#Richard Simmons x reader

[whatsnewalycat]

like a moth(man) to a flame(thrower)

pairing: frankie “catfish” morales x f!reader

summary: just a deeply self-indulgent meet cute with frankie at a halloween house party.

rating: t

words: 900+

warnings: drinking alcohol, party

notes: happy halloweeeeen!

—

In lieu of red solo cups, a long-standing tradition in house party lore, your cousin opted to get black solo cups. Which was a nice touch, you had to give it to her.

You picked one off the tall stack and wrote your name on it in metallic sharpie. As you ladled the crimson “fangria” into your cup, someone dressed as Richard Simmons bounced through the cramped kitchen behind you on their way to the basement.

Sound erupted from downstairs when they opened the door, a racket of inebriated conversation and Monster Mash by Bobby "Boris" Pickett & The Crypt Kickers, then dampened when they closed it.

A skunky odor hit you after a two-second delay. You turned to look at the door, taking a sip of the fruity wine concoction, and considered joining the livelier half of the party. The floorboards beneath your feet bumped from the bass, as if trying to convince you.

If you didn’t taken one more look around before submitting to its call, you might’ve missed him.

This guy, leaning against a dining room table with his arms of his bomber jacket crossed over his powder blue hoodie. Army green cargo pants, sunglasses, a flame thrower strapped to his back. Even the big, dumb cowboy hat thing. It caused you to burst out laughing, recognition tickling your fancy.

He did a double take, only a glance at first, probably just sourcing the noise. But his attention quickly returned, alongside a crooked smile, lingering on you for a few seconds before he turned back to his conversation with an eerily spot-on Jason Voorhees.

Your pulse skittered. There was something in the way he did this. Intent.

Only another moment went by before he parted ways with Jason and started towards you.

Acting casual, he grabbed a cup from the tower and wrote his name on it, asking you, “How’s it going?”

“MacReady.”

He raised his eyebrows in question, “What?”

You pointed to his getup, “The Thing, right?”

“Oh!” Understanding brightened his features. A big, charming smile spread across his face when he looked down at himself, nodding, “Yeah, MacReady from The Thing.”

“I love it,” you grinned.

“Thanks.”

Drifting a little closer, he studied your costume. Confusion creased his forehead. He tilted his head up slightly and tugged on your feather antennae, as if trying to pluck a clue from it.

“You are… a, uhhh—” he frowned and shook his head, “I don’t know, a scary moth?”

“Mothman.”

“Mothman?”

“Right, mothman.”

“Never heard of him,” he chuckled as he filled his cup. Taking a sip, he leaned back against the counter, even closer. His gaze felt hot on your cheeks. He said, “You look nice, though.”

“Thanks,” your eyes dropped to his cup and you read his name aloud, “Frankie.”

“You’re welcome.”

You licked your lips, then told him, “That’s one of my favorite movies. The Thing, I mean.”

“It’s a classic.”

“Ok, sorry—I need to talk about this costume more. You have a fucking flamethrower and everything. And the hat—” You giggled and gave the visor of the floppy hat a playful smack, “It is ridiculous.”

Drifting a little closer, he chuckled and held up the business end of the flamethrower, “You know how many people have asked me if this is real tonight?”

“How many?”

“None. And that’s a goddamn travesty.”

“Uh-huh,” you smirked, meeting his eyes through the sunglasses, “Well, is it real?”

He smiled and shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Maybe yes or maybe no?”

“Maybe yes.”

“Shut the fuck up, are you serious?”

He nodded.

“Can we light shit on fire? Oh my god, please? My cousin has a fire pit—”

“Whoa, slow down, Sparky. The tank is empty.”

You deflated, shaking your head as you murmured into your cup, “What a tease.”

Frankie laughed, “A tease, really?”

“You can’t tell a gal you’re sporting a real flamethrower then not set shit on fire with it.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Tell you what, give me your phone number, we can set up a time for me to show you how to use it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled, “Really?”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, then handed it to you.

As you saved your contact information to his phone, you said, “I know this might just be a cute thing you’re saying to get my phone number, but I fully expect you to follow through.”

“You have my word.”

When you gave back his phone, his hand brushed up against yours, and something sparked inside you. He tucked the phone into his pocket. You felt him staring at you, and glanced down at his mouth as his tongue peaked out to wet his lips. For a moment, the two of you stood there quietly, letting static build between your bodies, pulling you closer.

The door to the basement swung open, filling the room with Thriller by Michael Jackson. A worse-for-wear Hollywood Hulk Hogan stumbled up the stairs into the kitchen and closed the door behind him.

He squinted between you and your new friend, swaying a little, then recognition kicked in and Hogan yelled, “FISH!”

“Jesus Christ, Benny,” he muttered in response, setting down his cup to start towards him, “You can barely stand.”

“I’m fffffine,” Benny swatted at his friend.

“Let’s get you home.”

He let out a dramatic groan, but accepted Frankie‘s arm slung around his back.

Frankie looked at you, eyebrows knit together, apologies written all over his face, and asked, “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

You both lingered there for a moment, despite the dead weight hanging off one side of him, then he said, “It was nice meeting you.”

His voice was low and sultry. It heated you from the inside.

“You too,” you grinned wide and nodded, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He returned the smile, then glanced over at his friend, “Alright, drunk ass, let’s go.”

[mexicancarolina]

HC: Relationship with a shy! S/o

HC: Relationship with a shy! S/o

Characters: Simmons and Grif

Rating: General.

Word count: 274 words

Warning/s: None

Simmons

Normally you both rather spend time with each other or with your teammates than other people.

A lot of Netflix & Chill dates where you cuddle him and he plays with your hair.

There are never uncomfortable silences. You don’t have to say anything at all as you both prefer the quiet.

You are surprised he can read you so well. He knows when you don’t feel comfortable in certain situations and is there to lend you a hand.

Especially in Chorus with people always praising you and looking for your attention, he always knows when and how to get you out from conversations.

You like to keep your affections in private; you know you can be yourselves without being judged.

Grif

He doesn’t like crowded places but he likes to have fun.

His idea of fun includes annoying Sarge and Simmons, drinking and/or eating pizza with you while you watch shitty sitcoms.

When you have to order food or go out he speaks for you if you feel too overwhelmed or nervous about messing up your orders.

Doesn’t like PDA as much, though he likes to keep his arm around your shoulders as you walk.

It gives you some confidence to walk down the street while holding hands with him.

Gosh, he does love it when you walk confidently; he is so proud of you and wishes everyone could see how amazing you are.

You like gaming dates with him, you let yourself be free.

He truly loves it when you let yourself go, it fills him with warmth to see the person he loves loosen up from time to time.

[angelsunflowers-fanfics]

Richard Simmons x Blue!Female!reader (High school au)

FANDOM: Red vs Blue

REQUEST: My dialogue is number 6. It is a Simmons x Artistic! Blue Army! Kind! Dirty-mouthed! Reader. This is my idea for a city AU for red vs blue, and Simmons is a white boi with maroon everything (Glasses, hoodie, and converse) and he also wear his hair in a short pony-tail. He also wears a maroon baseball cap and carries a maroon phone. He was in love with (Y/N) since High School, and he doesn't really know about her artistic side. Please find the time for this. I have a crush on the maroon soldier.

“We’re sitting in a good court and I can see you staring at me so what’s your fucking deal--wait are you drawing me?”

