#more fics pls lol

[reizeken]

a collection of lebron and steph flirting full on, since ITS MY TIME, LEBRON/STEPH SHIPPERS STAND UP

THEY'RE IN LOVEEEEEEE lol

[roxiusagi]

✨Cultivate: Slow Life on a Monster-Infested Mountain✨ by @neonghostcat - fan covers in the design style of seven seas danmei publishing ✿

sooo.. I know it would be more appropriate to post these once the fic is fully finished BUT i got too excited and was waiting too long already to post these hdjfhk and today is cultivate anniversary so appropriate excuse to post lets go!!! anyway theres only one chapter left to go so ppl who have been waiting to read it until its done the time is NOW! hahha

anyway fun fact this was originally going to be just 3 parter. but. at this point cultivate has surpassed svsss in word count if i am not mistaken......so ive decided that adding one more volume would be appropriate lol

oh well and here are the pieces by themselves

also... just to clarify im obviously in no way shape of form comparing myself to the quality of actual seven seas cover artist lmaoo hdjshf i hope thats obvious that this was just fun gimmick passion project

[animatedmess]

My favourite ship: 27,153 works on Ao3, honestly probably more

My second favourite ship that’s also a rarepair: like… 10 where they are actually together.

[hayaku14]

the new kaishin merch goes crazy

[snzydarling]

Trial And Error

fandom- totk  characters- link, Purah, Sidon, Zelda  relationship- zelda/link cw- sneezing, kink content, mess notes- hi!!! I'm locked in!! So hard!!! This might be my magnum opus. I forgot to include it I think but his ears are twitching just as much as his nose in this because I think it's cute LOL hope u all enjoy it!!! the puffshroom allergy is inspired by @sf-akahana 's fic !!! its literally never left my brain

Link's never seen anything like a Puff shroom. Probably something dredged up by the upheaval, they're long and vase-shaped, and as Link quickly finds out, incredibly itchy. 

He's somewhere in central Hyrule, fighting off a minor monster camp at the request of a stable hand, when he feels something land at his feet.  His first instinct is to shield himself from some explosion, gasping, but that proves useless as he gets a lung full of something and is sent coughing, stumbling around Uselessly In the cloud of smoke. His nose is on fire, twitching desperately with need of release, but there's no time. He has to get out of there. 

Link runs until he can finally see, breath held against every spasm of his lungs. Once he's out, he can't breathe for another reason, though, nose aflame and flaring. He's sent reeling with a rapid set Off inhales, barely avoiding choking on his irritated lungs as he sneezes and sneezes. 

“ hiA’tSHh- t'CHh-  e’TCHh-ieww! hI'H-TSCHh-! hiD'TCH’yu! t’CHh- eT’tChh-t'CSHh- e'TCHhi-ieww!” he stumbles forward, still off balance, every breath of air he manages to choke is stolen from him in an instant. He needs to breathe, so he pinches his nose between the fingers of his unchanged hand and prays to Hylia for something as he takes in another whining inhale. 

“hD'NGK'T-! e’nDT- n'GKT! heiH'TSH-n’GKT! hiH-hiA'TCHh-iewh!!” he finally gets some respite, wheezing into the damp grass beneath him. But he's not done. His nose tickles with such need, and his eyes are streaming, and a mess is running down his face. Scrubbing his nose against the rough fabric of his sleeves sets off another reaction, making his Entire face itch with A desperation he's never felt before as he pitches forward. 

“ ‘iISHHihh-yU! hI’ySCHHh-e’TCHhih-yu!   hiAh’CHHTt-ieW!” Link whines, his breath coming still in pitchy gasps. His nose isn't even satisfied, still aflame, prickling deep within his swollen sinus. He's never sneezed like this before. He tries to swallow it down, tongue pressed to the top of his mouth as he stands. He doesn't dare to dust himself off. 

The trek back to Lookout Landing is slow going. Every time He can't resist the urge to scrub His nose against something, he's left pinching his flaring nostrils, trying to hold off any kind of reaction. By the time he finally drags himself to the landing, the sun has changed positions in the sky, and Purah's staring down at him with an unreadable look in her eyes. 

“Jeez, what happened to you?” She clicks her tongue, studying his itch-flushed face, and dares a poke at the skin above his sinus’. It sends every feeling he'd been trying to repress back to the forefront, and there's Nothing he can do but stumble away from Purah as he twitches and twitches from his nose to his ears as he gasps, teetering over the edge, before yet another fit tears itself out of him. 

“ y'DSCHh-! eHD’TZzHhih-iewh! hyIHT'DZzsH-yuu! hyI-” There's a hand on his shoulder supporting him, too large to be Purah's, and when he finally manages to look up, there's a soldier giving him a worried frown. He can't hear what anyone's saying, too muffled beneath his pitchy inhales as a whine escapes from his throat. Vaguely, He thinks he registers something about ‘washing off’ and ‘Hylia, bless you!’ ashes sent into more Rapid sneezes. 

He tries to gesture vaguely at himself as he catches his breath, but it's interrupted as he's thrown forward with a “hIHt'CHHhi-!” that scrapes his throat and leaves him coughing and wheezing into his elbow. The cover is pulled from him, and Purah tells him he's going to “smother himself, silly man.” And his entire system is shocked as he's suddenly doused in cold water. 

The short-circuiting is enough to let him get an actual bearing of their surroundings, and he looks up through swollen lids to see Purah worrying her bottom lip at him, the same soldier holding an empty bucket. He grins Sheepishly at Link. “Sorry, it's the only thing we could think of. You were having a pretty bad allergy attack.” Allergy?  He knew what they were, of course, but Link had never been allergic to anything. He tries to get Such across, with a shake of his head that sends water droplets flying from his hair. 

Purah sighs. “Well, obviously you do now.” She begins, poking him in the forehead and graciously avoiding his nose. “There are a lot of new things around. Do you know what it was?” So link pantomimes a mushroom and then an explosion, the crude gestures sending Purah giggling a bit into her hand. “Sounds like a puff shroom.” The soldier states, now handing him a towel, Link's not sure of the source. He doesn't ask, too exhausted and still-itchy to do much of anything besides dry himself off. 

“A puff shroom, huh?” Purah muses to herself. “Looks like you'd do well to avoid them, chosen knight.” 

 _ _ _ _ _ _ 

Resting for A moment in some unnamed forest near Hateno village, Link decides to experiment. 

He's a resourceful person, whether through training or by nature, and he's smart enough to understand the benefit of puff shrooms might have in battle. He has 3, stuffed as far back in his inventory as he can manage, and he buries his face in his hood as he takes them out. The sight of the white spores floating in the air makes his nose twitch. 

He takes out an arrow, sniffing as the itch starts to build at the tip of his nose. It's not his first time attaching something to an arrow like this, but he's not sure how much puff shroom's exposure his nose can take. He has to test it. 

So he stands, taking his bow and aliGning the arrow in its ridges, a subconscious motion. His nose is starting to tickle so much, though, and he scrubs it on his shoulder before assuming a proper stance, staring Down A tree across from the clearing he's in. 

inhale- he draws himself tightly, taking a check of every part of his body. He draws his booting tight. He tries to ignore the glittering white powder on his hands, just inches away from his nose. hold- with everything taught with anticipation, he aims. Closes one eye and aligns the bow until the tip of his arrow is staring at the center of the tree. His nose is starting to burn, urgent and needy. He tries to ignore it until his lungs start to demand more air, taking in hitchy breaths. And release- the arrow whirls by his ear, but he can't see if it met its mark because He pitches forward just a moment after. 

“y'DSCHh-! eH’TZzHhi-! hyIHT'shHi-yuu!” he manages to peel his eyes open for just a millisecond, trying to observe how well the puff shroom envelopes everything, but the sight of the spores just ignites the itch again, and suddenly he's sneezing impossibly more. 

