#imagining soft agere shit

[thorin-baby-bear]

As someone who is a little and selfships with Ash, this blog makes me feel seen and valid because I imagine Ash as my daddy/little one. So, I was wondering if you could write AvED! Ash regressing for the first time, but feels ashamed and scared to tell a masc!reader because of his age and having to be the savior of humanity. But, the reader immediately after finding this out gives Ash their gear (paci, stuffies, coloring books) to use and takes care of him as his Daddy... like giving him a bath, making him dinner, and watching cartoons while cuddling and says how he doesn't have to be embarrassed, because no matter his big age, he'll always be Daddy's little one (I headcanon Ash's little age as 3-5)

🥺🥺🥺 I absolutely loved this ask, thank you so so much :)))) this was genuinely such fun to write, and I hope you enjoy reading it!!

Trust

An Ash vs. Evil Dead agere fic :3

Tags: regressor!Ash Williams, cg!reader, mentioned pablo, mentioned rose

Cw: involuntary regression, light swearing, mention of deadites, panic, baths (please let me know if I should add more ☺️)

Long days were always hard for Ash. His back always ached, and the place where his hand used to be pulsed with a dull pain that made him groan. He usually battled this with some pain medicine, but today there was none to be found, and he really didn’t feel like going to the pharmacy this late, so he would just have to suffer through it. The drive home was rough, every pothole seemed to hit a bit too rough, each stop had him smashing against his belt.  As your small home came into sight, he heaved a huge sigh of relief and pulled into the driveway. 

He stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, not even reaching for the remote just lying there catching his breath. You wouldn’t be home until later that night, so he knew had some time to rest and prepare to put on that good old Ash charm so you wouldn’t worry. My turn to cook tonight, too, he thought, groaning and burying his face in the couch. He stayed like that for a while, taking deep breaths and counting in his head. One one thousand… Two two thousand… 

It wasn’t stopping. In fact, now his legs were starting to pulse as well, making him hiss as a particularly bad wave hit him. Tears stung his eyes and he sniffed hard, shaking his head to stop them from coming through. I may be hurt, he thought, but I will not cry. No way, jose. But suddenly he was feeling very helpless, and the tears that were sliding down his face were hot, and the pain was all encompassing, and his brain was getting oh so fuzzy… 

“No.” He hissed through gritted teeth. “You are an adult, and you will face your issues like an adult, none of this shit.” 

But even as he said this, his teeth had begun worrying his bottom lip roughly, and he found himself reaching out for something to hold, something soft and fluffy and cute– 

He didn’t want this. He couldn’t want this. He was supposed to be the big one, the one who looked after everyone else, but now he was slipping so far, and he couldn’t seem to stop. He tried not to whimper as he sat up, his back aching, and reached for the remote. Maybe somethin’ big will make me big. He thought to himself as he searched for something suitably “big” enough to put on. He eventually settled on Poltergeist before laying back with a huff, ready to wait for you to come home.

>>>>

You walked into your house with a sense of relief, happy to be home at last and spend time with your partner. Then a crash sounded from the living room, and all of your relief was replaced with fear. A deadite? You thought wildly as you inched towards the room. No, Ruby and Pablo proofed the place. Ash made sure. Then what had that noise been? You peeked around the corner and saw a large lump of blankets sitting on the couch next to what looked to be a poorly hidden cracked lamp. 

“... Ash?” You called, blinking at the whine that sounded from the lump. That was decidedly odd. Ash didn’t whine (okay he did, but not like that), and whatever was under that blanket sounded more like a scared puppy than the Ash you knew. You stepped forward, tentatively reaching out and pulling the blankets apart until you saw a pair of wet, scared eyes looking back at you. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, and Ash (and this was Ash) yanked the blankets back over his face. 

You frowned gently. “Ash? What’s going on? Did something happen?” 

The lump shook a bit before a quiet, “Mhm,” sounded from within. You waited for a minute before the blankets parted a bit and Ash’s hand poked out and pointed to the tv. “Scary…” He breathed, his voice shaky and pitched in a way that was new to your ears. You turned and saw the familiar end scenes of Poltergeist flashing across the screen. “Poltergeist?” You asked in disbelief. “Scary?” 

The blankets closed again and you heard him whisper a “sorry” before the blankets began shaking again. 

“No it’s fine, I’m just… confused. You love scary movies, especially ones as goofy as this.” You sighed, going to turn off the tv. Only after the sounds had stopped coming for a while did Ash dare to peak his head out of his cave of solitude, his hair sticking up like a baby chick’s and his eyes almost… ashamed? You didn’t think Ash even had the ability to be ashamed. Something was definitely up. 

You kneeled down slowly and held your hands up in a non threatening gesture. “Hey, it’s done, yeah? It’s all done. You can leave the blankets now if you– oof!” 

You huffed out a breath as Ash ran into you, knocking the wind out of you with a hug and burying his face in your shoulder. Hot tears began to soak your sleeve, and you wrapped your arms tightly around him. You might not have known what was happening, but you would be damned if you wouldn’t comfort your love.

“ ‘m sorry!” Ash bawled messily. “I tr-tried to stop, honest! Bu’ it hurts so bad, jus’ wanted… wanted to be small an’ not feel bads.” 

All of the pieces fell into place. Honestly, you could’ve kicked yourself for not seeing it sooner, of course he was scared, he was regressed.  

“Oh baby…” you murmured, kissing the top of his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Ash sniffled and rubbed his face against your shoulder. “Bu’ I’m s’posed to protect you. Every yous.” He whispered hoarsely. You just rocked him gently, knowing that whatever he was thinking right now, you should probably wait till he was big again to address it. Still, knowing all of that wait he was still carrying, even when little, made your heart ache. He deserved to be comforted and have a break just as much as anyone, even if was some kind of savior. And by god, you were going to make sure he got that comfort. 