Linktree

~~~~~

The mall was lit up with dim lights as the afternoon slowly drifted into the evening, many people were still lounging around the shops and food court, taking advantage of the long hours. Richard Simmons and Dexter Grif, a couple of the reds, were talking in the food court. Well, it was more of Simmons talking and Grif eating and listening.

Simmons thought about that Blue all too often, The blues and the reds were rival schools. Grif didn’t see why he had such a fascination with someone that he was only gotten to actually see a few times. Simmons didn’t care much about the rivalry between the schools, he actually liked it. That way he could see (y/n) more often, but now he was out of high school.

“--I just wish I could find a way to talk to her again, It’s been so long. Do you think she would even remember me?” Simmons asked.

Grif rolled his eyes, not knowing why he was here and not literally anywhere else.

“Maybe, you two were both major nerds so It’s a possibility. Well, you still are. I still can’t believe that you never got over your mondo crush on her by now, dude. Her being a blue and all, there were plenty of girls that asked you out, why didn’t you ever say yes?” Grif asked.

Simmons sat back in his seat lightly, taking off his Maroon colored glasses to clean the lenses before he spoke, “(y/n)’s different, she’s not like those girls in school. They just wanted to plagiarize my work or use me to get their significant other jealous. (y/n) talked to me first, I still got really nervous around her, but… She actually enjoyed talking to me.” 

Grif shrugged his shoulders lightly before closing his notebook full of extensive notes, he didn’t need Simmons to know how smart he could actually be just yet.

“Alright, you know what Sarge would say,” Grif said. 

Sarge was the red team’s coach, he was close to the former team. Simmons scoffed at Grif’s mention of Sarge, whom would desperately discourage him from having a huge crush on a ‘dirty Blue’, His words, most definitely not Simmons.

“I don’t care what he’ll say. I didn’t get to see her much though. I almost thought that she would transfer, that would’ve been nice,” Simmons said, reminecing. 

Grif narrowed his eyes lightly, he never saw Simmons talking with (y/n). Not once in all of the 4 years in highschool. Where on Earth did he find the time for that?

“When did you even talk to her? You never had the time to hang out with me, but you supposedly hung out with a Blue?” 

Simmons rolled his eyes, picking up his phone to pretend that he was scrolling through his social media.

“You know, the football games. You and Donut would play, I watched. But one day, I got really bored and just started to wander around and I eventually bumped into (y/n). She asked me for the time and we just started talking,” Simmons answered. 

Grif sat back lightly, that did make sense. High school Simmons and Simmons in the present both got very flustered around girls, especially those he actually liked. Grif had hung around the nerd since the beginning, he could see that plain as day.

[FLASHBACK]

“Hey! Pretty-nerd in Maroon!” 

Simmons glanced around in a fluster, he was definitely not used to receiving any compliments of any variety. He quickly turned around to face a pretty girl in a blue letterman jacket. He already felt his heart beating rapidly from the mere sight of a pretty girl talking to him out of interest.

“U-um, yes?” Simmons nervously answered.

(y/n), the blue, slowly approached Simmons to hear him better and for him to hear her better.

“Sorry to bother you, but do you have the time?” She asked.

With shaky hands, Simmons dug a hand into the pocket of his Maroon jacket to grab his phone to check the time; 8:02 PM. before neatly placing his phone back where it was.

“I-it’s 8.” 

(y/n) gave Simmons a sweet smile before explaining her actions.

“Thanks, sorry I don’t usually call out guys like that but… You seem different. What are you doing at a football game? You don’t seem like the type,” (y/n) explained her outburst. 

Simmons glances over (y/n)’s head for a moment to catch a glimpse of Grif on the field, he didn’t look like he was enjoying the game before catching her eyes again. 

“I’m (y/n), by the way,” She introduced herself. 

Simmons smiled lightly and almost wanted to press a hand against his heart from how hard it was rapidly beating against his chest.

“I-i’m Simmons, but you can call me Richard. I come in to watch my friend, Grif, and Donut,” He said. 

(y/n) cocked her head to the side for a moment.

“Donut?” 

Simmons smiled brighter and lightly led (y/n) to the edge of the bleachers to overlook the game.

“Yeah, you see that guy in the pink?” (y/n) laughed lightly and gave a small nod of her head. “That’s him, he calls it lightish-red.”

“Oh my, Fuck. That’s amazing,” (y/n) giggled. 

Simmons surveyed the blue team, wondering if there was someone that (y/n) was here for.

“What about you? Are you here for your boyfriend or…?” The pleading in Simmons' voice was evident, but over the loud sounds of cheering from the crowd, it wasn’t noticed by (y/n).

“No boyfriend. Um, I’m here for Michael Caboose; that guy charging at everyone head first,” (y/n) gestured to the football field. Simmons glanced to the field again to instantly spot Caboose diving headfirst for the football, it would be hard to miss someone like that. “And Lavernius Tucker, he’s--” 

Simmons couldn’t help himself as he blurted out his immediate thoughts toward that certain blue, “Wait, Tucker? You hang around him? Every time I see him, he’s always flirting with fucking someone or you… Sorry, I just--” 

(y/n) waved her hands in front of her to stop Simmons rambling, the sweet smile still plastered onto her face.

“No, I get it. He has that kind of impression on people. But he can actually be really sweet and a great person once you get past that outer shell… And for the flirting… I don’t know why he does that… But he’s Tucker.”

Simmons’ eyes trailed back down to the jacket that (y/n) was wearing. He was talking to a Blue. A blue! His friends were going to give him so much shit for this, but… somehow he didn’t care. The jacket hanging loosely from her shoulders didn’t look like hers, he couldn’t help but imagine what she would look like in his jacket--

“So, Richard… you’re pretty and definitely different from the blue guys… Would you mind if I gave you my number?” (y/n) asked.

Simmons’ eyes widened before trying to dig through his pockets to grab his phone but ultimately became a fumbling mess.

“Y-yeah, I don’t m-mind.” 

(y/n) bit on her bottom lip to stifle a laugh before lightly grabbing his arm and a pen from her bag.

“Just hold still for a moment.” (y/n) carefully scribbled her phone number under her name on his inner wrist before hesitantly letting go of his arm, letting it hang loosely by his side. “I better go find my way down to the field, the game’s over. I’ll see you later, Richard.”

[FLASHBACK OVER]

“Okay, I believe you. There’s no way you would have been able to talk to her first, you’d get flustered and start stuttering,” Grif said. 

Simmons’ face flared up in embarrassment and only slight annoyance.

“I would not!” His voice cracked slightly. 

He didn’t really yell because of that fact, his voice always reverted back to his pubescent days when he got flustered-angry. Grif stifled his laugh behind his hands, Simmons already proved his point.

“Your voice just cracked. Man, I barely have to try and I’m right.” 

While Simmons tried to calm down his breathing and control the color in his face, Grif looked off to the side as the sound of a pencil furiously rushing across paper gets his attention. Someone was turned toward Simmons, their head tucked behind a sketchbook. Someone was drawing Simmons. 

“Huh, someone is drawing you, Dude.” 

Simmons rolled his eyes but didn’t move a muscle.

“Whatever, this is another stupid test of your right? I’m gonna turn around and then you’re gonna laugh at me, no way,” Simmons said, stubborn as ever. 

Grif glanced at the artist sketching on her paper for a moment before Grif grabbed one of Simmons' notebooks and threw it near the artist’s table. 

“Grif! What the hell?” Simmons yelled.

Grif only shrugged his shoulders lightly, watching in amusement as Simmons slowly stood up to retrieve his journal from the floor. Simmons’ eyes locked onto those of the person drawing him, Grif was right. He shot up to his full size and marched toward the unnamed person. 

“Okay, you’re staring at me, what the fuck’s your prob--wait… are you drawing me?” The artist finally glanced up from their sketchbook to reveal that it was (y/n). “I-I…” The blue only smiled at Simmons.

“Hi, Richy.” 

Grif laughed to himself before grabbing his bag and standing from the table, he could tell that Simmons would want to talk to her alone.

“Nice, I’m gonna head back to the apartment. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Simmons watched Grif leave the mall before turning back to (y/n), ready to question her, “I… I didn’t know you could draw.” 

(y/n) sat up straighter and layed the large sketchbook on the table, revealing that she was drawing him. Simmons slowly sat in the seat across from her, his mind scrambling for a coherent question to ask. 

“I’ve been trying to find you for a while, you kind of disappeared after high school,” Simmons mentioned. 

(y/n) slowly shrugged her shoulders, picking up the sketchbook to finish the drawing.

“Yeah, There were some family emergencies and then my mother wanted me to go into the air force… I’m sorry. I know you came here a lot when we were teenagers so I thought… Maybe you would be here and you are,” (y/n) explained. 

Simmons sat back to look at how grown-up (y/n) looked. He needed to keep the conversation going, he wanted to talk to her until dawn just like all those years ago. It had been so long, what if she was different? Or dating someone? Or married?

“Why did you draw me? Out of everything that’s inspiring, you drew me…” 

(y/n) gestured toward his outfit and items that were laid on the floor near the table next to them.

“You are very color-coordinated, and you’re pretty… and I like you. I’m a bit rusty on sketching, but I wanted to get back into it and I thought you would be the perfect model,” She explained. 

Simmons wrung his hands together in front of him nervously, she said that she liked him. He should say something back, right? Say that he had felt the same since he first met her.

“I, um… I like you too. Since we met sophomore year at that football game. I never knew how to tell you. (y/n), do you… Wanna--” 

(y/n) quickly cut him off by leaning over the table to press a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“Yes.” 

Simmons stare at (y/n) wide-eyed, not expecting her to act on such a bold move. 

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say yet.” 

(y/n) smiled brightly, grabbing one of Simmons' hands and slowly packing up her things in a light blue bag, before standing up, bringing Simmons with her.

“If I’m with you, then I’m positive I’ll enjoy whatever you have planned. Come on, we have a lot to catch up on.”

[stareiiez]

Flower Petals and Blood

𝐿𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝘩𝑢𝑟𝑐𝘩 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

Chapter 6

Word Count: 3.4k

𝑨/𝑵:  HI! Hello, yes, it's me. I have updated with an even longer chapter for this ongoing series that you guys have really seemed to enjoy :D I’m happy for the support and love I’ve gotten!

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Graphic description of choking, perhaps vomit.  Nothing too extreme for n o w, just good ole choking on some flowers. 

                             ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

 "What's your deal?" You complained, your feet were trying to plant on the metal flooring of the base and then on the ground when you were dragged outside the base.

Your voice was high pitched and annoyed, as you if you had every right to be a bit whiny towards another soldier. The black-armored clad female had dragged you from your doorway, leaving behind Tucker to talk to you in private. The sun beat down on to your bear head and already sweat was working its way to dampen the back of your neck and back itself. It seemed to only get hotter in Blood Gulch around 'summertime', you had a way of telling when the 'seasons' changed due to the slight difference in this area.

"Whatever you could have said, you couldn't have said in front of your other teammate." You bit out, as the grip on your wrist grew tighter. Oh right, you forgot to mention how she had held you by the arm like a child who was in trouble, then dragged you away. She should have just grabbed you by the ear and scolded you just to further add on to your embarrassment.

"This isn't about him, this is far from him. Who you do on your own time in none of my concern. He's not even my teammate, to begin with in the first place, I'm just hired to be here to replace Church's death." Tex stated, her hand had pulled you harshly forward as the two of you wandered behind the back of the Blue base.

How quick she practically threw you ahead of her had your head spin slightly as you fought to gain your balance against the quick moment of momentum. Was a conversation that serious that she had to be that bitch to pull you away from- .. from. Well, what did she step in on back there? Were you going to do something with Tucker? You couldn't even remember, the moment he set his hands on you. Your body burst into flames of heat and some tingly feeling that left your mind dazed beyond compare. You were on fire and he added more gasoline to the bonfire that screamed in your chest. He burned the bright petals away and let you live. Maybe you were just pent up and Tucker was your only scapegoat. Did you like him? Maybe. He was good-looking, funny when he wasn't talking about his dick, and caring. He worried over your condition and in that one spare intimate moment, you could feel the ache in your lungs. He made you feel, normal. Tucker made you feel something other than pain and for one painstakingly moment as the world around you spun. Maybe he was something you needed in your life.

"Something is off about you," Texas spoke once you gained your bearings, her voice brought on that itchy feeling to your chest. Her voice was nails on a chalkboard and that yanked you out of your glazed over attention.

‘Gee Tex, as if puking up petals wasn't off enough. What do you want? A fucking billboard so you can see it easier instead of looking down at me from your god damn high horse named Church?' You thought to yourself.

Acid burned in your throat as you bit down on your tongue. You swallowed the sharp acidic tang that tried to push its way past your teeth in word vomit or actual vomit. Your breath left in a quick rush of air once your gazed turned to cast the female an actual agent of the nearly forgotten Project; and you. You were just someone that knew everything about the agents, everything the Project stood for. You could spill your guts to the public, to cover what the media didn't when the Director went into hiding. You didn't hate Project Freelancer, no you loved the stories that you heard about them. You loved and looked up to the war criminals as if they were Earth's do-gooders who saw no wrong and weren't manipulated into thinking they were better than anyone. Captain Flowers even told you of his past, of him faking his death to get into this particular simulation group under a new persona. He was dedicated enough to sell his soul for Project Freelancer, and by god did that organization let him down coldly.

He was crazy. his sanity gone and down the drain, the Project fell. He was all smiles and sadistic chuckles when everyone he ever knew or cared for was shown up as MIA or KIA. His sanity was gone and switched out for episodes that he was either way too friendly that it was uncomfortable, or for others that were a bit too bloodthirsty for a canyon group of idiots. He wasn't Agent Florida, he was some other man that filled that husk and took his job with the biggest grain of salt in the salt shaker.

You just hated her. Hate was a strong word, but she was just another manipulation that was conned by the Director. She didn't have to come back, she didn't have to be here and have Church wrapped around her pink finger, but she did. Church was hardwired to chase after her, he was destined to live out the Director's love through another robotic AI copy of her. You were just here on the sidelines to watch it play out and choke to death on some fucking made-up disease. Why do you need to be the one to tell her your whole fucked up one-sided love triangle fiasco when it's obvious she is here to just intimidate her.

