#fanfic-mania

[fanfic-mania]

So I was reading 'After the Disabled God of War Became My Concubine' and an awesome idea came to me for a Merthur fic.

In the aforementioned novel the general of the enemy faction is forced into the harem of the MC after destroying his legs as a punishment. Of course the MC harem is actually a spy network and conspires with the general against the injust system of the court.

So imagine Merthur in that.

Merlin, general and prince of a magical kingdom being captured and his magic constrained by Uther. Given to marry as a concubine to Arthur. Arthur going against his dad's ruling to give Merlin his magic and freedom back. While Merlin has to pretend to be all miserable in this new position.

Take it even a step further. Merlin gets all his power back and kidnaps Arthur to use him as a coin against Uther. Of course Arthur is in on it.

[rabbidbunwy]

Shadow,Sonic as boyfriends headcannon 𖨆 ♡ 𖨆

Contents: Shadow/Sonic x Anon!reader-couple-lovers-tsundere!Shadow [my intake]-breakdown comfort from both parts [them with you and you with them]-mention of being injured

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

P.s: i just watched the film+it was a while that i wanted to do this [pls dont bully/arass me,i found comfort in sonic and shadow,thank you]

i would also think that Shadow would make his quills softer when he gets to know you better,short of defensive mechanism

P.s.s: if u want more with other characters let me know

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia @satorkive @ponderingmoonlight @galaxylover46

SHADOW 🦔🏍️💢

Shadow would have a tsundere-like personality when he has a lover, acting tough and serious but always showing his care for them in secret. He can get protective over them and always make sure they're well cared for.

As a boyfriend he would be the type to secretly love cuddling and give his partner many gifts and trinkets that he found that made him think of them.

The way he treats his partner would depend on the situation, he can range from quite cold and serious to affectionate and caring. He would probably enjoy spending time with them when they're alone but would become embarrassed when they do something overly sweet, like give him a surprise kiss.

Shadow would probably be quite clingy when alone with his partner, but in public he would try and hide his affection, though it might be quite obvious due to the fact that he does not leave their side.

He would also probably get quite jealous when anyone flirts with/looks at his partner, which only leads to him clinging to them more.

He would be very protective of his partner, especially in dangerous situations.

Injuries would put Shadow in quite a tizzy, he would be a very worrying and caring partner if his loved one was hurt. He would tend to their wounds and make sure they are alright in all ways, and likely would be overprotective of them for quite some time after they were injured,since he doesn't want to lose another person dear to him. [you know who i'm talking about,no?]

If he was the injured one, he would stubbornly refuse any help and insist that he was fine, even if he wasn't. That is, until his partner insists, which would lead to him reluctantly giving in to their worrying and lets them take care of him. He would also have an expression that says "I can't believe you're forcing me to do this", but deep down he would be quite touched by their worry for him.

As for emotional breakdowns would depend on who broke down. Shadow seeing his partner having a breakdown would make him stop everything to tend to them, trying desperately to calm them down. Seeing his partner in such a state would make him almost frantic.

As for him having a breakdown, it likely wouldn't be in front of them for a long time, if at all. Though if his partner did witness him breaking down, he would become quite defensive and embarrassed by it. He would push them away at first, not wanting them to see such a vulnerable state. However, if his partner stayed regardless, he would give in and most likely break down fully, unable to hold back any longer.

SONIC 🦔💎🌀

Sonic would be a great boyfriend. He's funny, fun to be around, he can be very loving, and he's a total sweetheart to the people he loves. Of course, he's also really protective as he can get all angry and confrontational if his loved one is in danger. And it's safe to say he has a lot of passion and fun inside of him.

Also, he can really be all about that PDA (public displays of affection) sometimes, which can range from hand-holding to hugs and even kissing.

He's also very loyal and supportive, always there for his partner and always trying to uplift them. It's safe to say he'd be all about the loving and sweet gestures, like bringing flowers or writing cute notes. He can also be a bit of a teasing flirt at times, he loves to give affection, and he can be pretty damn romantic when he wants to.

He's definitely got his share of flaws though. Like, he can get pretty impatient or angry, and he's pretty damn stubborn at times. He can get pretty competitive and may start arguments because of it. Also, he can be a damn tease and mess around a lot.

If Sonic's partner is injured or ill, he is immediately at their side. He'd drop everything to make sure they have everything they need to get better, which includes any medical supplies and anything to make them a little more comfortable. He'd also stay by their side through it all. He'd be a total worry wart, making sure they're being well taken care of, and always checking on them to make sure they aren't in too much pain or anything (he would get pretty emotional too). He'd also want to make sure to reassure them that everything'll be okay.

If Sonic gets wounded or gets injured, he tries his hardest to stay strong and fight back any weakness. He'll probably try to make light of the situation and reassure his partner that he'll be fine. However, he can only act this way for so long. He'll be in a lot of pain, and he'll try to hide it, but he'll eventually start to crack. And when that happens, he will definitely be needing some help from his partner.

With breakdowns,if Sonic's partner has one, it'll immediately get his attention, and he'll be right by their side in a flash. He'll listen to them if they need to talk, he'll console them if they need a shoulder to cry on, he'll be there to hold them if they need a hug, and he'll just do whatever he needs to do to make sure they'll feel better.

Also, he'll try his best to keep a stoic and cool composure, but he'll definitely be feeling all emotional inside when he sees them like this. He hates seeing them like that, and it hurts him to see them in pain. So he'll be extremely caring and sweet with them the entire time, and he'll make sure they know he's not going anywhere.

If Sonic feels responsible for his partner's breakdown. He will instantly be full of regret, feel absolutely horrible for causing this in his loved one, and he'll be blaming himself endlessly. Even if it wasn't his fault and it's not in his control, he'll still feel like it's all his fault and it can send him into a downward emotional spiral. He'll be so full of guilt he'll feel like the worst boyfriend in the universe.

If Sonic has a breakdown, he won't act his usual, carefree self. He'll be pretty quiet, and he won't really want to speak all that much. He'll be somewhat distant, his mind consumed by whatever's causing his breakdown. He'll be pretty withdrawn, and he'll try his hardest to mask or downplay how bad he's doing, trying to assure his partner that he's fine. However, it won't be too hard to see through his attempts.

[catfuchi]

[mercurycft]

guys anti depressants are crazy. like yeah i dont want to kill myself but why can’t i stop shaking my leg and why can i hear colours?

[makzmollpol]

gay beatles slash fanfiction has existed since beatlemania, unsurprisingly. so here's some stuff on that topic

"The most visible rock based BandFic community during this era is The Beatles.   On August 18, 1960, The Beatles started playing under that name for the first time at an event in Hamburg, Germany. (Whelan)  It would be four more long years before the band would make their American debut, an event that occurred on February 7, 1964 when they arrived in New York City for their first American tour. (Whelan)  According to Barbara Ehrenreich, Elizabeth Hess, and Gloria Jacobs in their essay "Beatlemania: Girls Just Want to Have Fun," this event marked "the first mass outburst of the sixties to feature women – in this case girls, who would not reach full adulthood until the seventies and the emergence of a genuinely political movement for women’s liberation."  This group, composed primarily of middle class, white teenagers, would form one of the core groups in the nascent bandfic community.  In their adulation of the band, they would create many of their own fan related products including stories, zines and art. The fannish oral tradition that is alive today is implicit in the existence and circulation of fictional stories about band members during the early years of the band's history. Because the audience was young and not connected into a professional or underground movement, much of the material created by this group of fan girls never was published.  The production, in most cases, likely consisted of one to five copies of a story being circulated only among the fan’s immediate peer group. The emergence of The Beatles, their popularity and their fans dedication to creating fan works was helped because of the era in which they appeared. The Beatles were at the forefront for many white, middle class teenage girls in helping them redefine their own definition of sexuality and their own definitions of what it meant to be female. (Ehrenreich)  This was taking place in an era where there was that increased debate on subjects like "birth, a woman's obligation to society, and conception, bringing with it all of the bitterness and acrimony that have long surrounded these issues, beginning with perhaps the most obvious one of them all -- Sexism." (Rowland) Legal gender differences between men and women were beginning to fall. (Rowland) For young, white, middle class female Beatles fans, writing stories about the band was an opportunity to challenge their parents, to revel in the new ideas regarding male sexuality, to explore their own and more.  They could write about marrying Ringo or having children with Paul McCartney.  They could write about being noticed by the George Harrison at a concert and all that followed afterward.  Most fans knew that none of those scenarios were likely to happen. Some deeply resented the idea of a member of the band becoming involved with any woman because it destroyed their own fantasies.  They did not want to see that happen. It is highly probable, that given this and the fact that they were writing fictional stories featuring the Beatles, that some of the Beatles were written as homosexual if only as a way to ensure that the object of the fan's lust, since they could not be hers, would never belong to another female fan.  The idea of writing male on male pairings to cut out other female fans is one that would reappear again and again during the next forty years as new bands were discovered and attracted new groups of young female fans." (X)

[maledictusfotum]

fuck it I'm writing a fanfiction if only bc im mad that the hp movies and books ignored harry's childhood AND the lack of angsty vampire fics here is atrocious. why not add severitus, made up magic lore and wings in there too. I nearly forgot that I can literally write whatever my heart desires even if I never finish it

[etherealashworks]

bc it's so delayed! here's a sneak peek into next Sirius PoV for Full Throttle <3

‘You’re our connoisseur, Remus — thoughts on dear Sirius’s lap?’ ‘I’ve seen more elegant bends from a pool noodle,’ Remus quips, the dry wit of the comment belying the smile beneath.  ‘I bend plenty elegantly, I’ll have you know,’ Sirius winks, kicking out his own boots below the table for dramatic effect. The audience titter. ‘Spare me the details,’ Remus rolls his eyes. They glimmer in that secret way Sirius pretends not to notice. ‘And work on turning corners.’ Sirius tosses his hair out of his face in a way that’s going to make Sally curse him out, and sends Remus a devilish grin. Like a lot of things, it’s for the cameras. Inside, Sirius is soup.  ‘But Moony— I’m so happy the way I am.’

[manias-wordcount]

View of Paradise (Satoru Gojo x Reader) PART NINETEEN

[𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙃𝙊𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙁𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙔 𝘼𝙐]

𝗔/𝗡: 𝘀𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗹𝗼𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴, 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝘄𝗻-𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝘁 𝗮 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲

<< 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘃 || 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 || 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 >>

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @ky0mybeloved @moonchhu @moonlithavensworld

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

It took you a while to actually recall the fact that you’re supposed to be here acting as a chaperone instead of looking for a boyfriend.

At least, it took a while for you to convince yourself that no, Yuuta shouldn’t have to be fine on his own and that you really should be a better big sister to him. It’s the least you could do since him getting that ticket has landed you in a spot where your dreams about having a super rich and handsome boyfriend are more of a possibility than you could have ever imagined them to be.

And so, you soon found that your wandering eventually had a purpose. And with a slight tug of Mr. Gojo’s arm and a point in a particular direction, you were being escorted over to the point where your brother had taken refuge inside the giant candy utopia. And consequently, that meant passing a few other people on the way. Namely, Ms. Nagi and Junpei.