You stood slowly, lifting Ash and making sure he had a tight grip around your neck before walking up the stairs to the room you kept for all of your little things. You set him gently on the play mat, rubbing some tears off of his face before grabbing a trunk and setting it in front of him. “Alright bud,” you started quietly, “I know this is going very fast, so please tell me if something is uncomfy for you, yeah?” Ash nodded, his eyes red and puffy. You opened the trunk and started pulling out anything you thought could help him be more comfortable. You handed him the soft, navy blue blanket first, smiling at the way he took it so gently before rubbing it all over his face. Then you pulled out a stuffed dog, and the way his eyes lit up just made your heart melt. You had plenty of stuffies, but this one, you decided, would be just for him (if he decided he wanted to regress again). There were lots of other toys in there, but the last thing you pulled out was a small case, which you sat in front of a now very curious Ash who was sucking his thumb a bit nervously. You popped open the clasp to reveal your small collection of pacifiers, watching as his eyes got wide. 

“You can choose any of these you’d like, and then after I sanitize it you can use it for the rest of the night.” You said, looking at Ash nervously. “Does that sound okay?” Ash hesitated, and you felt your stomach drop a bit. This was too much, he was going to go back to how he was before, this wasn’t helping at all, just making it all worse, really. You hadn’t been helping– 

“Dat one please.” Ash said timidly, pointing to a blue deco paci with a shark on the button. 

You sighed in relief and nodded, lifting the paci out of the tray and making sure it was properly sanitized before handing it to him, chuckling as he inspected it before putting it in his mouth and flapping his hands happily. 

The rest of playtime went well, though it only lasted for about an hour before Ash was bored. He pouted at you from where he sat and you looked back expectantly. “Well, what would you like to do then, boss?” You said teasingly, tickling his stomach to make him giggle. You let him go, and he thought for a second before pulling the paci out of his mouth and looking up at you with big puppy dog eyes. “Baf?” He asked. You grinned down at him. “Of course, bud. We can even do bubbles, if you’d like.” Ash let out a small, happy squeal, and lifted his hands out to ask for uppies. You laughed and carried him to the bathroom, rubbing your noses together and booping his forehead. 

The bath was good for wiping all of the grime and bad feelings from earlier away, but mostly it was lots of fun for Ash. You took great care in making lots of bubbles, and Ash looked like his head was about to burst from happiness. You made castles out of the bubbles, you blew the bubbles into the air, and, most importantly, you gave Ash fun hairdos with the bubbles. That was the best part for the both of you. Afterwards, you put him in his comfiest pajamas and set him on the couch with a new nest of blankets. “Movie?” You asked. Ash nodded, leaning against your shoulder as you sat beside him. The two of you decided on A Goofy Movie, something you had no idea Ash even knew about but was apparently his favorite movie. However, it didn’t matter how much he enjoyed the movie because he ended up falling asleep not even halfway through, snoring quietly as Goofy and Max sang about their doomed road trip. Noticing that leaning his head against you like he was couldn’t be good for his neck, you found yourself carrying him for the second time this evening, this time up to your bedroom. 

You lay him gently in the bed, tucking him in before laying down beside him, only pausing for a moment before wrapping your arms around him and sighing in relief as he cuddled into you. You were so glad he had been comfortable enough to even think about regressing in front of you, and now he was actively seeking out your comfort? You were over the moon. Ash made a sleepy sound and you rubbed his forehead soothingly. “It’s alright big guy, get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up .” You whispered. 

“Okay,” he whispered, “Nigh nigh, dada.” 

You froze, a smile slowly forming on your face. This was definitely one of the best moments of your life.

“Goodnight, baby.” You murmured. He nuzzled deeper into your chest, sighing contentedly as you beamed down at him, absolutely unaware of how joyous you were about that interaction. You both fell asleep, warm, content, with the unshakable feeling of love and comfort enveloping you fully.

Again, thank you so very much for the request, this is one of my favorite things I've ever written for this blog ❤️❤️❤️

#agere #age regression #safe agere #fandom agere #sfw agere #agere writing #asks #ash williams agere #regressor!ash williams #cg!reader

[applesontheground]

May I request some headcannons (Michael, Jason, Bubba) growing old together with reader? Or it too much of a weird request?

ohhh!!! no, that's not a weird request at all, that's actually so fuckin cute ;w; i’d love to write it for you.

buuut, while i do write for Bubba, i don't for Michael or Jason. i'm sorry, that's my bad for not having a link to my character list at the time you sent this :(

so, could i possibly interest you in Bo and Norman instead? apologies in advance, i just don't want to leave you hanging by only writing for just the one, haha...

headcanons - Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, & Norman Bates spending the rest of their lives with you (GN Reader)

contains: canon typical talk, violence

Bubba Sawyer 🐖

☆ If you're committing to Bubba, that means you're committing to family: His actual family as well as the "family" that's represented by what they only refer to as "the saw" -- all of it. With this being said, you're agreeing to only having a quiet moment like once a week, the constant bloodshed, the whole cannibalism thing -- but it's the moments in between that make up for it. ☆ The days where you have the kitchen to yourself, and the radio is loud enough to drown out the idle motors that run on and off all day and the weird hooting and howling that come from somewhere beyond the yard. Getting lost in whichever song that comes on the station, turning around in the midst of a waltz with yourself to realize he had been watching the whole time. The way you have to open your arms to him, even after all these years, to let him know you want him to dance with you. His reaction never gets old, the way he holds you like you're going to break under his touch if he isn't careful... ☆ Yeah, those moments make up for it tenfold. ☆ I really like the thought of reader and Bubba as a finely-aged old couple, living out in the middle of nowhere with the brothers and spending their days keeping things in line at the house. ☆ You've learned to dance with the Sawyers' pride for both the sake of your peace of mind and for Bubba. Drayton prefers to keep the illusion that he runs things, and that was very well more than true before you came along. Now, he's finding himself having to face yet another tag-team within the family besides Chop Top and Nubbins... He's not sure of how to take the evenings spent with you and Bubba sitting together, working on art projects or reading with each of your hands that aren't doing anything resting on the other's, a quiet reminder of the bond you two share. ☆ If anyone dares fuck with you, even as a slightly grizzled middle-ager, your old friend comes out with the rattle of a rolling chain, just as loud as it always has been and just as chilling to watch it make work of trespassers as it had been on the night you had met the man behind it.

