m being stood up. It was definitely the vibe I was going for.” You take another sip of your drink so you have something to do with your hands. 

A slow smile breaks out across his face. “In that case I’m Hangman.”

“I'm sorry your parents hated you.”

At your deadpan response he chuckles. “It’s my call sign,” he explains smugly. “I'm a fighter pilot.” He is easily the most attractive man in the bar and he knows it, and there is something about his inflated ego that makes you want to pop it. Just a little.

“Hangman like the spelling game?” you ask and he nods and brushes your arm, leaning into you.

You hum noncommittally, cocking your head as you look at him. “You know some schools discourage playing hangman.” You tell him. “They don’t want to encourage violence in children so they play Sleepy Baby instead.”

“Sleepy Baby?” He asks in confusion, leaning back.

“Yeah, you draw a baby in a crib instead of a man on the gallows,” you grin at his scandalized expression. “You could change your pilot name to Sleepy Baby, so you don’t scare the children and all.” 

“Darling, you are the only one I’d let call me ‘baby’.” You laugh at his smooth recovery. “What’s your name, beautiful?” He is charming despite his ego and his intense stare is giving you butterflies. 

“Tic-tac-toe.” 

“Imma call you Hugs and Kisses and you can call me Baby.” You can’t help but laugh at his confidence. 

“So if you are not waiting for anyone why are you always checking on your phone?” The pilot sits down beside you leaning forward again so his knees brush against yours. 

You contemplate your answer before deciding that fuck it, you will be at another bar next week and will never see the handsome pilot again so might as well be honest. “My therapist has suggested that I should ‘socialize with adults that are not coworkers or the children I work with.’” You explain. “So one hour a week I must socialize.” You wave your hand vaguely at the bar. 

“Are you one of those teachers banning hangman?” He asks in mock outrage, graciously glossing over most of your explanation. 

“Child Activity Coordinator at a local library actually, but yeah I’ve been know to play a few rounds of Sleepy Baby.” You say with a shrug.“ Some parents get upset at certain things and it’s easier just to avoid it than die on the hill of hangman. Plus there was one little boy who would cry when the man was hung so it was best to avoid the tears.”

“He would cry every time?” The green eyed pilot has a fond smile on his face. 

You nodded. “I mean the same kid also cried when someone stole his imaginary kitten so some things can’t be helped but sometimes it’s just easier to avoid it.” You said with a grin remembering the moment. 

“It’s hard to believe we live in a world where imaginary kittens aren’t even safe.” He shakes his head solemnly and you burst out laughing. The unexpected arrival of the cocky pilot has been a delightful addition to your evening. 

“So one hour a week?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “How much time do I have left?”

You check your phone, “you have 17 minutes, Flyboy.” You grin. “So what made you join the AirForce?”

He looks offended. “Darling, I'm a Naval Aviator.” 

You blink blankly at him. “I was genuinely not aware the Navy had pilots.” 

“The navy has aircraft carriers,” he grins “who do you think flies the planes?”

“Honestly, I never thought about it and I think I just assumed it was a Navy / Air Force cooperation situation.” You trail off still thinking before shrugging. “I guess you learn something new every day.”

“I could teach you something else,” he sends you a flirty wink.

“I think I’ve reached my knowledge quota for the day,” you laugh back. “But what did you learn today?”

“That my call sign breaks the heart of little boys and their stolen imaginary kittens, and I could use a therapist that suggests going to a bar.”

“Good news Sleepy Baby, I don't think you needed the help to make it here.”

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket notifying you that your hour is up and a not so small part of you is disappointed. You pull your phone out and hold up the timer to the pilot in front of you. “That’s time.”

“Can I get your number?” He asks hopefully as you gather your purse and finish your drink. “We could spend the full hour together next time, therapists advice on socializing and all.”

“I’ll pass this time, but next time, who knows?” You say as you stand, feeling a little sad that you will never see him again. 

“As long as you remember, Hugs and Kisses, I’m in the Navy.” 

You look up at him grinning. “Don’t worry, I’ll remember.” 

As you leave you walk by the jukebox glancing down and see the perfect song on the track lists. You hit the number grinning to yourself as you walk to the door. 

When you reach the exit you turn around and find the green eyed pilot has made his way back to some others in uniforms at the pool table. “Hey Baby,” you call out over the noise of the bar. You grin when he looks up eagerly as the Village People begins to play over the jukebox. “This song’s for you!”  You shoot him a mock salute as you walk out the door. 

#jake hangman seresin #hangman #hangman/reader #jake seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #topgun maverick #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #hangman top gun

[crazyk-imagine]

Mended Relationships and the Future

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Fem!reader Characters: Fem!reader, Ted Lasso, Coach Beard, Keeley Jones, Jamie Tartt, Rebecca Welton, Isaac Mcadoo, Colin Hughs, Sam Obisanya, Dani Rojas, Jan Maas, Roy Kent, literally all of the players (I just can’t think of their names) Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, cursing, mentions of pregnancies, mentions of reader not taking care of themselves (don’t do this), Jamie being sweet, reader and Jamie being dummies for a second, the team being so goddamn adorable, the team gives such family vibes, Jamie pretending the reader and he are engaged so he can stay with her, Ted and Beard are a powerful duo, this is my favorite TL fic that I’ve written Word Count: 3,783

A/N: Bits and pieces are based on this post

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You walk into the coach’s office with your hands in your hoodie pocket, clutching onto your phone to keep your hands busy. "Why did you wake me up and force me here, Ted?" 

"That's not a can-do attitude." 

Your expression doesn't change, if anything, you look more tired and drained. Another reason why the mustached man got you out of your home. "Ted." 

He sighs. "I wanted to check in on you, haven't seen you in a minute." 

You sigh. "I would prefer it if I were in my bed right now to be honest with you." 

"After we go out to lunch." 

"I want to be out of here before I run into..." You pause when you almost say his name. "You know what- I'm just- I’m gonna go." You barely turn around and hear the door open. 

It takes you less than a second to duck, which makes Ted feel a little bad but doesn't change his mind. 

He knows you two need to talk, especially when neither of you want to admit who broke up with who... or why it happened. 

Your emotions take a toll on your body again and you crawl towards the trash can, dry heaving until you feel it coming up (again). 

Beard kindly closes the door before anyone could walk in or hear you as Ted rubs the space between your shoulders. 

"How long have you been feeling like this?" 

You shrug. 

"How long?" He asks again. 

"A few weeks." 

Ted glances over at his long-time buddy with wide eyes. "Please don't get upset or take offense when I ask this but have you-" 

'Play dumb. Play dumb.' "Have I what? Use words, my brain isn't functioning off your noises." 

"Is there a possibility that you could be, you know, with child?" 

Your head snaps up. 'He knows.' "Why would you ask that?" 

"You have a few of the signs." 

"When was the last time you went to a doctor?" Beard chimes in. 

"A while ago." 

"So, you know?" 

"Whether or not I'm pregnant with my ex-boyfriend’s baby, who coincidentally told me he doesn't want kids just as I wanted to tell him I do. Yeah, it was right as I was about to tell him I am with child, which is why I've been dodging all of you but you and Beard here," you point to Ted's sidekick, who waves. "Dragged me out of my house." 

"Oh, honey." 

"Does he know?" Coach beard intervenes (again). 

"What do you mean?" 

"You said, you wanted to tell him... did you?" Ted politely asks. 

"He broke up with me, so I didn't give him my surprise, but I tell people it was mutual because he asked me if," the tears roll down your cheeks. "If it was okay. The fucking ex-cockiest player of all, asked me if I was going to be okay, so of course I said yes and then he left. We haven't spoken since." 

"He should know." 

"I know but he is scared to death to have his own kids. Why would I-" You scoot back and rest your head against the wall. "I want to go home. I have a few things coming later today and I need to be there for them. It’s time I start," you take a deep breath. “Getting things ready.” 

"We can get those later, I've gotta make sure you're okay right now." 

"I'd be better if this nausea, vomiting combo would go away." 

"Do you want me to have Keeley get you a ginger ale or something?" 

"Yeah." 

The door opens and there she is. She stares at you with the same look she gives you every time you throw up. "I had a feeling you were going to need this." 

-

Jamie sees what he imagines is a glimpse of you sitting in his coach’s office. He furrows his brows, wondering if it was really, you or if it's a figment of his imagination... again. 

It wouldn’t be the first time this week. 

-

"What?" She practically screams when Ted tells her on behalf of you, the Jamie not knowing part; she already knew you were pregnant, but she thought he knew and decided not to be in either of your lives. Now she feels a little bad about not being nice to him. 

You bury your head in your hands. "Shut up. Don't shout anymore, please." 

"Can you blame me? That's big fucking news babes. I thought he already knew." 

"Yeah, I know. Just, shut the door please." 

She doesn't, so you push yourself up and close the door. 

You sway as you take a step back, “oh, boy.” You can hear their voices but not hear their words. You feel yourself falling backwards before it fades to darkness. 

Ted and Beard catch you, carefully laying you down so the latter can call for an ambulance. 

Jamie steps closer to the office, sensing something’s happened. He opens the door and his jaw dropped as he’s about to ask what's going on until his eyes land on you. 

He immediately falls to his knees beside you, holding your face in his hands, not caring about the rug burn that’s going to ache later. "What happened?" 

No one responds. 

"What fucking happened?" 

Ted doesn't feel he should be the one to tell him and does all that he can to try and calm down his player. "She's fine, she probably didn't have enough to eat for breakfast, is all." 

"Bullshit. She's done that before and never fainted before." He stares down, studying your face. "So, why is she fucking unconscious?" 

-

You don't know anything that happened within the last few hours. 

All you know is that there is an annoying beeping sound coming from the side of you and your one hand is warmer than it normally is. 

You slowly open your eyes, blinking multiple times as you try to adjust to the lighting. You look for the source of the warmth and find Jamie, holding your hand with his head rested on his arm with his head facing you. 

The door opens and you find Ted peaking in. 

The way his shoulder sags in relief makes you feel bad. 

He tiptoes closer and lets you know what happened. 

"Why is he here?" 

He smiles as he peaks over at the sleepy man. "He didn't leave your side." 

"How did he know?" 

"He came in as we were calling for an ambulance. You scared him, he would barely let the paramedics help." 

"Isn't family only allowed in here?" 

"Apparently you two are engaged." 

You owlishly blink. "What?" 

"He said you two were engaged and he needed, no, no. That's not right, he demanded, there it is. He demanded to be in the room with you. I wasn't here for most of it. In the room I mean but I think he knows because he looked very shocked and then came in here when they told him he could and hasn’t left since." 

The coach ignores the fact that your heart monitor spikes as you ask, "he knows?" 

"I think so." 

Jamie moves a little in his sleep. 

"That's my cue to leave." 

"Wait- no. Ted. Come back." You glance between him and Jamie. "Ted," you hiss. "Come back here." 

Jamie squeezes your hand as he slowly begins to wake up. 

You look back at him just in time to hear the door close. You throw your head back and sigh. 

"Sweetheart?" 

You slowly turn your head to stare at him, your eyes becoming sad. 

His shoulders sag in relief as a slow sigh escapes his parted lips. "How are you feeling? I should- I should go get the doctor, shouldn't I?" 

You reach for him, grabbing onto him before he could leave. "Jaim. Jaim?" 

He doesn't turn around but settles back into his seat. 

"Jam-Jam?" 

A sniffle fills the room. 

"Jamie, look at me." 

He shakes his head. You tighten your grip on his arm, ignoring the familiar burning sensation in your nose. "Jamie, I need you to look at me." 

"Why?" He sniffles, staring at you with his now, bloodshot eyes. "Were you ever going to tell me?" 

"Don't throw that question my way, Tartt." 

"No more, Jam-Jam?" 

"I was going to tell you." 

"What? After the birth?" 

"I'm more tempted to now." You wipe the stray tear that tipped past your eye lid before he could see. "I initially planned on telling you right when you broke up with me but, we see how well that turned out." 

“Wh- is that what you had been trying to do the whole time?” 

You nod and lean forward, drawing him into you; needing to comfort him and be comforted all at once. 

He moves closer to you, closing his eyes at the feeling of your hand against his face; something he hasn’t felt in what feels like, forever. He hadn’t realized you were wiping away his tears. 

“I wanted to figure out the best way to tell you because, I mean we hadn’t exactly talked about us having kids before and I kind of figured that with everything that went on with your dad. I thought it was going to make it hard for you to think that you could be a good dad. Which, I think is stupid.” 

He opens his mouth to ask what you mean until you continue. 

“I mean, how could you not be a good dad because personally I think you’d be absolutely fucking phenomenal.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod, “big time. You’re already doing better than your dad.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You smile and sniff. “You’re not making any of the stupid decisions he has.” 

“I made one.” 

You tilt your head. “What was that?” 

“I broke up with you. I just-” He pulls back from you (something he does when he feels like he’s undeserving of something). “I thought- I thought you were pulling away to break up with me and you couldn’t figure out how to do it, so I-” 

“So, you thought breaking up with me first, was a better option?” 

He nods, scratching his head. 

“Come closer.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he weakly argues. 

“Come here.” 

He scoots the chair closer. 

“I need you to be honest with me when I ask these questions, okay?” 

He nods. 

You sigh through your nose and reach for his hand. “Is there any part of you that does not want to be a part of either of our lives?” 

“No.” 

“Do you want to be with me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you going to leave any time soon?” 

“The fuck do you take me for? I’m not going to leave you ever,” he stands up and bends down, staring into your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. “Okay? I love you too fucking much to let you go again. I hated being away from you.” 

“Same here but, I’m really happy you’re here… even if it was because I fainted.” 

“Speaking of, why did that happen exactly?” 

“I- well- I hadn’t had anything-” 

“Let’s just cut the bullshit, have you been taking proper care of yourself since we were separated?” 

You shamefully shake your head. 

He doesn’t show his disappointment, but you know it’s there. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry. Isn’t that- crying is stressful on the baby, ain’t it?” 

“Not so much- I mean, maybe?” 

“Okay, well.” He grabs your hands, bringing your attention to him. “Let’s take a few deep breathes so we can calm down for Baby Tartt.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Do do do doo.” 

“Listen to you. Guess I rubbed off on you, eh?” You roll your eyes, not believing that for a second. “Does any of what you’ve said within the last two minutes sound anything like what your dad could say?” 

“Not in the least bit.” 

“See, exactly. It further proves you’re different and how much you’ve grown from the cocky man who couldn’t care less about anyone else.” 

“Hey. That’s someone we don’t speak of.” 

“Of course,” you salute him. You two can barely keep your amusement to yourselves and break into a fit of smiles and giggles. 

He stares at you, watching as you wipe your cheeks and leans up, kissing your forehead before placing his on top of your head. “I was,” he hesitates to finish his sentence. 

You nod and cup his cheek, letting him know you’re there, a simple gesture to let him know you want to hear what he has to say. 

“-so scared when I saw you lying there unconscious.” 

Your heart drops at the way his voice cracks. “Jaim. Jaim. Look at me.” 

He shakes his head. 

You don’t push any further and instead opt for bringing him closer, letting him rest against your chest, squeezing you in a hug. 