“h'EISHHh- eTCHh'iew! hyH’tTCHHhi-!” he can feel his Nose drip onto his upper lip, he realizes mutedly, but there's nothing he can do about it yet, because everything just tickles so much that he's got no choice but to scrub at his face, failing to realize his hands are covered in the mushrooms Spores. He's hopeless to his own body as he gasps, head thrown back like a wild animal, every part of his face wet and on fire with Need.

 He's smart enough to keep his hands away froM his face now, but it leaves him sneezing down his own front, misting his clothes and the grass beneath his feet. Something finally, mercifully gives, and he can finally breathe, Chest heaving with the effort. He needs to sit down, but not before scrubbing His hands raw in a nearby Pond. 

He lays in the grass, head still spinning, watching His horse stare at him with judgmental eyes. He paws at his nose, the faint tickle still residing up in the tip of his nose, sending him into a rapid flurry of small, breathy sneezes. 

It might be for the best if he doesn't use them in battle, after all. Maybe his horse will eat mushrooms. 

_ _ _ _ _ _

It's months before the allergen presents itself again, so Link's entirely unprepared when it does. 

That's not the only reason, though. He's come to expect it in battle and at the trunks of trees, but being face-to-face with a puff shroom in the middle of Zoras's Domain is unprecedented. 

It's literally face-to-face, too, Because Sidon’s hands are eye level To link, and he's holding one of those mushrooms in his clawed Grasp As he chitters on eagerly. 

“Link!! How lovely to see you, old friend! I was just discussing with one of our dear warriors about you!! Impeccable timing, as always, friend! Rivan apprehended this from a bokoblin this morning and thought it might- oh dear, are you alright?” For all of Sidon's ability to talk anyone's ear off, his perceptiveness deserves credit, as Link wrinkles his nose and gives his head a rough shake that he hopes communicates something. 

Sidon softens anyway. “You look A bit unwell, dear friend. Have you considered getting some rest at the inn? I must say, the water beds are truly…” As he talks, he presses a cool hand into Link's shoulder. If he squints, he can see the white spores against the bright red of the king's skin. Unfortunately for him, the movement jostles the mushroom just slightly, and spores float up directly into Link's face. 

He can't help but gasp as the tickle Ignites, prompting even more concern and even more movement from Sidon, kneeling and talking incomprehensibly to link, whose sole focus is the tickle that's ignited Itself across his nostrils, leaving him in a staccato hitch as he desperately tries to pull away from Sidon's stubborn grasp. 

“hIHH! hih-hAh-” “dear me! Have I made you cry, dear friend?! Do not worry, link, I will-""hiAh’CHHTiew-! hiD'TCH’yu!!” unable to move quickly enough, he sneezes into the open air, beads of mist joining the dampness of the air. Sidon releases him suddenly, leaving him to stumble back for a moment. 

Can Zora even sneeze? The thought only grasps him for a moment as he throws his head back, the itch not muffled but somehow worsened by the release. He takes in a quick gasp, then another, and another, but nothing's enough to send him over the edge, even as the tickle burns to the tips of his nostrils, his mouth gaping wide and flashing long canines to the world.  He opens a watery eye, taking in Sidon's concerned frown for just a second before something about the light or just the sight of that hylia-forsaken mushroom finally breaks the dam. 

He gasps, taking in impossibly more air, before pitching forward entirely uncovered. “h'EISHHh- eTCHh'iew-!hI'H-” Suddenly, remembering some vague sense of decorum left over from years of knighthood, he buries himself into his elbow. “tCHh-eTChh’yu! hIH'h-  snf!” He gives another wild shake of his head, feeling something adjacent to cleared out, until He's faced with a sudden dampness on his upper lip. 

Shame overtakes his relief, and he can't help the redness on his cheeks as Sidon peers down at him with a half-curious, half-concerned look in his eyes. Link gestures to the mushroom, forgotten in his Hand amid the whole event, and hopes that's enough to connect the dots, because if Sidon doesn't know what's wrong with somebody, he'll pester until he does something he thinks will help. 

In this case, it does. Sidon breaks his stupor after just a second of staring, whirling into motion with a simultaneous wide step-back and handkerchief pressed into Link's hands, which are hovering dumbly in the air. Despite Link's clear embarrassment, or maybe as a result of it, Sidon grins down even wider than usual. 

“Goddess bless you, dear friend!! I've never seen you sneeze quite like that. I apologize for not knowing about your allergy, a true friend should know about that kind of thing!” Link waves off his apologies as he gives an embarrassingly productive blow into the gifted handkerchief. The material is fancy, soft, and tickly enough to warrant a quick “tI’shiew!” into its folds. It's such a contrast from his issue treatment of his nose, as he's so used to just scrubbing it against whatever sleeve he has on, absentmindedly. The difference from the usual rough fabric to this simple display of royalty is enough to send a pang of hurt into his heart somewhere, but he mentally shakes it off. 

Without his knowledge, Sidon has started pushing him towards the baths, babbling Something about ‘washing everything off’, disregarding the fact that he's the one that had the puff shroom, though he's not sure where it ended up now. Sidon's absent-mindedness is so familiar that it stings, a strange habit today, but Link allows himself the rare privilege in getting lost in it, Finding himself suddenly exhausted with the day's events. 

If he doesn't come back to himself until hours later, waking up in the nicest bed in the inn, he doesn't question it too much. 

_ _ _ _ _ _

Puff shrooms and really anything to do with fighting are pushed far back in Link's mind for the moment. 

It's such unknown territory that he's not sure what to do with himself. Ganon was defeated, and after long and painstaking months of rehabilitation, they've finally found some peace back in Hateno. 

It's a good thing, too. While the house itself is sturdy, over a year of disuse left every surface covered in nearly an inch of dust that took them hours to clean, and left both of them a little sneezy. But now, the house was starting to feel lived in again. 

There was the lingering scent of dinner in the air, and sunlight lit a patch of the wooden flooring up like gold. Link found himself in bed, limbs tangled up lazily with Zelda's as he stared absentmindedly, tracing the grain of the wooden floor. His face lay against her cool neck, forehead set against its crook, and he could feel one of her hands working itself through his tangles of hair, brushing out the knotted bits between her fingers. Ever since he had gotten her back, they stayed impossibly close, like 3 months of staying together like puzzle pieces could make up for almost a year of separation. 

When Zelda breaks the Warm silence, he can feel her voice vibrate against her throat. “I went to visit Sidon the other day,” she pauses, probably waiting for a response to verify that he's awake. He gives it in a soft hum. “He told me a story about a little mushroom making you sneeze.” She punctuates the sentence with little giggles, only increasing in intensity as he flushes a bit with embarrassment. 

She presses a gentle kiss to his nose, and he scrunches it in response. It conveys the annoyance because she giggles again. “No, it's cute. I didn't know you were allergic to anything. I want to see.” That makes him look up at her, wide-eyed with surprise. She smiles even wider. “For science, of course. Would you do that for me?” She asks so gently. He doesn't tell her that he'd give her the world if she asked; he doesn't even need to. 

_ _ _ _ _ _

When Zelda managed to acquire a puff shroom, it was so long after the initial conversation that Link had completely forgotten about it. 

She comes home one day from some fancy meeting link that wasn't invited To- not that he particularly wanted to go, anyways, with an extra pep in her step that leaves Him making a questioning noise when she walks in the door. 

She smirks at him. “Oh, it's nothing. Just something for later.” She winks at him, giggling, and runs upstairs to their shared Bedroom. Links will as a knight is possibly the only thing keeping his curiosity at bay, but he also knows that if he doesn't prod, she’ll usually spill eventually. 

Eventually turns out to be a couple of hours later, when they're both lounging out against a tree, full and happy from dinner. Link is half asleep when Zelda jumps out, rushes inside, and runs back out, grinning with her hands clasped behind her back. 

“I can finally fulfill our little promise.” She teases, placing her hands into her lap, palm open, revealing a small, grey mushroom. The sight of it alone makes his nose start to itch, and he scrunches up his face to quell it. That's all the time it takes for her to get even closer to him, staring at him with a silent ask. “Do you trust me?” And “with my life.” It is such a common song-and-dance for them that she doesn't even need words. 