Bo Sinclair 🕯️

☆ Bo didn't necessarily mean to be with you for the rest of his damn life. It just sort of happened. ...That's what he tells people, anyways. 🤭 ☆ I'd like to think that there would be a point where Bo and Vincent have to face the inevitable along with aging: the vision of the "town of wax" would be completed one day, too. ☆ Does that mean they stop killing? No, but it does have to be handled differently as all of you get older. Bo can't sprint like he used to, the occasional limp in his side that we saw when he walked with Wade & Carly up the hill would become less occasional, he can't lift tires without making a myriad of groans, and god he'd get so pissed if you dare smirk or laugh at him and start pointing out how you're no Spring chicken either... ☆ Both of you would be that couple that bicker and huff at each other all day but then are on the couch at night, rubbing the knots out of each other's backs, reminiscing about nights you had when you were younger, looking at each other deeply when you realize just how long the two of you have been there. A lot of unspoken stuff given to each other through actions rather than actual conversation. ☆ Okay, done being soft. Now, sit with me and imagine an older Bo just strangling the shit out of someone. His sneer is hidden under a greying beard, a cigarette casually hanging from his lip because he just doesn't have the will to make it so violent any more that he’s got time for the little things like that. Eyes lidded, watching the life leave the other person and not even blinking twice... ☆ One night, the two of you were sitting on the porch of the house, and he had been staring at the spot right at the bottom of the steps, lost in thought. Just when you found the nerve to pull him out of his head, he glanced over at you and murmured, "It don't bother you we never got married, right?" When you shake your head and smile, a hand finding its way to his knee, he manages a little smirk from behind his folded hands, the wrinkles around his eyes defining for a moment before he finally lifts his eyes to stare at an Ambrose that had been long since completed. In a way, that was the symbol that the two of you had built something together if not a marriage.

Norman Bates 🔪

☆ Okay so remember that scene where Loomis is questioning the neighbors and the wife was all- *gasp* "Norman took a wife!??!" ... That you, baby. 🥺 (Just with the right pronouns if you aren't a wife, ofc!) ☆ Being Norman's partner for the long haul will mean two things. You would definitely be married in some proper fashion (half because Norman's always wanted the formality of being husband and [wife/husband/partner], and half because everyone wouldn't stop pressing him to do it), and similar to Bubba you're automatically in the motel business from the moment you solidified your place in his life. Sure, you could take a job elsewhere, but everything is so far from where you've found home... ☆ Oh. And sometimes, you have to help with the "housekeeping". You may have made peace with Mother, but the rest of the world walks the line. You both have done things within the walls of the motel that make you shudder to yourselves, but one thing Norman can take comfort in is when it happens, someone's always there to hold his hand through it, at least. ☆ Lots of listening to soft music on the vacant nights, slow dancing with each other in the back room like you exist only for the moment. Here's some tooth-rotting motown to go with that thought... ☆ Even as you two get older, you'd be that couple that never stops puppy-eyeing each other, even as age starts to show on the both of you. You will still walk into the lobby like you don't know where the hell you were, and Norman will break a soft smile and a friendly "How are you this evening?" The only thing different from that first time is that he now knows your name. And he knows how soft you like your pillows, what you take with your coffee, and of course... your favorite bird.

#bubba sawyer x reader #bo sinclair x reader #norman bates x reader #requests #slasher requests #headcanons #✏️ #🐖 #🕯️ #🔪 #again anon i'm really sorry for not writing the characters you were hoping for :C #if i write for michael and jason in the future i'll be sure to announce it or make it clear #fun fact about me! these are my top 3 slashers!

[yarichin-imagines]

can u do something with agere, idm what pairing or anything

BII BII BII AGERE IS MY COPING MECHANISMMMMM

PLS SEND MORE AGERE ASKS IF YOU WANT ID LOVE TO TAKE EM—

Also totally not me going all out to write what they’d all be like as caregivers and littles!

This is non-sexual age regression just to be clear!

(For those who are not sure what agere is, agere/age regression is a coping mechanism for stress/trauma/sometimes just for fun. It’s when someone mentally regresses to a younger state of mind and thinks and acts like a kid or baby. These people often want a caregiver around, and can be found doing things like watching kids shows, cuddling with stuffed animals, or using a pacifier. It’s a totally valid method of stress relief and I myself am a bit of an expert on it, since i use agere as a coping mechanism myself!)

Toono

Little:

Toono is pretty playful when he’s little

He has a big imagination! Always talking about seeing a dinosaur that breathes fire down the street!

Toono loves dinosaurs, by the way

He can be a little energetic too, squirming around happily as he babbles on about whatever his mind can think up.

Little Toono wants to make his caregiver proud, always trying to color pictures neatly within the lines for them!

Though, of course, the occasional act of bravery might lead to a scraped knee that needs to be taken care of, along with a sniffly Toono

Caregiver:

Toono is a bit of a mess as a caregiver

Childcare? Never heard of em.

He doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing, but he tries his best

He tries mostly to keep his kid out of danger and not crying.

He likes playing LEGO’s with his little, that’s like the bonding activity with him

Kashima

Kashima is a sweet little kid.

He shares everything and always asks others if they want to play with him

He loves exploring, which often would lead to him and Toono running around looking for dinosaurs in the park

As sweet as this kid is, he can be a walking hazard to himself.

“Hey, (caregiver nickname)! Watch me jump off this rock!”

Though, adorably, once he is done playing, he’s exhausted and falls asleep in your arms

Caregiver:

This man has caregiver written all over him

He always says he’s proud of his little and makes sure they know he loves them

He does the typical father-child activities, like throwing a baseball or teaching a kid how to do outdoorsy things

If the kid fails, Kashima gives them the ‘good job, buddy, you tried so hard and I’m proud of you’ talk

Kashima! Loves! Picking! Littles! Up!

He can cradle you like no other, his body is like a little’s dream in a cuddling sense. He can put your head on his big strong chest so you can hear his heartbeat as you drift off

Yacchan

Little:

Little Yacchan regresses to the way he was before school

Aka, a little shit

He can be a bit aggressive towards other littles, which gets him in timeout a lot

Little Yacchan requires a lot of attention. His caregiver needs to only be focused on him. Otherwise, he feels unloved and upset.

Little Yacchan has a pout like no other

Yacchan will often regress for stress relief or comfort, so it really is best to keep an eye on him and to not leave him alone.

He can be a little show off-y, wanting to one-up the other littles around him. Someone drew a picture? His is better. Stuff like that.