While in the candy garden, you didn’t interact much with the two. In fact, Mr. Gojo had your attention since he first explained everything about the garden to you. And even when he started to push you to take the lead in exploring, your focus still lingered on him almost the entire time. All this to say, you really didn’t interact with anyone while here. An occasional glance in the direction of someone who wasn’t paying attention to you. A polite, customer service smile and a neighborly wave for when you lock eyes with someone who isn’t too far away. But other than that? Nothing.

Not that you really minded that so much. Again, you liked having all of Mr. Gojo’s attention on you. You liked feeling special because of him. Even if his gaze did make everything feel a little too intense.

Still, you liked Ms. Nagi. You haven’t interacted enough with any of the other chaperones enough to really get to know any of them just yet, but something tells you that Ms. Nagi is the type of person that anyone could love. And with a presence like that, she is by far your favorite out of all the others. Though the intimidating personas of the other three chaperones might have a lot to do with that…

Either way, it wasn’t long before you found yourself and a still lingering Mr. Gojo closer to Ms. Nagi and her son while you made your way to your brother. You were close enough that you could see very well what they were doing and how they were fairing in Mr. Gojo’s candy garden. Not close enough to loop them into any meaningful conversation you might begin to have. Not without raising your voice to an awkward level, that is. 

At the moment, the mother-son duo were intently making their way through a study-looking tree (though all the bite marks across the trunk and the chunks of missing foliage are making the tree start to appear way less sturdy than it once was). Ms. Nagi was pulling leaves from branches and munching on them as she seemed to try to make conversation with her son. Though, it seemed like Junpei couldn’t care less about what his mother had to say 

However, the moment you and Mr. Gojo were close enough, the two of them reacted to your sudden presence. Though how they both reacted was very, very different, as both of them directed their attention to different people. From the get-go, Ms. Nagi zeroed in on you. She met your eye with a knowing, teasing little smile and she made a big show about darting her eyes back and forth between you and Mr. Gojo while slipping in there an occasional, overdramatic wink. And the moment you turned away in order to escape her prying and unfortunately all-knowing eyes, you swore you could hear her chuckling at her expense.

Your face went warm at her implications, but you couldn’t find yourself to deny it. You don’t know what would be worse. Lying straight through your teeth about something that’s so obviously true? Or quite literally raising your voice to say just about anything regarding your involvement with Mr. Gojo. Your involvement that you still can’t fully piece together yourself outside of the fact that he really likes to touch and look and speak to you. Especially when no one else is around. Yeah…

Junpei, on the other hand, had his attention go straight for Mr. Gojo. It happened in a way that felt almost too perfect considering what you knew about the kid. A starring match had broken out between the two of them. One that felt almost…a little too childish, despite the involvement of an actual child. And yet, here they both were. Mr. Gojo with his glasses pushed far down on his nose so he could make eye contact with the kid as he kept a bored look on his face. And Junpei, gazing back with an equally bored look as he chomps at the stick made of brown licorice he holds tightly in his left hand, not even bothering to close his mouth as he chewed and chewed and chewed.

The kid is very brave, you’ll give him that. But he’s more than just brave. He’s rude. 

But in all honesty, you weren’t too surprised that Junpei was standing up to Mr. Gojo’s unwavering stare. You know if you were Junpei’s age and in Junpei’s shoes, you wouldn’t have lasted this long. As beautiful as you find Mr. Gojo’s eyes, there is something about them that makes it hard for you to look into them for too long. It’s something that can be extremely sharp and cutting. Something that can be extremely overwhelming and intense at the same time too, even in the moments you’re sure he doesn’t mean it. But Junpei isn’t you. You barely know the kid but you feel like you know that for a fact. 

And you feel like you have to certify that fact a little more in your mind the very moment you see Junpei’s free hand close into a fist and start to rise from where he once held it limply at his side. With his middle finger silently rising above all his other fingers, of course. 

Mr. Gojo’s lunge toward the child happened almost immediately. Luckily, you were close enough attention that you could tell from the moment Mr. Gojo snapped his teeth in the kid’s direction that he was about to do something that really wouldn’t look good (and probably wasn’t covered by a clause in the contract. Thus, it took a well-timed and well-placed hand of yours around his bicep to tug his attention away before he could even take a step in the kid’s direction. You weren’t so keen on the idea of this your own tour guide abruptly turning this tour for ten into a tour for nine. 

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he’s not in love with the idea of opening his factory up to more kids. You don’t think his blood pressure (or any child that comes close to getting under his skin as Junpei just did) could handle it.

Speaking of which, it was considerably hard to pull Mr. Gojo away from the scene of the almost crime. While he wasn’t stalking forward, your new little friend here was very content with glaring very hard in Junpei’s direction with his teeth bared and his stance tense. Almost as if was searching for the perfect moment- the perfect excuse to walk over there and do something about that kid. 

And to make things worse, Junpei still wasn’t backing down. In fact, at the moment, Junpei was watching you dig your tails into the sleeves of Mr. Gojo’s nice overcoat just to give yourself leverage as you leaned back and tried to tug him with you, with the most unempathetic look on his face. Absolutely no remorse for pissing off his own tour guide. The very same man who is the only reason he’s currently able to stuff his mouth with oversized tree branches at the moment. Not to mention, his mother was having a hard time hiding her chuckles from behind her hand. Just your luck. Not that you were expecting much help from the peanut gallery, anyway. Though you had to really act now. And fast, before Junpei decides that flipping Mr. Gojo the bird once wasn’t enough. 

“Mr. Gojo?” You called to the man, sweetening up your voice as much as possible as you switched from holding onto his coat sleeve to slipping your hand into his hand. Almost instinctively, Mr. Gojo’s hand grabbed onto yours and squeezed tightly. As if was the most natural thing in the world. But that was all the reaction you received from the man at the moment.

Because unfortunately, your call fell on deaf ears as the man didn’t even so much as twitch in your direction to at least indicate that he heard it. At this, you couldn’t help but let a small frown cross your lips. It felt like the first time his attention didn’t immediately snap towards you when you called for it. At least, not in the way that you wanted it to. And you don’t like how upset that made you feel, even for a second. Though as quick as the feeling came, you shook it off. You had a life saved, damnit. And that meant you had to up the stakes and lay on the pressure. It’s the only way. 

“Umm… Mr. Satoru?”

Beneath your touch, he shivered.

“Yeah?” He turned his head a bit in your direction, offering you a glimpse of his side profile as a singular blue eye trained on you. Now it was your turn to shiver. He was back to giving you that look that felt far too intense to share with a stranger. His breathing seemed to be a little heavier. And the feeling of his hand around yours was starting to get electric. You don’t get what changed. All you did was say his first name. Were you not supposed to do that? Was it too rude of you? Too forward of you? Did you do something wrong? 

Or did you do something a little too right?

You start to feel very, very hot from beneath your sweater at the thought. You just wanted to get his attention. That’s all, really. Could saying a name really have such an effect on a man? Honestly, you don’t want to know. And you feel too nervous to even try to find out.

But not too nervous to use it to your advantage.

“There’s my brother,” You pipe up, offering him the distraction as if it were a sweet treat. You jerk your head slightly in the direction of where your brother was sitting- far off from right here and in his own little world, unbothered by what had almost transpired. Slowly and silently, Mr. Gojo’s eyes trailed their way over to where you were gesturing. To be honest, you have your fears that he won’t bite. The energy around him the moment Junpei flipped him felt supercharged. That type of anger doesn’t really go away- especially since you’re really only offering to pull him away and towards yet another kid. A much better-behaved kid if you do say so yourself, but still. That’s why you lay it on thick and heavy as you lean in close to Mr. Gojo and murmur your next words to him, hoping that this might sweeten the deal enough to get a least a nibble on the line you’re throwing him.“Could we go see him, Mr. Satoru?”

A second of silence passes. And then another. And another. And another. It was unnerving, to say the least. Perhaps you tried too hard? Perhaps he’s not as into you as you thought? You cringed at the thought, wanting desperately to go back in time and prevent this moment from ever happening so you could have at least one less embarrassing moment to replay through your mind throughout the rest of your life.

But then you realized that the silence you were experiencing wasn’t because Mr. Gojo thought you were weird or trying too hard. It was because Mr. Gojo’s attention was elsewhere- your brother. For a moment, you tried to follow his gaze. You tried to see what he saw. You tried to see what warranted the silence and the pensive, faraway look you were starting to recognize in the man’s eyes. Almost as if your brother’s very existence had warranted a second look- a moment of reconsideration. Though you’re not really sure. It seems this little world you’ve entered fills you with almost as much confusion as it does wonder these days.

Fortunately enough for you, this moment doesn’t last too much longer. Because of all sudden, you find Mr. Gojo’s gaze snapping towards yours. For a split second, he almost looks surprised to see you standing there. But a second later, you’re watching his eyes trail down to spot your hand in his hand. 

He squeezes it twice before you can even think about pulling away. And he doesn’t, by the way.

He doesn’t let you pull away.

“Yeah,” He mumbles at you, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips quickly. For a moment, your mind is stuck on the very raw and very uncomposed look you receive from the man. It feels like that moment from earlier, but somehow better. Though you would be lying if you said the way beautiful blue eyes were practically peering into your soul as Mr. Gojo squeezed your hand yet another time had absolutely nothing to do with that. “Yeah, of course, sweetheart.”

You perk up at his words, the agreement settling your nerves quite nicely. Though at the same time, you felt your stomach do flips inside yourself as you processed his words. Specifically, his last one. This isn’t the first time he’s called you that, you realized. He’s called you sweetheart before. It seemed to just slip out quietly. Naturally even. As if it’s something he’s been calling you all your life. You wonder if he realized his mistake yet. You wonder if he realized that he does that. He’s been quite the shameless flirt almost this entire time, so you wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

But you didn’t want that to be the case. Because here you were again, getting butterflies again. Getting all wrapped up in ways you know you shouldn’t. But you just couldn’t help it. He’s just too sweet. He’s just too sweet on you. And you’re sure if you’re not careful, it’ll be the death of you.

That’s why, instead of responding, you opt to take Mr. Gojo’s hand and start walking in the direction of your brother, tugging the tall man along. He follows behind instantly, and you’re grateful that because you don’t think you’re strong enough to look behind you at the moment. Not just because you’re afraid of falling for this man (or at least, falling for this man even harder than you have already). But because you swear you can hear Ms. Nagi chuckling at whatever is going on between you and Mr. Gojo. And you just might lose what little of your nerves you have left at the moment if you catch even a glimpse of her face right now. 

Though eventually, Ms. Nagi’s chuckles get fainter and fainter as you both continue to walk away. Because now, you’re closer and closer to where your brother is. Closer and closer to where you probably should have been this entire time, if you’re being honest. But in your defense, you know your brother is more than fine on his own. He always is.