The already-blooming itch spells certain disaster, but Link can't ever say no to Zelda, so he nods anyway. She pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket, setting it into his lap. “You'll need this, I think.” She teases with a gentle peck to his nose, already starting to twitch. 

It takes her a minute to decide how to go about this, evident by the Way she gently worries her lip. Eventually, she takes the puff shroom in both hands and holds it up to his face. She locks eyes with him, anticipation and eagerness and a little bit of something he can place in them, and bites her lip when he leans forward, sniffing in deep. 

The effects are imminent. He gasps, throwing his head back, nose on fire from tip to nostril. it prickles deep into his sinus’, so intense that he doesn't know what to do besides hitch and hitch, until he takes in a whiny breath and throws himself forward until he meets a solid weight. 

“hiAh’CHHT-! hI’TSCHhih-t’CHh-eH’TCHhh’yu-!!hIT- … hiH - hA'DTCHh! hH'kNGT'yu-! hI'H-” he realizes with desperation that he just cannot stop. Every breath he manages to suck in Is immediately pulled away from him, and they've done nothing to quell the itch. He's curled into himself, trying to hide such a shameful and weak display. But they keep coming, and he's barely able to think.

“hD'NGk't-! hIAH-” His body is short-circuited when a kiss is pressed against His lips, unbothered by the mess clinging to his cupid's bow. “Don't hold them in.” The lips mutter against him, leaving him hopeless in his body again as it finally catches up. It can't be so simple, though, never for him, and he's left gasping, staring up at the sky through allergic tears in a standstill. 

It tickles so bad ,though, and he's so desperate. A whine escapes him, high-pitched and begging for some kind of relief as everything in his nose feels like it's on fire. His mouth is gaping open in a pathetic display, chest stuttering with every needy gasp. 

Zelda. The thought comes to him like light at the end of the tunnel, and suddenly he's gasping for her, begging for help, and he can hear her Soft laugh somewhere underneath his own raspy, uneven breaths. Then there's a finger tracing the outside of his nose ever so gently, and he barely feels the touch before the tickle is ignited impossibly more, and he gasps impossibly deeper. 

“ah’EITCHh-E’SCHh’yu-!! hI'ySCHHh! hA'DTCHh-ieww!! oh-hiIDTCH-tSCHhi'ieww! hi-hiIH- 

..hiDt’tSCHh'yu!” Even his nose is getting exhausted, the fit leaving him panting and his face uncomfortably damp. He tries to scrub the remnants of the itch away, but it triggers a quick, little “hits-sSHh’iew!” That he doesn't quite cover in time, so he's forced to look at the little droplets of mist left in the air as he sniffles wetly.

“May Hylia bless you, love.” Zelda’s voice startles him- in his allergic desperation, he'd completely forgotten he was there, and the realization makes his head spin. He curls back in on himself, shame coiling up in his gut, swallowing hard. it makes A little click! Sound, muddled by the congestion in his throat. 

A pair of hands, impossibly gentle, bring his face back up to the light. Every self-deprecating Thought is brought to a screeching halt as she kisses him again, hands holding him in place as he tries to pull away. He doesn't have any good way of articulating that he's gross, so he just makes a raspy-sounding whine against her lips. She pulls away, then, giving one last peck to his bottom lip. 

She moves one hand to the handkerchief long forgotten in his lap, using the other to cup his face as she cleans him up. His nose is so sensitive that the too-gentle touch leaves his nose tickling away, and he paws at Zelda's hand as he hitches, feeling his nose twitch and twitch, but she holds firm, handkerchief pressed to his nose, and there's nothing he can do when she rubs his nose again.

“hiD'sHhu - hI'DtsHh! d'shH-yu! hiD'tShh! hiH-! hiDtT-!” They're ticklish and entirely unsatisfied, not nearly enough to quell the last bit of the itch prickling deep in his nose. He holds his breath, fighting every need to take in more pitchy gasps, waiting for something. And Zelda, tried and true, manages to understand. There's that underside of a nail again, tracing down the crooked bridge of his nose, and everything comes Alive with such intensity that he's helpless to it.

“hiD’TSCHHh'yu-! eH’TCHhh’yu! e’TCHh-ieww! oh-” He pants with relief, but Zelda removes the damp handkerchief from his nose, and he's just filled with shame. A knight should never be so weak, so disgusting, never in front of his princess. Her father would probably banish him to the depths for a display like that. 

But Zelda doesn't mind, somehow. Instead, she cups his face again, brushes the irritated tears from his cheeks, and massages the irritated skin under his eyes. “Bless you,” she mutters, so impossibly tender. “I think that did the trick.” And she smiles against his lips. 

Once the adrenaline well and truly wears off, he's exhausted. His head started to ache, and he was sure he pulled something in his back from being thrown forward so much. Zelda guides him forward, into the house and bed, setting him down with a kiss to the top of his head and a promise to return in a moment. 

Link took the time to truly blow his nose, and the satisfaction of it outweighed the embarrassment at how loud it was. Sniffling again sent a “dsch'u!” tumbling out of him, his nose is still abnormally sensitive. Within a minute his eyes are drooping close, but he's startled awake When his hands are guided to a steaming cup. 

“Warm milk,” Zelda explains, sitting down next to him with her cup. “Are you feeling better? Your eyes are all red.” There's something deeper in her tone, so he looks over at her, where she's frowning down at her untouched drink. “I'm sorry for making you sneeze so much. I didn't know you were so allergic.” He shakes his head and tilts his Head in a dog-like way that makes her giggle. “Yes, I did enjoy it.” She admitted, leaning into him. 

“I've never seen you sneeze like that before,” she continues, pressing her lips to Adam's apple. “It was so cute.” He feels her mouth curve into a smile against her throat. The feeling is ticklish, and it makes him cough. Once he surfaces from his shoulder, he takes a long drink of the milk and hums mostly to test his voice. He's surprised to find it mostly intact, if a bit congested. Link kisses her back, long and gently, on her lips. He has to pull back far too soon, though, unable to breathe through his nose enough not to suffocate. 

Another soft fit escapes him- “d'tcHh-! hi’dtshh'yu!” lazily covered by his wrist. Eyes drooping, he feels more than hears the “bless you” from Zelda from where she's nestled against his neck.

[mitskikissme]

My very rushed love letter to @rowdyknives fanfic what it means to love her. hes such a talented writer no jokeee

[jupiteronline]

pas de deux. (mel king/frank langdon)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64880116/chapters/167124523

Frank Langdon is a senior soloist at Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre desperate to be promoted to principal dancer, the highest rank in the company. After a back injury forces him to abandon his biggest role to date, ballet master Michael “Robby” Robinavitch gives him an ultimatum: start taking care of his health, or risk his chances of promotion.

ch 2/?

[ponk-fonk]

When I started writing harmonising to your sound I was really into book/musical gelphie but I've been thinking about movie gelphie a lot more and I've been drawing them in moments from the fic :)

[kaz2y5baby]

I'm going back into my Top Gun obsession phase. I was kinda hesitant on reading Top Gun fics but...Ajajaisjdh

I NEED Maverick x Iceman fic recs so badly

I just rewatched the 1st one and like omg Maverick had so much more chemistry with Iceman than Charlie lol

[weskie]

To Make Your Heart Sing (Albert Wesker x ftm!Reader)

3556 words, fluff, hurt/comfort, s.t.a.r.s. wesker, ftm!reader, top surgery mention, coming out, main character injury, soft wesker, established relationship | Fic Directory

some truths are simply hard to tell. still, they must be told

You tried your best to keep things under wraps.  

RCPD’s human resources department knew of your ‘condition,’ but the file that landed on Captain Wesker’s desk a year and a half ago mentioned nothing of it.  You were just, well, you.  And that’s all you needed to be.  You were hired and the rest was history.