Yacchan’s caregiver will need to have a lot of manners talks with him.

Caregiver:

Save any soul that messes with papa Yacchan

Breathe in the direction of his little and he launches off at you

He is a very protective papa bear

One would think he is very “haha my little is better than you” but he isn’t. He wants to avoid his little feeling like he’s a point of comparison like he was.

He comes off a lot as ‘look at my son and you will love him’

Yacchan’s favorite nicknames are ‘bud, kid, kiddo’, fatherly ones like that

He likes to scoop a little up and make them fly around

Yuri

Little:

Little Yuri will often go into baby space

He is almost always nonverbal

He really is a baby, needing everything to be done for him.

He drools. A lot.

His babbling is basically just the same as what he always does.

He loves snuggly clothes

Sugary flavored milk or juice is his favorite

Caregiver:

As I’ve said before, I don’t think Yuri should be trusted to take care of children. Mentally children or physically children, either way.

He would babble right back to them

He is surprisingly good at cuddling

He knows how to get a little’s energy out. Other caregivers would drop their littles off at Yuri’s just to get them to be sleepy for the night

Yuri somehow manages to filter out the dirty talk while he is taking care of a little. Somehow.

Tamura

Little:

Little Tamura is around a toddler age

He can be a lot to handle at times

Still, he will make arts and crafts for his caregiver as a ‘Thanks for putting up with me’ sorta thing

He loves action packed kids shows, and tries to emulate them

You had to comfort him through a few ‘ninja training’ mishaps

Caregiver:

Like Yacchan, he is a protective parent

He uses nicknames like ‘bud/kid’ a lot

It takes some time to get him to filter himself around a little, but he works on it

Once he gets it down, he is like the swear police with his little

“He was being such a” covers littles ears “little shit”

He likes outdoorsy activities, showing different types of bugs to his little.

Jimmy

Little:

A stress regressor

He cries

A lot

He NEEDS constant attention and physical contact

Hold him on your hip and keep him close because if you don’t, the tears will start.

He likes bonding with his caregiver, doing little activities

Caregiver:

Still a bit of a mess

What does he do? What? How?

If the kid cries, so will he

He often falls asleep with his little next to him

He always speaks in a very soft voice with his little.

He gives little nuzzles with the nose :3

Shikatani

Little:

Little Shika can be fussy, and a bit of a handful

Still, he is the only little that cleans up after himself

You need to have a routine. Cannot stress that enough.

You gotta spend a specific amount of time feeding him, bath time can’t be more or less than a certain amount of time, etc

And don’t you dare forget a bedtime story

Regardless, Shika feels bad in the back of his mind

So he shows a lot of affection towards his caregiver

Caregiver:

Everything needs to be cleaned

He has, like, fifty of those bottle cleaners and is constantly boiling things

Shika is not the touchiest caregiver. Especially given how kids are messy and all.

Shika is the best at bedtime stories, though

He has a number of times fallen asleep next to his little, either looking all graceful or smushed up against his glasses after a long day

He likes to play dress up with his little in pretty dresses and skirts!

Akemi

Little:

Little Akemi can be a bit of a brat

He wants to be a prince really bad

Until he gets too bratty and you tell him about how bratty princes get turned into frogs

Then he’s just terrified and trying to figure out the logistics of that in his little mind.

He likes pretty colors and shiny things

He totally watches all the Princess movies

Caregiver:

Akemi is actually a surprisingly good caregiver

He is good at being in positions where he is the boss.

He isn’t quite used to having a filter on the things he says around his little, so his little might end up parroting some less than family friendly things without knowing. Akemi would probably be like ‘that’s my baby’ as a joke but then teach them that’s bad

Akemi knows all the best recipes for good little snacks.

He makes little cookies and milk with vanilla and honey!

He can also tend to spoil his little a bit too

Itome

Little:

And the award for most likely to be a little goes to...

The softest baby. You could ever imagine.

Itome goes nonverbal in his little space

He regresses to a pretty young age, wobbling if he has to walk places.

He often likes to curl up in his huge sweaters

That being said, you really need to make sure he feels loved when he’s in little space

If you aren’t there to cuddle him, he will start crying.

However, all you gotta do is rock him, hold him tight, and reassure him you won’t leave, and he’s instantly off to sleep.

Little Itome loves Naps. He is a sleepy little baby

When not sleeping, he’s coloring pretty pictures if you with hearts all over it! When he’s done he’ll stumble up to you and hold it out with a hopeful look in his eyes

Caregiver:

A very snuggly caregiver

His favorite time is right before bedtime/nap time where he feeds his little some milk and just slowly watches them fall asleep as he very softly tells them a bedtime story

Itome loves playing pretend with his little! He could sit on the carpet with you and have millions of stuffed animal tea parties!

He wears only the softest clothes for premium cuddle material

He uses the softest nicknames like “sweetheart, darling” etc.

If something upsets you, he’ll stoop you up with a sympathetic coo and get you some fresh air. Maybe you two can find some pretty flowers that he’ll put in his and your hair!

#yarichin b club #yarichin b club imagines #yarichin b bu #yui tamura #itsuki shikatani #koshiro itome #yuri ayato #keiichi akemi #kyousuke yaguchi #takashi toono #kashima yuu #tooru fujisaki

[sophiainspace]

A rogue canary prompt of your choice would be wonderful. Something AU maybe, if that's your thing.

Sara’s not too proud to admit that she hates working in this backwater bar just outside Nanda Parbat. For one thing, the clientele is just so predictable. Over-privileged students taking a year out to travel on Daddy’s dime - not much in the way of tips to be had there. Hikers with something to prove, heading out from here into the mountains - the ones who are walking as charity fundraisers are sometimes worth chatting with, but the rest are dull jocks. And the new agers on their first trip beyond America, who think Nanda Parbat is the place to find enlightenment. Hint: it’s not. Sara never drops that hint, though - just waits for their inevitable return from one of the monasteries in a week or two, a few pounds lighter and obviously desperate for a soft bed and a Walmart. She directs them to the nearest McDonalds, over the border in Kabul, and watches the light return to their eyes.

And Sara? None of the above. Shit went down, she let her mess of a life become an absolute trashfire, and she ran. She ran and ran, made it as far as this godforsaken end of the universe, and stopped running. And then she just - never moved on.