Like some twisted female Alpha, she wants to make sure you don't fuck with what's hers. If it's possible to give hickies and blow an AI you'd gladly track Church down and make it happen as long as she sees it. The itchy feeling bloomed slowly back in your chest, your breath stuttered just slightly in your lungs. It was starting to hurt, the itchy feeling was moving upwards, like vines of a rose garden and twinning themselves through your organs. It's sharp thorns digging into flesh and tissues.

"Well?" Tex states, her arms have crossed over her onyx chest plate. Her head tilted to assess your unarmored form, and you swear she's grinning under the visor.

"It's just a head cold." You gritted out, the lie slipped through by the skin of your teeth, the truth was biting and burning on your tongue. The acidic taste rolled on your tongue, and it was harder to swallow this time around.

There was a scoff, from the other. Texas stared at you, her gold emotionless visor was staring you down. It was like she could see past the wavering lie you had hastily said to force her to be on her way. The silence growing between you two was nothing but uneasy, and your mouth burned with the sensation to double over and puke. You wouldn't mind spilling your guts, literally, on her polished black boots before you even amused her further. You needed to throw up, petals or liquid you couldn't tell this time around, whatever Texas was staring at, you wanted her to hurry up and move on. Your upper lip quivered as another beat of silence passed and she finally broke eye contact.

"I'll just go ask Church, you two seem to be.... way more comfortable for a teammate." One finger pointed accusingly at your face.

Your lips curled up at her words. "what's that supposed to mean?"

Tension sizzled, tightened, wound around your throat, and warmed your red blood cells that coursed through your veins as Tex didn't hesitate to reply.

"Church isn't smart, he's see-through." A snort escaped your mouth, one you couldn't help to not hold back. Yeah, no shit, he's see-through, he's not even a fucking real person.

With a glare you could feel penetrate through the golden, emotionless visor Tex continued. "He likes to hang around you, he's less of an-"

"Asshole?" You quipped.

"I was going to say absolute dumbass of a dick, but that works too if you want to be basic." She sighed, "Look, for some reason Church likes to hang around you. He rants, I hear him rambling and somehow cussing you out across the damn canyon. He's loud enough for even the dead to hear." *Ha, funny.*

"And this is supposed to make me blush?"

"I'm saying that whatever is going on between you, friends, you're screwing each other or whatnot. I'll find out what's happening with you, so watch your back." Bored with conversating over an Ex of hers, and whatever the hell kind of frequent one night stand hookup partner, The Bitch in Black sauntered away with the confidence that she was so sure of herself.

Once she had rounded around the base and was, hopefully, out of earshot, you wheezed hard. Lungs ached and trembled as a sharp pitched exhale left. Stabs of hot knives sliced at warm, soft, fleshy, sacs of skin that shrunk and grew behind your ribcage. The world blurred in watery colors, and small tears pricked and warmed your cheeks as they slipped down your skin. You didn't choke on petals, it felt fuller in your throat. The object bulged in your throat and tickled your trachea. Velvet petals, earthy tasting that made you gag and try to swallow whatever was temporarily blocking your air passage. You couldn't gag, couldn't possibly cough hard enough to even move the blockage more up to the back of your mouth. You were choking to death, and you were pretty sure you looked like an absolute mess or more while balancing in the brink of death.

With another choked gag, you fell to your knees on the dusty ground and then flung your whole body crashing down violently on the sun-baked ground in desperation. The sudden jarring and slam of your stomach on the floor, shoved the last few puffs of sweet oxygen and carbon dioxide gave the gentle shove of the object. Petals tickled your uvula, and you nearly clamped your mouth shut in repulsion. It wouldn't bug, no amount of even throwing up or coughing would make it move anymore. You'd have to shove your fingers down your throat to free your airflow yourself.

A trick, one stupid college tale your best friend told you before you shipped out for the military, was tucking your left thumb into your fist and squeeze. Strong, weak, or no gag reflex you couldn't give a damn. Not taking the chance to puke your guts out and more from just putting your fingers to the back of your throat was undesirable. Squeezing your eyes shut, your pointer and thumb of your right hand ventured into your mouth. Your lungs burned, and your body shook in rebellion from having another thing added to your mouth. It was easier to fully grab the petals that constantly brushed against your uvula, they didn't tear off as you slowly pulled whatever was choking you to death or unconsciousness. Your left thumb popped in the ever-tightening grip of your fist as you retracted your hand from your mouth and pulled whatever you were holding between your pointer finger and thumb.

Air, precious, hot, sweet, cold, burning, dry air rushed and skimmed down your throat as you finally inhaled. Your passageway was clear, and you could breathe properly. You still trembled and shook with small gentle coughs that came from your oxygen-deprived deflated lung sacs. Your eyes opened against the small tears that still flooded your pupils. With your hand now relaxed, it wiped your gaze clear and you finally turned to what was damp and hanging limply in your grasp.

Against the bright sunlight, you nearly let out a sharp gasp that stretched your already sore lungs to hurt even more. There color of periwinkle blue, with a bright golden center that was small and dusted with pollen. Pollen that dusted your lips and tasted like strong, musky Earth, and a sick, oddly sweet aftertaste inside your mouth. You couldn't tell the type of flower that was shining from the saliva that coated its once open spread petals. Thank god the single flower did not have a stem, it was just the head of the flower.

You never produced full flowers, let alone formed ones before. Small petals, large petals, oddly shaped or clumped together was what you had puked or coughed up for at least two or three days. Now your disease was progressing for the worst, and you weren't sure if your body could keep up. Eyes, wide as saucers you kept the soft flower in your fingers, too afraid to gently cradle it in your open palm. You had managed to push your weight up to your knees, then onto your feet slowly after a minute or two of gaining your strength.

Your feet carried you before you could even see where you were going. It's not like you needed to, you knew the ins and outs of this god damn canyon like the back of your hand. You mapped this desolate place since the first week you ever got stationed in the Blood Gulch Canyon. You were mindlessly walking fast, as fast as you could without tripping on the uneven ground. You were heading to Red Base, Doc could still be there. He didn't hang around Blue Base as much after Sarge claimed the purple medic as Red Team's own reluctantly. "Numbers over insubordination." was what Sarge always said, when he had begrudgingly allowed Doc to enter the Red Base that day of the exchange between Blue Team and Red Team. It was humiliating for Grif, and just sad for being desperate to get what Blue Team wanted the most.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Doc!" You nearly screamed as you stumbled into Red Team's Base, the flower still dangling and threatening to crumple in the tightening grip of your hand.

Your voice rang out and nearly caused Sarge to fire a warning shot near your head from the sudden panic that racked his body. He only had raised his shotgun at you, but how frail you looked and near on the edge of collapsing to the ground from exhaustion; he lowered his gun.

"What are you doing here? You Blue?" His gruff voice didn't stop as you merely cast the older man a brief look while venturing a little more into Red Base.

Sarge, Grif, and Simmons were all in the Base's kitchen. Random weapons were laid out and disassembled to be cleaned probably by Sarge and Simmons. Grif was scrounging around, opening cabinets and snooping around the crappy fridge for any type of food to snack on for probably the seventh time in the day.

"I- I need Doc, he's... he's supposed to see this." Your voice was quiet, trying to sound steadfast even though your breaths were sounding airy and wheeze like.

Your hand outstretched, the periwinkle colored flower was now dry and started to crumple its sad, wilted petals inward.

"A? flower?" Grif asked, his voice full of confusion as he looked at you long enough to take in your disheveled state that held the flower.  

"It's not just a-" You exhaled tiredly, clearly not in the mood to spill the dirt of your disease to yet more people who had an even higher risk of accidentally blurting out your secret to Church.

Simmons was too honest, Grif would 'accidentally' give you away without even thinking about it, and Sarge would be more than happy to prove Church wrong if the male were to assume anything about you. Sarge would expose your secret in the process, and then somehow blame your Blue ways for having this disease in the first place.

"Just, where is Doc?"

"He's in his room down the hall." Grif scoffed before turning his attention to the fridge, his top half-hidden behind the dirty white fridge door.

"Grif! You can't just tell the enemy where our men are." Sarge scolded immediately, Grif only made a grunting noise before bending down further to reach towards the back of the fridge.

Before Sarge could make any more threats, or begin to even start to for that matter, you grabbed the withering flower and ventured further into their base. Sarge's voice was growing quieter the more you walked down the surprisingly long bedroom hallway. The army, the UNSC or Project Freelancer, must have thought a lot more people would be so willing to be stationed in the most desolate places with nothing to do but play a long game of capture the flag. Oh, how wrong the Army was to even waste money to even have that idea.

Finally, what you could guess was Doc's room. Especially since smooth jazz music was pouring out from behind the closed door, and you could even hear the cheery humming of the male with the calming beat. It felt bad for you to even knock on the steel door and interrupt whatever he was doing in his room, but you could say sorry later after you updated Doc about your disease. The volume of the music was lowered, and you could hear Doc say 'It's open!'.

"Doc?" You mumbled, once you tentatively opened his bedroom door.

Random posters of cheesy uplifting quotes, colorful little post-it's of self-esteem cheer up notes were plastered haphazardly among the posters that were glued to his walls. Typical Doc, for someone so bullied and teased from both teams, he managed to decorate his room the way he would want to make him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. He was hyping himself up every day, and that was the most precious thing you could witness. Not everyone here was in the mindset to think the way Doc thought about themselves. Doc could perhaps go crazy and yet some part of his mind was so hardwired in positivity, that he could still find good things to say about himself.

"Oh! I didn't expect to see you here!" Doc spoke up once he registered you were standing in his room. He smiled warmly, glasses that sat on his nose tilted slightly from the movement of his cheeks.

"Well I'm your only real patient right now with a life-threatening disease, I would think you would expect me." You could have winced at the dry joke you were forced to crack to not ruin the welcoming environment in his room.  "Speaking of disease, Doc I have something to show you."

"Good or bad." The male rose his pointer finger to push the clear frames more upon his nose and plopped down on his bed to sit. His hands folded in his lap like a good listening student in elementary school. Except this was a sick version of  show and tell in a fucked elementary school.

"Well.." Your hand outstretched and showed the other the flower in your hand.

It stunk of a now sickeningly sweet smell, even if it was wilting and sad looking now more than ever. The periwinkle blue colored remained bright and vibrant, but the very ends of the petals were turning into the brown color that signified its slow process of decay. The smell was new, but then again maybe it was just the stench of Red Base itself. Maybe either base smelt different, but that would be a dumb observation.

"It's a Morning Glory, its.. pretty?"

Your eyes widened from Doc's observation. "Doc, are you kidding? I've never produced whole ass flowers before! and you want to tell me the type of flower it is! Are you still fucking kidding?"

"You're right! You're right I couldn't help myself." Clearing his throat, Doc leaned forward and plucked the head of the flower from your open palm.  He held the flower close to his eyes, nose wrinkling from the scent practically smacking him in the face from how nauseous it was making him feel.

"This is the first time you've ever produced right?" You nodded, and Doc hummed under his breath. One eyebrow cocked in question as he stared at the flower.  Curious fingers pulled at the petals and rubbed them between his thumb and forefinger, now and then making a noise of acknowledgment.

"Well, the disease is getting worse, it's progressing way faster than I thought it would. Good news, you won't choke on stems yet, just fully formed flower heads."

"That means?" You asked,

“It means you're well on your way to dying."

"Wha- Doc!"

"What? You asked."

You guffawed at the man who seemed stoic for once, he seemed so calm as a sudden rush of panic racked your brain and nearly left you screaming internally in your subconscious.

"Listen I'm serious when you need to actually talk to Church about this, or else this is going to be the end of you."

In the middle of you silently screaming and perhaps trying to hold together your sanity long enough to not break down screaming in front of Doc, in the Red Base no doubt. A third presence in the room made your spine curl inwards, and the acidic taste of sourness flooded your mouth.

"Tell me what?" Church asked when he materialized in the room, his see-through form that was hinted in the same color of the Morning Glory that was cradled tenderly in Doc's hand.

Now you had another reason to hate flowers, their colors reminded you of Church.

[inkandpen22]

The Heiress and the Gangster (1/?)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: violence, swearing

Word Count: 2.7k

Part Summary: Y/N Adair, an American heiress, is visiting London for the social season with her fiancé Alfred Bamford. Alfie Simmons and Tommy Shelby have formed a plan to kidnap Y/N and hold her for ransom, that is until Tommy changes his mind...

Masterlist

Y/N

The car rolls up to the entrance of the race track. My driver, Mr. Richards, comes to a steady halt and immediately hops out of the car.

"Ready, darling?" Al questions with a grin beside me.

I pull back the velvet curtain covering my window to peer up at the arena. "As I'll ever be."

Mr. Richards opens the door and offers me his glove-covered hand. "Miss Adair."

I step out gracefully, my wide-brim hat blocking the beaming sun from my face. Al crosses behind the car to join me. His head finds its way to my back securely. Robert, my main bodyguard, climbs out of his own car with two more security my father hired. Al escorts me inside the stadium to the boxes. Robert leads the way with his two henchmen behind us. It's like being put into a human box.

When we arrive at our box, we're greeted by our friends in attendance. It's rare that we make it over to England, so when we do it's nice to see everyone. Al and I perform our social duties, making small talk and asking about everyone's families as though we all didn't have dinner together last night. It's the same couples in different settings for the entire month we're here.

_________________________________

Tommy