Or it was supposed to be.  Instead, you found yourself getting into the best of trouble.  Make no mistake, Captain Wesker intimidated you to no end.  Suppose that’s why the first time you turned a corner and the both of you knocked into each other left you a stuttering mess while you tried desperately to help him pick up the stack of paper he’d been holding.  The other officers who had been in the adjacent break room had the luxury of watching with bated breath to see him chew you a new one for such a careless mistake.

But he didn’t. 

The next was when you’d overcooked your food in the microwave, leading to a loud, wet pop and spaghetti sauce all over the insides of the machine. To your embarrassment, your captain was beside the coffee pot, brow arched just above the rim of his sunglasses as you sputtered and chuckled your apologies for both the mess and the noise.

You could’ve sworn he smiled.

Then there was that day you’d been running late.  You called the precinct from your clunky Nokia, begging for forgiveness from your captain.  As a peace offering, you offered to bring him coffee from a local shop, stating that it was “so much better than the liquid tar in the break room.”  His silence had scared you half to death, but his acceptance carried the strangest hint of amusement.  Black with two sugars, he’d told you.  When you’d finally arrived and delivered it, he took it directly from you, fingers brushing yours and making your cheeks light up.

That was the first time you’d ever seen more than a miniscule smirk on his face.  

Not to mention that time you’d pulled overtime and, upon entering to deliver yet another report, you’d found Wesker with his head resting atop his folded arms on the desk.  To this very day, you still had no idea what came over you to retrieve your S.T.A.R.S. jacket from your desk and drape it over his back.  You’d returned the next day to find it neatly folded atop your desk with a sticky note that simply said ‘Thank you.’

When the day came that he cornered you in the break room, black coffee with two sugars in hand from another one of your late mornings, you felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“I want to take you on a date.” 

Your eyes practically fell out of your head and your cheeks went up in flames.  You were stunned.  Captain Wesker was into men?  Not only that, but he was into you? You didn’t know what to say, what to do– anything.  You must have sat there blinking with your mouth agape for minutes before he’d finally just hummed, snagged a napkin and wrote his number down for you.

“If you find it agreeable, call this number later.  We can… work out the details then.”  

Looking back on it, he seemed just as nervous in that moment as you felt.  Not that you could blame him.  You figured he must have observed you for a long time to gauge if you’d be receptive to advances from another man, but the risk was still high– rejection, risk of harassment accusations… all sorts of bad outcomes must have been weighing on his mind.  But, that night, you called him.  Awkward as it had been, you both settled on a restaurant an hour outside of the city to reduce the chances of you two being seen by the others from the station, and the rest?  Well, it had progressed slow and steady, but your secret relationship with Captain Wesker, now simply Albert to you when appropriate, had entered its third month.

Which is why you’d grown nervous.

You didn’t know how to tell him.  At some point, things would progress beyond warm kisses and tender touches.  At some point your… anatomy was going to matter.  You wish you would’ve told him before all of this began and saved yourself the potential heartache of losing what had been the sweetest, gentlest relationship you’d ever had.  You worried yourself sick about it, always careful never to wear tank tops or shirts bright or thin enough that the tone of your chest scars could show through.  Your testosterone shots were easy enough to hide, thankfully.

Albert had been nothing less than a pure gentleman throughout it all, never once pushing your boundaries or showing impatience when you’d shy away from things.  Even the night you’d both fallen asleep on your bed consisted of little more than a hand resting atop the small of your back and your face nuzzled against the comforting rise and fall of his chest.

But, try as you might to hide it, Wesker had picked up on your anxieties.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?”  

Your heart fell through the floor the night he’d asked that.  You swore up and down over and over again that it was nothing he’d done and that you were just dealing with something that you didn’t know how to put into words.  He accepted your answer without question, pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and continued reading the file he'd brought home from work.

Your mind always turned to thoughts of how you were going to tell him, distracting you at the worst times.  Which, of course, put you in a situation where you had no choice in how the truth would come out.

The bulletproof vest had saved your life– for the most part, that is.  Gunmen in a hostage situation had released a young girl, sending her out to run toward the blockade.  She was to be a message, clearly, because they fired at her as soon as she got close.

You bolted out to cover her, mind devoid of sense the very moment you saw one of the men emerge from the building.

You took two to the chest with the first simply lodging into the center of your vest.  The other managed to pierce, embedding in your right pectoral.  You’d laid between squad cars and the steps to the bank for god knows how long, shaking fingers applying as much pressure to your wound as you could muster while the sun beat down on you without mercy.  The next thing you knew, you were being thrown into an ambulance and given the good stuff, and you woke up after who knows how long in a hospital bed.

Your first visitors were Rebecca and Jill.  You’d grown closer with them than most of the others– save for Wesker, of course.

“How are you feeling?”

You simply answer Jill with a lopsided smile and a hum, tipping your head back against the pillow.  “Mm, yup.”

“I don’t think the pain meds have worn off yet,” Rebecca giggles from across the room where she inspects the whiteboard covered with hastily scribbled patient information.

“Lucky him.  Should let Captain Wesker know he’s at least feeling good when we go back.  He’s…”  Jill turns to you with a sweet smile, clearly pondering her words.  “Distraught is a… is a word for how he is right now..”

That, of course, breaks your heart.  He was there when it happened.  Albert saw you go down.  Silly you, covering the girl they’d released…

Your eyelids grow heavier as time goes by, eventually slipping shut while you bask in their company.  When they open again, you’ve got two nurses at your bedside.  Even in your dazed state, you can put two and two together.  Just a change of bandages…

“Hi, sweetheart!” Chirps the woman closest to you while she peels away tape and gauze.  “You bled through so we’re just cleaning you up, okay?”

You simply nod and stare up at the ceiling.  It doesn’t hurt, thankfully, and the only thing you feel is cold air on your chest.  Part of you shudders.  Medical settings could be… complicated with your unique condition.  But you try not to anticipate the worst.

Oh how wrong you are.

“You can come in,” says the other nurse.  “Just replacing his bandages.  We’ll be out in a few.”

The hum in response yanks you from whatever blissful stupor the pain meds had lulled you into and you shoot up in the bed, shocking the nurse tending your wound.

“Careful, baby! You’ll tear your stitches–”

You barely hear her, nor do you feel her hands attempting to coax you back to the bed.  You go down, but not before locking eyes with your one and only.

Fuck…

They’ve got the top of your gown off and there’s no way–

You swallow thickly as your throat closes with a wave of shame.  You shut your eyes to hide the tears gathering within them, listening intently as Wesker’s nearly silent footsteps come to a halt on the other side of your bed.  He sees you.  There’s no way he doesn’t.  He’ll have questions.  Fuck, maybe he’ll just know outright.  Wesker’s a smart man…

You should’ve told him.

You keep your eyes screwed shut for what feels like eternity, even after the door clicks and the nurses leave you to each other’s company.  Neither of you says a word and it’s nearly pure silence until you hear the drag of a chair.  You just about jump out of your skin when his fingertips graze your knuckles, but they don’t retreat.  Instead, he takes your hand in his, lifts it, and presses kiss after kiss to it.

Your eyes crack open, vision bleary from tears and clearing as they spill.  You find him looking at you with furrowed brows and some painful combination of worry and relief written across his face.  His glasses are hooked on his shirt, showing you icy blues with a touch of red in the surrounding scleras. 

“How do you feel?”  His voice is as calm as ever, but, for once, his expression betrays him.

“Like I got shot,” you rasp.  You crack the tiniest smile despite the swirling dread and anxiety filling you to the brim.  You observe him for a minute, looking for something, anything to confirm your fears.

You find nothing.

“Indeed,” he hums, lips twitching at the corners.  “I’m glad you’re in good spirits despite the tears.”

You give a weepy chuckle that turns to tight sobs.  You feel so helpless and pathetic.  You’d almost died and now your little secret had been put on wide display for him.  Part of you figures this is just the universe’s way of telling you to get on with it.  Just finally rip the bandaid off.