So when two men walk through the door, she looks up, ready to put them into one box or another...

But she’s never seen guys like them here. Can’t imagine what they’re even doing in Hindu Kush. They’re not exactly dressed for mountain walking - the leather jackets and motorcycle helmets suggest they brought their bikes up the mountain road. With the nearest real highway a good two miles away, that’s hardcore.

And then they take their helmets off, and Sara’s heart drops through the floor.

She can’t look away.

Mick has his eyes trained on the ground, which is about what she’d expect from him, but Leonard...

Leonard is looking at her like he can’t decide if he wants to stride over, vault across the bar, take her in his arms and never let go—

—or if he wants to turn right around, walk out of there and never have to lay eyes on her again.

She sees his mask go up a moment later, a telltale smirk meant to hide the hurt in his eyes - but not close to succeeding. Folding his arms, he leads a clearly-reluctant Mick - who still can’t look at her - over to the bar.

Sara drops the dirty dish towel she was holding, shoving it under the counter with her foot. God, you’re a mess, Lance.

This was not how she wanted to be reunited with them.

But she’s got no choice now. Len is leaning against the bar like he’s in just another dive joint back in Central City, his old smirk back on his face. “Well, well, well,” he drawls, making a show of staring across at her, though his eyes don’t quite meet hers. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Len...” she manages to croak out.

He’s still doing that cool guy act of his. Something in Sara jolts, and for a moment she wants to slap the smirk off his smug face. “Heard you were in the neighborhood.” He drags the words out, hamming it up. It’s painful as fuck, when she knows what he’s doing, and why. “Thought we’d check out the lead.”

It’s been two damn years.

Sara’s heart is beating out a frantic rhythm, till she thinks it’s going to burst out of her. Chills and heat are rushing over her in waves. Fear and anger and a desperate hope she doesn’t dare believe in are freezing her to the spot. Something broken inside her wants to set off in a run and not look back. It’s what she always does, in the end. And it’s hardly like she’s put down roots here. Most of what she owns is in a bag under the counter. She could be starting a new life in India by the morning.

It’s Mick who stills her racing heart and head. It always was.

A big hand, scarred and calloused, slides across the counter to cover hers. “Babe,” he says, in that gruff voice she’s missed so damn much - and her chest is constricting and there’s a burning behind her eyes and—

“God, Sara,” Len chokes out, and in a moment he’s lifting the bar hatch, and then he’s kissing her, an urgent press of lips and tongue that she responds to just eagerly, his hands in her hair, on her back...

Mick’s arms wrap around both of them, and she breathes in the smell of leather and the warmth of strong arms that she never thought she’d get to experience again.

They can talk later. Hash it all out - as terrified as she is of the recriminations, the resentments, the guilt she deserves to feel for what she’s done to them. Right now, she’s taking them up to her tiny apartment above the bar, and afterwards... she’s never letting them go. Not this time.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Len whispers in her ear, pulling out of the kiss only to sink against her, and there’s more raw emotion in his voice than she’s ever heard from him before. “Don’t you ever disappear like that.”

“We can’t do this without you,” comes Mick’s whisper into her other ear.

“I won’t,” she promises.

And this time, she means it.

#my fic #sara lance #leonard snart #mick rory #rogue canary #ot3: now i could stand for a little help #legends of tomorrow au #drabble #prompt fill #none of us can queue this alone

[bxcksdoll]

Hello! Please could I request an imagine where it’s either platonic between Peter and the reader or them two being shipped together, and just kind of a head canon about them being the youngest avengers? Like playing on pranks on the other avengers, and even though they all get mad you see how soft they are towards the two kids? Thank you if you can:)🐝

Parker Pranks

Pairings: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Peter and Y/N are best friends. They’re the youngest of the avengers and love to cause mischief by pulling pranks on the others.

Warnings: swearing??

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this, Anon. I am in LOVE with his idea so it was great fun to write! I hope this was what you for hoping for and if you ever want another imagine written please let me know in my ask :D

“Morning, kid, where’s your boyfriend at?” Sam smirked as you walked into the kitchen to grab some breakfast.

“Excuse me? My what now?” you asked, extremely confused.

“You know, your boyfriend. The spider-kid,” Bucky chimed in, sipping a cup of coffee.

“Ha ha, very funny you guys,” you rolled your eyes and opened the fridge.

“So when are you gonna ask him out, huh?” Sam winked.

“Wait, you’re actually gonna ask him out?” Bucky nearly spat out his coffee in excitement.

“God no! We’re just friends. Can’t a boy and a girl be friends without the thought of a relationship?” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

At least once a week you got asked if you and Peter were in a relationship by another avenger. It was driving you mad. You needed to do something about it.

“Good morning, all,” Tony greeted as he entered the room. “Wow, Y/N, you’re up early. I thought you’d still be in bed after probably spending all night on your phone.”

“Actually, I went to sleep early last night, for your information. Not all teenagers are glued to their phones, Tony,” you chuckled.

A few seconds later, Peter entered the room, his phone inches away from his face. He didn’t even look up to say hello, just stumbled across the room and landing on a sofa.

“You were saying?” Tony quipped. “Teenagers? More like screen-agers.”

“That’s possibly the worst pun I’ve ever heard,” you stated, walking over to Peter.

“Hey,” you whispered, shaking him. “I have a plan on doing something, are you up for it?”

“Well that depends,” Peter answered. “What kind of thing?”

“Follow me.” You yanked him up and dragged up out of the room but not without a comment from Sam: “Where you off to, lovebirds?”

“Right,” you said as you finally let go of his arm when you reached a quiet room. “We should do some pranks!”

“Pranks?” Peters eyes went wide with excitement. “Who on? What for?”

“On everyone! And for fun. But, first, let’s start with Sam and Bucky,” you gave a mischievous grin.

“Okay...why them in particular?” he asked.

“They’re always making comments about us being a couple and I’m sick of it,” you answered.

“Well, in that case, of course we’ll start with them. Do you have any ideas of what we could do?”

“Oh, I have a few...”

——————————————————————————

That night you and Peter snuck into Bucky’s room. You kept as silent as possible, scared he would wake up at the sound of you breathing.

Neither of you talked but instead mimed in case he woke up. You noticed that Peter had his phone out and was filming your prank.