It takes a few minutes before Jamie manages to calm himself down enough to revert back to your adorable boyfriend. “Oh, shit. I didn’t hurt the baby, did I?” He asks, now scared to touch you. 

“No. You didn’t.” 

You hold out your hand for him, “do you trust me?” 

He nods, “’course I do.” 

“Give me your hand.” 

He slowly inches his hand closer and closer to you. 

You huff and reach for him. “Are you ready?” 

He doesn’t move or make a noise as you place his hand over your belly. “Am I supposed to be feeling anything?” 

“Other than knowing the fact you are going to be a father soon enough, no. I’m not that far along for us to feel any kicking.” 

He bends down as a breath of relief escapes him. “Thank god, I thought I was supposed to feel kicking or something and I didn’t, which scared me the hell out of me because I thought he already hated me.” 

“He?” 

“I mean, hello,” he gestures to himself. You roll your eyes and take your hand back from him. “You’re so going to be cursed with girls.” “How can you say that?” 

“Have you met yourself?” 

“I have and we’re actually quite happy together, sorry for the late notice, sweetheart.” 

You close your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. 

Ted peaks his head in through the door. “I see you two have talked things out? Hopefully, if not. No pressure. Well, maybe a little seeing as I have everyone waiting in the hall.” 

“Everyone?” You repeat. 

The coach nods. “Give me second.” He looks back over his shoulder, pretending to count, “one, two, four. Yep, everyone.” 

You place your hand on your forehead. “Suddenly the thought of everyone knowing makes me nauseous.” 

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” 

You turn your head and look at your favorite person ever… for now. 

“If we can get through the team being little shits and the press making unnecessary comments about our relationship, we can get through the team knowing.” 

“We can?” He gives you an affirmative nod, “we can.” 

“We can.” 

“Atta girl.” 

“Alright, guys. They said okay,” Ted waves everyone in. 

“I suddenly realize how many of you there actually are,” you comment. 

Sam, Dani, and Colin chuckled. 

“As captain, I feel like it’s my duty to ask,” Isaac leans closer to you, talking to you in a softer tone than his normal one. “How are you?” 

You smile, “I’m better now.” 

“Good, that’s what we like to hear. Ain’t that right, team?” 

“Yes, coach!” 

“And now I��m scared.” 

“Oh, don’t be scared especially when you’re carrying a special bundle of joy,” the mustached man points out. 

“Oh fuck.” 

“Something the matter, Roy?” Ted asks. 

“Yeah. She’s carrying Tartt’s baby.” 

“I’m pretty sure they covered that topic back in school but continue.” 

“There’s going to be a baby brought into the world soon.” 

“Yeah?” Ted glances over at Beard, who shrugs. 

“With his blood coursing through its veins,” he points to your ex-not-ex-boyfriend. 

It’s quiet for three seconds before everyone groans and rolls their eyes, they think about what it could be like with a baby Jamie. 

“Hey, hey now. Let’s not think about something as crazy as that because this baby is a good thing.” 

“Yeah?” Jamie whispers, glancing back at Ted, not letting go of your hand. 

“Yes, it is,” the coach nods. “You’re going to go through one of the many joys life brings you.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Fatherhood… that, may or may not mix with a lot of uncles and two aunts who decide they want to spend time with the little booger.” 

“Would one of those many figures happen to include you, coach?” 

“No,” Ted shakes his head. 

“Not at all, Beard.” 

The door opens and heads turn. 

“Hi, I’m just here to-” The nurse takes note of the number of people in the room. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask anyone but the father and mother of the child to leave.” 

“Is it not believable that a woman could have this many boyfriends?” Jan asks. 

“Shut up.” A shoe aimed at his head, hits the wall and lands on the floor with a thud. 

The guys decide it’s time for them to leave, which lets you two see the few things the team has gotten, and it makes you tear up, freaking Jamie out. 

And he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but it was really nice of them team to do. 

“Should we open some presents?” Ted softly asks, placing one in your lap. 

“Didn’t the nurse just kick you out.” 

“I’m your dad.”

 “We’re your dads,” Beard adds. 

You glance over at Jamie. 

He shrugs, not completely hating the idea of having these two around. “I would’ve liked to know about my new parents beforehand. What’s next? Roy’s my uncle.” 

“No, he’s a granddad more than anything,” Jamie chimes in. 

You wipe your cheeks and smile at him before gently pulling the tissue paper out of your way. You pull out a onesie that looks normal, until you unfold it and inspect it. You sniffle as you hold it up for Jamie to see. 

He doesn’t realize why you’re crying until he reads what the back of it, “Tartt 9”. He doesn’t feel the tears trickling down his cheeks until you wipe his cheeks. 

“Jaim?” 

He shakes his head and pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head, over and over again. 

Ted smiles behind his phone. 

“We should probably give them some time alone.” 

“You think?” He asks. 

Beard nods. 

Ted sighs, “okie dokie.” 

They hold their hands up to wave, only to find your face squished against Jamie’s chest, barely able to wave them off. 

You and Jamie wind up opening every one of the other gifts, enjoying each other’s company after being apart for so long. 

“I think we should name it Jamie.” 

“Baby Tartt is not an it, it’s a baby,” you argue. 

“And we’re not naming them Jamie.” 

“Why not? It’s a good name.” 

“I’m not saying it’s a bad name but, we want our little pumpkin to be able to grow into their own, right?” 

“We-” He sighs, thinking about it, already knowing you were right. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

“Was that everything?” 

“I don’t know.” He glances over, finding a bag left on the floor, partially hidden so you couldn’t find it unless you were really looking. He grabs it and sets it in your lap. “What do you think it is?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug and move it closer for him to open (feeling you’ve done enough of the unveiling with presents). 

He pulls a figure out of the bag. “A bike?” Jamie brows furrows together in confusion until he thinks about it. The light bulb goes off in his head, everything clicking together, and he smiles. 

“Is there a card?” 

“I hope so.” 

Now you’re confused. 

He pulls out what looks like a plain index card. “Free one learn how to ride a bike pass.” He chuckles. 

“I’m lost.” 

“Remember how I told you I had something funny I wanted to tell you a couple months ago, but I couldn’t because the shithead was making me train, even though Ted gave us the night off.” He huffs and sits back in the chair. 

“Okay, I don’t need the background information, just give me the synopsis.” 

“Right,” he straightens his back. “I taught Roy how to ride a bike in memory of his granddad.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah,” he nods with a smile. 

“And he let you?” 

“Not without trying to hurt me but I did it.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” 

“Yea- really?” 

“Of course, I’m proud of you. You taught the world’s grumpiest man how to ride a bike and lived to tell the tale.” 

“I guess you’re right.” 

“Of course, I’m right.” 

“I hope the baby doesn’t get your cockiness.”

“My cockiness? What about yours?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” 

“You lie.” 

He fake gasps and slaps his hand on his chest. “I take offense to that.” 

“I’m not sorry.” 

“You should be. We don’t want this one’s first word to be a lie.”

“It wouldn’t, don’t be mean,” you whine. 

“I’m not. I’m just being me.” 

“Yeah, and that’s mean.” 

He smiles and shakes his head. 

You start folding a few of the blankets the guys got, feeling the need to do something. “Hey, look. They got one with sharks.” 

“We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.” 

“Girls can like boy things too.” 

“Do you really want to be asked if we have a boy or a girl every day.” 

“Don’t be mean.” You smile, holding it close to your chest. “I like it. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo. Baby Tart, do do doo doo.” 

He groans, “please stop.” 

“Never.” 

You stiffle a yawn. 

“Come on,” he takes away the few things on your lap and blanket from your hands. “You need to rest.” 

“But I don’t want to.” 

He smiles at the whining tone in your voice. “I know but it’ll do the two of you well.” 

“Fine,” you tell him with a pout. “But sit by me. I… I’ve missed you.” 

“How can I say no to my girlfriend?” Jamie settles beside you and lets you lay against his chest. 

As you sleep and he’s bored, searching through the hospital’s shitty channels, he stumbles upon something interesting, an old childhood show he used to watch. 

You open your eyes to hear the song you briefly sang earlier. 

“Doo doo. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo.” 

“Jam-Jam?” 

“Hey,” he clears his throat. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better. What were you doing?” 

He shrugs. 

You smile and snuggle back into him. “I won’t tell anyone.”

#ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x fem reader #jamie tartt x fem!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x you #crazyk-imagine

[xcaptain-winterx]

Plz plz plz make part 2 of the Steve rogers x Recuit reader🙏🥺

Be a man

Steve Rogers x reader

summary: Steve is a burned chicken nugget

warnings: awkwardness, Bucky being a wingman, angst, fluff, flu, shy Steve, no cum

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc. I think I did a lot of mistakes in this fic

Part 1 Part 3

Main Masterlist Steve Rogers Masterlist

“How is he doing?” Sam asks as Bucky steps out of Steve’s bathroom.

“You mean because of how he embarrassed himself in front of his girl or because of the fact that he swallowed his own cum?”. Bucky leans against the wall next to Sam.

If Steve wasn’t feeling that bad and if he hadn’t witnessed, the whole thing in front of him, Sam would have laughed at the mere fact that Bucky used swallowed and cum in the same sentence. He would’ve never thought that Steve would do this kind of thing. He thought Bucky would do that to be honest, and on purpose.

“Both”.

“Not good, not in the slightest. Probably won’t ever come out of his room again. Can’t blame him though” Bucky says, giving Sam a sad smile, “I would have changed my name and moved states if that happened to me, and faked my own death for my new identity”.

Sam gives him the side eye, “sounds like you already planned this whole ‘if’ situation. Sometimes you really fucking scare me, Gandalf”.

Now it’s Buckys turn to give Sam the side eye, “Don’t call me that”.

“Why?”

“I’m not like him in the slightest?”

“Yeah, old, wrinkly, gray hair, bad posture, looking lost all the time, long hair, packed, greasy-“

“I’m not greasy, bird brain, and what do you mean with packed?”

Sam thinks for a second; he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. “It means good, very good”. He can’t wait to tell Tony what he did.

Bucky turns to Sam, “so you think I’m a good guy?”.

“Definitely, a very packed guy” Sam says nodding, hiding his smug smile. He doesn’t miss the small happy expression that crosses Bucky’s face. Just as Bucky is about to say something, they hear Steve emptying his stomach again. Bucky curses and rushes into the bathroom to Steve.

He rubs Steve’s back while he is throwing up, exactly like he did back in the old days. Back when everything near Steve could make him sick.

Once he emptied his stomach, Bucky fills him a glass of water and sits down next to him on the bathroom floor. Steve’s eyes are red and teary and face pale as a ghost. He gives him a faint nod as Bucky gives him the glass.

“Slow sips” Bucky says, helping him holding the glass du to him shaking. Once Steve is done, he gives Bucky a small thanks and rests his head against the wall.

It’s silent now, no voice that echoes through the bathroom. You can only hear the faint sound of Sam’s foot tapping the floor outside the bathroom. Bucky is the first to break the silence.

“What are you feeling?”

Steve scoffs, and Bucky swears he can see his eyes water for a second. “I feel like an idiot” Steve says.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asks, helping Steve as he tries to get up. Steve looks deep into Bucky’s eyes when he finally stands. Bucky can see the clear pain in his eyes. Not only pain, but complete exhaustion.

“I was an idiot for thinking I actually had a chance with her” he whispers before pushing Bucky’s hand off him and walks out of the bathroom.

Sam was in with a confused expression, questioning what they talked about because Steve just walked away. Normally Steve is the last person to walk away from a conversation with his Bucky. He won’t say best friend because he’s obviously Steve’s best friend. 100%.

“What happened?” Sam finally asks.

“Get your running shoes” Bucky says, not giving Sam a single glance as he walks out. He leaves an even more confused Sam behind.

“Running shoes?”

Two days passes in which Steve didn’t leave his room ones. In that time Bucky had to bring Steve some food because he wouldn’t even leave his room for that. Bucky didn’t care about Steve’s reasoning that he’s a super soldier and can go days without eating. It may be true, but there is no way in hell that Bucky would let Steve ‘starve’ himself. Bucky’s mom would be proud of him for still taking care of poor Steve.

Steve appreciated Bucky for taking care of him, even though he told him to stop. He just wanted to be alone under his bedsheets, wishing he was dead.

Somehow, Steve managed to get sick. Steve, the super soldier Rogers, got sick.

It took Bucky every strength to get Steve to agree to put on some pants and go see the medic. Now he’s helping Steve walk to the med. Knowing Steve isn’t a big fan of people seeing him in such a state, especially someone specific, they take the stairs instead of the elevator.

“Sit down, pal” Bucky says, walking to the examination bed and helping him up and making sure that Steve is comfortable. Just as Steve is up on it, Bucky’s phone starts to rink.

“Hello?” Bucky asks, picking up the phone quite fast. Steve stares at Bucky, trying to listen to who it is. He’s been in his room for days, not doing anything. Seeing Bucky talking to someone on the phone is the most exciting thing he has seen in days.

“Alright” Bucky hangs up. “I need to go”

“What?”

“Sam is in trouble”

“And he called you?” Steve asks

“No, security did”

“…..what?”

“I need to go, Steve. I will come back later”

“Wait wait wait, no!” Steve begs, grabbing Bucky’s hand as he stands up “don’t leave me alone. I can’t do this without you”. Steve gives Bucky his best puppy eyes.

“It’s just the doctor, Steve”

“But what if-“ Steve gets cut off by Bucky.

“I really need to go, Steve. The faster I go the faster I will be back” he says walking out, giving no room for Steve to say something.

Steve is now alone in the med, waiting for the doctor. Hopefully Bruce.

He tries to calm his breathing, telling himself that everything is ok, that she isn’t here, then Banner will soon be here. You’re not a medic or something close to-

“Hello, Mr Rogers”

God, please no

“I heard you aren’t doing that good. What’s wrong”

No, no no no

“Mr Rogers?” you ask, putting on some gloves.

Steve snaps back to reality as you touch his shoulder. Even through the glove, he can feel the warmth of your fingers. There’s nothing more he would rather have than hold your hand in his. He imagines how he holds your hand while dancing to some soft music, any kind of music. Steve would even dance with you to heavy metal if that’s your favorite music. “Hello”.

“Hi” you say smiling at him. “How are you feeling?”.

“I uhm…I’m tired, my eyes are burning sometimes and I feel like a burned chicken nugget” Steve says. He remembers how one’s Sam told him that ‘burned chicken nugget’ means feeling warm.

Steve looks up at you and gives you a small smile. He is trying his best not to cry because of nervousness.

“A burned chicken nugget?” you ask, chuckling.

Steve blushes “y-yeah”. Hearing your sweat laugh makes him turn bright red. He just hopes you don’t notice. You likely will, though.

“Well, isn’t that a unique description” you say while writing down his symptoms. After writing it down, you take a thermometer and turn back to Steve, “please open your mouth, Mr Rogers”.

Steve does as he’s told, and you put the thermometer in his mouth. Steve uses the moment where you are not looking to take you in fully. The lab coat really suits you, so does your small bumblebee patch on the front pocket of the coat. Not only does your outfit make his heart beat faster but also your eyes. You are wearing something Steve believes to be called mascara. At least, that is what Natasha told him a few months ago, as he had to wait for her to finish her makeup before a mission.