You suddenly start to rise from your flat position.  Wesker watches you for signs of discomfort, taking his finger off the bed controls only once you were upright and–

Oh fuck– no, no, no!

They hadn’t buttoned your gown earlier.  The front section falls forward and you scramble to push it back up, holding it in place as you clench your eyes shut and bite your tongue.  His hand leaves yours and your stomach drops, ice shooting through your veins. For a minute, you think he’s leaving, but then–

Snap.  Snap.  Snap.

Your eyes widen, gaze falling to the hands working to pinch together the little buttons that run along the seam at your shoulder.  Wesker leans across you just slightly to repeat the process on the other side.  His scent fills your lungs and you can’t help but take a deep, greedy breath, chin quivering all the while. 

“Would you like to stay with me while you recover?”  He asks softly, taking his seat once more.  “Or would you prefer if I stayed with you instead?”

It’s so earnest that you could scream.  Part of you wonders if he’s just avoiding the elephant in the room.

“I imagine the comfort of your own home would lend itself better to your recovery,” he continues, taking your hand in his once more. “But I am not averse to either choice.”

“Al, you don’t have to–”

“You’ll need the help.”  He says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.  “I assume you’ve had restrictions like this before.”

That cold feeling runs through your body again. He’s not avoiding it.   

“Yeah…”  

And he’s completely right.  You will need help.  You doubt your restrictions will be as tight as those you had after top surgery, but you did take a bullet to the chest.  Two, technically…

“I want you to think about it.”  Wesker checks his watch as he speaks, rising from his chair with a small huffed breath.  “My break is nearly over, but I’ll try to come by again before visitation hours end.  You should rest some more.”

You let your head fall back against the pillow once again, eyes fixed on him as he pushes the chair back to its original spot.  Wesker approaches your bedside again, hand raising to rest against the side panel controls.

“Up or down?”  He asks, voice soft.

“Mm, somewhere in between please.”  

Your eyes lock with his as you descend.  That same tenderness still dances in his gaze– the kind he saves for you and you alone.  Despite the tendrils of anxiety tugging at your mind, you find such an act soothes you to the core.  Wesker breaks eye contact for a split second to glance behind himself, ever the private man he is, and he leans over you.  His lips press to your forehead first, warm and soft, and his right hand rises to your cheek to thumb at the curve.  He holds that position for a moment, breaking it only to press another to your lips.

“Hm,” he hums, breaking away to glance at the monitor.  He chuckles softly.  “Your heart rate just jumped.”

Oh god, you think it yourself.  You can practically feel your cheeks go up in flames, but you giggle nonetheless at his cheeky little observation.  “Well, you know… handsome blonde guys named Albert do that to me.”

He leaves with a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, much to your satisfaction.

They keep you at the hospital for another full day just to be safe.  Wesker spent his lunch break with you again, during which he reminded you that he would absolutely be aiding you while you’re under physical restrictions– you need only pick the place.  He’d been positive your own home would be better, so that’s what you opted for.  

Much to your joy, you weren’t excessively limited.  No heavy lifting, no strenuous activity– all the usuals.  You were to have two full weeks off before returning to simple desk duty.  Wesker picked you up, duffel bag of his necessities already packed in the back seat of his car, and brought you home.  Things were stellar until you realized he wanted to do just about every little thing for you, convinced you would cause yourself further harm.  Cooking was out of the question, so he made you meals that you could’ve sworn belonged in a gourmet restaurant rather than your little apartment. And laundry?  Forget about it.  You practically had to wrestle a handful of socks and towels from him so that you could feel less like a deadbeat.  Wound care, though… that was where things got tricky.  Wesker insisted that he be the one to change your bandages, and he did so twice a day, which was more often than was even recommended.

“I said I would take care of you.  What kind of partner would I be if I let you walk around in old bandages, hm?” 

It had been hard to let him do it.  Despite knowing full well he had a clear view of your chest in the hospital, you were still apprehensive to let him see it again.  No questions had been raised in regard to the origin of your scars, but that was somehow worse.  For a time, you figured he chalked it up to some sort of wound obtained in the field, but the day came where his hands wandered and a fingertip trailed the line running beneath your left pectoral.

“I…” You try, swallowing thickly to quell your nerves.

“Tell me about them.” Wesker breathes, finger still running along the ridge, pausing over the parts that weren’t quite perfect.

The worst part of everything?  You know full well you could just walk away and he’d leave it.  Al never pries; he always respects your boundaries.  'No' has always been a complete sentence to him, something you’ve appreciated endlessly in your time together with him.  But, all the same, wasn’t it time you gave an inch?  The man so endlessly patient and sweet to you, despite how he presents himself to the rest of the world, deserved the truth.

So you spill.

“I’m transgender…”  You murmur, words tight in your throat as you stare down to your socked feet.  From there, the rest falls free.  Every little detail.  Childhood woes, adulthood struggles– how happy you were the day you got your very first shot of testosterone and how you felt like you had a new lease on life itself when you woke up from your chest surgery all those years ago.  A tear or two escapes you as you tell your tale, but they’re not the bad kind.  No… they come from something else entirely.  A joy you could never put to words, a cresting wave of pride that you’ve come so far and lived so well despite every bump in the road, a sense of self that felt like wings upon your back…  With every story, you find yourself meeting his gaze more often until you’re looking right into those icy blues.

If Albert is dissatisfied with your revelation, he doesn’t show it.  Instead, he stands before you and listens intently to every word.  Without his glasses, you can see his eyes soften at certain parts, but it's the way his hand doesn’t quite leave from where he’d touched your scar before that keeps you hopeful throughout the entire ordeal.

“And I– I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I just…” You exhale hard, eyes dropping with the weaning of that miracle burst of confidence.  “Telling people is… difficult.”

“Did you think I would react badly?”

You didn’t expect such a question, let alone for it to be asked so gently.  “I… yes and no.”  You chew the inside of your cheek as you ponder the way to best explain it to him.  “Not everyone is kind about it.  I didn’t think– it wasn’t that I thought you’d be mean about it, I just… I didn’t want you to feel like I was lying to you…”

Wesker’s eyes flit to the side for a brief second.  “I understand.  Though I fail to see how you would’ve lied.”

At that, you let out a breathy little laugh, eyes closing as you shake your head.  “So you’re okay with it?”  You ask finally, hand rising to rest over his that still lingered at your chest.  The anxiety returns and you worry the side of your lower lip between your canines.

“I am,” Wesker hums, offering you perhaps the softest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen grace his face.  His free hand reaches for the one that hangs loose by your side, holding it tenderly as he leans forward.  At first you think he’s going for a kiss, which you happily prepare for, but he presses his forehead to yours.  You allow your eyes to flutter shut, same as him.  “I’m afraid you’ve stolen my heart, my dear.” He pauses for a moment, brushing his nose against yours. “You are who you are.  I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

At that, there’s simply no helping the way you throw yourself at him, arms wrapping around him as tight as you can without agitating your wound.  He returns your embrace immediately, palms stroking up and down the length of your back, perfectly warm against your skin.  

There’s one last thing to tell him.  Something that’s been in your heart for a while now.  He deserves every truth from you, and you’re all too happy to give it to the man who assigns you heaps of reports at work and makes your heart sing at home.

“I love you.”  You murmur against his collar, smiling big and wide at how his arms tighten around you.  “I really, really love you.”

“Good,” he hums.  Wesker rests his chin atop your head, swaying slightly as if to music that wasn’t there.  “Because I really, really love you, too.”

You giggle at his mimicry, but, in truth, you’re overflowing with joy.  It’s as if the sun itself has risen in your chest to hear those words, but that is simply the effect Wesker has on you.

What bliss to know you warm his heart the same.

[dunderella]

barnaclive AU commission for crispy from the firestorm discord!!!!

shinryu!barnabas showing his favor for his squire 18!clive... 😳💐

edit: kaede has started posting the fic that this comm was for! go read it!!!