Great, you thought. This is going to be hilarious to rewatch over and over again.

In your hand you carried a pair of sharp, metal scissors; the plan was to cut Bucky’s hair. You moved closer to him as he slept, being careful not to touch the mattress or his face as you lifted some of his hair up.

As you began to snip the hair away, a snigger was heard from behind you. Lightly, you hit peter on the arm and motioned for him to be quiet.

You carried on cutting Bucky’s hair in a most gentle fashion, being extra careful. Occasionally he would breath more heavily than usual and you’d sit back for a second but he never did wake up.

After you’d finished cutting the left side of his head you wondered how you’d cut the other side - which he was lying on; you hadn’t thought this all the way through. But then, you thought, it would be funnier for him to wake up and have half of his hair long and the other half short.

You and Peter then left Bucky’s room quietly and made your way to Sam’s room. Luckily, Sam was a heavy sleeper so you didn’t have to be as cautious as you were with Bucky.

“You film this,” Peter insisted, passing you his phone.

This time, your plan was to stick a fake goatee and fake bushy eyebrows onto Sam with super glue.

“This is gonna be hilarious. He’s gonna freak out!” Peter exclaimed, giggling.

He began to squirt the super glue into the fake eyebrows and sticking them onto Sam. Afterwards he stuck on the goatee. After he was finished, the two of you had a laughing fit - trying not to be too loud or else you might wake him.

“Alright, let’s go prank the others.”

——————————————————————————

“BUCKY FUCKING BARNES!” came a booming voice through the compound.

Oh shit, you thought. Now is the time when everyone will discover they’ve been pranked.

You and Peter were sat in the lounge room when Sam burst in; fake eyebrows and goatee standing out from a mile away.

“Have you seen that mother fucker?” Sam sternly asked.

You and Peter couldn’t help yourselves but burst out laughing. Sam’s face got madder and madder.

“Don’t you laugh at me, kids, this stick on shit won’t come off! Now, where is he?” he demanded.

You shrugged your shoulders and seconds later Steve walked in. His shirt fitted tight against him but with two holes cut into them where his nipples were. Again, you and Peter couldn’t control your laughter.

“Hey, Sam could you keep it down a bi-oh my god what happened to you?” he chuckled.

“Me? What about you and your moobs?!” Sam argued.

Steve squinted his eyes in confusion. “My wh-” he looked down. “Hey, who ruined my shirt?! This was my favourite one...and I don’t have moobs!”

“It was Bucky, that’s what he did to me with this shit!” Sam grumbled, pointing to his face.

“Well, that explains a lot,” Steve laughed. “I was beginning to think you used some kind of weird product to help you grow hair...”

Moments later, Natasha strutted into the room with a full head of bright green hair. Everyone burst out laughing until she gave you all death stares.

“Alright, which one of you morons did this, hmm?” she interrogated, the look of murder in her eyes.

“We think that Bucky did it,” Steve answered.

“He is dead meat when I get my hands on him,” Natasha grumbled.

“Help!” came a voice from down the hall. You all peeped your heads round the corner to find a flustered Thor. “Someone has stolen my eye!”

“You’re what?” Sam asked.

“My eye!” came the God of Thunder. “You know, my fake one! I don’t want to go back to wearing an eyepatch.”

“Bucky probably stole it. He’s pranked all of us” Natasha stated.

“What?! Oh, just you wait. I will steal his metal arm and see how he likes it!”

“Hey, you guys,” a voice was heard from the other end of the corridor. As you turned, you saw Bucky walking down, rubbing his hands over his eyes, with a ridiculously hilarious hairstyle. “Could you keep it down? Some of us want a bit of peace and qu-”

“Get him!” Same shouted and tackled him to the ground. “You think it’s funny to glue fake hair onto people’s faces? Well think again, Barnes. I’m gonna make you wish your sorry ass was never-”

“Sam, wait,” Steve stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Look at Bucky’s hair. He’s been pranked too.”

“Oh god damn,” Sam sighed, getting off Bucky. “One of these days, Barnes, you watch. I’ll have an excuse to beat the crap out of you.”

“Jesus Christ, what’s going on?” Bucky shouted.

“Someone has been playing pranks on us,” Natasha told him.

“Wait, Steve, what did you say about my hair?” Bucky found the closest mirror. “Oh, my hair!” he exclaimed and looked like he was about to cry. “Who did this?”

You and Peter exchanged a look as if to say ‘oh shit’.

“Well, to me, it looks like the work of the kids,” Tony Stark’s voice was heard from behind you.

“W-whaaaaat? No way! It wasn’t us, right Peter?” you rambled.

“Y-yeah. Totally not us,” Peter agreed.

“It so obviously was, you can stop your lying,” Tony laughed.

“Oh, it was you guys, huh? Well I guess that’s just a bit of teenage fun, right?” Steve smiled.

Thor laughed along with him, “yes, I suppose so. They were very funny pranks.” He patted you both on the back. “I suppose all will be forgiven if you two would be so kind as to give me my eye back...”

“Of course, Mr Thunder,” Peter smiled, talking the eye out of his pocket.

“Hmm, now that I know it was you two I can see that it was a pretty funny prank. Nice work, kids,” Sam, surprisingly, said.

“You better not speak of my hair to anyone. Or else,” Natasha warned.

“Oh, don’t worry, Natasha, we won’t,” you laughed.

Bucky was still looking, depressingly, at his hair in the mirror.

“Buck, do you forgive Y/N and Peter?” Steve asked him.

“...yeah I do,” he murmured, sadly.

“Nice job, kids,” Tony praised. “And thanks for not pranking me. This is why you two are my favourites on the team.”

“You’re welcome, Tony,” you laughed. “But watch out in future...” you and Peter gave each other a mischievous look. “You might be next.”

#marvel #marvel imagines #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peterparker #headcanon #marvel x reader #marvel one shot #avengers x reader

[crispyimagines17]

“Musas: Becoming one of them” (Chapter 1) -  [A Bill Skarsgård and Alexander Skarsgård story].

Summary: Bill moves out with his brother and future sister in law while he looks for a place to live in; without being aware that his remain could trigger a catastrophe between Alexander and him.

Warnings: Strong language.