I watch from one of the pub tables at the top of the box with John as posh folks shuffle in to find their spots. When news broke that Y/N Adair would be visiting London for a month, both American and England were over the moon. The youngest child and only daughter of William Vincent Adair, the richest banker in America. She will inherit a third of his multi-million dollar fortune. It's a known fact amongst the public that's she's the favorite child so the percentage may be greater than just a third. My boys and Alfie's team are banking on that rumor. If she were to be kidnapped and held for ransom by a couple of English gangsters, it's certain her father will pay a hefty sum for her safe return to The States.

John nudges me subtly to avoid attention. "There she is!"

My eyes flicker away from the hustle and bustle of the crowd toward the entrance of the box. A young woman in an all-white lace dress crosses our path. A gentle smile rests across her lips as the Viscount and Viscountess Furness approach her, each greeting her with an embrace. Her Y/H/C hair peeks through beneath her lavish matching hat. For a moment, I experience hesitation. She's not what I expected at all.

John nudges my arm with a snicker. “You alright, Tom? Look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” 

I shake my head, taking a smoke from my cigarette. "No, that can't be her. She's far too young."

"Of course it is!" John argues.

A young gentleman in a brand new navy suit follows close beside her, keeping a protective hand pressed to her back. He shakes hands with his peers, charming his audience as he and Miss Adair are greeted with cheers.

"And her arrogant playboy fiancé, Alfred Bamford." My brother scoffs. "His family owns more railways in the U.S. than any company in the entire world!"

As my brother babbles, I watch closely as Y/N stands beside Alfred with a restrained, but convincing, smile. As he gloats and encourages banter with their fellow posh folk, she's quiet and glancing about the arena.

"Their marriage will create a media frenzy!" John describes in my ear. "Adair Banks and Bamford Rails, it's a match made in posh people heaven. Shame she'll never live to see it," he snickers.

I press my cigarette into the ashtray and turn my body toward my brother. "As soon as the gun fires that's when Alfie's man takes the shot.” I check my watch. “He'll be here in five minutes. That's when you leave and fetch the car. Understood?"

He nods sharply, "right, Tom. Got it."

___________________________________

Y/N

Anticipating the race, Al and I stand right against the rail with our dainty gold binoculars, searching for my family's horse.

"I need Olympus to win," I worry outwardly. "I need to prove to my father that this trip was worth it."

"I’m certain William will be pleased no matter the outcome."

"You don't know my father then," I chuckle.

"Excuse me!" A voice announces over the chatter of the box.

I glance over my shoulder as a well-dressed middle-aged man hurries up to my security. His brow is sweaty and his white suit wrinkled. He rushes out words to Robert before being escorted over to me.

"Welcome to Ascot, Madam," he welcomes, gesturing to the large building. "I'm John Wilkson and I'm a partner at the track. May I get you anything before the festivities?" He rubs his hands in circles nervously.

I offer John my hand with a warm smile. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. If possible, I would like a pot of Earl Grey."

"Oh yes! Yes, definitely!" The man gushes as Robert leads him toward the door. "Right away, Madam!"

"Thank you!" I nod, maintaining my smile until he's out of view.

Al chuckles beside me at the man’s expense as he rubs his palm up and down my spine. "How are you enjoying it so far, My Dear?"

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," I remark. " It doesn't appear any more luxurious than Arlington Park."

"You are far too difficult to please, darling," he teases, scooping up my glove-covered hand and planting a kiss to the back of it.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to today's festivities..." the announcer begins, causing widespread cheering across the crowd.

Al and I clap our hands along with our friends.

"Your tea, Miss Adair, a young waiter informs me as he sets down the set on a side table by our chairs.

I thank him quietly before he dismisses himself.

"Don't forget, tonight is the dinner with Prince Albert and Lady Elizabeth," Al reminds me.

"Aw yes, thank you!" I express with relief as I step back to pick up my teacup and return to my spot beside him. "They're quite lovely, aren't they? Their engagement is such delightful news." I bring my cup to my lips for a sip.

"I'm certainly looking forward to the wedding, it'll be a spectacle." He smirks. “Another excuse to return in the spring.”

I narrow my eyes mischievously, sharing the same agenda as him. "They can be the social event of the season in England, but we shall claim America."

Tommy

Two of Miss Adair’s men are positioned outside while his Head stands against the far wall, just a few feet from her. Alfie's hitman enters the tent without suspicion, dressed like a posh race-goer and his gun well concealed. He glances in my direction, giving me the signal to release my brother. I give John a brief nod and he disappears through the opening in the curtain.

"Jockeys! Prepare your horses!" The announcer declares, marking the start of the races.

I clap along with the crowd. Everyone in the box is zoned in on the gates where the jockeys are mounting their horses. Alfie's man claps as well, keeping his eyes on the horses to blend in as he continues toward Miss Adair and Mr. Bamford. He stops in the second row, just behind the couple.

My eyes flicker to Y/N. A glowing smile forms across her face as she switches her sight away from the gates toward her fiancé. Her eyes glimmering with optimism and excitement. There’s a youthfulness in her I haven’t seen in anyone since the war. She has no idea that the man behind her has been sent to point a gun at her head and kidnap her. Her attention travels about the box, at her friends and peers. Her eyes glance in my direction, her soft Y/E/C eyes meet mine. Her radiating smile softens as her hands slows to a steady halt. Then, something in me just... snaps.

My attention changes to the man on the field lifts his gun into the air. At the same moment, Alfie's man reaches into his coat pocket.

"No! Wait!" I shout, knocking the table out of the way. "Everyone down!"

I leap over the chairs and tackle Alfie's man. He sets off the gun as we stumble to the floor, chairs flying all about. Screams ensue as we wrestle on the floor. A man I recognize as the Head of Y/N's security steps on Alfie's man's hand. With a hiss, he releases his fist around the gun and the security knocks it away. I rush to my feet to inspect the damages, to see if Y/N was hurt, but I see no sign of her. Where did the bullet hit? A hanging bit of cloth that was once the awning answers my question. The arena is in chaos as people travel upstream toward the exists. People are being trampled and pushing each other about.

I work against the traffic down toward the railing to where I last saw Y/N. I shove people out of my way in a hurry. Then, that's when I spot her hat, squashed flat on the floor. I lean down to pick it up and that's when I finally find her resting against the wood base of the rail, holding her head with a bloody hand.

Y/N

I remove my hand from my stinging forehead to see my once white-glove soaked in blood. One minute I was scanning the reaction of the crowd behind me, then there was a shout. The shot for the race to begin rang and I was knocked forward. My head hit the metal railing and I fell to the floor. My forehead was stinging and I realized I was bleeding. Then, I swear I heard another gunshot. I've tried to stand up, but everyone’s scrambling to get out. Plus, my head is throbbing

Suddenly, a man appears hovering above me. He stares down at me with a clenched jaw and a look of determination. He leans down, scoops up my unscathed hand. Before I utter a word, he begins to usher me through the chaos. My feet shuffle across the floor briskly to keep up as he grips my hand tightly. People continue to shout and scream for their loved ones, frightened.

"Who are you?" I ask loudly over the noise.

He ignores me, guiding the way through the arena. People rush down the closest stairs, eager to reach one of the main exits. This man, however, avoids all the staircases and remains on the walkway of the top floor. I sense he's leading me to the furthermost end and hopefully to an emergency exit.

"Answer me this instant!" I demand, attempting to yank my hand free. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, Miss Adair, I do!" He finally answers and whips his head around to meet my gaze. "Now, if you wish to not get shot, I suggest you follow me!"

I check over my shoulder for Al. "But my fiancé-"

"They're not after him," he states turning his attention back ahead.

My stomach drops. "You mean you know who's behind this?"

"I know enough..." His answer is vague and it worries me.

"Why do they wish to hurt me?"

"Your family is the wealthiest in the United States! You should really travel with more security," he suggests over his shoulder.

My prediction was correct, the man takes me to the furthest end of the platform to a fire escape of sorts behind a curtain. It's much less hectic than the main stairwells other than some workers attempting to escape. The man never releases my hand as he leads the swift way down the metal stairs. Once we're on solid ground, we weave through various parts of the arena. Booths and vendors scatter the area. The man seems to know this well, making a bee-line for a large white tent tucked away near the main staircase where Al and I first entered the race track.

When we rush into the tent, I first note a series of telephone booths, the dirt floor, and the absence of any of else. The man releases my hand and starts marching around. I assume checking to make sure we're alone. I spin around, checking my surroundings, frightened that one of these men this stranger speaks of will attack me suddenly.

My head is pounding and I can feel the warm blood twinkle down my cheek. My hair must look a fright. Who am I kidding, my white dress is covered in blood and dirt, every part of me is messy.

Tommy

Y/N and I both struggle to catch our breath. I double-check that neither Alfie nor any of his men are hiding out in here. "We should be safe in here," I announce.

"Don't you think we should fetch a car or something!" She rushes out worriedly. “My car is parked just-”

I shake my head, moving back toward her. "No, not yet. They'll be expecting that."

Now that her hand is away from her head, I can inspect her injury properly. A minor gash above her brow. It doesn't appear awful, won't need stitches, but she has significant amounts of blood down the side of her face and cheek.

Y/N

"Here." The man reaches into his pocket square and pulls out his handkerchief. He brings one hand behind my head and the other presses the fabric to my forehead. "We'll have someone look at this once everything is settled."

I nod, still a tad dazed to say the least. "Thank you," I mumble as my eyes fall to his tie directly ahead of me.

For a moment, despite the chaos outside the tent, there's a sense of peacefulness as the stranger pats my cut.

"So, you know my name, what's yours?" I ask. Considering he saved my life, I don't think we should be strangers anymore. “Since we were in the same box, I suspect you’re friends with the Bowes-Lyons.”

"Thomas, Thomas Shelby," he answers directly without much emotion.

"Well, despite the circumstance, it's pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir. I'm surprised we've never met before considering we share friends."

A faint snicker escapes him as a smirk creeps onto the edge of his lips.

I grin. "What's so funny?"

"An heiress calling me "sir," he chuckles, glancing down from my forehead to meet my gaze. "It's not exactly something I thought I'd ever hear."

My brows scrunch together in confusion. “But aren’t you-”

"Tommy!" A voice calls from behind me.

Frightened, I rush to stand behind Mr. Shelby. My hands wrap around his bicep as I peek around his shoulder. His arm reaches around to keep me close to his back.

"In here Arthur!" He hollers.

Wait, he knows the person?

Suddenly, a lengthy man with a mustache marches into the tent. When his eyes land on us, his brows scrunch together. "What's this? What happened to-"

"Change of plans," Mr. Shelby states, physically relaxing at the sight of him.

The man switches his sight between me and Mr. Shelby. He rocks on his heels nervously. He steps to the side to get a better view of me. "Oh uh... hello then... Miss Adair. Nice to meet ya," he greets.

"And he's a friend?" I ask Mr. Shelby quietly.

He chuckles. "Yes, he's my brother. He's safe."

I step out from behind him hesitantly. I redirect my attention to Arthur and remove my glove to offer him my hand slowly. "Pleasure to meet you as well."

His brows rise at the sight of my hand, but he shakes it nonetheless. He chuckles. "She's awfully friendly," he tells his brother.

"Did you happen to see my fiancé? Alfred Bamford," I ask, growing worried that Al may have been hurt.

"He was escorted to your car I believe by one of your security."

"And the others?" I press urgently. “Are my friends alright? What about Lord and Lady Elphinstone?”

His features fall. "I lost them in the crowd, Miss..."

My eyes grow wide. "I should go find them!"

I go to head back outside, but Mr. Shelby grabs my wrist and steps to block my path.

"The men trying to harm you may still be out there," he warns.

"But my friends! Alfred!” I argue. “They’re probably worried sick! I’ll find my car and have them take me back to the hotel!”

"They'll be searching for you there! I'm sure they already have it staked out."

I huff. "Then where do you suggest I go?"

His eyes flicker to his brother and it's evident a thought has crossed his mind.

"I have an idea..." he states vaguely.

Oh no...

_______________________

Masterlist

[gohyuck]

part 1 is out now! here

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; ft. brother!johnny

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 2k

warnings: none

a/n: this is just a prologue (but you should still read it 😉) and it provides some context for the events of the main story... part of the criminal collaboration by @neovisioned

let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

April 13th, 1956

There’s a couple of lilies in a transparent vase, half filled up (half emptied out? you ponder this in an attempt to keep your mind off of what is right in front of you) with water that likely hasn’t been changed since before the weekend. Jojo, the class pet, runs on his wheel, keeping a surprisingly steady pace for a hamster. He pays no mind to his surroundings. What it must be like - to be completely and utterly unperturbed and unaffected by those around him. Maybe you’ll be reborn as a hamster in your next life. A quick glance (your fourth in maybe three minutes) around the tense room at the rest of your classmates and at the teacher leaves you hoping.

The clock’s ticking is louder than usual - though that may just be your mind playing tricks on you - and the room seems to be holding its breath as a singular entity rather than a whole composed of twenty-three individuals (one of whom is the teacher himself), or parts, within it. The whole situation is like a suspenseful movie scene - you know something big is going to happen, and soon - it’s just that none of you have any idea of what it’ll actually be. All eyes are focused on one person - a person who’s up on his feet with a previously pristine stationary-based letter crumpled between his fingers and who is staring holes through the teacher up front, who just so happens to be the sorry individual who had handed him said letter. The teacher, a man whose knuckles have more hair than his head, is trying his best to stare back. He can’t quite match the student’s gaze.

You glance down at your desk at the wrong moment. Before you can even register that anyone has moved, the distinct sound of a textbook hitting the floor startles you. A chair follows it. Before you can look up, the classroom door shuts with a resounding bang. The crumpled up letter is on the floor by the door. Mr. Simmons, in all his balding, middle-aged, beginnings-of-a-beer-belly glory, stands in front of the chalkboard, mouth open in a comically wide look of shock. 