[chasedeys]

in a totally not sleazy way: heyyyyy

can i offer you some 23rookies/mike polycule mess real quick:

Mike snuffles the way he does, a crinkle of nose and shuffle of beard-covered chin that makes Chase go a little moon-eyed sometimes, endeared and charmed in spite of himself.

“So I gotta ask,” Mike starts, slurping his melted ice cream, uncaring of it dripping over his beard, “Uno and Burrow—that a thing?”

Charlie snort-cackles into his cone of devil’s piss, a little mean like he usually is when he’s comfortable with you. “Boy, what?”

Mike stares at him long and—well not hard, but a bit like disappointment. Like an ache he didn’t expect to have.

Andrei rolls his eyes and chucks a pillow bulls-eye at Charlie’s stupid face, ignoring how his salsa-vanilla-horror-shit-show spills all over him and the cotton and the floor and a bit over Chase’s sweats.

“He’s not homophobic,” Andrei saves their redheaded disaster with grace he honestly doesn’t deserve, “he’s just a dick because he tried flirting with both of them and got put down so badly it was fucking embarrassing.”

He sings fucking embarrassing like Olivia Rodrigo, hitting the pitches perfectly even if he’s raspy as hell, and Chase kind of hates that he actually knows what song he’s singing—memories of being curled up in the back of Andrei’s van with the doors wide open, tucked under Charlie’s armpit, buried under thick quilts, sipping watered down absinthe, letting Andrei blare that shit right into his fucking ear.

Bug-eyed and jaw hanging open, their new Tight End offers no replies or platitudes—unlike Ossai, who tried to offer his therapist’s hours with actual an discount he sharpied himself on paper napkins through his snotty laughter and tears. BJ was the one who saved all of them from themselves, a time before they knew that Chuck was kind of a psychopath and shouldn’t be trusted with jokes at his expense at all, really. He’d have taken the offer and painstakingly tangled Ossai’s therapist in a pyramid scheme of unknown evils from sheer pettiness alone.

“Did you—” Mike tries, “did you not know or…?”

“He knew,” Chase says, amused as he helps tug Charlie’s sticky shirt off and mop all the mess, “he’s just dumb as all fuck.”

Charlie shrugs, a vision of carelessness complete with vanilla and tomato bits sticking to his skin, “I didn’t really give a shit if they were together, they were hot, just wanted to shoot my shot, you know?”

“I can see why you’re the one catching balls instead of slinging ‘em,” Mike huffs around the rim of his IPA now, lips spit-shiny and beard still with ice cream drying on it.

Charlie points at him with his scrunched up soiled tee, “You joke now, but you’ve never played me at darts.”

“You say that like you’re actually good at it,” Andrei squints at him, all confused puppy charm with his new floppy mullet curling from the heat.

Charlie tackles him.

–

Chase huffs, trying to shake loose the tension in his shoulders. God knows his physical therapist pokes and prods at him to quit tensing up so much but fuck if the thought of—of talking about the future with Charlie and Andrei makes him want to hurl.

–

Chase is in charge of getting flowers, Andrei has the chocolate and the bear, and Charlie has strict instructions to make sure Mike is distracted for the next 2 hours that Tee (bless his kind and tender soul to not ask questions and Tee enough that no one bats an eye at him lurking around no matter how suspicious) can swipe his apartment keys. Charlie’s brand of manic charm keeps Mike away from his own home while Chase and Andrei set up the most romantic dinner in his humble little dining room with his own set of mismatched china and table cloth.

(“No, it’s not creepy or weird Tee, fuck off and steal his keys for us damn it.”

“I already told you I’d do it, why the hell are you telling me all this for fuck’s sake, now I just wanna call the cops on you.”

“Tee.”

“Dont ‘Tee’ me. I’m not the crazy one here.”)

The blooming pot of white flowers he has no idea the name of but looks gorgeous and would compliment the hell out of the high of Mike’s cheeks is held proudly in his arms.

It’s huge, half his body-up is covered by it, It’s potted—though maybe rethinking it he should have gotten it in like those plastic bouquets? Isn’t that how it usually goes? But the florist had just given him the pot and he was kind of intimidated by the idea of asking for it in a plastic wrap—like is that worse? Is it a downgrade? Would he be judged too harshly for asking something probably cheaper for a date? He isn’t a cheap date. He spends half his signing bonus on Charlie’s weird obsession with basketball arcade games. All those coins accumulate, holy shit. The other half on Andrei’s equally weird obsession with any photomatics they come across on their dates. His wallet is filled with what felt like hundreds of little photo papers of Andrei with cat whiskers stamped on his face, fake gnawing on Charlie’s own face decorated with strawberry seeds and a stalk.

He walks out the parking lot and smacks into something right away because of fucking course he does, how can he not?

“Hey Chase,” Joe says, the exact cadence of voice like every other time he greets his guys and the cock of his head Chase can imagine even if his view is obstructed by the spring of flowers all up in his eyeballs. He’d wonder how Joe could tell how it was him but being 6’4 probably gives him the perks of looking at the crown of Chase’s head even as his face is all floral, which—

Okay, yeah, he can’t stand the fucking plant. He shoves it right at his quarterback and damn the man for being perfect because he automatically grabs it from him and the thing doesn't cover his face at all because he’s blessed with a long torso and long arms, so all it does is frame the underside of his face like he's the surprise for a loved one. Fuck him too he guesses.

“Hi,” He greets back brightly, hands to his hips and begging telepathically not to ask please for the love of god.

Except he’s not Ja’Marr Chase or Tee Higgins, so:

“What’s with the flowers?”

“We’re courting Mike,” Chase says flatly, not even bothering to lie, straight out like that’s a normal thing to say when it’s known he’s already happily dating two men. And it is, actually, a normal thing to say, so fuck that.

To his credit, Joe barely blinks at his declaration. But then again, he barely blinks at anything except Ja’Marr Chase crying, so.

His quarterback looks bemusedly down at the plant shoved into his hands. Chase is kind of itching to take it back, but something is stopping him. He’s smart and self-aware enough to deduce that he kind of wants his approval—something about him being the running back to Joe Burrow’s quarterback or some shit, he doesn’t know, sports, man, sports—and his advice, because if this man bagged the world’s most complicated, most hard-to-please, most outrageously high-standard-ed diva wide receiver in the league not named Stefon Diggs and kept him, he’d better have some good ones.

Case in point:

“So you decided to get him a bereavement plant?” Joe asks, squinting down at the plant he's being forced to cradle.

Chase freezes, because that word better not mean what it fucking means goddamnit.

“What—what do you mean bereavement plant? What the hell is a bereavement plant? Did I get him funeral flowers?”

Joe stares at him, “Well. Yeah.”

They spend the next good minute mutely looking each other in the eye. You can always count on Joe Burrow to give a long good stare as you rearrange your thoughts.

“Give me those fucking flowers I need to burn them.”

He gets handed back the flowers.

“Why would you choose white lilies anyway? Most people stick with roses.” Joe asks, like the absolute bitch he is. Chase knows what he’s doing. He can read the smirk behind the flat of his lips, even if he’s trying to hide his mean girl persona under the cover of Joe Cool to the universe. How the hell does he even know what type of flowers these are. Is he fucking with Chase. No, he wouldn’t damn it he’s not Orlando.

“Because they looked pretty!” Chase says shrilly, knowing he sounds hysterical and so-the-fuck-what, “And they looked like something he would like! How was I supposed to know those were funeral flowers? What do you usually get Ja—right. Those purple fleur-de-lis.”

He snuffs out the freak out quick and done because he knows exactly what’s coming—nothing better to tamp down your rising hysteria than the knowledge that your captain is about to spout the most bullshit romantic garbage you’ll probably ever hear in your entire goddamn life on a random Tuesday in Ohio of all fucking places.