A/N: An apology because it’s too short. We hurried to post this chapter because we wanted you to have a taste of this project. Enjoy!

Muse (Verb) /mju:z/

In mythology, the Muses were nine goddesses who symbolized the arts and sciences; walking throughout the centuries, the name was destroyed into hundreds of meanings. But settle one universal for all beings, a muse is the source of an artist’s inspiration.

But she keeps denied in it.

Neither she could answer why most of the sheets were all about his features. Maybe two hypotheses crossed her mind, but none of them satisfice her brain; One of them was because his characteristics were so simple, they made him look just as a masterpiece: soft cheeks that combine his milky skin; big green eyes, always watching impassive and emotionless; golden strands of hair falling throughout his forehead. Oh yes, for an artist this was a “take your breath away”.

She was tracing skillfully with pencils the curve of his lips, these ones had a beautiful shape; lower lip was thin, the other not, showing a perfect structure and symmetry.

“Shit”, she whispered slowly, gliding her fingertip to the sheet to acquire more shades.

Bill heard her voice, but didn’t take interest in asking. There was no friendship between them, just familiar faces when the holidays or birthdays arrived. He considered a lot of projects to match, since she will become part of the Skarsgards in the future. But for the moment, there was no idea that captured him.

“Going for some juice, want anything?”

“No, thank you.” She stopped paying attention to her task, to give him a warm smile.

Bill’s stomach clenched at her words, wonder how lucky his brother got a girl of that league; the little he had heard, he pictured her just the way his parents wanted his partner. And he felt a little bit of jealous for Alexander.

The dinning room was quiet, more than usual. Everybody was in their own thoughts and eating was just a bonus. Bill’s eyes were focused in the pinkish tomato soup, picking it up with the spoon and letting it fall.

“How was your day, kid?” Alexander speaks, making Bill lift his eyes to his brother.

“Usual. I can’t find a good place.” He shrugged his shoulders. “This is not like home, Alex. I don’t know how do you manage living in ‘Phonywood’.”

“But if we stayed in home, we’d have never gone beyond. It’s a huge sacrifice, kiddo. But at the end, the rewards are worth it. Promise. Who knows, you could find a girl who fits your puzzle pieces together.”

“Sounds so fuckin’ cliché.” Both brothers released out a chuckle.

Alexander peeped at his lover sweetly and slipped his hand with hers, unleashing again the envy of Bill.

“Perhaps Alex, I could find someone like Elizabeth.” Her eyes filled with curiosity.

“Who is Elizabeth?”

Alexander watched his brother furiously, not even the high levels of alcohol in his bloodstream could keep him calm of what Bill just said.

“Alex didn’t tell you about her?”

“Enough, Bill.” Alexander warned him.

“Why? She has the right to know.”

“But it’s none of your business!”

“If it’s something personal you don’t want to share, for me it’s fine.”

“Alex, isn’t the time to say something to your lover?”

Full of annoyance, Bill’s brother looked at him with eyes burning inside. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Bill?”

“Fuckin’ chill, Alex. It was just a funny comment to light the atmosphere.”

“Not so funny to me.”

“Fine, I apologize. Never going to happen again.”

“Alexander, don’t be too harsh on him. He’s just trying to swing the mood.”

“Someone fuckin’ understands.” Bill point his finger on her. “Jesus.”

“Can you leave? I will talk to you later.”

She knew that Alexander was pushed to his limits, and hope that his brother won’t screw with his mouth, and for brief moments she spotted that Bill’s eyes change, more soft and worried.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Alexander.”

“Just leave, Bill.” He nodded, getting up from his seat leaving the couple alone.

“Are you okay?”, she asked gently placing her hand in Alexander’s shoulder.

“Of course not, that stupid kid… he shouldn’t mention that.”

“He apologizes, I saw that he was truly sorry.”

“He can’t keep his damn mouth shut.”

“Alex!”

He realizes that she was talking and stopped his actions, still spilling ager between his eyes.

“We should go to the bedroom and talk about it, this is not the place and time.”

“I think you’re right. Come on.”

The only sound provided by the house in that moment was a blast of the door supply by the couple’s room. Alexander set a foot in it and the quiet atmosphere among with the whiteness relaxed him, removing slowly his suit and deposit in the couch. He brought his fingertips to both of his temples, squishing flimsy and producing a brief relief.

“Fuck, I need your touch.” He whispers to her, crawling his eyes and extend his arms. But she never came, leaving a burst of cold air hit him in the chest.

When he reopened his eyes, she was sitting in the corner of the bed, glancing to him for an answer. But what could he said, the topic may bring misfortunes for  both and this man is not ready to let her walk away.

“I didn’t understand your attitude towards, Bill. It was obvious that he touch a frail string.”

“With who the fuck was Elizabeth.” He could still taste the bittersweet by pronouncing her name.

“Yes, and I will understand if you don’t want to talk about her.”

He left her words die for a couple of seconds until he mentally prepared himself for the news.

“Elizabeth was my ex fiancé. In those years I was crazy about her, wanted a family by her side. She was my only friend when I came here, and she left me for someone else, just before days of our wedding.  Sorry for not bringing that subject.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Alexander.”

Her feelings for him they seemed to grow by seen it in all the stages. And to carry on for that disappointment, her heart began to clutch.

“My little ball of sunshine, my muse, precious, beautiful.” She launches towards him and began to stroke his hair, continued murmur sweet little nothings in his ear.

“You are flattering me, stop.” A chuckle escapes from his mouth.

“I hope that with my kisses and love you could find your healing from all those rough relationships.”

“I will, if you stay. Giving the next step together.”

“But…”, her voice was interrupted by Alexander’s index finger.

“Let me show how much I want this.”

With Edith Piaf singing at the background; the love started to consume.

Hands slipping throughout her hair to deeper the kisses; noses touching, smelling their essence, breaths mixing, eyes closed, sense his hands rubbing ever scar of hers, lips brushing.

She cupped his face with her hands treasuring the nibble on the chin, looking at those fierce blue eyes.

Maybe this was the proof she needed to spend the rest of her mortal life with him. A situation which he displays his past, and that kind of pain connect more.

“Yes…” , she murmurs, provoking Alexander to smile in the kiss.