Soon a beep tone comes from the thermometer, and you take it out of his mouth. You looked at the thermometer shocked “oh, you are hot”

“So are you” Steve says without thinking.

“What?” you surely misheard him.

“What?” Steve wants to throw himself out the window. The silence between you two screams that this is awkward. Thankfully, you just drop it and instead take your glove off and place your hand on Steve’s forehead. He’s burning up.

“I think we should perhaps draw some blood, Captain” you walk to grab everything you need while Steve already rolls his sleeve up. Only problem is that he’s wearing a sweatshirt, despite feeling like he’s on fire, and he can’t roll it far enough up. You see that and say “perhaps you should remove your sweatshirt”.

Steve is dying on the inside. The hesitation is clear on his face and you notice that.

“I mean you don’t have to, but I won’t be able to draw some blood”

You know that it’s important to draw some blood, especially from him, because a normal person would be close to dying with his temperature. He most likely isn’t because of the serum, so you aren’t panicking that much, but he is still suffering.

Steve can hear the concern as you speak and knows it’s important to draw some blood. He needs to just be a man for ones and jump over the shadow of little twink Steve. With that he takes his sweatshirt off, revealing his sweat covered bare upper body.

You stare at his chest for a bit, checking out his almost shining muscle, while making a ‘damn boy’ expression.

Steve can’t tell if you’re judging his body or if you think he looks good. He hopes you think he looks good. He stops breathing as you take your eyes off of him and prepare to draw some blood.

“Are you nervous?” you ask, immediately wanting to slap yourself as you realize you asked freaking Captain America if he’s scared of needles. “Sorry, obviously you aren’t”.

Steve chuckles. “They are nothing new to me. Had to get them a lot when I was smaller”.

“You got sick a lot?”

“All the time. I was the sick kid back then. This is the first I’ve been sick in seventy years”

“Well then, we better make sure you get better soon” you say preparing the needle. Even though Steve is not scared you still try to distract him from the needle “I heard you sketched a lot. A true artist”.

Steve smiles at that….until he realizes that you know a thing that he almost no one knows. It’s true that he likes to sketch and draw, but he does that when he’s alone. There is no way you could know that.

While Steve questions how you could possibly know that, you start to slowly push the needle into his skin. He comes back to reality when he feels your hand touch his bare arm. Surprisingly, he’s not getting hard.

He still puts a hand over his area, just to make sure.

“Yeah, I uhm did- still do”

“What do you sketch?”

“Buildings, the nature, animals, just beautiful stuff in general” he says, not telling you that you are currently his number one thing to sketch. Steve doesn’t need to see you to sketch you. You are constantly in his head, every detail of your face is tattooed in his brain.

“I always love to paint sunsets” you say.

“You paint?” he asks, kind of surprised, but also excited.

“Yeah, I used to go to art classes when I was a teenager” you say smiling, carefully pulling out the needle.

“I did too”

“Seems like we have something in common” you say, looking up at him and giving him smile.

“I guess we do” Steve says, looking down at his lap, blushing even more. As his eyes move back up, something yellow caught his eyes.

A bright yellow bumblebee bandage.

You notice him looking at his arm. “Oh, I uhm-I don’t know where the other bandages are and I always carry those with me. I know they aren’t exactly what people above the age of ten prefer, but I like to say they bring luck” you say, not looking him in the eyes. It’s at that moment that Steve realizes that he never liked someone as much as you. “I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but Dr Banner didn’t tell me where they are before he left”

“Left?” Steve asks.

“With agent Romanoff. I believe she told me they were going to Norway”.

He definitely missed a lot during his depressive episode.

“You are done” you say, giving him his sweatshirt. “The results will come in tomorrow. I will inform you once they are here, Captain. Till then I can give you something that can perhaps help you, at lest for tonight”.

Steve nods, putting his sweatshirt back on “t-thanks”

“It’s my job, Captain Rogers” you say, looking at him with a smile that he can only describe as the smile of an angel, filling his body with a warmth that he never felt before.

“I-I know, but still” Steve says, looking you deep into the eyes. He takes a deep breath. This may be his chance. “Perhaps I could repay you. W-would you like to go-“

The door slams open and Tony fucking Stark walks in.

Oh, how much he wants to throw Tony out of the window just now.

Tony stares at the both of you, raising a brow, continuing his search for something. “Am I interrupting something?” he asks.

“No, Mr Stark”

“Yes, Tony”

You look at Steve, while he stares at the floor. He feels so embarrassed as he realizes what he said. It doesn’t make it better that Tony stopped walking and is now staring at him too.

“Damn Rogers, didn’t know you-“

Steve slams the doors open and storms out. This is even more embarrassing than as he swallowed his own cum in front of you. Everything was going great. He was talking to you without stuttering like a complete idiot. He managed to not get hard while you touched him. You both were talking about something you have in common.

He wishes Banner would have checked him up, then he wouldn’t have embarrassed himself like that. Why did he have to be sick the one time Banner isn’t there? Why didn’t Bucky tell him that Banner wasn’t-.

Steve stops walking as he realizes.

“You are fucking dead, Barnes”

tag: @purple-ash27 @catluv3rrr @james-bb-1917 @bitchy-bi-trash

#chris evans #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #captain america #captain america x y/n #captain america x you #captain america x reader #steven grant rogers #xcaptain winterx

[lettersfromaphrodite]

[9.54]

―pairing : Bang Chan x fem!Reader ―genre : angst + fluff ― content warnings : merman AU, strangers to lovers, ⚠️ mentions of death because reader almost drowns. mentions of murder. don’t read if you don’t feel comfortable with it ⚠️ ―word count: 4.350 ― prompt : WHAT IF mermaids are the women thrown off ships because of the common belief sailors had about having a woman on the boat being bad luck? And mermans are boys thrown off the ship for various different reasons? As they sink to the bottom, legs tied together, they start to change slowly until they can breathe and use their tied up legs to swim - legs which eventually would turn into a fish tail. They drown sailors in revenge, luring them in by singing in their husky voices still stinging from the salt water they breathed.

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, my new askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

«Some of my men,» the Captain’s lewd voice spat, lifting your chin with the hilt of his sahrp sword, «are saying that you bring bad luck. What do you have to say about it?» the never-ending mumble of the pirates made you feel nauseous. You were able to stand on your feet just because you were roughly tied up to the mast, but exhaustion was starting to cloud your senses since you couldn’t remember the last time you ate or even drank some water. Sailing in the middle of the sea during summer was dangerous, especially if you were forced to stay out in the open every day. You didn’t answer to his question, both because the words were dying in your sore throat, and also because you silently vowed to yourself that you’d never spoke to the pirate crew that sinked the harmless ship you were travelling on and took you as a prisoner. You were the only one they decided to take as their prisoner, and contrarily to your expectations, they never did anything to you; they simply tied you up and left you there, probably waiting for you to die due to the unbearable heat.

If you had to be honest, you surprised yourself as well for your unexpected resistance; besides feeling incredibly weak, you never completely collapsed; instead, you lost count of how many days you spent with your body tied up to the ship’s mast. No one among the pirates had ever tried to approach you, they’d settle for staring at you from a safe distance, nervous and uneasy gazes locked on your frame accompanied with low mumbles which you obviously couldn’t hear.

Today, the sun was up high in the sky and surprisingly enough, they all decided to gather on the deck and suddenly acknowledge your presence, making you feel nervous but also making you feel as if your blood was boiling with sudden rage. You were tired, you were thirsty and hungry and on top of all, you were scared; you heard many rumours about pirates and all of them made you shiver in fear, so you didn’t know what to expect now that they decided to act up on their status.

«I feel magnanimous today, I will let you choose.» the Captain slowly walked around the mast while playing with his sword, pondering about the suggestion of selling you to the first brothel they’d eventually found next time they landed. «You can become a prostitute, or let the sharks eat you.» his victorious grin was contraposed to your cold glare. You knew that pirates never said the truth, and you also knew about the superstition they had; apparently, having a woman on a ship brought incredible bad luck. That’s why, with incredible struggle, you managed to gather all the saliva remaining in your mouth just to spit it on the Captain’s obnoxious face.

Needless to say, few moments later you were surrounded by the crew shouting animatedly while two pirates were tightly binding your legs together by tying a large rope around your ochre coloured gown while another one was making sure you stood still; not like you had any strength to fight back. You simply stood there, manhandled like a ragdoll, wondering how much time it would take for you to suffocate; your eyes glanced to the rock placed next to your feet and neatly tied at the rope around your lower body and judging by that, you were sure it wouldn’t take too much.

Rage mixed with despair filled your senses as soon as they made you wear a pirate coat filled with smaller pebbles – too large for you, and way too heavy; despite the anger which was boiling in your veins instead of blood, you were too weak to react in any kind of way. You scoffed, silent tears threatening to escape your eyes, as you had to gather all the strength you had in order to bear the weight of a countless number of heavy pebbles hidden in the coat’s pockets; they really wanted you to drown as quickly as you could, and they weren’t doing anything to hide it. The skin of your wrists burned as one of the pirates that was tying up your legs few minutes ago, was now tightly binding your wrists together, not caring about the few droplets of blood escaping your bruised and irritated skin.

«Any last words?» the Captain spat from behind your shoulders, and you tried to ignore the loud yells of simply throwing you at the sea. It would have been stupid to hide the fact that you were scared and you didn’t want to die like this, but what could a young lady do on a pirate ship? You couldn’t fight or ask for help, you were definitely helpless and still, the whirlwind of confused emotions in your heart slowly began to dissipate, clearing your mind on what your soul really longed for.

“Revenge,” was all you could think about; you didn’t know how that silent hope could ever be fulfilled, but it was everything your soul asked for in that very moment; and so, all it took was a harsh push for you to fall into the cold and salty water, the weight of the rocks quickly bringing you towards the bottom of the sea.

Panic quickly flooded in your senses as you were fighting yourself and your resistance by trying to hold your breath as long as you could. Survival instinct had the best of you for a split second and when you noticed that no matter how much strength you used, you couldn’t move your legs nor your arms, you panicked even more, bringing your tied up hands to your throat and holding it in a in a silent prayer for you to be able to resist more, even if your lungs were burning from the desire and the need to breathe and your chest was hurting for the same reason. You squeezed your eyes as your vision began to blur, thinking that that was it; it was really your last moment, when you felt a harsh and unexpected tug on your wrist; you quickly opened your eyes, just to see a young, handsome boy with blonde hair dancing in the water staring at you with worried, yet gentle eyes.

Despite the thought that flashed into your mind, you didn’t have enough time to question him about how did he manage to swim so deep in the open sea without feeling the need to breathe and why was he shirtless, because said stranger quickly kissed your lips, his left hand holding your wrists while you could feel his right forearm pressing your body towards his by pushing on the middle of your back; you started to panic once again, when you feel him breathing some air into your mouth, giving you a little more time to breathe.

As quickly as he kissed you, he parted from your lips just to swim towards your feet, and as you saw a long indigo fishtail elegantly swaying in front of your eyes, you thought you were already dead and probably hallucinating while you were waiting for your next life. The blonde boy’s face appeared in your sight once again, and even if you felt incredibly lighter, the ropes around your legs were still preventing you from swimming.

«Take this off,» he said with a husky voice as he hugged your waist and gestured towards the pirate coat filled with heavy pebbles, and you were about to breathe out all the air he breathed into your mouth in shock because, how could he talk underwater?

He must have understood what you were talking about because he giggled, his eyes turning into two small crescent moons and dimples framing his smile. «I’m a merman,» he simply explained, before turning serious once again, «and you really need to take this off, unless you want to sink.» you furrowed your brows, feeling your throat starting to burn once again; this time, the pain confused you.

Your throat burned, your lungs did too, but it was a little different from before; you watched as the boy quickly cut the ropes around your wrists with the tip of the golden harpoon he was carrying around and let him help you taking off the pirate coat. You watched at how quickly it sinked to the depths of the sea, thinking that it could have been you.

Only because you finally looked below you, you finally took notice of the length of the harpoon that the merman was holding in his right hand, and the fact that the rock anchored to your feet was now gone; you owed your life to this nameless boy which was still holding you tight to his body, and silently hoped he would help you resurface and look for a ship so that you could get some help going back home and somehow trying to rebuild your own life after this terrifying experience.

You felt a weird and uncommon stinging sensation on the skin of your neck but you didn’t question it, instead, you gently tapped twice on the merman’s collarbone, as to silently say that you were running out of oxygen once again, when he simply looked at you with a bright and excited smile.

«It’s time! You can breathe, now!» he glanced at your neck, his expression was so gentle and cheerful that you almost believed him and tried to breathe underwater.

«What!?» you creaked, your voice rough and husky and your throat sore; realizing what you did, you immediately brought your hands to your mouth, looking at the boy – which was still giggling, his cheerful expression in stark contrast with your extremely alarmed eyes; if you weren’t so scared, you would have payed attention to the fact that your voice actually came out clearly instead of being absorbed by the water.

«Look,» he said, turning his head to show you his neck; you were about to touch the small gills he had on his skin, when your hand blocked in mid-water as he spoke once again, «you have them, too.» your hand flew on your neck, to find out that he was indeed right. You had two gills on each side of your neck, they were small and easily hidden by your hair since they were positioned towards your nape, but it was all it took for you to trust the blond merman enough to try and inhale a deep breath.

«I can breathe,» you mumbled, your eyes wide and surprised, «I can breathe underwater!» you exclaimed, a mixture between excited and scared.

«You’re turning into a mermaid.» the blonde boy said, and your eyes widened the size of the full moon. «I’ll explain to you later,» he quickly glanced to his left, «all you have to know for now is that your tail will soon look like mine,» he briefly detached from you just to quickly spin in front of you, before hugging you close once again. «and that we have to leave, the sharks are coming out for dinner.» he said, with a final wink. You let the boy – which introduced himself as Chris, take you away and teach you how to properly swim without moving your legs, contrarily to what you always did.

Two months later from your first encounter with Chris, you both were sitting on some rocks erupting from the sea, enjoying the warm morning breeze. The ochre dress you were wearing the day you’ve been thrown overboard had now started to cling to the skin of your legs at the point it seemed to merge with it, and the ropes seemed to be as well. You glanced at Chris, leaning on the rocks while supporting his weight on his hands while his head was thrown back and his tail was slowly moving up and down with languid and repetitive movements, occasionally splashing some water around with his tail.

He looked incredibly handsome, and you couldn’t help yourself but wonder why even when he saved you, he decided to stick around to the point where you spent every day together; Chris was gentle and careful, patiently teaching all he knew about living under the sea and you meticulously listened to him, managing to have fun as he helped you adapt to your new life.

Funny enough, you lived together into one of the countless underwater small villages populated by mermaids and mermen; some lived in the relict of old sinked ships, while others opted to live in underwater caves or houses built from corals. Needless to say, Chris’ dramatic behaviour suggested him to live in the relict of the ship that threw him overboard, and he asked you to live with him.