“Fleur-de-lis,” Joe corrects, a curling smile tugging his lips and a tilt to his chin like there always is whenever he talks about the apparent love of his life, “Purple irises. Hope, wisdom, trust, and valour. Perfect for Ja’Marr.”

“Ugh, shut up.” Chase groans. Why oh why on earth did he ever admire this man ever so much when he’s nothing but a lovesick dork.

Purple flowers, fresh and bright and pretty and light, delivered like clockwork every three weeks to the bengals locker room, tucked under ‘1 CHASE’ since 2021, distracting the rookies for the first few times it gets delivered before it just—gets too much and gets blocked out of their minds for their sanity. The first time Chase sees them bounding into the room he sniffs around confused and charmed before it got fucking ridiculous real quick, actually.

“To be fair,” Joe says, and Chase braces himself for another bitchy thing to be slapped with, “I don’t think Mike would know they’re funeral flowers. He thinks it’s hotter the higher you are in the mountains.”

And, god, what the hell does Chase even say to that. His taste in men is shit.

One thinks people’s emotions are to be played with and manipulated like playdough he has to stop himself from stabbing him sometimes, another is unerringly good at subconsciously using his looks for everything there has got to be a level 1 DEFCON trauma related to that that Chase feels so shitty even speculating about at times, and now—an actual dumb blond, it feels like. But they’re all his, goddamnit—or will be.

Will be.

Joe stares at him evenly, like he knows exactly what Chase is thinking of. Fuck. Is his crazy eyes showing through. Sydney tells him to constantly chill the fuck out, but he’s not here to cool him down now is he. He’s in fucking Philly wearing tight crop-tops and testing the waters of wearing booty shorts. The hell is Chase supposed to know whether he’s toeing past the line of normal and gets inches away from getting dragged to a shrink.

But the thing is, like always really, Joe just huffs low and amused, like he likes what he sees, like he wants it by his side—and Chase is just reminded all over again how he’s kind of willing to die and kill for this man, how he kind of wants to stay and share his crazy because it’s not crazy at all, is it, with him?

“Give him the flowers,” Joe says, tapping the pot Chase is gripping too tightly, “tell him don’t look it up.”

“That’ll make him look it up.” Chase says automatically.

“Then you’ll have something to talk about,” Joe says easily, clasping his shoulder then slipping around him to his car, “and get to buy him more.”

Well he can’t argue with that, really.

///

my characterization of them if u will bc i know that one paragraph is like a slap in the face like the hell are you talking abt cleo:

(disclaimer rpfffffictionnnnnnn :"))))

charlie : a bastard a dick a prick a psychopath someone not fit for public consumption. proof: that time andrei said smth abt new years resolution? i think idk how he doesn’t wanna say smth like but didn’t finish his sentence and said him just being better in general and that’s crazyyyy what the hell did he do 😭, the time he tried to escape the socmed palming the helmet thing clear distrust ish idk he screams crazy and unhinged to me but in the opposite end of the spectrum with chase's brand of crazy like he has ISSUESSSS but whatever u know he's also a brand of when you're it you're it taking mike to the zoo driving him around what the hell do u mean.....he's mean but sweet do u get me

chase : adhd no? also: crazy eyes. just legit crazy. heavily exuberant all over the place one minute you’re talking about a and he’s talking about a and he’s taking over and pushing everything to talk about ab and ac and ad pushy and shameless about it. okay this last part is mostly my own narratives tbh. but he does have crazy eyes i cant let that go like he's so. soooooo. he's like a feral kitten tbh and wholly unapologetic about it. proof: every miced up moment of him tbh, bowling into the endzone even if there’s literally nobody there to stop him and when drew called him out on it he just laughed etc etc sooo sweet and loud like that's what them all work they're all just so sweet you know

andrei : sweet summer child with some issues that I’m stamping onto him just because he’s pretty idk. raspy as hell voice. sooo nice and kind and flirty with everyone so its kind of understandable he’s the socmed admins fav tbh. pushing on narratives to him: people pleaserrrrr. this is where it gets ???? because hes not like this i swear i just write him like this: insecurity issues. am i just a pretty face or am i actually good. chip on shoulder from said pretty face. oh god did i get here from pretty privilege or. but at the same time: sometimes hes like. subconsciously taking advantage of what he has to get what he wants and oppressing it so he knows what he’s doing but he doesn’t know what he’s doing do u get me. but nah he's really sweet and genuine and honestly the people pleaser thing feels very real tbh 😭

mike : the dumb blonde thing is kinda mean but my god that vid of him saying its hotter the higher u r in the mountains. my god. my godddd. but nah other than that he’s funnyyyyy p sure i said this before but like. his humor? 100/10 fits perfectly well with the 23 rookies which is why they want to bang him so bad. i kind of like the idea of charlie being so taken with him bc mike is so incredibly chill abt his crazy which is why the others followed suit lmao. he's so sweet :( that moment with the ig comment 'dinner on me forever' and charlie butting in are u fr :(((

idk tbh the vibes here are more hmm unrealistic? and not even just the rpf aspect of it!! like idk why i made them to be so very flawed people. but i felt like writing them like this so 😭 but i was happy to write anything anyways so. bye 😭

oh i don't know flowers btw :( i just look them up and hope for the best :(((

[mechaness]

First of many

So much had happened. Nasiens had found her biological family, she found out about herself, she almost died... but now her hero was with her again.

When the battle was decided, a few words were exchanged and someone gave Percival a cloak so he could cover up. He hadn't even realized he was naked. He apologized, though it was clear he didn't see the issue.

After a while, her new family (she had to present them to Ordo as soon as she could!) left her alone with him, sharing knowing smiles.

Nasiens couldn't stop looking at him.

Percival... She smiled.

"So you are a fairy now? That's so cool!" Percival's voice was so soothing to her. How had she missed his smile!

"Yes... I'm not used to flying, though..."

"But now we can fly together!" Percy said, laughing. He grabbed her hands and gently lifted them up. Nasiens was shocked but soon started smiling again. A little spin in the air, and she was laughing along with him.

"I just can't get used to the height..." she admitted looking down, feeling cold sweat in her forehead. It had been fine in the battle, but now... She looked up at Percival, thinking how silly she was being. Something gleamed in his eyes.

He threw her one of his winning smiles and she felt her heart stop.

"Well, that's easy! Just keep looking at me!" His face was too close to hers, but then again, he had never been good at respecting people's personal space.

And Nasiens couldn't think of anything better to look at than his eyes. He always managed to calm her down. She could do anything as long as he's with her.

"See? You can fly really high if you want!" Like a spell being broken, she looked down. She almost let out a scream. They were so high up she could barely see the ground!

Her arms moved on their own, hugging Percival. She hid her face in the crook of his neck, trembling.

Percival was shocked. Not because of the hug, he loved Nasiens' hugs, as different as this one felt. However, she felt like dead weight. Had she stopped flying?! Of course she wasn't in any real danger as long as he was there to hold her, but...!

"Nasiens?!" He could hear her mumbling nonono again and again, "I'm sorry! I thought...! Are you ok?" He was so worried about her and Nasiens was still trembling, but she managed to answer,

"Ye-yeah..." she looked up. She was again at a loss for words. She knew Percival was still Percival inside, but he was really big now, and tall, and... she could feel her face aflame. "Yeah, I'm... I'm good. I was shocked, I guess..." she couldn't look him in the eyes anymore.

Percy was silent for while before he spoke again.

"You really feel different now, uh..." Nasiens eyes widened at his comment.

"Wh-what do you mean? Is it bad?" Percival's silence made her a little nervous. He wasn't looking at her anymore. She forgot to ask again though, since they landed in the hollow part of a cave, up in a mountain, and the sight amazed her.

"It's beautiful..." she said. Percy agreed, but he wasn't looking outside. His eyes were fixed on the pretty girl he was holding by the waist.

Screw pretty, he thought. Nasiens had always been beautiful, but now... It was like a whole other level. The way she held herself felt different. Also,

"You got boobs now!" he shouted, almost giving her a heart attack. She almost tripped, blushing like crazy.