And also in your defense…it’s not every day a girl gets to flirt and be flirted with by a man who looks as good as Mr. Satoru Gojo. You would be crazy to pass up even a moment of little extra attention from him. Besides, you just know Nobara is just going to eat up every juicy little detail you tell her. If you can go to work tomorrow. You cringe internally at the thought.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have no-called, no-showed. Oh well. You’ll just how to deal with that later. Too late to do anything about that now. Especially since now that after just a minute of walking, you were finally where you’re supposed to be: right by your Yuuta’s side.

You found him not too far away from the long, windy chocolate river that cut through the middle of the room. He was sitting down with his legs crossed and his back against a red and white striped tree (which Mr. Gojo had warned you beforehand that no, not everything with that pattern tasted like peppermint…but he can’t really recall what that particular tree is supposed to taste like). By his side was a small pile of different pieces of candy from the room. A few different flower petals. A vine or two. Rocks that look far too realistic to be the same candy that Mr. Gojo promised you were. And a few more different items that you couldn’t really tell from where you were standing. 

Yuuta was watching the river as the two of you approached. He was swaying slightly, almost as if lulled in by the sounds of the rushing chocolate as it flowed downstream, as he chewed on what seemed to be a purple-colored (and possibly plum-flavored) tree branch. He looked happy here. He looked at peace. Like the little kid, your brother always was supposed to be in your eyes. Not someone who had to stop seeing his friends after school to deliver papers or shine shoes. Not someone who spends every meal spooning cabbage into his mouth, waiting for the odd chance that enough customers decide to toss almost an entire meal away.

Not someone who lives in your reality. The reality is that you’ll have to return the second you step back out of those factory doors.

But you push that thought aside. You don’t let it creep in any further. And you don’t let it linger around- that role is Mr. Gojo’s (when he’s not about to kill someone’s kid with his glare alone) for now. Because you don’t really have time to let that thought grow and fester. You don’t want to either. And besides, your brother just spotted you.  And the soft, distracted look on his face grew into a great, big, toothy smile. The smile of a child. The smile of someone who is getting all the good he could ever deserve in his life. 

Your brother’s smile. 

“I really like this place,” Your brother admits unprompted when you and Mr. Gojo find yourselves standing right next to his tree as Yuuta pulls himself from the ground. Tiny pieces of candy and crumbs dust your brother’s trousers, but the boy doesn’t pay them any mind. He’s far too busy beaming up at Mr. Gojo to care about a few rainbow-colored crumbs here or there.  Despite his best efforts, you see clearly that it’s a complete struggle for your brother to hide the full extent of the excitement and admiration that he feels towards Mr. Gojo at this moment. Either that, or he’s not trying at all. Because his words wrapped up tight in a giddiness and enthusiasm. And because it’s impossible to the deny look on his face. Yuuta truly did look as bright and as happy as a kid in a candy store. A candy store where just about everything in the store was edible and absolutely free of charge. “I think it’s just…it’s just so amazing!”

You glance at Mr. Gojo’s to spot his reaction. Despite the distaste you know he has toward children (or at least, some children), the smile he gives back to your brother is incredibly bright and kind-looking. It seems he couldn’t help but take Yuuta’s words to heart. And seeing the small interaction makes you smile. Mostly out of relief as you’re able to confirm that your brother is not viewed the same way Junpei was. But also because it was nice to know that your brother has been enjoying himself, even while off on his own.

Either way, you lucked out in the sense that Mr. Gojo seems to like your brother. No bared teeth. No tense smile. None of that. Or maybe it’s just that Mr. Gojo doesn’t find Yuuta’s behavior annoying or unbecoming. Or Mr. Gojo is trying very hard to get in your good graces- starting by being kind to your brother right in front of you. But you don’t really care about the reason why. A win is a win in your book. And sometimes, it truly isn’t better to ask questions. 

Though in looking back and forth between both your brother and Mr. Gojo, you suddenly realized that at some point, your hand must have slipped out of Mr. Gojo’s. Your hands were folded in front of you. The other had a hand wrapped around his cane and one hand tucked into his pocket as if they were always there. Maybe it happened while you were walking. Maybe it happened while you were just standing there. You’re not really sure. You’re not even sure if Mr. Gojo noticed it too. Either way, the two of you remained close by standing nearly side by side as if nothing ever even happened. As if he never called you sweetheart. As if you never called him Satoru. 

But then, almost as if he had heard your thoughts, he turned to you. And beneath his bright white hair and above his dark glasses, your eyes met his blue ones for a quick second. Long enough for him to give you a quick wink before turning his attention back to your brother. So he did notice. And he did care too. Because not even a second later, you spotted the hand the man once had in his pocket slip out and reach for you- grabbing a chunk of your sweater dress and pulling you into his side once more. You stumbled at the unexpected action, but you’re caught almost instantly, but his hand laying itself across the small of your back as you’re held against him.

Your face warms, but you find that your mouth doesn’t even begin to form the shapes to make words of protest or happiness. So you opt to instead avert your gaze from the piercing blue eyes and the self-satisfied smile thrown your way, and look at anything but him. But even that doesn’t save you. 

Because at the moment, Yuuta is looking at you. And you mean, he’s really looking at you. His eyes are narrowed in suspicion, and there’s a small frown tugging on his usually warm and smiley little face. You know that he’s only a few seconds short of starting to ask you questions that you really don’t want to answer. And you know that he won’t care if you want to answer those questions or not because as good as your relationship is your little brother, Yuuta is still eleven and fully capable of being a piece shit when he wants to.

Though before your bother could even open his mouth, Mr. Gojo speaks up. Whether it was because he could sense the awkward conversation about to ensure or because one of his superpowers includes pretty good timing, you don’t know. And you don’t care. You’ll take being saved by the bell over having to explain why you’re suddenly pressed up against some strange, older man that you barely know to any member of your family, any day of the week.

“Really now? I’m glad to hear that,” Mr. Gojo responds warmly to Yuuta’s compliment from earlier. Instantly, he has your brother’s attention recaptured as the two of them share smiles back and forth. And honestly? You couldn’t help but be drawn in as you saw that handsome smile of his once more. It was both parts soothing and charming and made you feel right at home and important all at the same time- even though you weren’t the immediate object of his focus. Though the hand caressing the side of your waist almost absently did tell you that you weren’t too far from him at the moment. Even while his eyes were completely trained on your brother, ready to continue their own little conversation. “Do you have any questions for me, young man? I’d be happy to answer them. I’ve answered plenty for you sister just now…”

Instinctively, you let out the not-so-subtle mention of the time you’ve spent pestering him about everything you could see earlier. That earns you a soft, breathy chuckle from the tall man right beside you, and another affectionate squeeze to the hit that feels far too perfect and natural to be receiving from a man you’ve only known for…maybe two hours at this point? You almost hate the way it makes your heart flutter. Almost.

However, you’re pulled out of your thoughts about Mr. Tall, Not-So-Dark, and strikingly Handsome a second later as your brother makes a thoughtful ‘Hmm…’ in front of you, thinking of any questions he had. And a second later- his face lights up. As if the idea- or question- suddenly just struck him like lightning in the night.

“What’s the river and the waterfall for?” Yuuta finally decides to ask, peering up at Mr. Gojo as he takes one hand and points at the long, windy river just a couple feet away from your group. “Is it..is it made of chocolate?”

“Good eye!” Mr. Gojo affirms, his smile growing wider. “The entire waterfall and river are made with the finest chocolate- just waiting to be made into the same chocolate you see on the shelves at your local stores. The secret here is to mix everything by waterfall. It really makes all the difference, you see.”

Instantly, Yuuta beams at the man- happy to have guessed it correctly and to find out such a cool little (or big, considering the size of the waterfall and the river) about the chocolate the two of you love so much. From this interaction alone, you wouldn’t have guessed that Mr. Gojo had a slight distaste for kids. He seems to be a natural with your brother, even within this short interaction. Maybe it’s just bratty kids that he hates…?

“And…”

Your attention is drawn away at the sound of your brother speaking up again. Though, to your surprise, the smile he once had across his face had disappeared. Instead, a more…cautious look to take its place. You felt confused. And your brother seemed deep in thought. His eyebrows were furrowed. And his lips would open and close every couple of seconds, almost as if he was struggling to find the right words to say. Like he knew he was in a position where he had to tread carefully. And you didn’t like the sound or look of that. You didn’t like it one bit.

“And..could you drink straight from the river?” Yuuta finally got out, his voice quieter than before. Your eyes widened at the implication- wondering if your brother asked because he was curious or because he already did it. The second option didn’t sound like your brother. He’s far too well-behaved in your mind. But he’s still just a kid after all. And kids make dumb mistakes all the time. But still? In a place like this? In a time like now? You felt nauseous at the thought. You couldn’t imagine this ending well. “Like… scoop out some with your…hands…?”

Immediately, Mr. Gojo’s face hardened at Yuuta’s question, even before the boy began to trail off. It’s like a dark shadow crosses over your expression, and the positive and happy feelings and energy that once surrounded the conversation have evaporated into thin air. And the hand once caressing your waist? It’s squeezing now. Holding you tight as if he needed something to release his anger. Despite this, you can’t help but be just a little thankful.

Because you know he’s stronger than this. You know he can squeeze harder than this. You held his hand before. You felt the muscles he had hidden beneath his overcoat. And you remember the expression he had on when Junpei flipped him off. You know what he’s capable of. At least, you know some of what he’s capable of. But the look on his face right now?

It tells that what’s happening now is going to be much, much worse than you thought.

“No.” Mr. Gojo grinds out finally, the word sitting heavy in the air. You shiver at the sound, but Mr. Gojo pays you no mind. Not that you wanted him to do so at this moment. You quite like still having your head. “My chocolate can never touch human hands. Not in this state. Never.” 

“Oh,” Your brother responds in a small, small voice. You look towards Yuuta, and instantly you can tell that your brother is experiencing the same mood shift that you are. Perhaps even more. Perhaps even worse as Mr. Gojo seems to fix his glare at your brother with no signs of letting up. Yuuta’s eyes are wide and fearful. His fingers twitch uselessly at his sides. But he doesn’t say anything more. No explanations. No excuses. Nothing.

But Mr. Gojo will have none of that.

“Did you reach your hand in the river, young man?” Mr. Gojo presses, his voice steely as his words feel as cold as ice. “Well? Did you or did you not?”

He had taken a step closer to your brother and leaned a little closer to his face- as if to intimidate him. The glare on his face was on full display, though it was quickly threatening to evolve into a full-fledged snarl. One that you’re sure will send you running for the hills if you actually do see it come out in this situation.

On any other occasion, you might have stood up to the man. Jabbed your finger into his chest and pushed him away from your brother. Because no one- not even extremely handsome, rich guys can get away with messing with your family. But on any other occasion, you would likely have someone like Nanami or Nobara standing not too far away, ready to offer you varying levels of support. And on any other occasion, you wouldn’t be in this position because your brother just potentially ruined just who knows how much of a businessman’s product. A businessman who had just so graciously let you into his factory to explore all that he has to offer. A businessman who looks almost too capable of killing someone with just a look alone.

But somehow, there’s a silver lining to it all.