«It’s going to be easier for you to adapt to your new life.» he had said back then, not like you had any reason to refuse his offer. You didn’t regret it not once, since Chris was the kind of friend you always wanted to have. Your eyes curiously glanced at Chris’ wrists, noticing that some indigo scales had grown there as well in a rather curious pattern; somehow, they seemed to recall a rope. Your hands acted pretty much by themselves; as your eyes travelled on Chris’ long indigo fishtail, your fingers caressed one of the soft, pink flesh spots between its scales.

«I can’t wait for my tail to be complete,» Chris’ hoarse voice said, and your eyes met his; he offered you a gentle smile, his head tilted to the side as he remained in the same position as he was before, unbothered with your touch – on the contrary, enjoying it.

«Nevertheless,» you mumbled, secretly wondering if your throat will ever stop burning, «It’s beautiful.» your eyes focused again on the tail’s scales which thanks to the sun, seemed to shine in a somehow greenish colour which made it seem even more enchanting.

«I’m sure yours will be even more beautiful than mine.» Chris smiled, reaching out to hold your hand right above his fish tail. You blushed, adverting your gaze and feeling incredibly uglier compared to him: you were in the middle of your metamorphosis, therefore your legs were still slowly turning into a fishtail, and your dress was ripped and clinging to different part of your skin as a second, unwanted skin; Chris explained that all it took were six months, and then, you would have been completely ultimate your metamorphosis into a mermaid.

«Chris,» you mumbled, briefly thought about all the times, as a kid, you stared at the sea wondering if all the legends about mermaids were true, just to find yourself slowly becoming one. Chris hummed, his blonde hair now almost completely dry. «What happened?»

«I’m not really sure, either.» he confessed, «some say that it’s our desire of revenge that triggers the metamorphosis. All we know is that one moment we’re sinking towards the bottom of the sea, and the other we’re sinking ships.» he chuckled, before adding a quick

«I’ll show you, sooner or later.» in answer to your confused face; you simply nodded at him, before asking him how did he become a merman since you were driven by the desire to know him better but also, to hear his mesmerizing voice for as long as you could. Chris never let go of your hand, playing with your fingers as he told you about how he left his village in order to become a sailor, just to be thrown off the ship two years later with the false accusation of being a thief.

«What saddens me, is that I never got the chance to confess to my beloved one.» his voice said, looking at you with eyes as warm as the sun itself. Even if you felt a strange sensation of jealousy creeping into your soul, you decided to ignore it. Chris was handsome, funny, caring and gentle; it was obvious for him to have someone he loved.

«I’m sure she would have said yes.» you sighed, wishing for a second to be the one who held his heart even now that his life had completely changed for good.

«She didn’t even knew I existed» Chris chuckled, shaking his head, «She was the only daughter of a famous merchant in our village, and I was the blacksmith’s son.» you listened how Chris kept looking at you with a mischievous gaze as he provided you the description of a girl which not only looked exactly like you, but was also living the replica of your life. «I gave her a pin once, when we were kids.» the colour drained from your cheeks, remembering the scene of a young blonde kid handing you a white orchid pin during a festival, when you were around seven years old. Back then, the boy claimed it brought good luck, and that you were the prettiest among all the young girls so it had to be yours; since that day, you wore it every day. «It was a white orchid. She always wore it, even if she probably forgot about me during the years.» your heart was hammering into your chest, and with slow and calculated words you asked him the only question which really mattered, the only one able to dissolve your doubts; you took a deep breath, and asked him where he was from.

«Velia.» he answered, and suddenly, you were in a loss of words. Chris not only came from your village, but also was the little boy that many years ago had provided you with your lucky pin, the same one that the Pirates had snatched away from your dress. «I’ll give you an even better present.» Chris smiled, and you answered with a shy nod.

Chris’ unexpected confession made a whirlwind of emotion erupt in your soul, you never imagined that he silently had a crush on you for all these years but deep down, you were sure that you could return his feelings with the same intensity. Both of you had all your lives in front of you, and you knew that Chris had so much love to give and he deserved just as much, maybe even more.

That morning was the most the two of you have talked. The salty water you breathed while drowning still burned your lungs and you found it sometimes difficult to talk; this is why the two of you created a personal language mostly composed by hand gestures, which allowed the two of you to communicate and have infinite conversations without feeling your throat sting.

A comfortable silence fell around the two of you, and Chris never stopped gently running his fingertips on your still bruised wrists, the action making you feel as butterflies were soaring in your stomach; if Chris ever saw your skin erupt into goosebumps anywhere his fingers touched, he never mentioned it.

Therefore, you and Chris spent your morning on the rocks when, as soon as you heard another mermaid’s chant, he quickly lead you away. «It’s not time, yet.» he said, and you trusted him without questioning him further.

One year had quickly gone by and both you and Chris had completed your metamorphosis; your tail was dark orange, its scales would show golden reflections according to the light, dark orange scales also grew instead of the bruises on your wrists and, no matter what you said, Chris would continuously shower you with compliments which you immediately returned. You and Chris managed to make many friends – some that already completed the metamorphosis and some you just recently rescued from drowning, but still, Chris was the only one you spent the most time with; over the time, you naturally became a couple, even if nothing special changed in your relationship dynamics.

The two of you had always spent your time together so the only thing that you added to the mix were the kisses and more intimate touches. Sometimes, you’d lose yourself in his warm brown eyes, thinking how much you loved him and how you owed him your life.

You knew that you would have changed even without Chris’ help, but his presence helped you to face the metamorphosis with a little more courage – which you probably wouldn’t have had, if you were to face this all alone.

«Remember that excellent present I was talking about back then?» Chris asked with a wide grin and you nodded, knitting your brows in confusion, «Come with me.» Chris said, as he led you to the surface while holding your hand; you realized quickly that it must have been a special occasion, since he used his voice to express his thoughts.

Both of you keep the verbal exchanges at minimum; since you found out that your throat would never stop burning.

«It’s the salt water we breathed while drowning,» Changbin – a merman which turned many years before the two of you did, quietly explained to you few months ago. On his wrists, he had dark blue – almost black, scales matching the colour of his long tail, but unlike you and Chris, his scales enveloped his arms and part of his torso almost in a spiral way, making you wonder about how painful and horrible his experience must have been, «It will never stop stinging, reason why our revenge will always be as brutal as our death.»

You followed Chris as he diligently sat on some rocks erupting from the sea, gesturing towards a small group of mermaid sitting on the shores far away from you; some had their tail partially immersed to the water, while some were completely resting on the hard surfaces of the rocks. They all seemed to be waiting, but you still didn’t know what for, since the horizon was completely clear. As the mermaids saw you and Chris, you all waved at each other since you were friends; you were surprised to learn how everyone – unlike the human world, was genuinely sweet towards each other.

«I hope you’ll like it.» Chris’ lips whispering against your ear made it appear as his husky voice was dripping honey, and as your eyes saw a familiar Pirate flag on top of a ship, which was slowly coming your way, you froze up in fear, tightly holding to Chris’ hand; he quickly hugged you close to his body in the silent attempt to reassure you. You didn’t understand why Chris would have thought that seeing the ship of the people who threw you overboard could ever be considered a gift, when suddenly, the mermaids started singing.

It was a mesmerizing chant, and you immediately understood why it drove men insane by slowly hypnotizing them to the point they lose their will; as a mermaid, you knew the pain of using your voice and so, you realized what Changbin meant all those months ago. Part of each mermaid’s soul was filled with the desire of revenge towards the ones who choose such a brutal and despicable death for them, and so, no matter how their throat burned in the process, their husky voices would sing marvellous and hypnotic songs just to lure them in the water in a deadly trap.

From the distance, you saw how the pirates started to throw themselves off the ship, and that’s when Chris signalled you that it was time to get underwater once again; you were completely new to this, since Chris always led you away as soon as you’d hear a mermaid chant, but no matter what, you could have never imagine what you were about to see.

Underwater, there were at least a hundred mermaids and mermen skilfully armed with harpoons or smaller knives, and as soon as the pirates fell in the water, they’d swim quickly, plunging themselves at the pirates with the precise goal to kill them in the most brutal way they could, so that they wouldn’t have any occasion to trigger the metamorphosis and turn into mermen.

Chris kept holding you tight as the two of you assisted to that massacre, close enough to catch every detail but far enough not to get involved with the pool of blood that was quickly expanding in the water; your eyes casually caught the action that made your heart feel at ease once and for all. Changbin and Hyunjin – whose tail was probably the prettiest since it was a pastel light blue, were respectively sinking an harpoon and a short blade into the Captain’s chest, and as you saw him writhing in pain as he breathed out all the oxygen he had stored in his mouth, you breathed a content sigh, your silent wish for revenge was now fulfilled thanks to your friends.

As soon as the group made sure that no one from the pirate crew managed to survive, you all quickly swam away, knowing that sharks had a very sharp sense of smell and no one wanted to get in their way in the middle of a hunt.

Once you were back home Chris kissed you, the unexpected sensation of such an intimate gesture making you smile against his lips, pulling him even further to your body and swirling once or twice in the middle of water as you did so. Despite the salty water that constantly surrounded the both of you, Chris’ lips held an inexplicably different flavour. His kisses tasted like home, like you finally found peace.

The pirates hat threw you overboard had met their terrible fate, the same as many other men, and you were happy with the thought that they wouldn’t be able to harm anyone else.

Chris held you tight, placing his forehead against yours. «I love you,» he said for the first time, ignoring the pain in his lungs. «I love you too,» you mumbled right back, gently placing your hands on his cheeks, as the end of your tails swirled around each other’s.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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#fanfics #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fanfic #bang chan mermaid au #stray kids au #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #stray kids fantasy au #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader

[nouearth]

a letter to spider-man.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: spider-man launched his own help line and you need his advice in talking to your crush: peter.

wc: 1.2k. genre: fluff, comfort!fic. warnings: holland!peter, social anxiety, mention of death, crushes, college!au. notes: i was re-reading perks of being a wallflower again, OOF. i kinda want to make this a series, so please tell me if you'd like to see it become one!

peter wasn’t sure what made him decide to do this: a spider-man help line. one day, he woke up and wanted to fulfill a sense of purpose more than he already has—to help out the public more, to build a community that peter has been wanting to fix since the death of his aunt.

so far, they’ve been pretty simple tasks: walking the dogs, helping a blind woman with grocery shopping, fixing a broken pipe with his webs—it was all out of the kindness of his own big heart. a heart that his aunt once nurtured.

it was hard at first. from being a ‘save the world’ hero to a ‘save the dog from burning up in a locked car’ hero, it was a downgrade one might find—peter did at first. 

but it’s been a while since he saw the relieved smiles on the public’s faces whenever he swung from the corner. true happiness that he was envious of at times, but nonetheless grateful for, and so that would become his motivation. 

maybe it can make the world a better place if people happen to be inspired by his actions. small stuff that regular civilians can achieve. a domino effect that peter hoped for.

—april 10th

dear spider-man, so, this is a thing now, huh? the future is so unpredictable, so i actually never thought i’d be writing to you. well, i guess the future would be me texting you like you advertised, but i like writing. it makes my hand cramp, and my handwriting is terrible (sorry, i hope you can still read this), but it feels good. like... shouting at the sky, i would imagine, so i prefer it. i’ve also been watching a lot of ‘80s and ‘90s movies, which could also be a major factor.  and i just realized i’m supposed to tell you about my problems! this is kinda hilarious because i think i’ve probably rewritten my letter six times already.  also, are you living your citizen life as a therapist or something? because why else would you be helping people this way? not that we don’t appreciate it, but it’s different. you’ve probably stopped reading by now, but in case you haven’t, i’ll keep the rest short. i guess my problem is… i like this guy. i know you’re not a relationship therapist (your secret is safe with me if you are though), but i figured a guy like you knew how to talk to people? you save people on a daily basis, so you probably aren’t scared anymore, right? that theory worked better in my head, to be honest, so scratch that! anyway, his name is peter. we’re both freshmen in college, so we’ve been seeing each other a lot, especially since we’re in the same classes. did i mention that i’m a guy as well? i don’t know him that well. i’m pretty quiet, i guess. invisible, maybe? it’s funny. sometimes, my professors would forget that i was even in their classes until i would speak up. but besides that point, he probably doesn’t even know that i exist either.  the perks of being invisible—i’m not even sure if there are any, because i’m noticeable enough on days where people want to say stuff. mean, terrible stuff. i wonder if he notices me, though. probably not, but a guy could only hope. i think we’d get along. again, hope! he’s smart and humble, always insecure of his own answers even though he knows—everyone knows—that it’s correct. kind, too. also awkward, like me. but the cute-awkward, not the me-awkward. i like him. i want to be friends with him. maybe even more? but i’m not greedy! i can settle with being friends.  i guess, how can i approach him?

thank you, (m/n)

it caught peter off guard at first—seeing his name in the same vicinity as spider-man became a jump-scare. even though, the sender kept everything pretty vague to keep the named crush relatively anonymous, there was a gut feeling telling peter that it was him—the culprit of (m/n)’s stolen heart.

nah, there are so many peters..! just a coincidence.

it took him longer than he thought to come up with a sufficient reply. usually, a task would’ve been done because all he had to do was use his body, his webs to do good—not his words. inexperienced yet excited, peter smiled while writing his letter.

peter wasn’t great at consoling people. hell, he couldn’t even make himself feel better. but he’ll try, like he always does. 

—april 23rd

hi (m/n)! sorry for taking so long to get back to you! life’s been crazy with everything going on. did you know that there’s been at least ten deli robberies that i managed to save this week alone? something about that chicken salad sandwich drives people nuts… like you, peter’s actually been pretty swamped with exams and graduation. i also want to congratulate you for being the only one that has written a letter to me instead of using the chat service! i’ve never written a letter before, so excuse my rustiness. my handwriting is way worse than yours. mine looks like if you gave a dog a pen and made it write. freshman year of college is a big year for you, for everyone. i remember the feeling of feeling so lost!  still know the feeling.  don’t get me wrong. yes, i’ve become braver since i started this spider-man stuff. but i still get scared, you know? life is so unpredictable and you never know when something might go wrong, and unexpectedly go so right.  like, just the other day, i got anxious when i was ordering from a drive-thru! they didn’t hear me, so i had to repeat my order. then again, because the mic sucked or whatever! even though it was only me, i felt so embarrassed, like my cheeks swelling and itchy skin type of nervous. but then it quickly went away because… okay, well i got my burger and fries pretty quick, so that helped. but you know what i mean? there’s this potentially negative outcome that we’re so afraid of. when in reality, it’s only ever so fleeting. you said he’s a nice guy, right? he could also be scared to talk to you, and you would never know because you’re too busy knocking yourself down! everyone is awkward. I’m awkward. so are some of my family members, my friends too. and that feeling won’t ever go away. sometimes, it’s meant to be shared. being invisible isn’t so bad sometimes. i definitely know the feeling, even wished for it at times. you can listen to music without being bothered, that’s a bonus! but from what i’ve noticed from feeling invisible, it would always come when i was being unkind to myself. i had the worst perception of myself in the eyes of my peers, and that made me withdraw. i purposely isolated myself because i was being unkind. the way you view yourself reflects onto others. not all the time, sometimes people are genuinely just assholes. but from what you’ve been telling me about this peter guy, he seems pretty special. if you’re awkward, be awkward and laugh it off. there’s nothing more charming than being genuine, and being kind to yourself is part of that progress. I’m rooting for you (and peter)!

from your friendly neighbor, spidey.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.marvel #✰ : nou.peterparker #peter parker x m!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x male reader #x male reader #male reader #m!reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x m!reader #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker blurb #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfic #x y/n #x you #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #spider man #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you

[myrachondria]

"What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?" (Sneak Peek)

(Dark!Ominis Gaunt x f!MC)

◇view my bookcase here!◇

featured characters | Ominis Gaunt, f!MC

summary | Modern Ghostface AU! Ominis Gaunt has taken on a new persona to serve some overdue vengence in his small town.

warnings | stalking, hunter/prey kink, mask kink, mention of murder

notes | ⚠️ based off of scream, so there will be mentions of murder/death in this fic. Ominis is kinda ooc here ig? Basically I made him intense af

word count | 660

MC twirled her hair as she walked around the kitchen on the phone. Anyone looking into her window would assume that this was a typical evening for her, and that she was most likely on the phone with one of her friends. That wouldn’t be further from the truth.