After what has to be more than just mere minutes, your English teacher decides that the lesson must go on, and in the midst of telling the class (now with twenty one students and one teacher) more about Shakespeare’s specific usage of language in The Taming of The Shrew, he subconsciously wipes his chalky hands on the front of his pressed khakis. You wince. That’ll be hell to wash. A girl behind you snickers behind her hand to the boy beside her that it looks like Simmons does cocaine. Somebody wonders aloud, though in a quiet enough whisper that Simmons himself can’t hear, who would sell a man like your English teacher coke. 

A smart-mouthed class-clown type in the back heaves a cough that sounds oddly like “Jeno Lee”. laughter ripples through twenty seniors. you don’t join in.

Jeno Lee. 

You hadn’t even caught sight of his scuffed black Chuck Taylors or the back of his hand-me-down leather jacket when he’d stormed from the room. There was no glint of his pocketknife, either. You’ve come to see all three as hallmarks of his persona. 

There’s a lingering smell of smoke in the air, though. His seat, after all, is only two over from yours to your right, and you’ve always been unlucky with inhaling his secondhand smoke. Rumor has it that he smokes two packs a day. 

Somehow you doubt that, though. 

Maybe you’re naive, but, after all, nobody with a smile like that can plow through 40 cigarettes in 24 hours.

♕ ♕ ♕

April 16, 1956

That's the last class you ever have with jeno. His desk is noticeably empty the next day, and the next, and the next after that until your teacher finally - though with an air of relief you find at least mildly despicable - lets his remaining students know that Jeno will no longer be attending your high school, or any high school at all. You don’t pretend to understand - there’s only about four weeks left until you’re all set to graduate, anyways - but you also don’t pretend to be surprised. 

The recycling bin hasn’t been emptied for days. In what’s far from your proudest moment, you stay after class - waiting until Simmons himself walks out to check on what sounds like a hallway fight between two boys - to dig through it, trying to hide your triumphant smile from your own self when you find the crumpled paper Jeno had discarded on his last day here. It had very obviously made him angry, angry enough to drop out, and the wonder of what might be in it is killing you.

After all, he’d been good eye-candy in class, at the very least. You kind of miss him being there, even if you’re the only one who does. You squint, trying to make out what the ink on the paper says. 

It’s a letter - specifically it’s a letter from the Neo Institute of Technology, easily one of the most difficult universities to get into in your state. Your fingers twitch as you battle internally over whether to open it or not - rejection is hard to deal with, even if it isn’t your own. Your school sends hardly two or three people to NeoTech per year, and there’s no way someone like Jeno could’ve gotten in. Eventually, your curiosity wins over, though not before Simmons walks back into the room and you find yourself telling him that you’d tripped and fallen near the recycling, all while hiding Jeno’s letter behind your back. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Your brother, home from college for the weekend, is lying languidly across the couch, hand in a bag of chips when you walk in through the front door. You aren’t surprised - you’d seen his prized red Chevy Bel Air convertible parked out front when you’d stopped to pick up the mail. You realize fairly quickly that he’s the only one home - your mother must be at a book club meeting, and your father is still at his 9 to 5. it’s just you and the devil himself. 

Johnny raises one chip-dust covered hand in greeting before turning back to whatever old western rerun is playing on the TV. For your part, you pay him no mind, dropping the mail - some bills, a... magazine, a reminder card from the dentist - on the kitchen counter while shouldering your backpack to keep it from falling. 

“Hey, John?” You finally call, already halfway up the stairs. 

He grunts in response, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You consider not telling him for a moment, but then realize that you really don’t want to witness the screaming match your parents will have with him if they get to it before your brother does. 

It, of course, being his not-so-guilty pleasure. 

“This month’s Playboy came in. it’s on the counter.” You finally say, though not before throwing him as disgusted a look as you can muster once you see the way your brother perks up immediately. Pig. He drops the chip bag onto the coffee table, scattering bits and pieces of food across it. You don’t hold out hope for him to clean it up. You also don’t wait around to watch him grab his magazine, instead making your way up the stairs and into your room, finally free to be truly alone for the first time all day. 

You shut the door, making sure it’s locked properly, before dropping your backpack on the floor and jumping backwards, bouncing once, onto your bed. The letter’s been in your hand since you’d found it, and you can’t help but feel mildly excited - and also, of course, just a little bad - as you smooth it out in your lap against your plaid skirt. Slowly, very slowly, you pull it open, bracing yourself for what you know you’ll see. 

Dear Mr. Jeno Lee,

Once again, on the behalf of the admissions board at NeoTech, I extend a hearty congratulations to you for being accepted as a member of the class of 1961. The School of Engineering looks forward to witnessing your growth over the next four years, and we know that, upon your graduation, you will make us proud as an alumnus. However-

You pause in your reading, blinking rapidly in mild disbelief. Jeno - Jeno Lee, known for being a greaser and a hooligan, a threat and a terror - had gotten into NeoTech? The realization shakes you, causing you to blow air out through your lips before you continue reading. 

However, we find that we will have to rescind your full scholarship. I understand that you may find it difficult to pay tuition, but there just seems to be nothing we can do: we request a disciplinary record for each student, and yours is riddled with fights and altercations with both students and teachers, especially one Mr. Richard Simmons. Typically, this would be grounds for rescission, but considering how stellar your grades and essays are, we will allow you a probationary semester. 

You will still have to pay your tuition in its entirety. The first semester payment of $1,200 is due by Friday, April 20, 1956. If you cannot pay it, I’m afraid that we will be unable to take you on for the fall semester. 

Best regards and congratulations once again,

Sooman Lee, Neo Institute of Technology President and Board Chairman

Although you’re still surprised at him having gotten in - internalized prejudice, your brain whispers to you, and you hate that it’s right - your heart twists as you read the letter over and over again. $1,200 is steep for a college, and you know that there’s no way in hell Jeno can ever fork that up. Of course, you realize, heaving a heavy, heavy sigh as you do, he no longer can guarantee getting a high school diploma anyways. His rescission from NeoTech must be on its way to his mailbox already. 

Before you can think too deeply into Jeno Lee and his now-precarious future, a loud knock interrupts you, causing you to swiftly slide the letter underneath your bed. You never know if Johnny’s going to try and pick the lock on your bedroom door or not, though you’re glad to see that he stops short of doing so this time. 

“What?” You ask, your tone as annoyed as possible. 

“Don’t ‘what?’ me, shithead,” Your brother responds, throwing your tone of voice right back at you. “Mom’s back, wants your help with dinner.”

“Why can’t you help for once, you ass?” You snark, sliding off of your bed regardless. The door swings open just as you unlock it, revealing your brother smirking down at you in a way that makes you want to right hook him directly in the face. 

“Men aren’t made for the kitchen.” Is all he says, stepping back so you can get out. Before you can reprimand him, threatening to kick his patronizing and patriarchal ass, Johnny disappears into his own bedroom, slamming the door shut. 

“(Name)?” Your mother calls, sounding displeased at having to wait for you. You groan, pulling your own bedroom door shut before bounding down the stairs. As rock-and-roll music starts pouring out of Johnny’s room, no doubt courtesy of the radio he’d gotten as a high school graduation gift, and as your mother thrusts a rolling pin into your hands while grumbling about not raising you right, all thoughts of Jeno are pushed out of your mind. 

Dust starts to settle on the letter beneath your bed. 

It’s no matter, though: though you believe it might very well be the last thing connecting you to the Jeno Lee, fate has other plans for you. Soon enough, the surface level image of who Jeno is will no longer exist to you, replaced by your own truer perceptions. 

Of course, there’s a series of things that have to happen before that.  

It all goes to shit on May 25th, 1957. 

[josugayy]

Craziness at Midnight [RvB]

Pairing: Blue Team X Fem!Blue!Reader Fandom: Red Vs Blue (RvB) Notes: Welcome to Hell, AKA Blood Gulch! Warnings: Language, Typical Reds and Blues

You would think, after spending years with this dysfunctional group called Red Team and Blue Team, you would get tired of things. But no. Everyday is a new adventure, whether someone liked it or not.

Take for instance, your arrival to Blood Gulch and Blue Team. Believe it or not, you were one of the first to arrive, yet Church and Tucker still insisted on calling you “Rookie.”

You were there during the time that Flowers was alive, or at least when you arrived, it was three hours before he died.

It was a bit traumatizing to witness on your first day, but while Flowers seemed like a nice and understanding guy, he looked like he had something else planned, something not good.

Not that you minded anymore, because he was long gone - and you were still stuck in this godforsaken Hell of a canyon. And if the canyon wasn’t bad enough, it was the people.

When looking back to the time before the arrival of Caboose, Church and Tucker liked to claim things were peaceful; which was complete and utter BS, because if  anybody on Blue Team liked to bicker, it was those two. They always seemed to find little things to bother the other about, which was exactly why you stayed out of things.

It was hard, at first, staying out of their conflict when Tucker tried to flirt with you constantly and Church considered you the only other sane person here, although he grumbled about you never bothered to actually talk to him so he didn’t want to say much.

And it was true, you were being selfish. But did you care? No. You spent a lifetime training during your life to help the UNSC, only to be sent to the middle of absolute nowhere because your fiery temper caused a large fight. It wasn’t your fault this army was full of misogynist assholes!

But you supposed that knocking five guys out and mortally injuring another was a bit unnecessary...

Life seemed to consider that was alright, though, because it came back to bite you in the ass by Tucker finding your reason as a good excuse to say he liked woman with a hot (in both ways) temper.

And after Caboose came along? Things turned way more hectic. Caboose was quite the character, having what turned out to be O’Malley inside his head, and thus setting him free because everyone’s radio was on.

And figuring out who he was without O’Malley was entirely another story. On the plus side, you found you were relatively okay with kids, or at least as close to a five-year-old-in-a-man’s body could get.

You couldn’t exactly claim it was easy to take care of Caboose, it wasn’t like raising a kid, it was like having your kid be the same way every day, never growing up. It made things routine, but at the same time a tad frustrating because there were some things Caboose just couldn’t comprehend.

But, you found out the hard way you simply had to deal with it, for Tucker didn’t care and Church had a quicker temper than you. Thus, you managed to develop a sort of bond with Caboose, which brings you to now.

“Miss [Name]! Miss [Name]!” Caboose’s excited voice called out, waking you up from a nap. You sat up groggily, rubbing your eyes. What could be so important to wake you up for?

It was useless to fight Caboose off, however, because that could go one of two ways; Caboose disappointed or Caboose using his abnormal strength to get you up. You preferred neither, so you took out your [variation of blue] armor and opened your door just in time to see Caboose there.

“Hello!” He responded cheerfully.

“Yes, hi, Caboose. What is it?” He seemed to think for a few moments.

“Uh... oh! Right! Well, Church and Tucker are doing this thing and they want me to help, and they said you would make me cookies for it but I didn’t like Tucker’s tone so I thought I’d come to you.”

Lately, those two have been making all sorts of weird plans that have you concerned - not necessarily for them, but for yourself. There’s an unbelievably high chance of something blowing up in this canyon, and you wanted nothing to do with it.

“Thanks, Caboose. I’ll check it out, because those two haven’t talked to me.”

“Okay! But you’re still making cookies right?”

“Of course.”

--

“Oh. My. God. This whole thing was stupid from the start! I cannot believe you right now.”

“Ok, this? This wasn’t my fault. You were the one to forget the batteries, not me!”

“You literally ripped a hole in the sleeping bag!”

“So? We have more!”

“No, you dumbass, we have four. And now we’re short one!”

“What does it matter anyways? It’s only just gonna be the two of us?”

“Could you be any more dense?  First, we asked Caboose to help, who will insist on coming because I’m his best fri- fr- you know what forget it. Plus, he literally just ran off calling for the rookie! She’ll end up coming along too!”

“Good! And maybe, since according to you this whole thing has been ruined, it can be just me and her!”

It wasn’t hard to find Church and Tucker; those two were arguing so loudly you wouldn’t be surprised if the Red Team heard them. But you were a bit cautious about whatever they were doing, and you were not willing to be left alone with Tucker.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not letting you alone with [Name]! She’s the only other person who’s sane here, and I will not have you turning her insane because you annoyed her past her limit.”

“Annoy? Woah man, I don’t annoy people. My flirting skills are just so great that all the ladies play hard to get!”

Seriously, just how long will these guys believe that no one hears their conversations? Considering how bored everyone gets, you and Caboose couldn’t have been the only ones to hear them.

“Hey! Second best married couple!” You yelled, making them stop abruptly.

“Second best?”

“Yeah! You ever heard those guys from Red Team? They argue twice as much as you guys do! I was walking the other day, and all those two do is stand around and bicker like some old married couple.”

“Isn’t that what we do? Stand around and talk all day?”

“Yeah, but ours is more consistent. All they do is argue while we come up with shitty plans.”

“Makes sense.”

“Well anyways,” You got back to the task at hand. “What the hell are you two up to?”

“Nothing!” They both rang out, obviously doing a bad job of keeping a secret from you.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you complained. “I heard you two chatting about batteries and ripped sleeping bags. I also heard my name involved, and I’d like to know what I’m being forced into.”

“Well,” Church said after a thoughtful pause. “We’re looking for a way out.”

You almost thought he was joking. “ A way out?”

“Yeah.” Tucker responded. “We’re sick and tired of all this sun, and thought we could leave through the caves. It’s a hella lot cooler in there, and we haven’t looked at them enough to say there isn’t a path out of this closed off area.” “...Alright. I want in.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Look, everyone could use a break. Plus, that’s just the thing. We don’t know what’s out there, so who’s saying we won’t get killed? As one of the only capable people here (probably the only one actually), I have to make sure you don’t die.”

“Aw, how sweet-”

“Shut up Church. It’s that, and I don’t want whatever we find to kill me.”