“N-no…I didn’t,” Your brother stutters out, voice shaking like a leaf. Almost instantly, you sense the hostility disappear from Mr. Gojo’s once extremely tense and angry form. At the same time, relief sinks into your bones. You knew your brother wouldn’t do it. You knew he couldn’t. He had you scared for a minute there, but the danger you sensed toward the two of you was over. It has all passed. You’re both safe from his wrath. You’re both safe. “But…”

But someone else wasn’t. 

As Yuuta trailed off, he began to look over his shoulder- his gaze going upstream as he looked at another spot by the river. You and Mr. Gojo followed his gaze, looking and looking and looking until you spotted it. Until you saw what Yuuta was looking at. Until you saw why your brother asked the question that he did and risked all the anger getting directed at him- even if it was only for a few short moments. But as horrible and scary as those moments were, you couldn’t help but feel that it was all worth it in the end. 

Because if Yuuta hadn’t asked that question? If Yuuta didn’t bring the river up? You nor Mr. Gojo wouldn’t have seen it. You nor Mr. Gojo would have caught a view of it. Or at least, caught a view of it in enough time.

Because a couple hundred feet or so up the river, there’s a little boy- there’s Ui Ui- leaning over the river. Reaching his hands in the flowing chocolate, and scooping handful after handful of chocolate out of the flowing stream and into his mouth. Over and over and over again.

Until he takes too much. Until he reaches too far. Until he gets too greedy. Until leans a little too much, and falls right into the river with a devastating splash.

Right before your very eyes.

[st-dorothy-minority]

Fanfic writing, they say, is supposed to be for you and fun.

To that I say:

^^^^ me watching everyone else interact and create no problem and I'm stuck comparing myself to others and feeling like I embarrass myself by trying. ^^^

(seriously, I peeked at a fic's stats that I keep seeing recommended/praised and instantly got ashamed at my attempts at writing and realizing I will never get to that level. It's like the nerdy kid showing up at a party only to realize it was for popular kids only, so they back away slowly and pretend they never showed up. That's why I want to orphan/delete my works)

[mads-weasley]

Epiphany Pt. 9: Lover

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Inspo: Lover (First Dance Version): Taylor Swift

A/N: the awaited chapter is here!!! i hope y'all enjoy! this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 5k

Summary: As (y/n) and Lew explore Paris, the city itself seems to push them together, and the city of love brings them together atop the Eiffel Tower in a beautiful culmination of the past few years.

(Y/n) woke up with the sun, its gentle rays filtering through her room’s curtains, casting a warm, golden hue on everything it touched. She let out a soft, tired yawn and gracefully extended her limbs, feeling a slight twinge as the mended muscles in her side protested at the movement. The wound, though healed, still sent stabs of discomfort whenever she exerted herself or took a breath too deeply.

A sigh escaped her, and she glanced at the clock by her bedside: 8:34 AM. Then, a wide, contented smile curved her lips as the memories of the incredible night spent with Lew danced in her mind. The magical evening had brought them even closer, and the potential of the day ahead filled her with excitement.

Throwing back the covers, she carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed, her heart already beating a little faster in anticipation. Clad in her PT shirt and shorts, she tiptoed to the hallway, steps light with excitement. As (y/n) knocked on Lew’s door, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjá vu. The last time she stood there, it was with a different kind of worry; a deep-rooted concern for his well-being. But today, it was all about the anticipation of the day ahead.

Expecting to find Nix either still asleep or in the process of waking up, she was surprised when he opened the door, fully dressed and ready for the day. She raised a brow in suspicion at the unexpected sight. 

“Good morning,” he chirped, his gaze subtly trailing down her body to her bare legs before he seemed to catch himself, letting her in his room. It was almost an identical match to hers, right down to the less-than-appealing bright orange bedspread. She playfully plopped down on the mostly made-up bed. 

“Where are you headed off to? I didn’t even think you’d be up,” she remarked, curiosity lacing her words. 

Leaning against the closed door, he rolled his eyes, a light blush gracing his cheeks “Well, I have a big day planned for us, so we need to get an early start.”

(Y/n) looked at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement, her eyes narrowing. “Who are you, and what have you done with Lewis Nixon?”

He chuckled, moved closer to her and took her hand, leading her toward the door. “Go get ready and I’ll come get you in an hour.”

“What have you got planned, Lew?” She asked, a sense of anticipation building within her. Opening her door, she leaned against its frame. “Please tell me,” she begged, peeing up into his soft browns. 

“You’ll just have to wait and see, (y/n/n),” he grinned mischievously. “Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

Sighing with a fake pout, she entered her room, giving him a wary look. 

”Go on,” Lew retorted, playfully gesturing for her to shut the door. “I’m not gonna tell you…yet.” 

The twinkle in his eyes promised a day of adventure, and with the click of the door, she began running around getting ready. Excitement bubbled within her, and the thought of spending the whole day with Lew, exploring Paris, made her heart flutter. She quickly changed out of her PT gear and into her khaki service uniform, paired with a jacket. 

In what felt like no time, she was ready and stood before the small mirror, adjusting her clothes with a smile. The longer she inspected her reflection, the more her smile fell. The memories of donning flattering dresses for dances and nights out with friends tugged at her heart. 

A light knock on the door startled her from her thoughts, and she opened it to find Lew waiting outside holding a package, wearing his own khaki service uniform.

“Special delivery,” he grinned. 

As (y/n) spotted the package in Nix’s hands, confusion danced in her eyes. She had no inkling of what could be inside. She hesitated for a moment, surprised by the unexpected gesture, then took the package from him with a warm but puzzled smile.

“Is this…for me?” she asked, turning the package over in her hands.

Lewis nodded, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile. “Open it.”

With a hint of skepticism, she moved to the bed and sat down. Her fingers traced the edges of the wrapping, feeling the paper under her touch. She slowly tore it open, revealing the lavish box within. As (y/n) opened the box, her eyes widened in surprise and delight. She gently lifted its contents from the box, a soft fabric flowing through her fingers. 

It was the dress from the shop window.

The colors were beautiful, a blend of blues and greens, like that of the ocean on a clear day. It was absolutely beautiful, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

“How did you…?” she started, lost for words.

Leaning against the doorframe, he grinned. “A little bit of magic. I have my ways.”

“Oh, Lew,” she breathed, looking up at his with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “This is…wow.”

“Try it on,” Lew encouraged gently, noting her hesitation.

Her voice was full of pure joy as she hugged him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Feeling her excitement, Lew chuckled softly. It was a joy to see her so happy, and the sound of her laughter filled the room, making everything seem a little brighter. She pulled back slightly and planted a grateful kiss on his cheek. It was a soft touch that left a lingering warmth on his skin. He could feel the gentle press of her lips, a touch that seemed to linger for a moment longer.

Nix grinned down at her as she pulled away. “Go on,” he urged, nodding toward the bathroom.

She hurriedly went to change, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. Slipping out of her boxy service uniform, she carefully slid into the dress. As she stood before the mirror, clad in the dress, her breath caught in her throat. It was a sight she hadn’t seen in years, a vision of femininity that had been suppressed for years. The dress draped over her frame gracefully, the fabric gently caressing her skin. Her eyes met her reflection, and for a moment, she was taken aback. It was her, and yet, it felt like she was seeing someone else. The woman in the mirror was strong, resilient, and beautiful. The dress, with its simple yet elegant design, accentuated her features, highlighting the curves and lines of her body.

Tears welled up in her eyes, reflecting the myriad of emotions swirling within her. It had been so long since she felt like a woman; feminine, delicate, and simply herself. The war had taken so much from her, including the chance to embrace her womanhood. But in this moment, in this dress, she felt a glimpse of it once more. She took a deep breath and attempted to zip up the back of the dress. Despite her efforts, she found it surprisingly difficult to do it on her own. The zipper seemed determined to elude her, mocking her efforts. 

(Y/n) emerged from the bathroom, her steps tentative, but her face radiant with a newfound sense of confidence. Her hair was down, and her eyes shone with a captivating blend of excitement and nervousness. She stopped a few feet from him, allowing him to take her in. Nix’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but blush under his gaze. It was an unspoken compliment that made her feel more beautiful than she had in years.

Lew was momentarily struck by her beauty, a mixture of awe and adoration enveloping him. He had seen her in her uniform every day, but this was different; She looked like a vision, like a magnificent piece of art that hung in the Louvre. He stood up off the doorframe, a beaming smile gracing his face as he took in her appearance. 

“Would you mind…uh…zipping me up?” she asked, a blush tinting her cheeks. It was a simple request, but it held a significance that made her heart flutter. For Lewis, her request set his heart racing. It was an intimate act, and he nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

“Of course,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

As she turned, her back exposed, he saw how the dress delicately revealed her skin.  She brushed her hair gently to the side. (Y/n)’s skin was bare against the zipper, and Lew could feel his fingers trembling slightly with nervousness. He took a steadying breath, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

His fingertips brushed against her back as began to pull the zipper up, his touch light and cautious, yet filled with a tenderness he couldn’t contain. The sensation of her bare skin beneath his fingers sent shivers down his spine, igniting a warmth that spread through him. Lew tried to keep his focus on the zipper, on the task at hand, but he couldn’t help being acutely aware of her presence and the intimacy of the moment. 

As Nix finished zipping up her dress, he paused for a moment, taking in the sight before him. (Y/n) looked stunning, the dress accentuating her features in a way that made his breath catch. He felt a surge of pride that he had chosen something that made her smile and feel beautiful.

When she turned to face him, her cheeks dusted pink with a sheepish smile and he grinned back. “You look absolutely breathtaking,” he breathed, his voice laced with awe.

“Thank you, Lew,” she replied. “That means more to me than you know.”

Nix gently brushed a few strands of her (y/h/c) hair back from her face. His fingers were careful and tender, lightly grazing her skin, allowing her to feel their warmth. For a brief second, their eyes locked unspoken emotions passing between them like a silent conversation.

In that moment, it was as if time slowed down. She felt his touch, gentle and reassuring, and something more; a connection that stirred her. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of them.

He stepped back, breaking the gentle spell, and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?” 

(Y/n) closed the door behind her with a wide smile. “Absolutely.”

As they made their way to the lobby, she noticed the bustling atmosphere of the hotel. Guests were going about their day, the sound of chatter and laughter filling the air. There was a certain charm to it, one that she’d come to associate with the beautiful city. 

Lew held the door for her as they stepped out into the lively Parisian streets. It was a beautiful morning, the city alive despite how desolate the night before had been. The crisp air carried the faint smell of coffee and pastries, mixing with the sounds of distant street musicians and the lively chatter of the bustling city. 

“So what’s first on the agenda?” She asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.

He beamed, tucking his arm through hers as they strolled down the street. “Breakfast.”

(Y/n) chucked, feeling pure joy as they wandered through the vibrant streets, looking for the perfect café to start their adventure.

After a hearty breakfast and several cups of coffee to fuel them for the day, (y/n) and Lewis set out for the day’s adventures. Lew guided her through the cobbled streets, past charming little shops, cafés, and artistic displays. The world seemed to be at ease, the Eiffel Tower standing tall in the distance.