“Mmmm tell me, what do I have to do to earn the pleasure of learning your name?” The 

mysterious voice asked.

“You first.” MC teased.

“Okay. Let’s talk about something else.” 

“Well, what do you want to talk about?” 

“Anything except my name.”

“Well, you called me. If you aren’t interesting, I’m afraid I’ll have to hang up on you.” MC teased.

“Okay, okay. Don’t worry. I’ll be more interesting. What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“The Thing. I love mysterious scary movies.”

“So, does this mean you love a man with mystery?”

“You could say that,” she giggled.

“So… Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Why?” She smiled, pushing some hair behind her ear. “Do you wanna ask me out on a date?”

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You never told me your name.”

“Why do you wanna know my name so badly?”

“I wanna know who’s home I’m in.”

Upon hearing that, the smile dropped from MC’s face. She spun around, surveying her small home. She didn’t see anyone, but it’s not like she was able to see her entire home from her kitchen.

“That’s not funny,” she said, her voice shaking.

“You didn’t ask me to be funny. You asked me to be interesting. I’m being honest and interesting. A perfect combination for a good boyfriend, I think.”

There was a pause.

“Do you want to know a secret of mine? Do you promise not to tell anyone? Do you promise that you won’t hang up on me once you know my secret?” The mysterious voice asked.

“Um, yes. I promise.”

“I’m Ghostface. The one you’ve been hearing about on the news.”

She could practically hear the grin behind those words.

“That’s not funny!” she screamed into the phone.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me!” he yelled back.

Click.

The microwave beeped, causing MC to jump. After examining the kitchen to make sure she was still alone, she took a deep breath. She opened the microwave door and pulled her bag of popcorn out.

“I told you not to hang up on me. Why didn’t you listen to me?” MC jumped at the ominous voice and looked up to see Ghostface standing before her, in the hallway. Blocking her exit.

She lunged for the back door, but Ghostface was far too quick. He grabbed her and they began to struggle on the floor. After a few minutes of struggling, she realized that he wasn’t trying to kill her, because if he was then she would’ve been dead by now.

She was still scared, but she stopped struggling and he held her in his arms. If she wasn’t so scared, she would have found the way he held her… romantic? He moved a gloved hand to her face, caressing the side of it.

“What do you want! Tell me!” She screamed in frustration.

“I want to fuck you like an animal,” he whispered in her ear.

She wasn’t sure why, but she felt her stomach flip when he said that. Was she really attracted to him? She couldn’t even see his face! But.. no. She shook her head.

“Let me go! Please!” she cried out.

“As you wish, sweetheart,” Ghostface responded, letting go of her.

She immediately took that opening and ran to the back door, stumbling over herself trying to open it. Finally, the got the latch open and ran out the backyard.

Ominis smiled behind his mask, listening to the sound of her running. The idea of having some fun and chasing after her sounded very appealing… He decided he would explore that idea later. He had already scared the poor thing enough for one night.

spooky friends tag list | @imaslytherpuff @grandeoatmilklatte @finalgirllx @mrslunariddle @junie-00

#ominis gaunt x mc #dark!ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt oneshot #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #dark romance #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt imagine

[thegreatestsandwich]

Reader: “What's that look for?”

Xavier: “...You’re in my seat.”

Reader: “Well I’m not moving, so either stop being a little bitch about it, and get another seat, or sit in my lap.”

Xavier: “What?!”

Reader: “You heard me. I don’t care what you chose, but hurry it up, we don’t have all day.”

I’m only me when I’m with you (Xavier Thorpe x Ghost!Reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Ghost!reader

Word count: 837 words

Summary: School was enough punishment for you so the best thing you could do to not suffer was to take another guy's seat and being a little ass about it.

Warning: Nothing to be honest, but I was thinking a bit of enemies to lovers kind of thing?

A/N: I have finished Wednesday, I am sad that there's not a lot of fics for this baby, if you have any request for him! My inbox is open!

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

Some say that the road to life Is paved with good intentions. In your case, it’s been hand-carved with a bad script and horrible soundtrack music that no-one in their right mind would ever hear, even if they were drunk or high.

There was a time when the world was blindsided from your kin. They were violent, mean, untamed, uncivilized, murderers. You were victims from them, lost souls that couldn’t passed to the other side, so you stayed hidden, most of you were loners, living with the others, dying on your own.

For some, they decided to stick into groups, forming “families” that kept them sane enough to continue surviving in this world and when Nevermore Academy was funded in 1791, the “youngest” were sent there to learn what was out there. Well, let’s be honest, no sane ghost was in their right mind to sit hours and hours learning things they would never use on their eternal life, but here you were, a newbie, a fresh/dead fish on this huge tank as a punishment for your reckless behavior.

The introduction went as expected, you couldn’t even use the uniform the principal Weems had given you, you couldn’t sleep or eat, so the room she provided you was useless and your roommate was more than happy to occupy your space without second thought.

And even if you didn’t care, you were force to attend classes like the others, even if you couldn’t grab a pencil to take notes, have a backpack to carry your books or even socialize with the others without making a death joke. (Ghost, remember? They have a deathly sense of humor)

So that lead us to the present, you arrived earlier to the greenhouse, not really ready or happy to be sitting here (or floating on a chair) and listen to miss Thornhill lecture about some kind of plant, to be honest you would prefer to just wander around, to cross some walls, scare some students, anything other than being a good student.

Your hands moved over your desk, watching how the few chains that were attached of your wrists began dragging across of it. You smiled at the wicked joke you thought about, but didn’t say anything. Not even a hello to miss Thornhill when she happily welcomed you to her class, offering to give you a copy of the material so you could catch up.

You would had said yes and a thank you, but let’s be real, your hands would only break through it so what was the point.

The sound of the other students approaching didn’t made break your trance from your chains. Hell, you didn’t even care about the murmurs of the others because of your clothes, have they never seen a bloody teenager with several chains that wrapped on her limbs on their lives? Weirdos.

Someone cleared their throat next to you, but your eyes never left your hands, then they did it again, making you frown, then again, that’s when you decided to look what the hell their problem was.

And there he was, the owner of the clearly weird throat, he was tall, his hair up to his shoulders, a dirty brown and green eyes. You frowned in confusion, apparently everyone was now paying attention to both of you.

“What’s that look for?” You asked him. “Never seen a bloody ghost in your life?”

He shook his head, pausing for a moment. “You are in my seat.”

“Really?” You began smiling, he wasn’t serious, was he? “I’m on your seat.”

“Yes, and I would appreciate if you moved.” He motioned to the chair next to you. You stared at him, he taking the challenge and not looking away.

“So hypothetically speaking, if I look under this chair, I will see your name them.” You gently began going down, passing through the chair before quickly appearing once again. “Didn’t see any name.”

The guy close his eyes in annoyance, he was getting frustrated. “Just move, please.”

You pursed your lips, your head moving to each side, contemplating your options, your arms crossed on your chest, the chains moving with them, his green eyes looking at them before meeting your eyes once again. “Well, I’m not moving, so either stop being a little bitch about it, and sit next to me or sit on my lap…and don’t worry, I won’t feel a thing, maybe you will but that’s the fun of not knowing, isn’t it?” You smiled.

“What?” He exclaimed, finally noticing how everyone was watching them, even miss Thornhill. “You can’t be serious.” He hissed.

“Oh baby, you heard me.” You stood up, your feet not touching the ground. “I don’t care what you chose to be honest but hurry up.” Your arms opened and you did a little spin. “We don’t have all day, sweet-cheeks.” And you “sat” down once again, smiling victoriously as he contemplated his options.

He sighed in defeat and sat next to you. Oh, you will enjoy this class so much.

#wednesday netflix #wednesday adams fic #wednesday adams imagine #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe blurb #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier torphe fluff

[hippolotamus]

Fuck It Sunday Sentences

So life is… a thing that happened last week. Thank you to all the lovely, adorable, talented mutuals that have tagged me for things.

@buddierights @monsterrae1 @panbuckley @heartbeatdiaz @saraminia @shortsighted-owl @alyxmastershipper @elvensorceress @jesuisici33 @spotsandsocks @911onabc I’m wrapping you in soft cozy blankets, shoving a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream into your hands, and kissing you on the forehead 😘 (if I missed you I’m so sorry and I love you too and you’re definitely included in the aforementioned cuddly shenanigans) 💞☕️🥰😘

Have a snippet from a soft prompt that just needs a tad more fine tuning

Eddie puts the last of the dry dishes away in the bottom cabinet, and not a moment too soon. He’s got an early shift in the morning and has to get to bed. He could have left them in the rack for tomorrow, but it gave him extra time to mentally replay the earlier parts of the night.

It really is a form of self-torture sometimes, having Buck over for dinner and homework and board games. Pretending they’re a family and this is a normal everyday thing he gets to have.

He tells himself it’s for Chris, too, but he also knows that’s a blatant lie. If Chris wasn’t a factor Eddie’s pretty sure he’d invent any and all reasons to spend more time with Buck.

Eddie sighs and lays the dish towel over the sink edge. The ridiculous one that says Silence of the Yams over a print of a sliced up root vegetable. It came as part of a set Buck and Chris gave him last Thanksgiving. It’s probably not a coincidence he uses this particular one the most. The shade is a nearly identical match to the burnt orange sweater Eddie always likes on Buck.

There are times it feels like he’s not the only one with all these feelings (sweater preferences aside). Like there’s something in the casual touches and glances that pass between them. Something electric and charged that’s more than bros or friends and decidedly not platonic.

One day, maybe, he’ll work up the nerve to tell Buck what’s in his heart. To ask him on a date and hope he’s not fucking up the best relationship that’s ever happened to him and his son. For now he’ll take whatever Buck is willing to give. Even if it only ever comes in the form of shoulder nudges, zoo trips, and Keeping the Peas housewares.

#seven sentence sunday #soft prompts #fic: if i’m being honest (it scares me to death) #hippo writes #it truly is softer than the title implies

[igotanidea]

Just an apple... <?> - a Sandman fanfiction

I dedicate this to @wickedly-grim who inspired the story by this post:

Can anyone do a fic or a fanart of a clueless reader tossing/handing Morpheus an apple and then Dream automatically thinking they are engaged now so he’s way more touchy and friendly with them (due to the fact that he thinks they are in a relationship now). All while the reader has no clue about anything, and is wondering why (maybe her boss) the scary king of nightmares is being kind and touchy with her?

If anyone doesn’t know, giving an apple to someone is basically a marriage proposal in Greece.

JUST AN APPLE

Ok. Let’s make thing crystal clear. Being human is hard. Being human who’s familiar with some supernatural power beings (yes, I mean the Endless) is ten times harder. Imagine riding the biggest rollercoaster in the theme park. And then add to it riding it after eating a really big dinner. It’s the greatest recipe for catastrophe. Or at least gastric catarrh. I mean, if you think about it – these being are eternal. They existed long before human race and will be around after any other living thing become extinct. They are powerful, knowledgeable, teasing and have undeniable effect on the human world. But then, it seems like it works the other way round too. No matter how smart the Endless may be one second, they are completely oblivious to customs and habits of people. And that can sometimes lead to some unexpected situations. Serious situations.

I’ve been around the Endless for quite a while now. No matter how crazy that may sound my best friend of them was actually Death herself. From the outside we must have seemed like an unusual besties but it worked quite well. I was rather quiet and observant with a bit of a snarky and sarcastic attitude while she was more of a motherly approach and love-for-live vibes. I suppose I was just telling myself we were complementary to one another. Then one day I get to meet her brother, Dream. Oh, god, what a meeting that was. At the time being I had a job as a waitress and their appearance out of nowhere almost caused me to drop the tray with the dishes.  

-What are u doing here? – I hissed as I spotted not one, but two of the Endless just casually sitting at the table.

-Just having fun, y/n – Death flashed me one of her widest smile.

-Fun? – I raised my eyebrow – you surely do, but your friend here seems like he is about to get crucified.

-He’s not my friend, he’s my brother Don’t mind his broody attitude, he’s going through a lot of things.

-Ok, well, ok. Nice to meet you….? What was your name again? Or more like what do you represent.

-I’m Dream of the Endless.

-His true name is Morpheus – his sister added – you can call him that.

-Under no circumstances ….

-Pleasure, Morpheus– I nodded and reached my hand towards him. For a second he was eyeing it with no intention of shaking so I just put it away awkwardly – right, is there anything I can get you two? We got delicious peas soup as a main course today.

-What is the purpose ….. – Dream started, lips pouted, still grumpy, but Death cut him off.

-We’d like that very much, thank you, y/n – she smiled again. As I left them to collect the order I was able to hear muted conversation.

-Behave Dream, be nice. She’s my friend and a really nice person to be honest. Besides, you are supposed to taste a bit of humanity to understand it better, so stop brooding.

-I am not brooding.

-Oh, come on, brother, you are scaring everyone here. Look around – she waved her hand and as a matter of fact all of the guest in the restaurant seemed a bit intimidated by Dream’s presence.

-They should be scared. I am the one who can give them nightmares after all. And trust me, some of them truly deserve them.

-Dream! – Death clipped him round the ear gently and got a sad and confused look in return – just observe. See how they enjoy their time together, please, for God’s sake just try to do the same.

-Here’s your soup. Enjoy it – I smiled returning and serving them their dishes.

-Thank you, y/n. This looks delicious. Dream? Is there something you’d like to say to our friend.

-She’s not … - he started but a cold glare from his sister made him change the sentence – thank you, I guess.

That was a year ago. Even since I was trying my best to warm Dream up to human race and show him that we are actually not that bad. Not of my own volition, but only because Death asked me too. She was worried about her sibling becoming some sort of eremite, detached from everyone and everything, denying any positive feelings that came his way. I couldn’t say no to her. So, I was balancing my job, crumbles of my social life and a relation with some certain Endless. If you can call it like that.

-Why are you always like that? – I asked him  one day while we were walking in the park.

-Like what?

-Distant. Cold. Black – I hesitated pointing towards his coat.

-Why should I be anything else?

-Because you are dream. Aren’t they supposed to be more vibrant? Emotional? Lively? What’s with the sad attire?

-I’d rather not speak about it.

-Of course not – I sighed. – But fine, let’s not talk. How about we get some ice cream instead.