“Oh. Well, we do have supplies for everyone here, considering we can’t leave Caboose here without the base blowing up-” A loud explosion towards the back of the base sounded. “Tucker did it!”

“As I was saying,” Church continued. “But we’ll need a way to leave without the Reds expecting anything. The last thing we need is even more idiots showing up.”

“Oh that’s easy,” Tucker scoffed. “Just make some scarecrows with our colors and helmets on them.”

“Yeah, but don’t make them too convincing. Some of us here are dumb enough to get them mixed up.”

--

“So...” Grif trailed off, getting more bored by the second as Simmons stared through his sniper rifle. “You find whatever it was that exploded?”

“Nah,” Simmons answered. “Probably another one of the Blues’ failed projects.”

“You sure? Usually they’d be yelling at each other.”

“Well, it looks like they’re just standing around and talking, so I’d say yeah. Nothing productive going on there.”

“Same here,” Grif mumbled under his breath.

“Well, I’m gonna... go downstairs and eat. Since nothing ‘productive’ is going on. This watch is stupid.”

“What? You can’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“Why not? Why not? Grif, literally all you do is nothing all day. Sarge would be pissed at you. The least you could do is bear this until Sarge calls us down for his new plan.”

“Simmons! Grif! Get down here ASAP!”

“Speaking of which...”

--

Meanwhile, in the back of the Blue base, everyone was “having fun” with arts and crafts. And by fun, you meant Caboose was having fun, Church was done with his, and you and Tucker were arguing over your scarecrow.

“Haven’t you ever thought about how perverse and rude that is?!”

“Well, we want this to fool the Reds, right? So they have to be accurate!”

Tucker was trying to convince you to use something to mimic your breast size for your scarecrow. This caused a lot of commotion, and thus why neither you nor Tucker had finished your scarecrows.

“...And, done!” Caboose called, satisfied with his coloring. He put down his blue crayon and Church helped him put the shirt on the scarecrow.

“Hey, you guys done with your spat?” Church turned to you both.

“You know what, forget this!” You threw down the extra helmet you had to the ground. “You want it accurate, make it yourself!”

“Maybe I will!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“I’ll be inside, packing my and Caboose’s bags. Caboose; orange juice or milk?”

“Orange juice, please!”

“Alright.” You nodded your head. “If you need me, I’ll be inside.”

There was a moment of silence as you walked inside, and Church seemed to be stunned at the relatively calm (at least for them) results. But after thinking about what he would do if he commented, he decided to leave it be and pack his own bag.

When everything was all said and done, the tension between you and Tucker managed to slip away (as it does for everyone), and you all gathered in the back of your base once again.

“Okay. So, Tucker, you and me are going to set up the scarecrows, while Rookie and Caboose are going to get Sheila to drive beside them as they head to the caves to shield them.”

“Right.” Tucker nodded.

“You got that, Caboose?” “Of course. Wait, what are we doing again?” A collective sigh sounded out.

Tucker and Church carefully picked up a scarecrow in each hand, and tried to use them as cover as Tucker placed two on the roof, and two facing towards the others (backs to the Red base).

Sheila drove slowly, with Caboose and you slowly moving beside her, and once you two got to the caves, Sheila started heading back.

However, halfway she turned a different direction, much to Church and Tucker’s confusion and frustration.

“Sheila!” Church quietly yelled. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m giving the illusion that I am mindlessly driving around,” Her monotone voice responded, but to the others it sounded a bit smug and teasing.

“But we need your cover!” Tucker said, growing more impatient by the second.

Sheila gave no response, but continued turning in different directions. After a couple of moments, she finally faced the caves and started heading that way. But she drove a little too quickly, and they had to jog with her.

Upon reaching the caves, you voiced your complaints. “What took you so long?” You hissed.

“Sheila was being a bit of a bitch,” Church answered. When Sheila turned to aim at Church after his statement, the three of you headed deeper in, where Caboose was staring at the ceiling.

“Caboose, what the hell are you doing?” Tucker asked.

“Finding the way.” He simply responded.

“The way?”

“Oh yeah, There are weird carvings on the ceiling of each area, so I look at them to find my special spot.”

“...” All of you were speechless at his sudden intelligence; his plan made perfect sense.

Caboose turned to his left and ran off. “Now let’s go find those star unicorns!” And there it goes.

“Well, that was weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

--

“Hey, what are the Blues doing?”

“Oh, same as usual. Standing around and talking. Look, it’s like they’re immobilized.”

“Are they?”

“Can’t really tell, they’re too far away. But since there’s nothing better to do in this place, I’m assuming that’s what they’re doing.”

--

“Ugh, I’m tired. How much longer is this?” You complained, feeling a bad ache in your feet.

“I can always carry you if you want,” Tucker suggested.

“And give you a chance to grope me? Nah.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Maybe we should take a break,” Church observed as Caboose grew more and more tired. “Caboose, how long will this take?”

“The next area. You can tell by the pretty lights.”

Everyone trudged into the place thankfully, and barely managed to open their sleeping bags before passing out. You had a relatively peaceful sleep until Caboose woke you up.

“Miss [Name]?”

“Ugh...”

“Miss [Name]?”

“What.”

“It’s cold.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“But my arms and legs are freezing!”

You sighed. Clearly, Caboose couldn’t understand sarcasm and denial.

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, I wanted to share with Church, but he looked scary in his sleep, and I don’t want to be with Tucker. He gropes people.”

“So you want me to share with you?”

“Yes.” Wow, Caboose does not know how to beat around the bush, does he?

“... You’re lucky I’m the only one willing to deal with you. C’mere.”

Tucker woke up, or just barely enough to understand you were about to cuddle with Caboose, and immediately complained. “Oh, so you’ll sleep with him?”

“It’s not like that and you know it! Besides, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t ripped a sleeping bag in the first place.” That shut him up, but not Church.

“Are you seriously cuddling with Caboose?”

“What’sa matter? Jealous?”

He quickly turned away, and you heard a stern “no.”

“That’s what I thought.” You said, and gazed at the ceiling.

Caboose wasn’t kidding when he said the place had pretty lights. Right above your heads was a bunch of white lights that represented stars; not too bright to keep someone up, but just visible enough to remind someone of actual stars.

In all, you learned that there was night in Blood Gulch. It was just in the caves. And having to travel with the people you’ve been stuck with to see it? Wasn’t so bad. Or, you considered, it could be worse.

You would still never be used to the craziness that is in Blood Gulch, but you sure as heck would be able to look back on these days in interest, and appreciate moments like these.

Your canyon was full of mysteries, both in what environment it has and the people stationed here. But did that matter?

Not to life, who likes to screw you all over in weird ways.

--- Words: 2635

Not quite sure I got their characters right, but I had fun with this. Tell me if I’m missing any warnings and such, and feel free to request!

Thanks for reading!

[crying-over-spilled-feels]

Ships I Will Write Requests for as of January 17th, 2022

Ships Listed Are in No Particular Order

1.    Robin x Regina (Once Upon a Time)

2.    Happy x Toby “Quintis” (Scorpion)

3.    Megan x Sylvester (Scorpion)

4.    Paige x Walter (Scorpion)

5.    Cabe x Allie (Scorpion)

6.    Daphne x Simon (Bridgerton)

7.    Anthony x Kate (Bridgerton)

8.    Benedict x Sophie (Bridgerton)

9.    Colin x Penelope (Bridgerton)

10.  Violet x Edmund (Bridgerton)

11.  Flynn x Eve (Librarians)

12.  Jake x Mabel (Librarians)

13.  Judson x Charlene (Librarians)

14.  Diana x Steve (Wonder Woman)

15.  Chloe x Jackson (Zoo)

16.  Kaliis x Aurora (Aurora Rising book series)

17.  Finian x Scarlett (Aurora Rising book series)

18.  Cat x Tyler (Aurora Rising book series)

19.  Saedii x Tyler (Aurora Rising book series)

20.  Elizabeth x Will (Pirates of the Caribbean)

21.  Jack x Angelic (Pirates of the Caribbean)

22.  Thor x Jane (Thor)

23.  Tony Stark x Pepper Potts (Avengers and Iron Man)

24.  Loki x Sif (Thor)

25.  Loki x Nebula (Thor and Guardians of the Galaxy crossover)

26.  Ryder x Grace (The Grace Year novel)

27.  Fletcher x Sylva (Summoner book series)

28.  Clint Barton x Laura Barton (Avengers)

29.  Wanda x Vision (Avengers and WandaVision)

30.  Bruce x Natasha (Avengers)

31.  Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (Captain America)

32.  Peter Quill x Gamora (Guardians of the Galaxy)

33.  Scott x Hope (Ant-Man)

34.  Fitz X Simmons (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)  

35.  Coulson X May (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

36.  Trip X Skye (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

37.  Bobbi Morse X Lance Hunter (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

38.  Killian Jones x Female OC (Once Upon a Time)

39.  Will Scarlett x Anastasia (Once Upon a Time in Wonderland)

40.  Gendry x Arya (Game of Thrones)

41.  Tyrion x Shae (Game of Thrones)

42.  Sanji x Nami (One Piece)

43.  Zoro x Robin (One Piece)

44. Luffy x Vivi (One Piece)

45.  Jonathan Joestar x Erina (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventures)

46.  Joseph Joestar x Suzi Q. (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventures)

47.  Mista x Female OC (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventures)

48.  Kit x Ella (Cinderella 2015 version)

49.  Joshua Faraday x Emma Cullen (Magnificent Seven 2016 version)

50.  Vasquez x Female OC (Magnificent Seven 2016 version)

51.  Gilbert x Anne (Anne with an E)

52.  Diana x Jerry (Anne with an E)

53.  Mary x Bash (Reign)

54.  Leif x Claude (Reign)

55.  Kili x Tauriel (Hobbit)

56.  Claire x Owen (Jurassic World)

57.  Mia x Nicholas (Princess Diaries)

58.  Joe x Clarisse (Princess Diaries)

59.  Maria x Georg (Sound of Music)

60.  Lara Croft x Lu Ren (Tomb Raider 2018 movie version)

61.  Maleficent X Diaval (Maleficent)

62.  Kate X Daniel Forsythe (The Spirit of Christmas)

63.  Tiger Lily X James Hook (Pan)

64.  Westley X Buttercup (Princess Bride)

65.  Chato X Grace (Suicide Squad)

66.  Logan/Wolverine X Mariko (Wolverine)

67.  Vlad X Mirena (Dracula Untold)

68.  Will X Elizabeth (Pirates of the Caribbean)

69.  Jack X Angelica (Pirates of the Caribbean)

70.  Galavant X Isabella (Galavant)

71.  Richard X Roberta (Galavant)

72.  Gwen X Arthur (Merlin)

73.  Gwen X Lancelot (Merlin)

74.  Gwen X Merlin (Merlin)

75.  Merlin X Morgana (Merlin)

76.  Morgana X Male OC/Reader (Merlin)

77.  Lancelot X Female OC/Reader (Merlin)

78.  Marian X Robin Hood (Robin Hood BBC)

79.  Will X Djaq (Robin Hood BBC)

80.  Marian X Allan (Robin Hood BBC)

81.  Allan X Djaq (Robin Hood BBC)

82.  Ban X Elaine (Seven Deadly Sins)

83.  Margaret X Gilthunder (Seven Deadly Sins)

84.  Meliodas X Elizabeth (Seven Deadly Sins)

85.  King X Diane (Seven Deadly Sins)

86.  Arthur X Merlin (Seven Deadly Sins)

87.  Ana X Alberto (Velvet)

88.  Claire X Matt (Daredevil)

89.  Lilette X Robbie (Rise)

90.  Hardison X Parker (Leverage)

91.  Nate X Sophie (Leverage)

92.  John X Sara (Alienist)

93.  Mary X Laszlo (Alienist)

94.  Farkas X Female Dragonborn (Skyrim)

95.  Vilkas X Lydia (Skyrim)

96.  E’lara X Caddoc (Hunted: The Demon’s Forge)

97.  Rime x Ember (Degrees of Separation)

98.  Cody x May (It Takes Two)

99.  Frank x Karen (Punisher)

100. Makoto x Abigail (Great Pretender)

101. Robb x Talisa (Game of Thrones)

102. Tadashi x MK (Big Hero 6 and Epic Crossover)

103. Eloise x Sir Phillip (Bridgerton)

104. Francesca x Michael (Bridgerton)

105. Hyacinth x Gareth (Bridgerton)

106. Gregory x Lucy (Bridgerton)

107. Okabe x Mayuri (Steins;gate)

108. Okabe x Kurisu (Steins;gate)

109. Edward x Elizabeth (White Queen)

110. Liam Jones x Elsa (Once Upon a Time fan pairing)

[gioithieusachaz]

98 Things A Woman Should Do In Her Lifetime

98 Things A Woman Should Do In Her Lifetime

kích thước: 87 x 94 x 9mm | 50g sách: tiếng anh 98 Things a Woman Should Do in Her Lifetime invites the reader to enjoy simple pleasures brimming with compassion, humor, and spirituality while saving a trip to the therapist’s office. Among the 98 nuggets of inspiration: * Tell Richard Simmons to just shut up and sit down. * Sing to a child. * Learn a few choice phrases in French or Russian to use…

[mexicancarolina]

Stop worrying (Simmons x Red!Reader)

Pairing: Simmons x Red!Reader  Rating: General Warning(s): First kisses, light drunkness.  Prompt: #55 Shut up and kiss me.  You decide to loosen up with Simmons, drinking and enjoying yourselves when he confesses he has never given his first kiss. You decide to change that only to make things more awkward. 

“I’ve never kissed someone,” Simmons told you. 

What started with a quiet evening with you, Simmons and Grif drinking ended up only with the two of you just talking after Grif had said he just wanted to plop down on his room and sleep to then leave. 

Your quirked your eyebrows, not quite believing that. Simmons was a huge virgin, that was right, but never have kissed someone? 

“What do you mean? What about that time with Gri—”

“That does not count!” He cried out, covering his face with his robotic hand in embarrassment. 

You only smiled, not with mischief or derision, just kindly. You nudged at his side, “Hey, it’s okay.” You told him with a relaxed sigh. “It had been a while since I kissed anyone. I stopped worrying about it a long time ago.” 

In the silence, you took another sip of your drink, leaving it aside. 

“I could give you your first kiss.” You said out of the blue, or maybe it was the alcohol talking. You shrugged, with a strange feeling of anxiety starting to bubble in your stomach. 

Simmons’ face reddened more as he stuttered over his words. “...But...but, what about the ambiance...the...”

“Shut up and kiss me already. Stop worrying, it’s just a kiss.” 

Pulling at his shirt, you dragged him close to you, looking into his human eye before pressing your lips to his as softly as you could. You cradled his face in your hands and tried to drink in the feeling.

You noticed how his body stiffened, pursing his lips together awkwardly; before he pulled away, his hands made their way to your shoulders, pushing you away gently.

“That was...”

”Weird.” Simmons finished the sentence as if all the alcohol you had been drinking left his system instantly.

“Most first kisses are always weird.” You looked away, laughing it off nervously as you tried to hide how your face flared.

“Can we...Can we do it again?” He had lowered his gaze to his lap and to his hands, like expecting a negative response from you.

“Sure, why not?”

This time, it was him who kissed you, placing two metallic fingers to tilt your chin up towards his face, actually trying to participate more the moment your lips touched. You moaned in surprise into his mouth, closing your eyes softly, body melting against his in such a pleasurable feeling you didn’t know you missed until now.

Turns out, you only had to stop worrying and enjoy it. 

[malte1mj-blog]

2008 Movie Awards