As they walked, he shared stories of the city, tales of its history, art, and its resilience under Nazi occupation. She listened intently, captivated by both the tales and the storyteller himself. Every once in a while, he’d move his hand to her waist to direct her through a crowd, and each time, a gentle flutter danced in her chest. 

They found themselves in Montmartre, a place seemingly frozen in time with its cobbled streets and rustic buildings. It was there that they stumbled upon a charming art gallery tucked away on a cobblestone side street. Sharing an intrigued look, they decided to step inside.

Lew’s eyes were drawn to a particular piece that captured his attention: a painting of Paris at night. The artist had beautifully blended dark blues and purples to form the backdrop of the city with twinkling lights like stars on the ground. The Eiffel Tower stood tall, a beacon of bright elegance against the dark canvas.

“Look at his,” he said, gesturing toward the work.

(Y/n) stared at the piece in wonder. “I don’t know how people are so talented.”

“Me neither.” 

As they stood before the painting, they became captivated by the way the artist had recreated the magic of Paris after dark. It was a beautiful representation of the city and echoing its vibrant nightlife. The gallery held many such treasures, each reflecting the essence of the city they had grown to love. After a few hours of perusing the artwork and exploring, Lewis led them to their next stop.

In the heart of Paris, Notre Dame Cathedral stood as a timeless testament to history and faith. (Y/n) and Lew approached the iconic structure, awestruck by its intricate details and towering spires.

They stepped into the cool, dim interior, and were greeted by the hushed whispers of other visitors. Rays of sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the worn wooden pews and mosaic floor.

“This is my mother’s favorite,” Nix spoke, his voice hushed. “She loved to come here and pray.”

(Y/n) watched his eyes slowly rise to the cross at the front of the sanctuary as he continued quietly. “She needs it being married to my father.”

Sliding his arm from hers, she wrapped her hand around his bicep, squeezing softly in a gesture that told him she was there. “We’d sometimes come here just to get away. She never told Blanche and I, but we knew.”

Their footsteps echoed through the ancient halls as they slowly walked down the aisle. (Y/n) could sense the weight of Lew’s memories as he revisited the cathedral. She was honored to be allowed into a part of his life that was incredibly personal, but also heartbroken that he had such memories.

“I’m sorry,” (y/n) said gently, her voice filled with empathy.

He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “Visiting here makes me feel close to her. I miss her more than I thought I would. Her and Blanche both.”

They reached the side chapel, its walls adorned with flickering candles and well-worn prayer benches. Lew paused, gazing at a flickering candle as if lost in thought. 

“When I visited alone, sometimes I’d light a candle for her,” he continued, his voice still soft. “I’d pray for her peace, for our family.”

(Y/n) watched the flame, feeling incredible respect for the woman who shaped him into the man he was today; the man she’d fallen in love with. She imagined the strength it must have taken for Lew’s mother to endure and protect her children. 

“Your mother sounds like an incredible woman,” she murmured.

He nodded, a distant look in his eyes. “She is. Back home, she’s the national vice-president of the AWVS.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened slightly. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

Looking down at her, he grinned, a glint of love in his eyes. “So are you,” he whispered as he gently hooked his arm around hers began leading them to the exit. 

(Y/n)’s face warmed as they stepped out into the chilly Parisian air, and Lew took a deep breath, exhaling a sense of relief. “(Y/n), thank you.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For being there.”

She gently squeezed his arm, offering a somforting smile. “Always.”

It was around noon by the time they made their way back to the main street after visiting the beautiful Luxembourg gardens. Amidst the lively street scene, (y/n) noticed a quaint bookshop, its windows decorated with book covers and handwritten signs announcing what she guessed were the latest arrivals.

She gasped softly, her eyes brightening with excitement as she pulled on Nix’s arm. “Lew, look at that bookshop! Can we go in?”

He smiled at her eagerness. “Lead the way, corporal.”

They stepped into the bookshop, and (y/n) felt a rush of warmth and nostalgia. The scent of old and new books mingled, and the soft lighting created a cozy atmosphere. Wooden shelved reached the ceiling, packed with books of varying sizes, colors, and languages. 

“This is what I imagine heaven is like,” (y/n) whispered, her eyes alight with glee.

Her eyes danced with delight as she roamed the aisles, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. Lew watched her, admiring the way her face lit up with each new discovery, her enthusiasm infectious. He might not be an avid reader, but seeing her so joyful made his heart swell. As she continued to explore the shelves, Lewis found himself pulled into her enthusiasm. He picked up a few books that seemed interesting to him, mostly based on historical events and memoirs. 

As they browsed through the shelves, they would occasionally pick out a book that caught their eye, sharing it with the other. They read aloud interesting excerpts, laughing or pondering over the words.They spent a good amount of time immersed in the shelves, exchanging stories and good conversation. Sometimes, their fingers brushed against each other, causing a blush to creep onto their faces.

Lew was engrossed in the books before him as (y/n) browsed the neighboring bookshelf. She couldn’t help but steal glances at the man she was completely in love with. His focused expression hinted at the stories and emotions the books invoked within him. Fascinated by the glint in his eye and the subtle smile gracing hi lips, (y/n) drifted closer to him. 

Lew’s deep boice pulled her from her thoughts, his words tinged with excitement. “Hey, (y/n). I think you’ll like this one,” he called, holding up a slightly worn book with a dark red cover. 

Her eyes widened in amazement as she read the title,”Roméo et Juliette.” A gasp of delight escaped her lips. “No way! And it’s in French!” she exclaimed. “I don’t speak French, but I have to have this.”

She watched as Nix smiled, the affection in his gaze not lost on her. “Mon cœur a-t-il aimé jusqu'à présent?” he began, the words rolling off his tongue beautifully. renoncez-y, vue! Car je n'ai jamais vu la vraie beauté jusqu'à cette nuit.”

Entranced by his almost perfect french, she listened intently as his gaze remained on her. The way he looked at her made her feel cherished and appreciated, as if she were the most beautiful story in this quaint bookstore.

“What does it mean?” she asked softly, her voice unsteady under his gaze.

Lew shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “It’s a quote from Romeo and Juliet, but I can’t remember which part.”

(Y/n) raised a speculative eyebrow as amusement danced in her eyes. “If you say so,” she paused, grabbing the book from his hand. “I’m gonna get this.”

Little did she know that he knew exactly what he’d said.

“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For i ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

Later That Night:

The city was awash with the golden hues of twilight, slowly surrendering to the incandescent glow of a thousand streetlights. (Y/n) and Lewis strolled arm in arm down a broad, bustling street, their breath visible in the cold evening air, drawing them closer together in search of warmth. A musician serenaded the area with the sweet melodies of his violin from a nearby street corner. The couple walked in silence. It was welcome, but (y/n) decided to break it with a question.

“So,” she began softly, the night breeze carrying her words gently into the air. “What do you think you’ll do when we finally go home?”

Lew looked down at her, the soft glow of the streetlights playing across his features. An indiscernible expression passed over his face as he carefully chose his words. “I honestly don’t know,” he replied, hiding his true desire. “I think I’m going to offer Dick a position to work for me at the Nitration Works.”

In truth, he knew exactly what he wanted to do when he got home. He wanted to marry the woman in front of him, to start a life with her, to build a future together. But those words remained unsaid, guarded in his heart as he waited for the right moment to reveal them.

Her thoughtful gaze met his, and a playful grin tugged at her lips. “What if someone else happened to be looking for a job? Someone like your best friend?

Lew chuckled, masking the way his heart jolted at the suggestion. “Ehh,” he shrugged, his expression light-hearted. “Harry’s gonna marry Kitty the second we get back, so-”

(Y/n) mockingly scoffed, releasing his arm and stepping back, feigning offense. “Shut up! You’re such a-”

But her rebuke was halted as he gently drew her back toward him, his hand resting warmly on her waist, bringing her almost flush against his chest. In that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, and a wave of shudders passed through her. 

“-Wonderful human being?” He finished, a knowing glint in his eyes and a touch of mischief in his voice. They stood close, their breaths mingling in the chilly air. “I think something can be arranged. I do know the owners, after all.”

“You wouldn’t get tired of me?” (Y/n) mumbled, feeling his warm breath on her face, the possibility both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

His eyes locked onto hers, seeing a future reflected in their depths. “Never. I’ll never get tired of you, (y/n/n).”

A tender smile crept across her lips, her heart pulsating with a mixture of excitement and affection. “Well,” she softly murmured, laying a gentle hand on his chest. “I’m glad that’s settled, then.”

“Good,” he whispered, his voice smooth as honey. ”Look up.”

(Y/n) glanced at him briefly before lifting her gaze to follow his. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Eiffel Tower before her and how it seemingly touched the clouds. 

 “Wow,” she breathed, the wonder and awe evident in her voice as she took in the sight. “It’s more beautiful than I could ever imagine.”

Lew’s eyes softened as he looked at her, a smile gracing his features. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “More than words can describe.”

Her awestruck gaze shifted to him, and he turned and held his hand out for her, the other gesturing toward the tower’s entrance. “Shall we?”

Nodding, she took his hand, intertwining their fingers softly, a heat spreading up her arm at the contact. Together, they made their way toward the entrance, anticipation in the air as they boarded the lift and ascended the tower. The iron structure offered a breathtaking view of Paris, like a million stars scattered across the earth. The Seine River glimmered below, winding its way through the heart of the city.

Reaching the topmost platform, they exited the lift and icy wind hit their faces. (Y/n) instinctively turned into Lew, and he wrapped an arm around her waist carefully, pulling her into his side. They made their way to the railing and leaned against it, taking in the panorama before them. At the top of the tower, amidst the twinkling lights of Paris, the air was charged with expectation, and the city below them a dreamy canvas where romance seemed to linger in every corner.

“It’s like a sea of lights,” (y/n) marveled, her voice tinged with wonder.

Lew nodded, captivated by her. “It never gets old.”

They stood there holding the other close, lost in the beauty of the scene. The night seemed to stretch endlessly, time freezing as they reveled in the magic of the moment. After a while, Lew looked down at her in his arms, his gaze soft. 

“You know,” he began, voice gentle. “Today has been one of the best days I’ve ever had.”

She smiled, the moment washing over her like a warm embrace. “Me too, Lewis. There’s no place I’d rather be.”

This was it.

Lew hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before turning to face her and taking her hand in his. “(Y/n), you’re the most important person in my life.”

When you got hit,” he continued, his voice strained but steady as he cleared his throat. “I realized that I can’t live without you. When you were gone, I-” His voice trailed off, a lump forming in his throat as he grappled with the memories of that moment.

(Y/n) stood in front of him, her breath held and heart thundering in her chest. The gravity of his words sank in, and she searched his eyes, finding a vulnerability she’d glimpsed only once before: the moment she lay bleeding out before him as he begged her to stay awake. She couldn’t bear to hear more and her heart urged her to act. So, before he could continue, a surge of courage and longing flowed through her. She slid her hand to the nape of his neck and pulled him down toward her slowly. Lew then tugged her tightly against him, her body fitting perfectly into his embrace. The warmth of her presence, the scent of her hair, and the beating of her heart against his chest fueled the intensity of the moment.