"Ye... yeah..." she put her hand on her chest. They weren't even that noticeably, but... "the whole thing feels weird..."

"Bad weird?" he sounded genuinely curious.

"N... no, I don't think so. I never felt bad being called a boy, but now... I like this. Being a girl, I mean. It feels right, but I'm... not used to it yet. Not completely, at least. Is that weird?"

"I don't think so! Anyway, Nasiens is Nasiens, no matter what! You are amazing!" when he looked at her, he could see that gentle smile of hers that he loved so much.

Nasiens was so grateful. Of course Percival wasn't fazed. He was just Percival. He hadn't even questioned her change, something which she she was grateful for. She couldn't even imagine how she could start explain the whole thing to him.

She was thinking how much she loved this side of his and was so deep in her thoughts, she didn't realize when Percival got behind her.

"You gotten slimmer too, right? Right?" his poking sent shivers down her spine. What was his obsession with her back?!

Nasiens felt her face aflame again.

"Please, don't do that!" she almost screamed, taking a step back.

"Why? Can't I touch you?" he sounded so innocent, she almost felt bad. But when she looked up again she saw how serious he was. She felt taken back. He had never looked at her like that before, not like this.

How could she tell him that the only thing she wanted was for him to touch her all over... it was just so embarrassing to admit!

She felt her true feelings coming forward before she could stop herself.

"Well, if you a-!" a flashback made her stop. A painful memory crossed her mind and she felt silent.

Anghalhad.

She felt her blood boil.

"...you know what. I think it's best that you don't." She turned, not before giving him the iciest look he had ever seen. That kind of look was never directed at him! Percy got worried.

"N-Nasiens?! Are you angry at me? I hate it when I make you angry!" he ran to her. He grabbed her hand so she couldn't get further away from him. She flinched and stopped, but she didn't look at him. "I'm sorry, did I say something bad?"

"You got Anghalhad to touch, don't you?" she said, immediately regretting her words. It wasn't Percival fault, or Anghalhad's for that matter. Plus, she knew Percival didn't understand these kind of things! She barely could, after all.

"Yeah, I guess..." Percival's voice made her angrier and she felt so ashamed. She took her hand back, snapping at Percy.

"See?! Go to her for all I care!" she looked down, hiding her eyes as best as she could. She couldn't face him like this...

"Wha...?! No! I don't want to! I want to stay here with you! Nasiens!" he grabbed her by the shoulder, shaking her a little. He had to make her understand...!

Were those tears?

"Nasiens...? What's wrong?" she lifted her arm, trying to wipe her tears with her sleeve.

"I... I'm a horrible friend! I don't hate Anghalhad, I actually like her... but thinking about you two...!" she put her hands on her face, trying to control herself. "Who am I to say anything? You are free to do whatever you want...! But I hate it! I hate the thought of you two-!"

Percy hugged her so tightly she almost couldn't breathe. She felt his hand grabbing her hair, same way he had done early that day.

"P... Percival?"

"I won't touch anyone else!" he exclaimed, shocking her. "I don't really get it, but I thought of some else touching you and that made me angry, so I guess it's the same for you? Is that it?"

"Ye... yeah."

"Is it because you love me?" Nasiens felt trapped. She was about to protest when...

"Cause I love you too!" he said, his smile so bright it blinded her. He caught her so out of guard she almost fainted.

"Well," he continued, "I love all my friends... but with you... love falls short. Does that make sense? I want to hold you forever..." Percy said, snuggling to her. Looking down he saw her eyes, so full of hope and love, he couldn't help but smile. Nasiens smiled back.

"Y-yes, it makes sense. I... I feel the same way." Nasiens couldn't believe it. She confessed! She managed to do it and now...

"Good!" he grabbed her waist again, lifting her from the ground, "then it's settled!"

Nasiens felt tears forming again, this time from happiness. Things could be so easy with him sometimes... but then she remembered their little argument. She blushed again.

"A-about before... I don't mind, you know... but, you have to ask."

Percy was confused for a moment. Then it hit him.

"Really?!" he had pulled her down a little. His face was so close to hers...!

"Ye-yeah."

"Can I, then?" he asked. His lips were so close to hers, she felt her heart about to explode.

"Yes..." she tried to close the distance and...

"NASSIE! Percy! Dinner time! Come on, where-! Oh, there you are!" Tioreh shouted, appearing out of nowhere.

"...what are you two doing?" she asked, innocently.

It was a rare sight, if you asked her. Nassie with her face all red, pushing Percy away. Her hand was on Percy's face and he looked miserable, ignoring Tioreh and trying to get close to Nassie.

"But you said I could...!" he whined.

"QUIET, PLEASE!"

Tioreh had never seen Nassie so embarrassed. It was fun!

Later that night...

Nasiens couldn't believe it. They had almost...!

But the moment had been ruined.

She put her hands on her face, sighing. Maybe some other time... She was fixated in the fire next to the log she was sitting on, deep in thought.

"Nasiens! I was looking for you! Look!" Percival's voice took her out of her trance. She looked up to see him better, confused in what was she supposed to be looking at.

He placed a white flower on her hair.

"I knew it! It suits you!" he said, making her blush yet again. She gently touched the white flower with her fingers. "You look beautiful, you know!" Nasiens felt her blush deepen. She was going to get a fever from blushing so much...

"Thank you, Percival..." she smiled at him and he smiled back, love in his eyes. He sat down next to her and she rested her head on his shoulder, sighing.

"Man, that sucked, uh?" he suddenly said, looking down at her. "I really wanted to kiss you."

Nasiens was definitely getting a fever.

"Re-really? Honestly, I did too..."

Without much thought, Percy turned and grabbed her by the waist, surprising her. He flew them away from the dinner and the rest.

In the air, with the moon shining brightly, he looked at Nasiens. He smiled, closing the distance between them.

"Can I?" he whispered.

Nasiens laughed. He really took it to heart to ask first.

"Of course...!"

Their laughter filled the night. At least for tonight, everything was going to all right.

[leeleetaw]

First time posting any headcanon here so its might be deadass wrong but anyway.

So i was reading a fic where Bucky wrote Sam a note and Sam recognized his hand-writing so i suddenly thought maybe Bucky still write in cursive writing sometime. And i think Bucky sometime wrote love letters for Sam (on special occasions maybe or sometime he's just enjoy thinking about Sam while scratching his feeling out on paper lol) and he send all those love letters to Sam along with Sam's favorite flowers.

And Sam even though do tease Bucky about being so corny and sappy as heck but he keeps every single letters Bucky sent to him, and he reads it all with a brightest smile on his face, every single times. And oh, all those sappy confessions sure do got Sam blushes with butterflies in his stomach and all, making him feel like a high-school kid falling in puppy fluffy love again, Sam love it but he won't admit it (or he do but only with Bucky so that's why Bucky still keep writing love letters for Sam).

Well, Bucky is an old man from the 40' that got frozen and then yeet into the future so i think he pretty much is old-fashioned with his flirting techniques and all. I strongly believe sometime Bucky will and can be sappy gentleman in love act with Sam and they both enjoy it. 😇

[cheriecoke]

i always forget that beta reading is a thing people do bc i always was like oh i’m not that special enough to have someone read my writing before i post it 😭

[specialagentartemis]

Wanted to shout out this fanfic exchange I signed up for last week - All But English. Any (fictional) fandom, any character, any ship... and any language except for English.

Want to practice a language you're learning? Want to write fanfic in your native language? Want to write about the crew of the Enterprise having to speak Latin in some Ancient Rome Planet they accidentally found, or make Doctor Who characters visit Spain rather than England for once? Want to take a crack at writing a new passage of the Aeneid in Latin or do something creative with Akkadian Cuneiform for the Epic of Gilgamesh? This is the exchange for that!

100 word minimum, so the commitment is very low. Sign-ups close on November 27, 2024.

Join me!