Best Picture: The Dark Knight Milk Rachel Getting Married WALL-E The Wrestler HONORABLE MENTION: Doubt, The Class, Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father, Burn After Reading, Wendy and Lucy, Man on Wire, Hunger, Ballast, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Happy-Go-Lucky, Synecdoche New York Best Director: Darren Aronofsky, The Wrestler Jonathan Demme, Rachel Getting Married Christopher Nolan, The Dark Knight Andrew Stanton, WALL-E Gus Van Sant, Milk HONORABLE MENTION: Laurent Cantet, The Class; Ethan Coen & Joel Coen, Burn After Reading; David Fincher, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button; Lance Hammer, Ballast; Charlie Kaufman, Synecdoche, New York; Kurt Kuenne, Dear Zachary; Mike Leigh, Happy-Go-Lucky; James Marsh, Man on Wire; Steve McQueen, Hunger; Kelly Reichardt, Wendy and Lucy; John Patrick Shanley, Doubt Best Actor: Michael Fassbender, Hunger Richard Jenkins, The Visitor Ben Kingsley, Elegy Sean Penn, Milk Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler HONORABLE MENTION: Francois Begeaudeau, The Class; Michael Cera, Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist; Robert Downey Jr., Iron Man; Colin Farrell, In Bruges; James Franco, Pineapple Express; Brendan Gleeson, In Bruges; Philip Seymour Hoffman, Doubt; Philip Seymour Hoffman, Synecdoche New York; Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon; Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button; Michael Pitt, Funny Games; Alejandro Polanco, Chop Shop; Jason Segel, Forgetting Sarah Marshall; Micheal J. Smith Sr., Ballast; Anton Yelchin, Charlie Barlett Best Actress: Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married Sally Hawkins, Happy-Go-Lucky Kristin Scott Thomas, I've Loved You So Long Meryl Streep, Doubt Michelle Williams, Wendy and Lucy HONORABLE MENTION: Amy Adams, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day; Kate Beckinsale, Nothing But the Truth; Cate Blanchett, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button; Rebecca Hall, Vicky Cristina Barcelona; Scarlett Johansson, Vicky Cristina Barcelona; Nicole Kidman, Australia; Melissa Leo, Frozen River; Frances McDormand, Burn After Reading; Frances McDormand, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day; Tarra Riggs, Ballast; Jess Weixler, Teeth; Kate Winslet, Revolutionary Road Best Supporting Actor: James Franco, Milk Bill Irwin, Rachel Getting Married Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight Eddie Marsan, Happy-Go-Lucky Brad Pitt, Burn After Reading HONORABLE MENTION: Russell Brand, Forgetting Sarah Marshall; Josh Brolin, Milk; Brady Corbet, Funny Games; Liam Cunningham, Hunger; Aaron Eckhart, The Dark Knight; Ralph Fiennes, In Bruges; Danny McBride, Pineapple Express; Liam McMahon, Hunger; Mos Def, Cadillac Records; Gary Oldman, The Dark Knight; Dev Patel, Slumdog Millionaire; Haaz Sleiman, The Visitor Best Supporting Actress: Penelope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona Viola Davis, Doubt Rosemarie DeWitt, Rachel Getting Married Samantha Morton, Synecdoche, New York Evan Rachel Wood, The Wrestler HONORABLE MENTION: Hiam Abbass, The Visitor; Amy Adams, Doubt; Patricia Clarkson, Elegy; Vera Farmiga, Nothing But the Truth; Ari Graynor, Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist; Taraji P. Henson, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button; Anjelica Huston, Choke; Beyonce Knowles, Cadillac Records; Sophie Okonedo, The Secret Life of Bees; Freida Pinto, Slumdog Millionaire; Tilda Swinton, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button; Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler; Debra Winger, Rachel Getting Married; Elysa Zylberstein, I’ve Loved You So Long Best Original Screenplay: Burn After Reading - Ethan Coen & Joel Coen Hunger - Steve McQueen & Enda Walsh Milk - Dustin Lance Black Rachel Getting Married - Jenny Lumet WALL-E - Pete Docter, Jim Reardon & Andrew Stanton HONORABLE MENTION: Australia, Ballast, Charlie Barlett, Chop Shop, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Happy-Go-Lucky, In Bruges, I’ve Loved You So Long, Pineapple Express, Synecdoche New York, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, The Visitor, The Wrestler, Zack and Miri Make a Porno Best Adapted Screenplay: The Class - Francois Begaudeau, Robin Campillo & Laurent Cantet The Dark Knight - David S. Goyer, Christopher Nolan & Jonathan Nolan Doubt - John Patrick Shanley Elegy - Nicholas Meyer Slumdog Millionaire - Simon Beaufoy HONORABLE MENTION: The Counterfeiters, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Iron Man, Let the Right One In, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, Speed Racer, Wendy and Lucy Best Ensemble: Burn After Reading The Class The Dark Knight Milk Slumdog Millionaire HONORABLE MENTION: Australia, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Doubt, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Funny Games, Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, Rachel Getting Married, Speed Racer, Synecdoche New York, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Zack and Miri Make a Porno Best Limited Performance - Male: Andre Blake, Rachel Getting Married Justin Long, Zack and Miri Make a Porno Denis O'Hare, Milk Michael Shannon, Revolutionary Road J.K. Simmons, Burn After Reading HONORABLE MENTION: Alan Alda, Flash of Genius; Michael Caine, The Dark Knight; Tom Cruise, Tropic Thunder; Bill Hader, Pineapple Express; David Rasche, Burn After Reading; Victor Rasuk, Stop-Loss; Mark Rendall, Charlie Barlett Best Limited Performance - Female: Patricia Clarkson, Vicky Cristina Barcelona Hope Davis, Synecdoche, New York Karina Fernandez, Happy-Go-Lucky Amy Ryan, Changeling Robin Weigert, Synecdoche, New York HONORABLE MENTION: Heather Burns, Choke; Zoe Kazan, Revolutionary Road; Jennifer Jason Leigh, Synecdoche New York; Lena Olin, The Reader; Amy Sedaris, Snow Angels; Sigourney Weaver, Vantage Point; Dianne Wiest, Synecdoche New York; Kristen Wiig, Ghost Town Breakthrough Performance: Ari Graynor, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist Alejandro Polanco, Chop Shop Tarra Riggs, Ballast Micheal J. Smith Sr., Ballast Jess Weixler, Teeth HONORABLE MENTION: David Kross, The Reader; Lina Leandersson, Let the Right One In; Charlie McDermott, Frozen River; Gabe Nevins, Paranoid Park; Esmeralda Ouertani, The Class; Freida Pinto, Slumdog Millionaire; Rachel Regulier, The Class; Brandon Walters, Australia Best Film Editing: The Dark Knight - Lee Smith Hunger - Joe Walker Rachel Getting Married - Tim Squyres Slumdog Millionaire - Chris Dickens The Wrestler - Andrew Weisblum HONORABLE MENTION: Australia, Ballast, Burn After Reading, Chop Shop, The Class, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Dear Zachary, Doubt. Funny Games, Hellboy II: The Golden Army, Iron Man, Let the Right One In, Man on Wire, Milk, Paranoid Park, Pineapple Express, Speed Racer Best Cinematography: Australia - Mandy Walker Ballast - Lol Crawley The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - Claudio Miranda The Dark Knight - Wally Pfister The Wrestler - Maryse Alberti HONORABLE MENTION: Burn After Reading, Changeling, Chop Shop, Doubt, Elegy, Funny Games, Hunger, Let the Right One In, Milk, Paranoid Park, Rachel Getting Married, The Reader, Revolutionary Road, Slumdog Millionaire, Synecdoche New York, Wendy and Lucy Best Original Score: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - Alexandre Desplat The Dark Knight - James Newton Howard & Hans Zimmer Milk - Danny Elfman Slumdog Millionaire - A.R. Rahman WALL-E - Thomas Newman HONORABLE MENTION: Australia, Burn After Reading, Changeling, In Bruges, I’ve Loved You So Long, Kung Fu Panda, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, Revolutionary Road, Speed Racer, The Visitor, Waltz with Bashir, The X-Files: I Want to Believe Best Original Song: High School Musical 3: Senior Year - "I Want It All" - Matthew Gerrard & Robbie Nevil Slumdog Millionaire - "Jai Ho" - Gulzar & A.R. Rahman Synecdoche, New York - "Little Person" - Jon Brion & Charlie Kaufman WALL-E - "Down to Earth" - Peter Gabriel & Thomas Newman The Wrestler - "The Wrestler" - Bruce Springsteen HONORABLE MENTION: Australia - “By the Boab Tree”; Bolt - “Barking at the Moon”; Cadillac Records - “Once in a Lifetime”; High School Musical 3: Senior Year - “High School Musical”; High School Musical 3: Senior Year - “A Night to Remember”; My Blueberry Nights - “The Story”; Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist - “Ottoman”; Sex and the City - “All Dressed in Love”; Slumdog Millionaire - “O Saya”; Trouble the Water - “Trouble the Water”; Twilight - “I Caught Myself” Best Art Direction: Australia - Beverly Dunn & Catherine Martin Changeling - Gary Fettis & James J. Murakami The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - Donald Graham Burt & Victor J. Zolfo Revolutionary Road - Debra Schutt & Kristi Zea Synecdoche, New York - Mark Friedberg & Lydia Marks HONORABLE MENTION: Burn After Reading, The Counterfeiters, The Dark Knight, Frost/Nixon, Hellboy II: The Golden Army, High School Musical 3: Senior Year, Iron Man, Milk, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, Pineapple Express, Sex and the City, Slumdog Millionaire, Speed Racer, Vicky Cristina Barcelona Best Costume Design: Australia - Catherine Martin The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - Jacqueline West Milk - Danny Glicker Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day - Michael O'Connor Sex and the City - Patricia Field HONORABLE MENTION: Burn After Reading, Cadillac Records, Changeling, The Counterfeiters, The Dark Knight, Doubt, Frost/Nixon, Happy-Go-Lucky, Hellboy II: The Golden Army, Iron Man, Revolutionary Road, Slumdog Millionaire, Speed Racer, Synecdoche New York, W., The Wrestler Best Makeup: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button The Dark Knight Frost/Nixon Hunger The Wrestler HONORABLE MENTION: Cadillac Records, Hellboy II: The Golden Army, Iron Man, Let the Right One In, Milk, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, Saw V, Sex and the City, Slumdog Millionaire, Speed Racer, Synecdoche New York, Tropic Thunder, Twilight, W. Best Sound Mixing: The Dark Knight Iron Man Pineapple Express Speed Racer WALL-E HONORABLE MENTION: Australia, Cadillac Records, Cloverfield, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Get Smart, Hellboy II: The Golden Army, High School Musical 3: Senior Year, The Incredible Hulk, Kung Fu Panda, Let the Right One In, Mamma Mia!, Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, Slumdog Millionaire, Tropic Thunder, The Wrestler Best Sound Editing: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button The Dark Knight Iron Man Speed Racer WALL-E HONORABLE MENTION: Australia, Cloverfield, Get Smart, Hellboy II: The Golden Army, The Incredible Hulk, Kung Fu Panda, Pineapple Express, Saw V, Slumdog Millionaire, Tropic Thunder, The Wrestler, The X-Files: I Want to Believe Best Visual Effects: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button The Dark Knight Hellboy II: The Golden Army Iron Man Speed Racer HONORABLE MENTION: Australia, Cloverfield, Eagle Eye, Get Smart, The Incredible Hulk, Tropic Thunder Best Foreign-Language Film: The Class - Laurent Cantet The Counterfeiters - Stefan Ruzowitzky I've Loved You So Long - Philippe Claudel Let the Right One In - Tomas Alfredson Waltz with Bashir - Ari Folman HONORABLE MENTION: JCVD Best Documentary: Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father - Kurt Kuenne Man on Wire - James Marsh Taxi to the Dark Side - Alex Gibney Trouble the Water - Carl Deal & Tia Lessin Young@Heart - Stephen Walker Honorable Mention: HONORABLE MENTION: Bigger Stronger Fast, Encounters at the End of the World, Religulous, Standard Operating Procedure, Waltz with Bashir Best Animated Film: Bolt - Byron Howard & Chris Williams Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who - Jimmy Hayward & Steve Martino Kung Fu Panda - Mark Osborne & John Stevenson WALL-E - Andrew Stanton Waltz with Bashir - Ari Folman Every 2008 Film I've Seen: Ranked

[stareiiez]

It's Too Damn Hot For This

Red Team x Reader

Heyyy, look at that! I finally posted, miracles do come true! I really plan to keep on updating my blog and clear out my draft folder, because yikes there’s a lot.So look forward to some, hopefully, well-written RVB reader inserts.  

 Anyone that experienced summer knew the rising temperatures, people sunbathing long enough to look like they were made out of leather. Others would go out to vacation in other tropical places of the world to frolic on white sandy beaches and eat exotic foods. It was paradise for people that lasted for 2 or 3 months, only to return to the busy lives of everyday life. If only that were the case for you and your team of soldiers that were stuck in some godforsaken canyon in the middle of nowhere. The various shades of red colored armor didn’t help you with the heat problem either. It only made you feel like your body was thrown into a thousand degree oven that was set for twenty-four hours. What was worse was the little fans built inside the helmets short-circuited when you first experienced the hot temperature the first year you arrived in Blood Gulch. You thought that in a year or more your happy red ass would get shipped out, and then go back to living in an air-conditioned lifestyle.

Now cut to four years later, and the blistering heat had still affected you no matter what. Sprawled in red base’s tattered living room with Grif and Simmons, with the shittiest fan blowing luke warm air on the three of you, it was absolute hell. Your head rested on Grif’s lap and your legs were laying upon Simmon’s, while the two men were sitting on the old couch, a mere groan had threatened to escape your mouth. Thier overwhelming body heat, along with the stifling temperature was sure enough to melt your skin off your body. Although the thought of rolling yourself right off and upon the cool steel flooring seemed optional, comfort played a valid role in keeping you right where you were. The red team’s armor of you three was thrown haphazardly around the room as if you couldn’t wait any longer to shed yourself of the scalding hot metal weighing you down.

The only person that the summertime atmosphere could not bother, was Sarge. Not even thirty elephants that lined up just to run him over, could not stop the gruff man from leading his team to defeat the Blues. His voice had been going non-stop to Lopez, for a few hours about his “no good army that cowered under a little sunshine.” or how he “would show you what hell on earth really was when his foot goes into your ass.” Not only was it repetitive and growing only louder by the minute, but his rambling was annoying as hell. Even though you loved Sarge and respected him, there were points in time where he really wanted to make you rip your eyes out.It was as if the colonel knew this, and was standing at the base of his door loudly complaining to a Mexican robot who ignored everything instead; only for Lopez to repeat ‘kill me’ over and over again.

Not to mention the annoying men you were sprawled upon. Grif didn’t seem to miss an opportunity to complain or whine about anything in his life and now that it was hot, this weather gave him a big chance to complain all he wanted to. Whether he was complaining about Sarge’s drawing words about his ‘worthless’ soldiers or to the never cool air blasting on his body, the orange-clad trooper never shuts up. Simmons was not so much help either. With his head lazily thrown back on the cushion of the couch, his hands had pulled at his shirt frantically back and forth as if to give himself a minor cool down.

 “This is bullshit! Are we that worthless that command can’t give us a decent air conditioner?” Grif suddenly burst out, as his hand soon shoved your upper half of your body off his lap without warning. The ever-annoying ring of childish whining laced into his complaint once more.

With a disgruntled yelp, your head almost clashed with the floor if Simmon’s hand had not shot out to grasp at your shirt and yank you back upon the couch, and all while not even moving from his place on the couch. He wordlessly cast a glare upon Grif’s stance as he pushed himself to his feet, with a scowl of his own painted upon his features.Your hand had shoved Simmon’s sweaty, pale hand from your damp shirt riddled with faded red letters on the front.

What also didn’t help you all cool down was the warm air pouring out of the base’s kitchen, with Donut whipping up any food the fridge held. That was the one thing that Grif did not whine about. Not a big shocker there.</p>

 “Grif, shut the fuck up. We are all hot and pissed, go into the kitchen and bother Donut.” Simmons finally snapped as his head raised to hold his now weak glare up at his teammate. 

You could only shake your head at your teammates before pushing yourself up from the ratty-ass couch and up to your feet. With the lower half of your armor still clinging to your sweaty form, you ran a hand through damp (h/c) hair. It was too hot to listen to your team go on and on about the most idiotic things for a while now. Sarge with his training, Lopez with his 3 worded response on repeat, and Grif with his never-ending whining you were sure to go out of your mind.