As their lips met, it was an electric collision of emotions. Passion surged through their veins, a fierce and tender connection that ignited a fire within them. Her lips were soft and yielding as Lew fervently deepened the kiss, fueled by years of unvoiced affection. He slid his hand up her waist, feeling the curve of her body. His fingers gently cupped her jaw, tilting her head for a deeper connection. 

(Y/n) responded in kind, her arms wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer. Her hand slid into his hair, fingers intertwining with the soft strands. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her touch, matching the tempo of her own. 

As they reluctantly pulled away, their breathless pants mingled in the cold night air creating a visible mist. Their lips tingled, the echoes of the kiss lingering. Nix could feel his heart racing, an adrenaline-fueled excitement that made him momentarily forget the cold. He smiled, his cheeks flushed with a mix of cold air and warmth from their embrace. 

“Wow.” he managed to say, breathless and amazed.

(Y/n) laughed, a delightful sound that filled the space around them. “Yeah, wow,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with joy and love. 

They stood there, caught in a bubble of euphoria, their laughter ringing in the Parisian night. The world below seemed to carry on, but for that moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped up in the magic of the Eiffel Tower. 

Lewis brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle and affectionate. “I’ve wanted to do that for years, you know. You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. 

Blushing, (y/n)’s smile widened. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for years,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns on his coat.

“What?” He asked in disbelief. “I didn’t know that!”

She shrugged. “Well, for an intelligence officer, you can be clueless.”

Smirking, he brought her close once more, their foreheads touching. “I love you. More than anything,” he whispered. His hand, warm and gentle, cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing circles as if to memorize every contour.

(Y/n) smiled, a radiant expression that illuminated the darkness around them. “I love you, too,” she responded, her voice tender, as if afraid this might still be a dream.

The years of unspoken feelings, the shared laughter, the late-night conversations…they had all led to this moment. The Eiffel Tower, with all its history and romantic lore, bore witness to the birth of their love story.

Their lips met again, softer this time, a gentle affirmation of their confessions. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and futures. Nix let his hand fall from her cheek to her waist, pulling her close in a tender embrace.

(Y/n) rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was a comforting rhythm, a reminder that they had crossed the line they’d been wanting for the longest time.

“I never want this moment to end,” Lew whispered, his voice a tender murmur.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with love and a tinge of sadness. “Me neither. I wish we could always be this close.”

He nodded, a sense of completeness settling in his heart. The view of Paris below them was still breathtaking, but it paled in comparison to their love, which encompassed their world, lighting it in a dazzling haze. 

(Y/n) gasped suddenly, the sound echoing in the cold air and joltingLew from his thoughts. He looked at her, concern furrowing his brow. “What?” He asked, eyes widening with a mix of surprise and worry.

“Is this why Dick gave us the passes?” She asked, amusement filling her voice.

Nix’s laughter joined the chorus of the Parisian night, a hearty sound that seemed to reverberate through the beams of the tower itself. He found himself shrugging, an innocent look on his face. “Maybe,” he admitted, mischief floating in his eyes.

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[mads-nixon]

Epiphany Pt. 12: You're On Your Own, Kid

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Title inspo - you're on your own, kid: taylor swift

A/N: this is my first post on my hbo war side-blog! yay! this chapter is the calm before the storm, y'all. this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: Ill-equipped and poorly supplied, (y/n) and the rest of Easy do their best to survive in the frozen Ardennes Forest of Bastogne.

Warnings: description of injury, very soft lew

December 20, 1944: Ardennes Forest, Belgium

The forest lay under a heavy blanket of snow, the silence only broken by the occasional gust of icy wind, quiet conversations, and the all-to-familiar whistling of incoming shells. (Y/n) sat on the edge of her foxhole, her breath visible in the cold air as she gazed out at the German line. Through the veil of swirling snow, she couldn’t make out their silhouettes, but she knew they were there. It was a landscape of paradoxes: serene yet charged, beautiful yet deadly. 

With her gaze still fixed in the white haze, she felt a surge of frustration and anger rise in her. It was fueled by the knowledge that the Krauts had the supplies that they desperately needed. It was a cruel twist of fate that Easy was hungry, cold, and struggling, while the enemy, albeit just across the way, had the sustenance and warmth they lacked. They had a few missed supply drops to thank for that.

The air was frigid, cutting through layers of clothing and seeping into her very bones. (Y/n) hugged herself, arms wrapping tightly around her body in a futile attempt to capture a semblance of warmth. Her gloved fingers, numbed by the cold, clutched at the fabric of her uniform, seeking refuge in the familiar touch.

“(Y/n), remind me to never complain about the heat again,” Skip jested through chattering teeth, a weak smile attempting to mask his discomfort. 

“Yeah, this makes those Georgia summers seem downright pleasant,” Don added with a forced chuckle, the words barely leaving his blue-tinted lips.

Skip waved a hand in front of (y/n)’s distant gaze, breaking her trance and pulling her back to reality. “Earth to (y/n). You with us?”

Shaking from her thoughts, she turned towards the group, forcing a chapped smile. “Yeah,” she muttered, pushing herself up from where she sat in the foxhole, trying to get blood circulating in her numbed limbs. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t get lost out there,” Malarkey called out, his voice tinged with concern as she swung her rifle onto her shoulder. 

“A walk in a winter wonderland,” Skip chimed in, his grin mischievous as he wiggled his eyebrows. “Is that code for, ‘going to see your favorite captain’ by any chance?”

A playful scoff escaped her lips in a huff. “Shut up, Muck. I can’t feel my toes, so I’m going for a walk to fix that.”

Malarkey shrugged, feigning innocence. “Yeah, sure. Have fun on your walk.”

The woman shook her head fondly at her friends as she slowly walked away from the foxhole. Her limbs didn’t want to work correctly, so she found herself doing a pitiful half-limp around the forest as she attempted to get some blood flowing to her feet. 

Despite her and Nix’s efforts to be discreet, the Toccoa men who had watched them from the beginning couldn’t be fooled. While nothing was openly acknowledged, there was a shared understanding that something was going on between the couple. Only Harry and Dick knew for certain, and only because they grilled Lew when he returned from Paris.

Maybe she would pay her favorite Captain a visit.

“Hey, Cripple!” someone called out. Groaning, (y/n) turned to face the voice, ready to retort when the very ground beneath her seemed to tremble and shudder violently. An explosion erupted from behind her, a deafening roar as the shockwave threw her off balance, sending her to the ground in a heap. 

She curled into a protective ball, her hands instinctively shielding her head as the world was swallowed by chaos. The relentless barrage of mortars painted the sky, their descent announced by menacing whistles. The once serene forest became a frenzied battleground, trees splintering and snow erupting into wild flurries. 

Amidst the disarray, a call pierced through the mayhem. “(Y/l/n)! Over here!”

Scrambling to her feet, her heart raced with adrenaline and drowned out the pounding explosions. She didn’t spare a moment to see who called, her focus solely on getting to cover. (Y/n) snatched up her rifle from the snow-covered ground and sprinted towards the direction of the voice, her heavy breaths misting in the frigid air.

As she ran, her foot caught a fallen tree branch and she was sent tumbling into the freezing embrace of the forest floor, awkwardly landing on her arm. Pain flared in her wrist as she fought to get to her feet, panicking at being exposed without cover. Then, like a savior, a hand extended towards her and hauled her into a nearby foxhole. 

Joe Liebgott’s face appeared in front of her, and his eyes reflected the same fear and helplessness that she felt. She let go of her rifle, allowing it to rest in the snow as she clamped her hands over her ears, desperate to drown out the deafening noise that assaulted her senses. (Y/n) clenched her eyes closed, seeing refuge in the darkness as Joe pulled her tightly into his body, shielding her from the relentless barrage. The concussive blasts continued, each one sending shockwaves through the ground and dirt, snow, and ice raining down on them. She held on, feeling the frantic rise and fall of Joe’s chest against her, praying that it would all stop soon.

Seconds, minutes, hours, (y/n) didn’t know how much time had passed when the earth-shattering blasts ceased. A few gentle pats on her helmet were the only indication it was over. Slowly, she released her grip on her ears, the painful ringing subsiding to the backdrop of her ragged breaths as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You alright?” Joe asked, his concerned gaze scanning her for injuries.

(Y/n) nodded, wincing as she flexed her wrist, attempting to brush off the debris clinging to her skin. “I’m okay.”

His eyes narrowed, shifting from her face to her arm and then back again. “You sure?”

“I just landed on it weird,” she replied, clenching her teeth against the searing pain that radiated up her arm with every movement.

“Let me get Doc, (y/n),” he offered, about to get up, but her good arm shot up and pulled him back down.

Sitting up, she carefully retrieved her rifle and climbed out of the foxhole, cradling her aching wrist to her chest. “I’m fine, Joe. Thank you, but I need to check on my foxhole.”

“Alright, be careful,” he called after her as she made her way back toward her foxhole, her chest tight with anxiety. As the shock and adrenaline from the bombardment began to fade, the reality of (y/n)’s situation settled in: her wrist was not just a minor discomfort. What had initially felt like a sharp jab upon impact turned into a persistent, gnawing pain radiating from her wrist and traveling up her arm like tendrils of fire.

Each movement she made, whether to clutch her rifle or steady herself against the uneven ground, sent surges of pain shooting through her hand and forearm. With each passing second, the pain seemed to intensify, becoming an unrelenting companion in the desolate frozen landscape. Her fingers, once nimble and deft in handling her rifle, now felt like lead, unresponsive and clumsy. The smallest tasks, like brushing off the clinging snow or gripping her canteen, became monumental efforts, each movement a harsh reminder of the shelling. A simple flex of her wrist, something that she took for granted in the past, was now an act that set off sharp jolts of pain. (Y/n) found herself trying to ignore the pain, focusing on the task at hand, but the throbbing in her arm seemed to pulse in sync with her heartbeat, making it impossible to overlook. She knew she should probably see Roe about it, but she heard he didn’t have much to work with. So, she made the choice not to burden their already diminished supplies on what was likely just a sprain.

After a while, she found herself approaching the spot she’d left Malarkey and Skip, scanning the area for signs of life. The once-snow-draped ground was now a maze of impact craters and debris. As she reached the foxhole, her heart swelled with relief seeing Skip and Don huddled inside, still in one piece. 

“Hey,” she called out, her voice cutting through the eerie calm. Relief washed over her as they looked up, their faces lighting up at the sight of her.

“(Y/n/n)!” Don exclaimed, a hand clutching his chest dramatically. “We were worried!”

Muck tossed his helmet towards her, a hint of concern on his face. The helmet collided with her wrist, causing her to stifle a cry. “Take a look at this crap, (y/n). They peppered my helmet!”

Gently cradling her wrist, she examined the shot-up helmet in her lap, a half smile playing on her lips. “Good thing you weren’t wearing it, Skip. Was everyone okay over here? I ended up in Lieb’s foxhole.”