-Ice cream? – he was dumbfounded

-Yes. Come on – I grabbed his hand and draw him towards the ice cream stall. I only stopped when I reached it, and then noticed the inexplicable expression on his face.

-Dream? Are you all right?

-You touched my hand.

-I guess I did….?

-Why?

-Why? – I repeated not quite understanding what he meant by that – Oh, you’re seriously asking me that. Well, I suppose I was just trying to … make you move?

-And taking my hand was necessary for that?

-I… - God, he was really hard to be around sometimes. – I guess not. I’m sorry.

-Don’t ever do this again. It’s courtesy enough that I tolerate you and your presence.

-I’m sorry? – his simple sentence stroke a nerve in me. – tolerate my presence? Believe me if it wasn’t for the promise I made to Death….. – I shook my head – unbelievable – it’s not like I kissed you or something – Dream eyed me when I said that – whatever. Can we just get those damn ice cream and move on with our lives?

-I would accept that offer.

So, yeah, it was that kind of relation. We would meet every week to introduce Dream to every other human attraction. Sometimes it was something simple, like hiking sometimes something more complex (in Dream’s own words) like a visit to the cinema (which only happened once as we were kicked out of the movie theater). However, he was still pretty hesitant when it came to forming a bond. I felt him warm up a little but it was taking him literal ages. After all, what is time if you are an eternal being? Sometimes, if she was not busy, Death would join us. And since she was a foodie those meetings usually took places in my restaurant. Ironically, the place where me and Morpheus met.

-What can I get you today, my friends? – I asked and pretended like I didn’t notice Dream shudder at the words

-Surprise us, y/n. I’d like something new. And Dream will take the same thing as I.

-I am fully capable of deciding for myself.

-So what can I get you then, Dream? – I turned towards him

-I… I will get whatever my sister gets- he looked down almost shyly.

-Delightful. I got something special coming for you two right away.

If only I knew what kind of situation I would get myself involved in… I suspected nothing when I gave the Endless apple dessert. It was a hollowed-out fruit filled with creamy and a bit sour stuffing.

-Bon appetite – I obliviously smiled but it quickly faded away as I saw Dream’s face. – Is something wrong?

Death was quick to catch up on the situation but obviously she said nothing just sitting there trying to suppress her laugh.  

-Is that really what you’re giving me?

-Yeah, you said you wanted whatever your sister takes. Don’t you like it? I can take it back if…

-No. Thank you. I understand the message.

-What message? – I was confused beyond recognition but decided to let it go since it was Dream. – You know what, I don’t want to know. Enjoy your meal.

-Did she really just… ? – Morpheus asked his sister when the girl was out of sight.

-I know nothing. I do not interfere in your affairs dear brother. You go and figure this out on yourself – she answered with her mouth full with the dessert.

To say the next couple of day were crazy would be a serious understatement. Dream, who was unapproachable for the past year suddenly became more touchy. Wherever we were going he found every possible excuse to brush his hand against mine or stand closer than usual or even trying to grab my waist when we were walking. Not that I was complaining but that was highly confusing. One day when we were sitting on the bench he awkwardly moved so our thighs were touching and that was the breaking point.

-What the hell, Dream? – I jumped from the bench – what do you think you’re doing?

-I don’t understand what you mean, y/n.

-You’ve been acting bizzare for the last week. All that touchy-feely? All the affection? This is not you. I would risk saying you’re making fun out of me, but again… it’s you, so what is this about?

-Is this not how I should behave?

-Should behave?  Why?

-We are betrothed now, so the situation would require a bit of closeness.

-Come again? We are what?

-Betrothed.

-Where on Earth did you get that idea?!

-From you.

-Dream, I swear to God, elaborate on your sentences or I’m going to explode – I was rubbing my forehead in pure frustration.

-You gave me an apple and I accepted.

-I gave you…. Oh my god, do not tell me I got myself in some sort of Persephone situation here.

-In Greece giving one an apple means a proposal.

-IT MAY HAVE SUCH MEANING IN SOME ANCIENT TIMES! – I yelled but quickly calmed myself after receiving some damning look from the pedestrians. – Damn it, Dream. I don’t know what century you’re living in, but I;m definitely a XXI century girl. No fruit, vegetable or plant means engagement here. Do you understand me?

-But…

-Do. You Understand. Me? – I grabbed his coat and looked him straight into the eyes. – Do you?

-I do. Now, you might want to let go of my cloak – here it is again.

-Great.  I missed your warning tone. We are not and will never be engaged. Betrothed, if you like. But I got to admit that was a great development. Last Monday you wouldn’t even say we were friends and now this. However irrational it seems, I’m proud of you, Morpheus. You are growing.

-Maybe you are the reason of it – he smirked and for the first time it actually made me blush. Perhaps there was something new coming for this relation after all.

#sandman #sandman x oc #morpheus #morpheus x oc #the sandman imagine #morpheus fanfiction #fanfic #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x oc #dream #dream x oc #dream lord #dream lord x oc #the sandman netflix #lord morpheus #lord morpheus x oc #the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader

[rzyraffek]

Hi hi!! I’m here to request something with my bbg Vincent Sinclair! your thingy doesn’t exactly specify which slashers, so I think I’ll ask for Vincent and Michael Myers just so u have an idea u can write abt if you don’t know the other!!

Okay okay, so what about a reader with a bad attitude? So for Vince, I would assume that their relationship starts with the reader defending Vincent from Bo. Like, Bo just starts calling Vincent names (like the mean truck man he is >:[) and Vincent is just taking it, then the reader steps between the two twins and just starts BURNING Bo with every insult they have.

“Oh, he’s the freak? Well at least he knows how to keep his mouth shut and isn’t asking everyone with a *female anatomy* to *adult fun* every ten seconds.” or something vicious like that-

and Vincent is just dumbfounded that someone has the balls to speak up against Bo.

and for Michael, same thing, but the reader is just being so mean when he starts chasing them! Like, they try to hide behind a door and they make sure that Michael saw them, so when he opens the door, the reader just flips him off and kicks him away from the door really harshly-

or, just being really really hard to catch. Like if they climb somewhere high and he can’t get to them, the reader just sticks their tongue out and flips him off again with the snarkiest attitude!!

anyways, that’s all I gots for now! Feel free to ignore this lol, but if you don’t directly respond to this ask but do use the idea, I ask that u credit me!

u look lovely today, and I hope u have an amazing night/evening/morning/day!

<3

First of all, for some reason I got no notification that somone requested anything and I have no clue how long it was sitting in my inbox. Second of all thats great idea cuz in most of fics reader is always very meow meow shy uwu bebi, which is sometimes annoying tbh, they should be rude sometimes. Requests open

Slashers with badass s/o

Vincen Sinclair

Bros used to this kind of treatment, name calling, mean words, yelling ect

This relationship started by s/o just simply asking Vincent if he's alright after Bo yelled at him

Any kind of affection makes him blush like teenager girl after watching twilight for first time

In his free time he will just hold s/o hand and walk behind them like lost puppy

Imagine: "yo vinc get over here you lazy ass" vincent:😰🏃 "well BO maybe if you stopped acting like such drama queen and get rid of this nasty ass attitude then MAYBE people will start helping you without fear of losing a limb or sanity?" 🧍🧍‍♂️

Tbh the only reason that Bo didn't commit murder on s/o is that vincent is actually very happy now and even that Bo is a horrible human being he doenst want his bro completely emo

Lack of ideas so im just going to put some mean words to Bo here

"Dont worry vincent, hes just jealous cuz he cant hold conversation with women for more than 4seconds without scaring them to death. litteraly"

"Aw baby dont be sad, just compare your hair routine with his. Im surprised hes not bald to be honest"

Live laugh love Vincent

"Nonono dont be upset, how about we draw together huh? Can you go pass me crayons from your workplace😇i totaly wont whoop your brother while you are away"

If s/o is just rude to Bo face, Vincent will be so so happy that they protect him but so so worried that s/o is about to evaporate due to Bo anger issues

"You calling him a freak? Better look who has stable relationship and lack of anger issues L bozo"

Also now Vince is 24/7 with her bcs not only shes great, protects him and provides comfort🥰

Micheal Myers

"AHAHAH looozer can't climb the ladder? Yo old as hell man go to retirement home"

S/o calling him granma to bully him

"Yo man stop begin such stalker or im going go call yo sister (in some versions laurie is his sister if u dont agree just ignore this part lol) and she gonna beat you up

Micheal spawning behind her, inside her house:🧍 "😨 yo sup Myers wacha got there? A a knife? Eee cool cool"🏃

"If you have such blood-lust go kill rats in my basement they keep stealing my food"

🧍 Myers emoji

Im sorry if its unfunny or boring I watched house of wax when it came out so like long time ago and I kinda forgor vincent and bo personalities. And Myers personality is basicly 🧑‍🦯old man

#slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #house of wax #vincent sinclair #vincent x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair

[hungry-tum-stuff]

Sharing is Caring

Fandom/Media: Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart

Ship: Badgermao (implied)

Content Advisory: Animal Death, (fish) Descriptions of Cold, Descriptions of Hunger, Stomach Growling, Giving up a meal for someone, Light Stuffing, Tummy Rubs.

Word Count: 1.7k

*This takes place prior to the events of the show, during Mao Mao and Badgerclops’ adventures.

Authors’ Note: Special Thanks to @trashytums for getting me obsessed with Mao Mao and for posting Headcanons that I used in this little fic!!

“Mao, are you sure you should be standing waist-deep in freezing cold water?”

Mao Mao’s ears flicked slightly as Badgerclops called to them from the shore, but otherwise he stood completely still, his grip on his blade perfectly still and steady as he watched a small school of fish circle ever closer to where he had his feet planted in the stream.

“Quiet Badgerclops, you’ll scare the fish away…” He hissed, narrowing his eyes and setting his sights on a large trout that was getting particularly close to his blade.

“What?!” The badger called back, seemingly unable to make out what Mao Mao had said over the rushing water between them. Mao just bristled and tightened his grip on his sword.

“I said SHUT UP!” Mao Mao plunged his sword into the water, just narrowly missing the fish. With a cry of frustration, he dove headfirst into the stream in an attempt to grab the trout, but he only ended up thrashing and slashing wildly at the school of fish. Badgerclops sighed and turned their robotic arm into a net, extending it across the water and scooping the sopping wet cat, and a good amount of fish, out of the stream. Both were dumped onto the ground, and despite Mao Mao’s shivering, he immediately sprang into action trying to catch the fish flopping around him.

“Wow, I shoulda just done that to begin with… You alright Mao Mao?” Badgerclops reeled his arm in just as Mao drove his sword into a fish.

“I was just fine. I had everything under control, you didn’ need to fish me out.” He grumbled, impaling another fish onto what was quickly becoming a skewer.

“Dude, you fell into the river.”

“I dove! There’s a difference!”

Both of the boys paused as Badgerclops’ stomach growled noisily. Mao Mao grimaced as his friend placed a hand over his tummy: Which had been voicing its complaints infrequently throughout the day. “Whatever man, you were taking too long anyways. We haven’t eaten all day, I wasn’t gonna wait around while you perfected your technique to catch our dinner.”

Badgerclops scooped the remaining fish up and brought them over to their fire, setting them up to roast. Mao Mao trailed behind, a scowl stuck on his face.

“There’s an art to fishing-“

“Uh-huh, it’s called a net. Listen, you’re shivering, so I’m gonna work on dinner while you dry off. We’ll regroup when you’re less cold and grouchy.” Badgerclops explained as Mao Mao placed Geraldine over the fire so his skewer could cook.

“I’m not grouchy!” Mao began to argue, but before he could get any further, Badgerclops had picked him up by the scruff of his neck and placed him by the treeline where his bag was still sitting. Mao hissed and made a half-hearted swipe at his friend’s robotic arm before shaking his head and rifling through his bag for a set of dry clothes.

“…Grouchy…I can fish by myself…” He muttered, hanging his cape on a branch and shaking the water off himself.

But if Mao was being honest, he had been a little grumpier than usual these past few days. Not that he would ever admit that aloud. They both had ever since the weather turned and stayed cold. It had been impossible to forage fruits and vegetables since then, and hunting wasn’t always reliable. Fishing was the best chance they had at a steady source of food during this season, but even then, it was an incredibly time-consuming process to go through for just one meal. And for Badgerclops, that one meal usually wasn’t enough.

Mao couldn’t help but feel guilty when Badgerclops could hardly eat his fill. What kind of hero couldn’t even properly feed his partner?

The cat glanced back at the fire, where Badgerclops was adding a bit of seasoning to the fish. As the smell of cooking fish wafted over, Mao’s tummy rumbled eagerly.

“Pipe down…” He murmured, pressing his paw into his stomach harshly. He was hungry, but they’d caught enough fish for Badgerclops to eat his fill. So maybe Mao could forfeit dinner tonight: For his friend’s sake.

Mao Mao fashioned his sash a little tighter around his belly before heading back to the campfire, where Badgerclops was already eating some of the roasted fish.

“Oh, hey man! The fish is done cooking, and I seasoned them how you like it. Here, dig in!” Badgerclops insisted, holding Geraldine out to him. The skewered roasted fish on his sword made Mao Mao’s mouth water, but after a moment of wide-eyed hesitation, he swallowed thickly and slid the fish off his blade and onto Badgerclops’ plate.

“I’m uh, not hungry at the moment. Besides, I need to polish Geraldine. Her legendary glow is useless if she’s covered in fish guts.” He insisted, plopping down on the opposite side of the fire from Badgerclops, who momentarily stopped eating to look up and raise an eyebrow at his partner.

“You sure dude? This is a lot for me to eat on my own-“

“Badgerclops I’ve watched you eat an entire tree’s worth of apples. Eat the dang fish.” Mao Mao looked up from polishing his sword to glare at the other, who just nodded silently and took another bite of his food.

And despite his insistence, it took all his strength to focus on polishing his sword instead of watching Badgerclops eat.

If he wasn’t hungry before, then the smell of the fish and the sound of his friend enjoying his meal was certainly doing him in now. He was silently grateful that his stomach had quieted down, but now all that remained was a painful, hollow ache that had him nearly doubled over onto himself. But Mao opted to ignore it: Badgerclops deserved to enjoy his meal.

Which he did, because in no time, all the fish they’d caught was in the badgers’ belly.

“Oh man, that was too good… I haven’t been this full in awhile.” Badgerclops sighed contentedly, rubbing a claw over his rounded tummy and leaning back on a log. Mao Mao smiled a bit when he heard that the other was finally full, but when his own stomach twisted and panged harshly, he couldn’t help but glance over enviously.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He said sharply, sheathing his sword and tossing another log on the fire before crossing his arms. Now that the sun had fully set the cold had settled in for the night too, and Mao couldn’t suppress a shiver when a gust of wind picked up and caused his fur to stand on end.

“Aw c’mon dude, what are you sittin’ all the way over there for? Bring it in, it’s freezing tonight.” Badgerclops urged, holding his arms out. Mao sighed and heaved himself up from the ground to settle into his spot; against Badgerclops’ belly. Badgerclops didn’t hesitate to squeeze Mao in a gentle hug, and as Mao reluctantly settled into the embrace, his ears pricked up when he heard his partner’s stomach calmly digesting its’ large dinner right beside him. Badgerclops noticed the others’ involuntary movement and chuckled softly.