“That’s it.” You snapped harshly. Venom laced in your two words while you stomped into the kitchen.

Your gauntlet covered feet nearly shaking the floor as you made way to the kitchen. Although it didn’t look much like a ‘homey’ kitchen it still that the amenities to keep the red team alive and its food cool or hot. Donut hadn’t even heard your pissed steps, while he hummed a song under his breath and swayed his slim hips back and forth. Week old ’ meat’ and squishy vegetables had laid next to has he worked over a pot that bowled over a blue flame. You quickly opened and slammed steel cabinets until you found what you were looking for. A large spoon and an equally large bowl. Flinging the steel freezer door open in the fridge, the tiny icicles of permafrost slung from its grip on the freezer walls. Grumbling under your breath you started to scoop the freezing cold crystals of frozen water into your bowl. Steel turned glacier cold and left your finger imprints on the surface while you nearly cleaned out the freezer. You were almost shocked how your burning skin hadn’t melted to the bite of the now below temperature bowl.

With the object full you slammed the door closed and jogged into the living room. Hell if you started walking back, then for sure Grif or Simmons would peek their nosy asses in the doorway of the kitchen to see what was causing all the noise. Somehow you hoped both boys were still whining or trying not to melt into the upholstery of the couch. Maybe miracles worked or not because Grif and Simmons were almost panting like dogs everytime a blast of warm air from the crappy fan hit them.

“Alright, you whiny ass babies. Time to shut the hell up and freeze.” You yelled loudly and held the steel bowl over your head. Fingers turned a numbingly red color as your voice caught both boys attention.

Pairs of brown and hazel eyes looked up at you, with a mix of confusion and utter alarm. You must have had a dark smirk on your face or the sudden put burst caught them off guard because the two men scrambled up on the couch. Grif’s mouth had started to open as if to ask a question about your sudden mood change or what you were doing before a sudden yell escaped him instead. Cold nasty tasting ice chunks hit his open mouth as well as his sweaty body. 

Mouth agape from the sudden onslaught of cold, the orange soldier blinked rapidly just as Simmons cried out in shock, although his voice cracked enough to nearly shatter glass.

“Y/N!!” Grif yelled as he jumped to his feet, his hands were frantically trying to brush off the melting ice and spit out the freezer ice crystals, that were now freezer flavored water, from his mouth.

The ginger-haired soldier, on the other hand, felt like his heart stopped beating. The cold had blinded him since it covered his glasses.

“What the hell!?” Simmons’ voice squeaked out while his pale freckled cheeks flushed from the biting cold of the ice.Although this shocked voice was slowly drowned out by peals of laughter, or chuckles that caused your body to shake. 

Your fingers let go of the now empty bowl and wrapped your arms around your stomach. The sight of the ‘intergalactic super soldier heroes’ were now soaked to the bone and quite frankly shocked. It was too damn hot for the constant whining and the never-ending same of mantra Sarge repeated to himself outside in the sweltering heat. It was however not too damn hot to find a better way to cool some of your fellow red soldiers off and keep their mouths shut, yet with the now dark look in their eyes that slowly overtook their once shocked expressions, it may be different for you.

“Get ‘em.” Grif muttered before all three of you started up a long chase that ended up in a more messy base. 

Deafening shouts of Grif, Simmons, and now Donut who was caught up in the act of chasing you down for disturbing his cooking. When in reality he was chasing because Grif let out something along the lines of ‘beating your ass’ when he catches you. Maybe it was too hot to do a lot of things distracting your teammates from the heat in order to chase you was all worth it in the end.

[junker-town]

Sports movies that would be more fun to emulate in real life than ‘Field of Dreams’

Photo by Charles Ommanney/The Washington Post via Getty Images

MLB wants to emulate ‘Field of Dreams’ next season, and that’s fine. But if we’re being honest, big league adaptations of these movies would be even cooler.

I’ve never seen Field of Dreams. It’s probably fine? From what I gather it’s sickly sweet with a lot of I Love You Dad-type stuff engineered to exploit our too-human hearts.

The effect is apparently pretty strong, because Field of Dreams is still revered 30 year after it was released. So much so that Major League Baseball will try to bring the movie to life by making the Yankees and White Sox play in an Iowa cornfield next season.

If you build it …@Yankees. @whitesox. THE Field of Dreams. August 13, 2020. pic.twitter.com/RuBpS04BgG

��� Cut4 (@Cut4) August 8, 2019

Ignoring the fact MLB’s promotional image implies Aaron Judge, Gleyber Torres, Tim Anderson, and Yoan Moncada are ghosts walking out of the cornfield, and therefore will have shuffled off this mortal coil by the time the game is played, this could be fun! Baseball is a goofy sport that is enhanced when played in goofy places. Why not!

But it does get us thinking: What famous sports movies would be even more fun to replicate for a one-off event? Here are some of our ideas. Go ahead and tell us yours via your nearest comment section and/or Twitter account. Being realistic awards you no bonus points.

Eddie (1996)

Pretty sure everyone reading this has had this fantasy. Take a vocal fan out of the stands, let them coach the Knicks, and if they win the fan gets to keep the job until the Knicks lose again. There’s no risk to a cratering team. In fact, the changeup might help break the loop of hope and letdown (and hope and letdown) that the Knicks have been stuck in for 20 years. — Louis Bien

Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story (2004)

I want this. I want this, like, yesterday. How have we gone 15 years without someone trying to take the world of professional dodgeball by storm with professional wrestling-esque characters, overwhelming production values and all the pageantry it entails?

The best part is that since this is a one-off event we can totally get Jason Bateman to do commentary and stick Chuck Norris courtside. I’m almost upset I’m sharing this information here, because I know some wealthy industrialist is going to steal this idea. — James Dator

Nacho Libre (2006)

First off, yes, wrestling is a real sport. The action might be slightly scripted but the moves are real. Imagine a random cook in a monastery becoming a luchador. It’s an underdog story for the ages. He even fights for a great cause: so the orphans in the church can eat better quality foods. It’s a heartwarming story filled with adventure and danger, mostly from the fear of having their bones broken from getting power-bombed. Picking a random person and making them a part-time luchador is an event worth watching. Especially if one of their first matches is an eight-person battle royale. Sign me up for the chaos. - Vijay Vemu

Teen Wolf (1985)

I just want to see people get eaten. — Christian D’Andrea

Air Bud (1997) or Treasure Buddies (2012)

The Air Bud archives, including its spinoff series Air Buddies and Santa Paws, is more voluminous than the Police Academy and Mission Impossible franchises put together. And you really couldn’t go wrong picking ANY of its 14 installments. SO MANY GOOD DOGS.

For the sake of brevity, I’ll narrow it down to two: OG basketball-playing Air Bud, which still holds up 22 years later, and which seems like the most logical choice if we’re talking about replicating it in real life. (Here’s one suggestion for the starring role.)

The other is Treasure Buddies, which I have never seen and technically isn’t a sports movie but gets the nod based on a Wikipedia description that belongs in a museum:

The Buddies find themselves on an Indiana Jones style adventure.

Yes, please. — Sarah Hardy

Over the Top (1987)

Don’t you want to win an arm wrestling championship? — Russ Oates

The Sandlot (1993)

The Sandlot — or more specifically Sandlot 2 (2005), where girls exist and play sports — is truly the only answer here. Since about age 7, all I wanted to experience was playing baseball at the sandlot, and that hasn’t changed as I’ve gotten older. Just make sure James Earl Jones is present. — Kennedi Landry

Brink! (1998)

Brink! is a Disney Channel original movie about extreme in-line skating and how capitalism exerts its influence on our passions. But the X-Games already exists, so we don’t need to bring skating to life, we just need ... more milkshakes to the face.

Pup ‘N Suds forever. — Michael Katz

Like Mike (2002)

I need to see a 4’ tall child dunking on NBA Players. — Tyson Whiting

Ed (1996)

In this film, Matt LeBlanc (who is basically channeling Joey, because what else is he going to do, he is Matt LeBlanc) winds up as an errand boy for a professional minor league baseball team. One of his errands has him cross paths with the titular Ed, a chimpanzee who, it turns out, is really, really good at playing baseball for unsaid reasons. Hijinks ensue. This film has everything — a fart-off, some light animal torture, a magical coin (?), and yes, a meta Friends reference — all of it terrible. In fact, we called it the worst sports movie ever made.

But am I going to sit here and pretend it wouldn’t be awesome to play minor league ball with a farting monkey? No, reader. I am not.

— Ryan Simmons

Slap Shot (1977)

Nobody wears a helmet. Fighting, while not exactly legal, is certainly encouraged. As is putting on the foil. Winning captain has to strip down to his jock strap. Don Cherry would spontaneously combust, leaving a technicolor apparition muttering about “Old Time Hockey” for all eternity. — Paul Flannery

White Men Can’t Jump (1992)

Blacktop basketball, Jeopardy!, and undefeated Wesley Snipes drip. This movie has everything anyone could ever want in a movie, and also two-on-two basketball should be an Olympic sport. — Michael Pina

Brewster’s Millions (1985)

Quasi-sports movie with Richard Pryor portraying a pitcher for the Hackensack Bulls and John Candy serving as his catcher. I’d happily work to spend $30 million in 30 days and have no assets to show for it to inherit $300 million. — David Fucillo

Space Jam (1996)

There is no better time to do this than the present. With talks of wanting to raid Area 51 and kick it with aliens, we can surely assemble a group of five extraterrestrials, have them take the talents of guys like Kevin Durant, Giannis Antetokounmpo, James Harden, Russell Westbrook, or other NBA stars, and do a live-action remake of the original Space Jam. Only difference is that LeBron James replaces Michael Jordan. — Harry Lyles Jr.

Luck of the Irish (2001)

This Disney Channel classic has a description as follows: “A teenager (Ryan Merriman) must battle for a gold charm to keep his family from being controlled by an evil leprechaun.”

Do I need to explain anything else? — Whitney Medworth

Blades of Glory (2007)

It’s really hard for me to comprehend why we haven’t seen an all-male figure skating pair since this movie came out more than 10 years ago, but hey, I’m not in the movie business. Not only was this a highly underrated Will Ferrell film in my humble opinion, the sports world deserves to see two men complete the Iron Lotus (successfully, I feel like I need to add) on live television, dammit.

— Morgan Moriarty

[mexicancarolina]

Shameful (Simmons x Red!Reader)

Prompt #34 The way you flirt is shameful. 

Simmons once hard that the way of getting to a girl’s heart would be through pickup lines, and he really had no experience in talking with girls. Especially girls like you.

Literally, for him at least, you were perfect, funny, brave, geeky sometimes; and he loved it. And he really wanted to get to your heart. 

Armed with courage he decided to approach you, praying that he wouldn’t embarrass himself. 

“Hey, (Last Name), if you were a triangle you’d be a-cute one.”

“Aww, that it’s so nice!” You said with a cheeky smile. “It’s just too bad that you're obtuse.”

Simmons stood there in front of you, flushing red as you giggled. 

“The way you flirt is shameful. Cute, but shameful.”

He felt like his worst nightmare was repeating itself inside his head over and over again, but you just smiled at him almost sweetly.

“Sorry. I always wanted to do a comeback.” You shrugged, standing up from your seat in the Red Base kitchen. “But you really are bad at flirting.” Your hand soon was placed over his chest as you fixed his shirt with your fingers. 

His face was still red in embarrassment, he had never been this close to you. 

“I’ve got a better idea.” You pulled away and looked up at him, “What about Mario Kart and popcorn before you keep digging your grave with those dumb pickup lines, sounds good, right, Richard?” 

Simmons, to be honest with himself, felt like he was going to faint right there and then, but he managed not to do it, still stuttering over his words. 

“Y-yeah, w-why not?” 

You placed a kiss on his cheek, making him flush red. “It’s a date then. See you tonight.”

You waved goodbye at him as you exited the base to get done with your chores.

Simmons stood there, still as a statue before falling on his back because despite his shameful way of flirting he had still gotten a date with you.

[mexicancarolina]

Math’s better (Simmons x Red!Reader)

Guess who’s only had 8 hours of sleep this whole week? I’m about to fall asleep on my desk anytime now...I’M COMPLETELY OKAY

Prompt: #110 It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong. 

Simmons was a cute nerd. He usually liked to solve math problems for fun...which was kind of normal to him. 

Simmons was sitting on the chair on his room, a notebook in hand in front of him. He always liked to solve those difficult math problems, like some kind of hobby. 

You sneaked behind him, watching as he wrote numbers and numbers and numbers. 

“Oh, look!” You pointed out nowhere in the paper sheet. “You have a mistake there.” 

“What?!” Simmons asked, almost panicking, as he examined the paper sheet carefully. “ Where?!”

You giggled quietly as he tried to repeat the process a couple of times. “I can’t find any mistake! What am I doing wrong?!” 

“Oh, it’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong, nerd!” You mocked when he turned his head to glare at you. 

He sighed. “Goddamnit, (Last Name)! I almost have a heart attack!”

You kissed his forehead, still trying to not laugh, something inside you felt good at the fact that he didn’t stumble over his words this time when talking to you. 

Then it was when he realized, he pulled away, face red in embarrassment. “(L-Last N-Name)! W-what are you doing here in my r-room?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, because hell, he was cute. But you were sure his face was going to explode if you didn’t leave immediately. After years of being in Blood Gulch, you still managed to make him nervous. 

“I’ll leave you with your beloved math problems, nerd.” 

“Math’s better than socializing...Or listening to Donut all day long, or cleaning Grif’s mess.” He huffed, looking away from you the whole time. 

“You plus I equals the perfect match.”

“Please, leave immediately with your bad puns and stop talking with Tucker.”

[mexicancarolina]

HC: Relationship with a tough/badass!s/o

Characters: Richard Simmons

Rating: General.

Requested by: @bootyshakerkegrimm

Word count: 146 words

Warning/s: None

Simmons

He is not too much of a badass like you

He is a badass even if he insists he isn’t.

You try to get him to loosen up from time to time, meanwhile, he keeps you grounded.

Simmons is your main emotional support a.k.a cheerleader

You always take priority in his well-being; Simmons lost a lot of limbs, so you are always there to help him survive the phantom pains.

The most important thing is that you watch each other’s backs no matter what.

You both like to train together; it can end up in a night cuddling out of exhaustion or in a steamy night together

You have to tell him that you love him; he prefers to show it by doing little things he knows you like and appreciate.

You have a lot of “I love you” “I know” moments in your relationship.