“Wasted my dagum coffee,” Smokey lamented from the foxhole ahead of theirs. “It was a whole helmet-full, too.”

A chuckle bubbled from her lips as she watched him setting his contraption back up. “I’m sorry, Smoke. Next time, you should tell the krauts to wait until you’ve had your coffee to shell the crap out of us.”

“You know, I might just do that,” Smokey mused, staring out at the German line with a faraway look. “We need a break.”

“Oh, (y/n),” Don interjected, fishing for something in his pockets. “Do you have any morphine in your aid kit from Holland? Doc’s looking for some.”

“Mine got used up when I got hit,” she replied, her mind drifting back to that night outside Arnhem. “That feels like so long ago now.”

Skip, ever the calculating one, counted on his fingers thoughtfully. “It’s only been what, three months?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, staring into the forest as she contemplated the whirlwind of events since that time. Between getting shot, going to the hospital, then Paris with Lew, and now Bastogne, a lot happened in those three months.

Their conversation carried on, but (y/n) was lost in her thoughts. Her life had changed drastically in this span of time, the most significant development being her newfound relationship with Lewis. A mere week and a half had passed since Paris, yet it felt like a lifetime. Memories of the quaint cafes and charming streets danced in her mind, a reminder of what they were fighting for…a return to a life untouched by the horrors of war.

A crunch of snow behind her snapped her back to the present. She grabbed her rifle, swiftly turning, a surge of pain shooting up her arm. A grimace contorted her face as she eased the strain, her aim dropping as she recognized Lip.

“(Y/n), Winters wants to see you,” he relayed, crouching beside her.

“We’ll catch up later, alright?” Don patted her shoulder gently, a worried look in his gaze as he looked down at her wrist.

“Duty calls, boys. See ya later.”

She pushed herself off the snow with her good hand and started following Lip toward Captain Winter’s tent. As they walked, she saw the destruction the various shellings had left in their wake. Trees were downed everywhere, feet-long splinters littered the snow, and there was the occasional red stain of blood on the white ground.

“Can you believe it’s just a few days till Christmas?” Lip’s voice broke the silence, filled with nostalgia and yearning.

She nodded, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? I remember my last Christmas home so vividly…and now, here we are two years later.”

He glanced at her, a fond smile on his face, despite the flicker of sorrow in his eyes. “My wife, JoAnne, makes the best gingerbread cookies on the planet, and I can just see her in the kitchen, working her tail off to make them for our family Christmas party.”

(Y/n)’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “What I wouldn’t give for some gingerbread cookies,” she sighed. “It’s just…well, being away from family at this time, it’s tough. But at least we have each other, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding ahead of him. “Here we are.”

“Thanks for walking with me, Lip,” (y/n) grinned, approaching the foxhole.

“You’re welcome,” Carwood grinned. “And (y/n), get that wrist checked out.”

Her mouth slightly agape, she looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“I’m not as clueless as the others. Get it looked at.” His eyes held a genuine concern.

Nodding at him, she walked up to the hole where Dick was crouched, writing a letter. “Captain Winters, sir?”

He looked up from his letter, and an uncharacteristic smirk formed on his face when he recognized her. “(Y/n). Nix wanted to speak with you.”

A flush colored her cheeks as she stood there. “Oh, alright. Where is he?”

Winters nodded to the hole ahead of him. “I’m right here, so please don't try any-”

A blanket was thrown off the adjacent foxhole and Nixon popped out, his dark hair a mess atop his head. “Gosh, Dick, we’re not gonna do anything,” he hissed, rolling his eyes.

Embarrassment coursed through (y/n) at the implication, and she brought a hand to her face, wishing she could disappear. “Yes sir,” she stammered, her voice slightly uneasy as she walked over to Lewis. 

“Are you crazy?” she asked, casting anxious glances around the forest.

Nix shrugged and pointed to Winters. “We’re fine. Dick’s gonna keep a lookout…right Dick?”

“I’m going to be writing my letter,” Winters replied, not looking up. “And I’m not seeing this.”

“Thanks, pal,” Lew called, extending a hand to help (y/n) into the hole.

“Alright,” she muttered, unable to keep a nervous smile from playing on her lips a the thought of some time with him. She started to take his hand with her hurt one, but quickly switched hands, letting the other painfully dangle at her side. He gave her a questioning look as she took his hand, but (y/n) just shook her head, dismissing his concern. To her surprise, he seemed to let it go. 

Nix’s foxhole was a decent size, and (y/n) carefully tried to settle against his side without showing her injury. He pulled the blanket over the top of the hole, insulating the space and giving them a sliver of privacy. Looking around, she spotted an empty pack of Lucky Strikes and his silver flask in the dirt beside her.

“I really like what you did with the place,” she grinned, kicking the empty box with her foot.

Lew chuckled, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her close, placing a soft kiss in her hair. “Yeah. Interior decorating was always Blanche’s thing.”

His warmth seeped through her frozen uniform, and she sighed contentedly, resting her head on her shoulder as she closed her eyes. The throbbing pain in her hand seemed to slightly fade in his comforting presence. 

“How are things on the line? We still get artillery back here, but it’s not as bad as up there,” he asked quietly, leaning his head atop hers.

“It’s not good, Lew,” she mumbled into his neck. “We’re running low on everything, and the krauts seem to have an endless stream of artillery. It’s like they’re not even affected by the cold or anything. We’re just holding our ground and doing what we can.”

He tightened his grip around her, attempting to offer some comfort. “But you’re holding up okay?”

A half-hearted smile tugged at her lips, tinged with sadness. “We’re surviving, but it’s getting harder every day. The men are tired, Lew. We’re all tired. We’re all hungry. We’re all cold.”

“I know, doll,” he sighed. “Sink and General McAuliffe stopped by earlier, and they didn’t have any good news. Last night, I took a walk on the line at about 0300 and I couldn’t find the 501st on our right flank. I had to pull in 2nd platoon to fill the gap, but the General seemed like he couldn't care less.”

(Y/n) groaned. “His relentless optimism kills me. At least Sink is realistic.”

“‘Hold the line and close the gaps’, was all he said. And that 1st battalion just pulled out of Foy with krauts on their tail…so there’s a bunch of crap coming our way.”

“Of course there is,” she grumbled, bringing her knees up to her chest.

Lew’s thoughts became consumed by worry for (y/n) and what was going to be thrown her way. He gently traced circles on her back, trying to find the right words. “I can’t help but be worried about you, (y/n/n). Knowing you’re out there every time I hear a shelling, it’s…it’s tough.”

She sat up and turned to face him, her eyes reflecting the same fear. “I know, Lew. I’m scared, too. But I’m doing what I can to take care of myself and the guys. We watch out for each other.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his voice. “It’s just hard being here, not able to do much, not even being able to be with you when you’re out there facing the worst of it.”

“You’re doing more than you think,” she said, gently touching his arm. “This helps me so much.”

Lew brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, his cold fingers gentle on her warm cheek. “Promise me you’ll be careful,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t take any extra risks…please.”

(Y/n) looked into his eyes, finding a sea of emotion. “I promise,” she replied, her voice equally soft.

Nix leaned in, slowly closing the distance between them, his eyes flickering to her lips before meeting her gaze once more. Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss as Lew cupped her cheek. Time seemed to slow down as they kissed, a sense of calm washing over them. As they pulled away, their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths mingling in the chilly air. 

“Have you been able to keep warm at all?” Lew asked softly, his fingers tracing over her gloved hand gently. 

(Y/n) nodded, trying to keep her discomfort at bay. “As warm as one can be out here.”

Lew noticed her wincing slightly and, concerned, his hand unintentionally brushed against her injured wrist. She gasped, tears brimming her eyes as pain shot through her arm.

His eyes widened, fear coursing through him as he quickly retracted his hand “(Y/n)? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

(Y/n) leaned her head back against the hard wall of dirt behind her with a thud. “I tripped during the shelling earlier and landed on it wrong,” she whispered, voice trembling as she cradled her wrist.

“(Y/n),” Lew sighed, his heart aching at her pain. “Have you seen Doc?”

She shook her head, tears welling up. “No, not yet.”

He reached for her hand slowly. “Let me see it, sweetheart. I’ll be careful.”

She hesitantly extended her gloved hand to him, a single tear leaking down her rosy cheek. “You’re okay,” he cooed, holding her forearm with one hand while the other carefully slid the glove off. 

“Shit,” Lew muttered, his brows furrowing at the sight of her wrist. “This is bad, (y/n).”

His concern deepened as he saw the extent of the injury. He had expected it to be sore, maybe a minor sprain, but what he saw made his heart clench with worry and anger. Her once delicate wrist was now swollen to nearly twice its usual size, the skin on her palm and wrist discolored in ominous hues of deep purple and angry black. 

“(Y/n/n),” he said gently, his voice soothing to her distress. “We need to get you to Doc. This could be broken.”

The tears finally fell from her eyes in a mixture of pain and frustration. “I know,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “But the medics are already low on supplies, and they need that for others that are worse off.”

Lew cupped her cheek tenderly, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Just because someone may be worse, doesn’t mean you can’t be looked after, too. Let me take care of you, please.”

(Y/n)’s expression softened, touched by his sincerity. “Okay,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

He held her wrist gently, a tenderness in his eyes that melted her worries, even if just for a moment. He brushed a feather-light kiss on her injured wrist, a silent promise that he’d take care of her. Nix helped her slide the glove back on, ensuring it offered some support for her wrist. He then threw off the blanket and helped her to her feet, his arm securely around her for support. She wasn’t going to let her injury hold her back, but she knew she needed to get it checked before it got any worse.

Winter’s eyes widened at the pair’s dramatic exit from the foxhole. “You alright, (y/l/n)?” he asked, eyes furrowed in confusion.

“She hurt her wrist,” Lew replied, glancing at Dick who nodded in response. “We’re finding Roe.”

They found Gene in his foxhole, staring off into the forest, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Hey Gene,” Nix called, catching the man off guard. He jumped slightly, turning around like a deer in headlights.

He sighed seeing who it was. “Captain Nixon, what can I do for ya, sir?”

“(Y/n) here took a tumble during the shelling. Her wrist is pretty banged up.”

Roe nodded, motioning for her to sit down on the edge of the foxhole. “Let’s have a look, chérie.

She did as told, taking a deep breath to brace herself for any pain. The cajun carefully peeled off the glove from her injured hand, revealing the purple and black bruises. The medic furrowed his brows at the sight, his experienced eyes evaluating the damage. He lightly prodded along the wrist, feeling for any unusual shifts in the bones beneath. 

“I’m worried there might be a hairline fracture here,” he explained, his voice carrying a tinge of concern. “But I can’t confirm it without a proper x-ray, and we don’t have any equipment like that back in Bastogne.”

(Y/n) nodded, bracing herself for what she knew was coming. “So, what can we do?”

Roe began to secure her wrist carefully with a makeshift splint, wrapping it snugly to provide some stability and reduce the risk of further damage. “Right now, we’ll immobilize it as best as we can. I’ll wrap it up, and you need to keep it still as much as possible. Ice will help with the swelling.”