“Oh, sorry if my tummy’s makin’ noises, it’s still working on dinner.”

Suddenly, Mao Mao’s stomach churned and cramped up painfully, and he wrapped both arms around his middle, curling in on himself. Badgerclops looked down at his partner with concern, but before he could even ask what was wrong, Mao’s tummy groaned emptily, the sound not stifled by his arms in the slightest. Especially not with Badgerclops so close to him. He definitely heard that.

“Uh… Mao Mao? Are you hungry?”

The jig was really up now. Mao’s face immediately flushed red, but despite all signs pointing to yes, he still shook his head. “Of course not! That was your stomach! Besides, I said I wasn’t hungry.” As if to prove him wrong, his stomach rumbled desperately again, and Badgerclops just frowned and shifted slightly to look his partner in the eyes.

“Well it sounds like when you said you weren’t hungry before, you lied to me.” Mao Mao lowered his ears ashamedly as soon as Badgerclops stated the obvious, and he unfurled himself to fully face the other.

“Well, yes, but you would still be hungry right now if I hadn’t lied!” He defended, to which Badgerclops just scoffed.

“But if you told the truth then at least both of us would have something in our tummies. We can always find more food man; so you don’t need to worry this much about whether or not I’m a little hungry.” Mao’s stomach grumbled again, and he put a paw back over his tummy with a grimace. “Especially not when your stomach sounds like that.”

“But I’m a hero! My partner can’t go hungry on my watch… What kind of hero would I be if I couldn’t make grueling sacrifices, or withstand a bit of hunger?”

“Well you’d be a full hero, for starters.” Badgerclops retorted. “Listen, it’s nice that you care this much about my well-being, my last group of friends wouldn’t have cared at all… But I’m not gonna let you use your arbitrary hero rules to justify going hungry. That’s stupid.”

“They’re not arbitrary, all the rules are in this book-“

“Well you can’t be a hero on an empty stomach regardless of what the book says.” Badgerclops interrupted. “Because if a monster attacked us right now they’d totally kick your butt.”

Mao Mao crossed his arms at that. Badgerclops was probably right, his stomach ached and he felt weak and tired. He’d be no match for any kind of monster right now. His stomach whined again, and Badgerclops tentatively held a claw over his friends’ belly, to which Mao gave a silent go-ahead. Badgerclops began to rub slow, gentle circles across his partners’ soft little kitty tummy, coaxing a few more angry rumbles out in the process.

“I could still take down a monster right now.” Mao insisted after a few moments of silence.

“Don’t jinx us man. Besides, I’m literally rubbing your tummy right now, so chill out a bit.” Mao sighed and nodded, his arms staying crossed.

“Thank you, Badgerclops.”

“Anytime, Mao Mao.”

#a fic!!! #sfw hunger kink #hunger kink #stomach growling #tummy kink #writing #fanficton

[agentnatesewell]

I LIVE for your N sewell rants/comments. I love your thoughts, you have the character down very well. I'm so eager to see where n's romance will take us.

I want to crack him open like a nut. I want to hold him! and explore his story like hands digging through moist warm loose earth!!

Feeling things about this character who is at the same time so comforting and warm and pleasant and feels like security. And so scared and secretive and skilled at avoiding what he doesn't want to discuss.

Who are you!!! Let me know and love you!!

🥺🥹 this is such a wonderful compliment, my friend! Thank you!!

From the time my darling friend Ellie told me “you need to play wayhaven and romance nate because we need to talk about him and you’ll love him” to now … the years!! … I have been so obsessed, down bad, wholly in love with the character of N Sewell.

The amount of time thinking of, reading, discussing this character, writing, visualizing, trying to understand - just to get thwarted with new information!! With more information to come! It’s just making me so unwell and so unhinged and I absolutely love and adore them!

And thank you for reading all my incoherent thoughts … not as organized when I’m just typing in my thoughts as they pop into my head!

(and also, really, with the harshness of the world we are living in, and some personal changes in my life … this character came at the right time to be able to just sort of sit back and escape for a little bit)

But yes! Exactly what you said! It’s the whole (stealing chrys’ word here) paradox of this character. Warm, caring, protective, sweet, kind, honest, trustworthy with … oh, yeah, they’re so afraid to reveal who they are, they’re afraid of what they will do when put in the extreme situation of the person they care about / love is literally in a life or death situation, and really having no limit but imposing / being imposed upon a limit to what they can intake and what they can do … is so interesting and so fascinating!

The constraint and control is enough to turn carbon into diamonds (which, you know, I think they’d like)

I’m with you. I just want to hold their head in my hands and say ‘get loved, idiot (affectionate)’!! I’ll dig through the earth with you, and will bring gardening gloves or at least treat us to a manicure afterwards

Thank you so much for this ask! Let us love you!

Edit: wrote this quickly but also want to send some love to the fandom here! All the art, and the fics, and the metas, and the theories, screenshots! You all make this place wonderful 💕

#sorry that was another ramble #just … my n loving mind is all over the place since that special yesterday #and really they are a master class in the skills to distract and redirect #(they’d be so good with kids haha … we already knke that) #thank you so much for this ask! #twc #n sewell #anon ask

[almost-a-class-act]

Good evening Band of Brothers fic readers!

I've been mulling over supernatural gifts as a neat AU idea so I wrote three little snippets.

Featuring: Joe Liebgott, Eugene Roe, Bill Guarnere, and Ron Speirs. Co-starring no less darling but slightly less magical Floyd Talbert, Babe Heffron, Skip Muck, and Alex Penkala.

--

“They don’t just go away.”

Eugene nearly jumps sky high at the sound of the voice in the dark, though even in his instant of panic, he recognizes it. He spins around and sees a silhouette that can only be Liebgott, crouching near the edge of his foxhole.

“You about scared me half to death,” he says reproachfully.

Liebgott smiles, faintly. “Sorry.” He’s not. “You heard what I said?”

Eugene frowns at him. In context, of course, if one knew what Eugene knows, then what he said makes perfect sense. But no one knows what Eugene knows. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says.

“Yeah, you do.” Liebgott glances off toward the line, eyes fixed on some point far off in the cold, silent dark. “You see ‘em too. I know you do.”

Eugene balks for a moment. He’s never met another living soul that he wasn’t related to who could do what he can do. “You see them?” he asks, knowing it’s not enough of a question but unable to put together a better one in time for it to catch up with his mouth.

“Do I not seem like the type?” It’s rhetorical, and Joe isn’t waiting for an answer as he eyes him for a moment. “You gotta tell them to go. That it’s okay. That they’re, you know.” His mouth quirks, relaxes. “That it’s over.”

“I’ve got enough on my plate these days,” Eugene says, feeling justified in his defensiveness. “It’s all I can do to deal with the living.”

“Even so.” Joe shifts, re-settles in his crouch. “Look. They don’t know that anything’s changed. It’s confusing. They think they gotta stay, for the rest of us. You gotta tell ‘em they don’t have to.”

Eugene wonders if he can picture it, the Joe Liebgott they all know having a gentle heart-to-heart with a friend in trouble. Maybe he can, after all. After his initial doubt, he remembers passing him nearly carrying Tipper in Carentan. He can picture him after Tab got it from a bayonet.

“I try not to talk to them,” he admits. Everything else already rises up around him, choking him, pushing him under; if he’s honest with himself, he can barely tell the living apart from the others these days. “It’s too much.”

“Yeah. Sometimes it is.” Joe looks like he’s going to say something else, and then thinks the better of it and rises. “Do me a favour,” he says. “When it happens to me, tell me that I’m dead.”

Eugene doesn’t answer, but Joe doesn’t seem to expect one. Eugene watches him vanish into the gently falling snow.

--

“Hey, uh." Bill gives a conspiratorial glance around, as if to check he's not being observed. "Don’t tell the rest of the class.”

He tosses a carton of Lucky Strikes into the foxhole. Skip catches it against his chest, and both he and Penkala direct pleased but incredulous looks up at him.

“Is it my birthday?” Skip asks.

“Are you dying?” Alex follows up.

“We’re all dying out here,” Skip quips.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” Bill warns, and they both grin like kids who have gotten away with stealing from the cookie jar.

“What was that for?” Babe asks, crunching toward him in the snow as Bill makes his way back to his own foxhole.

“Anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?” Bill grouses.

“No,” Babe says, tucking his hands under his armpits for warmth. “Where’s my free cigarettes?”

“Tell you what,” Bill says. “You can have yours when we get home.”

Babe’s face goes slack with shock. “You mean they’re – ”

“Keep your mouth shut,” Bill snaps, nudging him hard in the ribs. “I told you. Once I dream it, it can’t be changed. Remember Julian.”

People always want to try and alter the unalterable, whenever he tells them. He lets them try so that they understand why he doesn’t anymore. The universe always rights itself. He’s known that since he was five years old.

Babe is white-faced, and he glances over his shoulder at Skip and Penkala but nods. “Is it today?”

“Later,” Bill says. “But I had to make my stops this morning.” He thinks without relish about the shredded snow, the inevitable earsplitting spray of sound and blood and pain that will rattle his skull and his teeth and every last one of his bones. “I’ve got plans this afternoon.”

--

Sometimes Tab thinks about the night of the bayonet. The guys have the odd laugh about it now, but truth be told it scared the shit out of him. If that didn’t turn him grey, he’s counting on a full head of dark hair well into old age. He doesn’t remember the actual part where he was wounded very well, but he does have an extremely vivid memory of then-Lieutenant Speirs coming over, ostensibly to see what all the commotion was, and laying a purposeful hand on his shoulder.

That touch had been like a bolt from the blue.

All of a sudden, everything he had ever worried about had simply spooled out of his body and into the ground. He had felt so strangely calm, floating contentedly above everything, that Liebgott had even commented on it when they’d gotten him onto the stretcher. Hey. You good? Is he good, Doc? He’s quiet. He had dreamed that night like never before, vibrant colours and sounds and places he’s never been.

He has never asked about it, mostly because he’s pretty sure you can’t ask your CO whether he’s got magic hands without becoming a Section 8, but he remembers it clear as day. He knows it happened. There’s not much else you can trust out here but your own instinct about what’s true.

He watches Speirs hold Grant’s hand now, in the tiny designated surgery, while they wait for a doctor to come in and tell them there’s no chance.

He asks, without thinking: “Does it still work, sir? If he’s not awake?”

Eugene looks back and forth between them, and Tab knows suddenly that the Doc knows, too. Of course he does. Doc doesn’t miss much and he’s been in the presence of a lot of men who might have benefited from a pat on the shoulder like that.

There’s a beat.

“I don’t know,” Speirs admits.

“It does,” Eugene says, firmly. Tab can’t tell if he’s guessing or if it’s based in something he’s seen, but either way, Speirs doesn’t argue with him.

The three of them lapse into silence. Chuck dreams on.

#band of brothers #fanfiction #roaroftheninth

[soft--dragon]

Wonderful In Every Way

Inspired by this ask here

Word Count: 3,627

Warnings: Self deprecation/angst

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

ALL OF THIS IS PLAOTONIC, DNI IF YOU'RE A SHIPPER >:/

“You’ll get it next time Tommy,” Ranboo wrapped a graze on Tommy’s shin with gentle hands. “Honest, I believe you will.”

Tommy scrubbed at his tear streaked face, sniffling quietly as the pain in his leg started to fade with the help of the healing potion. “I-I don't understand,” he bit out sharply, “it’s just gliding. I’m meant to be good at gliding. This is so fucking stupid.”

Ranboo hummed quietly, tucking the gauze back into his inventory and patting the side of Tommy’s leg. “Neither of us anticipated the wind Tommy, just bad luck.” 

His earrings jingled as he pulled away, settling back on the grass and letting his shoulders fall back comfortably. He was usually seen with perfect posture, the air of regalness and pride. Being raised as a Prince of the End turned him into an intimidating figure. But with Tommy, he allowed his walls to drop, comfortable to let himself relax around the young avian. And only the young avian.

Tommy had dragged Ranboo from mining to help him with a flying lesson, wanting to try and jump off a higher point to try tricks with gliding. However, the air currents had shifted while Tommy had been in the air, throwing him to the ground and just about scaring Ranboo to death when he saw the boy hit the ground. 

Thankfully, it was only a light grazing and a bit of bruising. Nothing broken or permanently damaged. Ranboo’s overprotective instincts yanked and shoved at him until he had scooped the dishevelled and slightly disoriented boy and took him back to his base to tend to his injuries. Tommy hadn’t been too happy about being manhandled but settled into the comfortable hold pretty quickly, always a sucker for physical contact from his friends and family. 

However, newly bandaged and potioned up, Tommy had turned bitter from the failed flying attempt. He was hunched into a ball, arms locked around his knees and staring at the ground like he wanted it to explode into flames.

“I just wanted to try some new flying tricks,” Tommy grumbled. 

“You can’t expect to throw yourself off a roof and be able to fly like that perfectly.”

“Phil can!”

“Phil’s a fully fledged avian Tommy,” Ranboo reminded him, tail lazily flicking beside him as he retold information that should’ve been well known to the blonde teenager. “He’s able to do those things because of the size and age of his wings.”

“Yeah, and I’m useless because of these pathetic fuckers,” Tommy glared daggers at the pairs of red plumage on his back. 

The harsh tone made Ranboo flinch a bit, ears perked in obvious alarm. His brain was scrambling for a reason for the sudden shift in Tommy’s voice, the anger and bitterness for his own wings jumping out so suddenly it made the enderman’s stomach roll with nerves. 

He tried the logical route of the blonde's distress. “What do you mean? You’re still young Tommy-”

The weak attempt was shot down in seconds by Tommy's venomous voice. 

“Yeah? Well so is Tubbo, and you. Yet you’re able to do such amazing things! You can teleport for fucks sake! That’s so cool!” Tommy was gripping his arms so tightly Ranboo feared he was going to puncture his skin with his talons. “Tubbo can fly, so can Phil- fuck, even Jack has better abilities than me! Wilbur, Sneeg, Niki, goddamn everyone Ranboo, you’re able to do things I can’t, and- a-and-”

Tommy choked words broke off in a heart wrenching sob, tears streaming down his face quickly. He shoved his eyes into the crook of his arm, trying to stem the flow with the material of his jacket.

Ranboo’s mouth felt horribly dry as his friend broke down on his bed in front of him. He felt frozen, locked up and stiff as Tommy whined, his whole body trembling with his cries. Ranboo stumbled on his knees, shuffling over and not giving a single damn about the ripping his pants on the rocky floor.

“Tommy- Tommy, hey, can you look at me-?” His hands hesitated at Tommy’s shoulders then held onto them. When the boy didn’t flinch, he gave them a gentle shake, terror coursing through him at Tommy's gasping breaths. 

“Tommy, please,” He begged, ignoring the reprimanding voice of his father in his head sneering, “Princes don’t beg.”

A pair of bloodshot, blue eyes slowly lifted to meet Ranboo’s own, and the enderman’s heart shattered at the distress in the youthful pupils. He squeezed the boy's red jacket, tail whipping anxiously at his side.