A loud bang could be heard echoing throughout the house. Bill closed the door heavily and fell round on his bed. He needed to get the hell out that place.

Living there was like breathing the suffocating perfection of his brother and his darling, all day long. Quite unbearable.

He needed fresh air, outside from their aura.

Alexander’s brother opened the window of his bedroom that took to the street. A good jump and he’d be free.

He looked back in the room to take his black jacket, when noticed it wasn’t where he believed: at the foot of the bed. Bill looked around every corner of the room with no trace of his jacket; he checked in the closet, and nothing; maybe it’d be under the bed, but only found an ashtray, socks and garbage.

As he kept wondering where else does the jacket could be, the picture of it left in the sofa at the living room went to his mind.

“Fuck”, the boy murmured, closing his eyes for being so stupid and taking a deep breath, maybe to catch enough strength to walk back there. Another deep breath was necessary until Bill rolled his eyes and opened the door.

Contrary to what he expected, the house was relatively quiet. The sun was about to set and the light of the happy couple’s room was on. However, even if they were in the room doing God knows what, Bill couldn’t risk being heard out. Carefully, he took the knob on his door and turned it to close it. Then went downstairs, taking care that each foot stepped on the right place without making any noise. Following the same process as he did upstairs, Bill glanced around the living room, but strangely didn’t see his jacket. He looked over each chair and sofas, when, at last, found it fallen at the floor by the side of a little table and the soft brown sofa in the corner of the room on which a lamp lay decorated by his brother’s wife. Surely Bill himself had let his jacket fall when got up from there.

Disposed to raise it, the youngest brother grabbed his black jacket but an unexpected discover provoked a soft change in his lips’ corner, almost a smile: a secret drawer in the little table. With a slight pull, the mysterious drawer was opened, revealing a journal and several pencils for drawing of different types. It was nothing else but the very soul in paper of his sister-in-law.

“Which secrets does the perfect sister may hide?’”

Bill wondered, imagining a bunch of words written by hand revealing her deepest thoughts. But words were not found in its pages. Instead, the first page presented a full blank space and at the bottom her maiden name written delicately to pen. The next pages left him muted: Perfect traces of the moon, the sun, a street, small landscapes, profiles of people surely friends or family. Bill continued to leaf through the notebook, seeing each of the drawings so detailed, until he reached the section of his brother; just when he was getting tired to see so many strokes of Alexander poses, he found something that caught his attention completely: soft curved lips, wide eyes, and his own face. It was him, Bill, in different poses and accented in parts by his lips, his hair, his eyes.

Bill’s eyes were scanning every page and detail of the journal; his misbelief was disturbing his head into a point of no return. Does Alexander know about this? How could he handle this situation?

Alexander’s brother let a piece of breath escape him as he recharged his back on the brown sofa. He spent a few minutes observing the same pages of himself, over and over again, until the darkness forced him to turn on the light. Bill moved away the journal from his sight holding it on his lap; his eyes were blank, evidently lost himself for a few seconds in the shadows of the living room, and then, as if a strange force ran down his back, he returned to himself and closed the journal delicately. The youngest man tried to place it back to the drawer the same way he found it; Bill closed that secret hiding place and went to the fridge for a beer that took to his room where he spent the night deep in thought.

People say things get better in the morning, but the house remained strangely silent. Bill had just woken up, almost at noon after a restless night. Walking downstairs, he noticed that the dishes were still unwashed but had already been used, probably for breakfast. The boy wondered where could the only woman in home may be.

Meanwhile, his future sister-in-law was in her own oasis of relaxation: a room at the end of the first floor, where she had all her art pictures; 'that trash' as her father used to call all the art stuff. Today, her inspiration sourced from classic music: Chopin’s Spring Waltz as background and a coup of coffee with a taste of cinnamon as beverage. Wrapped in herself, she didn’t listen at all the slow steps of the other soul who lived under that roof. Her young brother-in-law remained standed, leaning against the door frame and observing curious the total abstraction of his sister-in-law in that painting on which she worked. They could’ve stayed there forever, but Bill doesn’t believe in what 'forever' means.

“Hey there.” He knocked the open door and entered the room.

“Hey.” She answered, distracted.

“Just wanted to apologize for what I said. I thought you knew about Eli…” , but he was interrupted by she, who silenced him abruptly.

“It’s okay, Bill. Don’t worry, alright?” , she glanced at him, serious but calmed.

“Guess Alex and you had a reconciliation. It should’ve been fun…” , Bill let out a laugh with a spice of sarcasm on it.

“Okay. What’s your point?” , her eyes that used to be sweet were now iced.

“Nothing. I’m just saying…” , Bill kept his sarcastic mode on to see her reaction.

“Well if you are just saying, maybe you can keep doing that in other place of the house.” She stood up to face him.

“Hey, didn’t your mom told you it’s impolite to interrupt people?” 

“And didn’t your mom told you you should go and take care of your own business?”

“Alright, Miss. You’re good playing this game, but what about the other you play yourself?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking, my dear, about your secret journal.” As a man who knows his fortune, Bill started to use the only power he could use against her: knowledge.

“I don’t know what do you mean with secret journal.”

“Oh, of course you know what I mean. I found your little drawer and it had a journal hidden in it.”

“You’re drun…”

“No, I’m not and I’ll show you.” Bill took out from his pocket the same journal she carefully hid. But maybe not enough for him not to find it.

“Now you can’t deny what I saw. I understand why you draw my brother a lot, he’s your lover, but me?” , he leafed through the journal as he spoke, pausing in the pages his drawings were.

“It’s not what you think…” 

“Yeah, I know it’s not what I think. Alex and you are just the perfect couple, who could ever be tired of it. The thing is, I liked it.” 

“You did?” 

“Listen, I don’t really have anything to do this days nor you. Also, guess I inspire you.” She remained silent but expectant, trying to deduct his next words “I want to see your real skills and not only sketches.”

“So?” 

“I’ll be your muse. Paint me.”

The entire building was wrapped in a brief silence, which adorned the feelings of surprise that surfaced from Alexander’s wife. Until it was broken by her.

#Musas: It's a Sin to Tell a lie #Musas #bill skarsgard #alexander skarsgard #multichapter #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skasgård #bill skarsgård fanfiction #alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander skarsgard x reader #Skarsgard Brothers