Smirking at the situation, (y/n) couldn’t resist a touch of humor. “Well, at least we’ve got an abundance of ice around,” she quipped, waving her good hand at the frozen forest surrounding them. “Nature’s icebox, right?”

Lew chuckled at her attempt to lighten the mood. “The best ice supply in Bastogne,” he replied, playing along. 

As Gene finished the wrapping, she flexed her fingers slightly, testing the newfound stability. The pain had dulled a bit, and it was a relief, albeit a temporary one. They thanked Roe and went on their way.

“I’ve got to go back to the boys,” she said, peering up at him as they walked. 

Lew nodded. “Take it easy, alright? Your arm can’t heal if you keep using it.”

“Yes, sir, Doctor Nixon,” she grinned, fake saluting him with a playful twinkle in her eyes.

They made their way to her foxhole, and Lew resisted the urge to give her a kiss, aware of the many eyes watching. Instead, he gently patted her helmet, a gesture that he’d decided was his new favorite because it sent the front of it down past her eyes.

“Malarkey,” Nix called out, waving his over. “Don’t let this one overdo it. Roe said she needs to take it easy.”

Though he was confused, Don nodded. “Yes, sir.”

With a subtle wink, Lew turned and left for his own foxhole. 

“What happened to you?” Skip asked, eyeing her wrapped wrist as he appeared next to Don. “Did the Captain take care of you?”

(Y/n) laughed under her breath, watching Lew’s figure disappear into the white haze of the forest. “I’m alright.”

Malarkey’s eyes widened as he turned to Muck. “She’s not denying it, Skip!”

“I knew it!” Skip exclaimed triumphantly, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin. She began to walk away when Don gasped suddenly. 

“We have to tell you about Hinkle!”

Tag List: @softguarnere @mrsgeorgeluz @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @merriell-allesandro-shelton @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt @stvrkdream @multifandomfanfic @starlordsatellite @blvestxr @iceman-kazansky @bucky32557038ww2

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag!

[rabbidbunwy]

Could you make a "Sonic x Deaf Reader"? I'm deaf and would be happy to see Sonic interacting with a deaf reader (they're in a relationship) (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Sonic with a deaf reader headcannon

Contents: Sonic x Anon!Deaf! reader-couple-lovers

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

P.s: [edit] tthis is my first time writing for a deaf reader so i hope i did good and i'm sorry i didn't wrote much (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

P.s.s: if u want more with other characters let me know

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia @satorkive @ponderingmoonlight @galaxylover46

Sonic and his deaf lover share a unique bond. They communicate through sign language and text messages, sometimes finding creative ways to express themselves.

Despite the communication barriers, they cherish each other's company, enjoying adventures together and creating their own non-verbal language filled with unique signs and signals that only they understand.

Their relationship thrives on patience, understanding, and a deep connection that runs deeper than words. Sonic is always willing to go the extra mile to ensure his lover feels included and loved, making their relationship a true celebration of love beyond spoken language.

Sonic and his deaf lover sit together on a rooftop overlooking the city. Sonic signs to them, laughing at a joke he had just communicated. He takes their hand gently as he signed "The view is beautiful, isn't it? But I think you're the most beautiful thing here."

Moments later Sonic wraps them in his arms, pulling them closer to his chest. He signs to them again, his hands moving swiftly yet tenderly. "I'm so glad we found each other. You make my life complete. I'll always cherish these moments we share."

They continue to sit together in silence, watching the city lights dance across the night sky. Their connection doesn't need words; they communicate through the language of love, understanding, and trust. In each other's arms, they find a world of their own, a world where love transcends boundaries and spoken words.

[lullaebies]

Genderbent helaegon au where Aegon decides she will do her best to make do with her situation and tries to seduce her brother who is just kinda oblivious but thinks she’s cute and wants to chat

it's been a while since I got this ask but I did really like it and I'm glad I got to it: disclaimer, it ended up with Aerea just being really horny on main, but I think it turned out cute overall! hope you'll enjoy. For people who encounter this in the wild, this is genderbent Helaena (named Rhaegal) and Aegon II (named Aerea). —

Aerea’s mind is a hellscape as of late.

It always is, to some degree. With her mind slipping away to the taboos easily, it is also rather easy to say she is rotten. She minds those who say it not; what would some maidservants know of the tastes of a princess? Nefarious is what they are, not she. She hardly ever did more than what any courageous prince or princess of her blood ever dared to do, and she thinks her thoughts could only be similar to theirs.

But then the thoughts that truly plagued her as of recent come up again. Not all princes have the same thoughts as hers, certainly. Not all princesses, either, as Aemma had a stick up her arse and not quite for joy, and Daella is a child still too innocent to understand her likes and wants to begin with, but those two aside, it is her brother, yes, her dear younger brother who is a problem.

He’s a husband of hers, too, of course; had been for the better of two years. She hasn’t regarded him as such most often, given that he had been three and fucking ten when she has been given to him as if he could protect her to any degree. He hadn’t even lost his cheek fat, by then, and in her mind, she was given to him to be his nursemaid rather than his bride.

Back then, she is sure his mind wouldn’t have conjured anything beyond what is expected of him; he was younger and smaller than her and she was rather sure he was scared of her. But the gods have forsaken her, now. Now he is bigger than her, the height of men who run the councils of the state, walking more assured in his skin and in tow, much less susceptible to be intimidated by her words. He still has a rather flighty mind, she supposes, but it makes him no less handsome, either.

While she had been before sure about some things, his thoughts were never quite clear to her. He could stare at her prolonged at times, but it would be no different than how he would look in his odd collection of beetles, bees, or scorpions. Gods, he keeps scorpions for a pastime. Perhaps his thoughts are more sinister than she gives him credit for, but it is first and foremost all too sinister that she finds herself wanting to know what they consist.

Aerea breathes in. Perhaps she has been neglecting needs of her own to reach this embarrassing state of mind, but he has been growing more pleasing on the eyes and she could and have done with less. He is pliant enough that he listens to her whims more than often, in either case. She wed a little brother, yes, but that taboo has long been crushed even by the Faith itself. These cunts at court couldn’t call her a promiscuous minx if she indulged in him. He’s her husband.

She can make some due in this arrangement now, she thinks. But her thoughts often twist and coil to her pleasure and this time is no different. Hubris of hers or nay, she also has belief she can make him sputter like a spouse rather than a child. She has before, in any case, and frequenting such endeavor would be easy enough to do. Then they’ll both make due of their duty, no? Wouldn’t it be delicious, to feast upon what she was promised in their vows.

Hmph, she might as well try, she thinks.

She finds him in the little section of his garden, among the strawberry patches that he planted himself. He has been working on it for a good while now. Aerea never minded dirt, but she did think it is rather ridiculous he does more work in the gardens than the gardeners do.

With his forearm uncovered and sleeves bunched up above his elbow, she can turn a blind eye to the hobbies that weren’t of his station, though.

Rhaegal always had sensitive hearing; when she comes closer he turns to her instinctively. He’s sensitive in most things, now that she thinks of it. Setting him off is so easy with a squeeze on the thigh; even just a touch at his neck is enough to make the hairs of his nape stand up. Aerea inhales some as he catches her gaze.

This fucking treacherous body. She’d rather swallow broken glass off of the road rather than seem that desperate.

“Aerea?” He rises for her. She smiles at that, inching closer by his side, looking absentmindedly at the strawberry plant that has grown. Seems like some are ripe. He hesitates to bring his hands closer with the soil gathered on them. “Is all okay?”

She pouts at him. He asks these things so sincerely when he’s unsure, softened voice to boot. Still, she doesn’t like it he finds her presence worrying. She wants him comfortable until the comfort is so much his voice turns gravelly underneath her. She takes his dirty hand, pressing a thumb against his own one to play. “Am I not allowed in my husband’s garden?”

Rhaegal raises an eyebrow at her, but it softens quickly enough. “Of course you are allowed,” he answers quickly, redeeming himself. “But did you want something in particular?” I can get it for you,  is left unsaid, but she still hears it. His fingers fidget against hers subconsciously. She could’ve smooshed her whole body against her arm and he wouldn’t have known.

Subtlety is not her favorite road, but she does enjoy feeling him redden under her grip and gaze. Lovely; ripe.

“The strawberries are good now?” she asks him, instead. She already had her sweetened apples this morning, and now her head is all can of worms, aware of his skin in a manner unignorable. But she’ll let the realization dawn on him slowly, and make him redden as his own berries did. “Can I take one?”

He smiles at that brightly. “Yes! They turned out very well for the season, wait, I saw one that turned out particularly nice…” he bends on his knee to find it. Aerea hums and watches as he finds it and plucks it by its stem. His movements are often so careful, but when they are not, it feels good they are for her.

He rises back up with it and hands it over by the stem, careful to not dirty her food. It didn’t matter; she wasn’t hungry for the damn berry as it is. But she takes it, and brings it her mouth; it could do with a wash, but it didn’t matter that much.

“Is it good?” he asks, with crinkling eyes. Aerea smiles while she nibbles on a small bite of it. He watches so patiently.

“Mhm,” she hums back, and brings what left of the strawberry and brings it to his mouth. “Try it, too.”

Rhaegal eyes widen, but he nods promptly, feeding from her hand. She can’t quite help it; she brings her other hand to his cheek. He can kiss her here, between the bushes. Take her even, she just needs to lift up her skirts. She comes a bit closer, then. “Is it good?”

The stem plops out of his mouth, and he hums at her, seemingly enjoying the touch of her hand on his cheek. He leans into it delightfully; maybe he wants her hand in his hair? She comes closer, wanting to bridge the gap. So close…

But then she notices a ladybug trailing down the hand that fed him.

She shrieks back and tries to wave it off. Rhaegal seems all to taken aback until the ladybug buzzes off from her. She grows entirely red and embarrassed; stupid, dull, dot of a bug!

Rhaegal laughs though attempting to restrain himself, and she gives him a frown. She feels a fool; she wanted him as if he is down with a spell for her, and here he is laughing! She folds her arms together, looking down. Rhaegal still chuckles when he closes the distance between them again.

He kisses the top of her forehead, lips stamping on that smile of his, and she is somehow reminded that she is in his realm here, where he is all captivating. “Sorry,” he apologises, not sorry at all. “For that, and for the dirt.”

She huffs. He could’ve made her filthy and she wouldn’t have cared.

“I should bathe,” he finally says, looking down at his hands. “But I’m glad you came over.”

And she knows it true, and something in those words does make her stomach flutter, but still. Gods, how can he be so thickheaded, sometimes. She holds onto his forearm. “I believe that so do I.”

[freshfromhell]

Y'all remember that cassette tape Billy Hargrove stole in chapter 8?

[dominimoonbeam]

Do I have a million projects to work on right now?

Yes.

Did I just write a Morgan/Porter exes fic that absolutely no one ever asked for?

...You know I did.

[hawkeyeandblackwidow]

Who needs therapy when you have the scene of Clint Barton whispering Natasha Romanoff’s name in Avengers (2012).