“Hey, there you are,” Ranboo smiled gently, brow creased in worry. His hands reached to Tommy’s face, the boy doing the same for him when he was dangerously close to crying and burning himself. 

He then remembered his aversion to water and took a handful of his soft cape, slipping two fingers under Tommy’s chin to keep him still. He dabbed the edges of Tommy’s eyes and gently brushed away the tear tracks on his cheeks with careful movements. 

“How long have you been feeling like this?” He asked directly, never one to beat around the bush. 

Tommy winced, pressing his mouth into his arms again and refusing to look at his friend. “A while…” he muttered. He had to swallow back fresh tears to murmur, “Everyone keeps calling me a chicken, or powerless, o-or… well you know, you’ve been there for most of it.”

Something horrible and angry surged in Ranboo’s stomach, sinking its teeth into his bones and pulsating the rage throughout his whole body. How could they- how dare they. Tommy was their friend, why the hell would they say such awful things?!

Why didn’t you stop it then?

The thought hissed at the back of his head like a venomous snake, coiling around his brain and smiling at the mortified ender prince. Ranboo was sure his horror could be seen on his face because Tommy’s ear feathers dipped and he hurriedly tried to explain in a panic.

“I don’t care most of the time,” he rushed out, “I know they don’t mean it- I-I mean, I hope they don’t mean it. I just… the past few days have been a lot and it kinda mixed in with that, I’m just overreacting-”

“Bull. Shit.”

Tommy’s words died in his throat, flinching away from Ranboo who looked ready to murder six times over. He’d known the lanky boy ever since he arrived from the End, and he had never cursed.

Ranboo’s tail lashed at his side, his eyes narrowed into slits as his protective rage overtook his already instinct-riddled brain. “How you feel is never something to just brush off Tommy. They’re hurting you, and accidental or not, it’s not okay.”

Tommy’s breath left him as Ranboo’s hands took his own, cold fingers brushing over his knuckles tenderly. Ranboo breathed out sharply to relieve the tension lining his body, ears folded back in obvious distress. “You’re not overreacting. You’re hurting because of stuff people have said. They shouldn’t make those kinds of jokes if they actually hurt you, that’s not something we can let slide. You got me?” 

A moment passed and Tommy had to take in some much needed air. Ranboo’s cursing and sudden protectiveness made his brain short circuit and caused him to forget how to breathe. The burn in his lungs from the lack of oxygen settled and he scrubbed at his red eyes once more. A moment passed before he was able to speak again.

“O-Okay,” he muttered, “okay, I got you.”

Ranboo gave a single nod of satisfaction, running his thumbs back over Tommy’s hands, soothing the tenseness in the muscles until the small talons were lax in his claws. The poor boy looked so small curled into a ball on his bed, wings hunched in tightly as if to protect himself.

Protecting himself from their friends and what they could say to make him feel worse.

I will be getting them to apologise, Ranboo thought firmly, itching to go out and find their friends and give them a piece of his mind. But right now, Tommy was still a mess and needed a pick-me-up, so Ranboo stoked the fiery rage within him and settled it back for the time being.

With slow and careful movements, Ranboo took a hand away from Tommy’s own and reached out, placing a few fingers on the wing closest to him. He felt them twitch under his pads. “These aren’t pathetic,” he murmured, tenderly brushing fingers across the soft feathers. “They’re part of you, so automatically, that makes them incredible.”

Tommy huffed a breath, rolling his eyes a bit as his defence for compliments immediately kicked in, grumbling something incoherent in a weak protest but Ranboo didn’t pay him any mind.

“Your wings are wonderful Tommy, your smile is wonderful, you are wonderful.” He carried on, his claws gently brushing through the feathers to sort the ones in disarray from the crash.

There was an annoyed noise, but within it was a thinly veiled lilt of elation from the soft praise. “S-Shut up Ranboo.”

The enderman was smiling now, the pink in Tommy’s cheeks very obvious in the daylight. “What? I’m only stating facts Tommy, are you disagreeing with me?”

The boy seemed torn between cursing at him and melting into a puddle, instead settling with smacking Ranboo with a wing. 

Ranboo spluttered at the feathers that were lightly shoved in his face, pushing away the appendage and staring in mock outrage at the boy who was still huddled in a ball. He was watching with eyes that were just starting to light up again. 

The sight made Ranboo’s heart soar and mentally made a mission in his head to make that light brighter.

“That was rude,” he commented, “here I am, showering you with love and affection that people wish they could get from me-”

There was a light-hearted scoff and a roll of eyes. “You are such a prick-”

Ranboo barrelled onwards, fighting to keep a shit eating grin off of his face. “Tommy, I am trying to make a point here, please do not interrupt me when I’m monologuing.”

A small giggle rose from the boy but Tommy quickly muffled it, looking away to mask the slip but Ranboo had heard it, and by Prime he was going to hear it again. 

“As I was saying,” Ranboo continued on like a villain in a cartoon that was getting fed up with the protagonist. “You have a wonderful personality, in fact, that was part of the reason I became friends with you. You were magnetic in a way I can’t quite explain, I was drawn to you I suppose.”

Tommy’s cheeks were permanently red now, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched as he tried not to smile. Ranboo took that personally.

“Your smile is wonderful Fledgling, won’t you give me one?” He asked innocently, his fingers coming to brush back golden curls that framed Tommy's face. “Let me see why you’re nicknamed Sunshine, Toms. The clouds have been gathered for too long now.”

Tommy ripped his head away from Ranboo’s gentle touch, slamming his face into his hands and whining. “Stop, stop, stop,” he hissed, overwhelmed and flustered by the cooed compliments. “You’re so bad, you’re actually terrible, shut your mouth right now, bitch, pussy-” 

Ranboo snickered at Tommy’s spiel of curses and half baked threats, able to see how badly the young avian was blushing. Well, he couldn’t stop now, could he?

“Aw please Toms?” He asked sweetly, “just one little smile from my favourite, feathered friend? Please? I miss seeing it.”

“Eat shit and die,” Tommy growled from behind his hands, not meaning it in the slightest but he couldn’t come up with a nicer way for Ranboo to stop being so infuriatingly kind.

Ranboo pouted though Tommy couldn’t see it. “Tommyyyyyy,” he dragged out the end of the boy’s name, “c’mon, let me see iiiiiiit!”

His hands went to lightly jostle Tommy’s wings, though in the process his fingers skimmed the boy’s ribcage. Tommy yelped, instantly jolting away from his friend and curling into himself more. 

Ranboo’s ears perked in interest at the same time Tommy’s dropped in nervous excitement.

“Oh, hello there stranger,” Ranboo commented with a chuckle. “Little ticklish are we?”

Tommy squeaked from behind his hands, peeking out at Ranboo with a giddy look.

“R-Ran, don’t,” he gasped weakly, though he didn’t try and shuffle away from the other teen.

Ranboo hummed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright,” he agreed easily, trying not to laugh as he watched Tommy's expression fell. The boy was too easy to read. Ranboo then leapt across the bed to pounce on the avian, wrestling with the shrieking boy who was trying to shove him away 

The tease made Tommy’s legs fly out from being tightly coiled at his chest to kick at Ranboo. However, they were immediately snatched and the kneecaps squeezed. A shrill squeal tore from Tommy, trying to wrench his sensitive knees back, but only laughing harder when the ender prince scribbled underneath. 

“Oh, did I mention you have a wonderful laugh too?” Ranboo grinned, his thumbs swooping in to bury into soft skin, wriggling around in a way that had Tommy throwing his head back in fits of wild giggles immediately. “It’s so bubbly and happy! It must be my favourite sound here, I crave more! More!”

Ranboo’s claws gently scratched up Tommy’s sides and back, throwing Tommy into helpless, spluttering laughter, his wings flapping and shifting behind him as he squirmed. “Something wrong, little bird?”

“R-RahAHAHAhahan!” Tommy shrieked, smacking at Ranboo’s back as the enderman had faced away to get a better grip on his knees. “S-Stohohohohop ihihihit!”

There was a fond huff of breath. “Now why would I do that?” Ranboo asked teasingly, “if I stop, you’ll stop laughing won’t you? And you’ll stop smiling too! I can’t have that, I like seeing my little bird smiling.” 

His tail looped around Tommy’s flailing limbs to brush the tuft of luff over the boy’s neck, wagging more when Tommy scrunched his face up in mirth. His squeaky giggles poured out of him rapidly, his hands coming back from light-heartedly smacking Ranboo to try and fend off the new attacker.

“I’hihihil smihihihile! Ihihihi prohohomise!” Tommy gasped, his grin almost splitting his face with how wide it was. He yelped when the tail slipped through his hold to brush over his ears. “Rahahahahanbohohoo! Nohohoho!”

The ender prince snickered, letting his tail torment the blonde freely, focused on squeezing the skin and muscle just above Tommy’s knees at random to get a kick and squirm. “You promise you will?” He asked, reaching back to prod along Tommy’s sides and grinning at the wild flinch and bubbly laughter in response.

“Yehehehes! Yehehes Ihihihi prohohomise!” 

Ranboo hummed, pausing in his prodding, but continued to shift the fluff on his tail over Tommy’s neck, keeping the boy in suspenseful giggling. “How do I know you’re not lying? I might need collateral of some kind.” 

As Ranboo spoke, he turned back around and pulled his tail away much to Tommy’s relief. 

That relief was short-lived however when Ranboo's hands were lightly planted on the boy’s sides, feeling the muscles jump under the contact.

Tommy immediately gripped onto the teen’s wrists, but he didn’t make a move to shove them away, simply holding onto them as he giggled. “Whahat kihind ohof collateheral? Whahat doho yoohu wahant?” 

Ranboo’s smile widened, leaning down and practically purring as he spoke, “I want you to say that you are an amazing and wonderful avian that Ranboo Beloved the Third cares about very much.” He seemed terribly smug at the affronted look on Tommy’s face, and he aloofly explained. “By saying that, I’ll know that when I stop tickling you, you’ll still be able to smile because you know you’re loved.”

Tommy’s cheeks were back to being bright pink at that proclamation. He stubbornly shoved his face into the duvet of the bed, more flustered and giddy by the phrase then embarrassed. Ranboo took that as a challenge. 

“Your funeral man, you know your way out, otherwise this is your life forever.” Ranboo’s claws were back to digging and wiggling against Tommy’s skin, the wild jolt from the boy making him chuckle.

Tommy had thrown his head back in his laughter again, squirming against the bed but not going anywhere under Ranboo’s weight. His claws trailed up and down his ribs, along his collar bone, skimmed the sensitive parts of his wings, then all the way down to his belly. The pattern was repeated over and over again, leaving Tommy in stitches with how hard he was laughing. Squeaks and hiccups were peppered between each wild burst of giggles, the different spots gaining a new reaction every time. 

After minutes of the inescapable attack, Tommy finally called out for mercy. “O-OKAHAHAY! RAhahahahan! Ihihihihil sahahay ihihit!” 

Ranboo immediately stilled his hands, but left them on Tommy’s stomach as a warning, his fingers cool against the shirt. 

Tommy wheezed through his uncontrollable titters, trying to formulate the words that Ranboo requested, but kept falling into the same giggly trap and melted into the bed. His eyes slipped closed as he brought a hand up to muffle the laughter tumbling free, trying to calm down from the tickle attack. Ranboo softened considerably at the boy, moving to gently rub the palms of his hands into Tommy’s skin, calming the tingles still rushing through the nerves. 

“Breathe man,” he coaxed, smiling fondly at his friend. “C’mon, one big breath, you can do that.”

It took a few minutes for Tommy to actually manage to breathe in without bursting into another round of giggles, the atmosphere of the room leaving him happy and giddy. Ranboo patiently sat through it, running gentle hands over Tommy’s stomach to calm him.

Tommy was still slumped back into the bed, his smile wide on his face and his cheeks flushed pink. He blinked up at Ranboo who purred softly, reaching a hand up to brush through his hair. 

“Well? I’m waiting, Golden Boy,” he teased lightly, scratching at the soft spot behind Tommy’s ear. 

Tommy leaned into the contact with a content sigh, eyebrows drawn together in enjoyment. “I am an amazing and wonderful avian that Ranboo Beloved the Third cares about very much,” he recited quietly.

Ranboo paused in his scratching, having to hold back a laugh at Tommy’s displeased whine. “Sorry, what was that? Didn’t quite catch it?” He raised a brow. 

Tommy rolled his eyes, trying to lean his head back into Ranboo’s claws to urge him to continue. "I am an amazing and wonderful avian that Ranboo Beloved the Third cares about very much,” he repeated a bit louder.

Ranboo pulled his hand away and Tommy actually groaned in annoyance as he cupped his ear and leant in a bit, a shit eating grin on his face. “Tommy, I’m getting older which means I’m going deaf, I can’t hear you-”

“I am an amazing and wonderful avian that Ranboo Beloved the Third cares about very much!” Tommy yelled, sitting up from the bed to smack Ranboo’s shoulder. “Stop being a bitch, you heard me the first time with those dumb ears of yours.”

Ranboo snickered, dropping his hand back onto Tommy’s hair and ruffling the curls affectionately. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But you needed to say it again, you know it’s true right?”

Tommy sighed fondly and nodded, looking at the duvet shyly. “Yeah… yeah I know.”

There was silence for a moment, then a heavy weight was gently placed on Tommy’s head. The sudden mass made him flinch, blinking up at his hair, his hand lifting to brush against something cold and metallic. It was Ranboo’s crown.

“Wha…” he whispered, the crown feeling wrong, yet weirdly right on his golden curls.

Ranboo was smiling fondly, hand coming around Tommy’s head and gently pressing his forehead against the boy’s. “You’re going to fly one day,” he promised softly. “You're going to take to those skies and I'll be there to see every second of it. I have complete faith in you, Fledgling. You just gotta have some faith in yourself too, okay?”

Ranboo’s horns were gently bonked against Tommy’s head as he drew away. “So keep your chin up Featherbrain, your crown is slipping.” 

Tommy stared, completely in shock before bursting into mirthful giggles once more, pressing a hand over his face as he laughed. “You’re such a dork,” he said, voice cracking halfway. “Are you finally going soft on me big man?”

Ranboo rolled his eyes but the fond smile on his face didn’t leave. “Absolutely not,” he spoke firmly once more. “I have a reputation to uphold after all.”

Tommy giggled and brushed at the last of the tear tracks on his face. “Right, and that reputation will surely be damaged if I hugged you right now, huh?”

Ranboo’s face fell, his eye twitching as he stared at Tommy. The blonde snickered at the distraught look on the enderman’s face. The poor Ender Prince was having a ferocious mental battle on keeping up the bit, or folding to Tommy’s request. 

His answer was clear when he growled in the back of his throat and swept Tommy into a tight hug, his tail coiling a bit tighter around the boy’s ankle. A comforting weight to the young avian who hugged back just as tightly. 

“Thank you Ranboo.” His whisper made the teen’s ear twitch, and there was a deep rumbling purr of response. 

“Of course Fledgling,” was the reply, and Tommy had to hide his smile into Ranboo’s soft cloak.

#my fanfic #osmp tickle #mcyt tickle #mcyt #origins smp #lee!tommy #ler!ranboo #ranboo #tommyinnit