#sorry. chuck blast

[gretagator]

Today's mini-Chuck pics because it's kind of peak... (I swear I took some actual pictures without him but. you know)

[evie-sturns]

no one has to know what we do - Chris Sturniolo

summary: ever since you met the triplets in 3rd grade, youve had been closest with chris. you've never admitted it to anyone but you've been madly inlove with him for a few years now. the triplets 20th birthday comes around, they celebrate by inviting the friend group to their house for the weekend, what happens when you and chris are left alone in his bedroom, will things stay the same, or will you two be forced to sneak around.

contains: smut, fwb!chris, sneaking around friends, swearing, fluff.

------------------┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐-----------———-

♫.. no one has to know what we do, his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room..♫

I've known the triplets since i could walk, marylou and my mom met in highschool so i've grown up around the nick matt and chris my whole life. ive always been closest with chirs,

but i hate to admit the fact that i've been thinking about him differently, a lot differently. i've never though about matt in that way though, even though they're practically the same. it's something about chris's hair, i've always wondered how my fingers would feel laced through his brown locks while he rests between my thighs.

6:39pm, friday night.

i push open the sturniolos front door to find nick, chris, matt, madi, nate, and several other friends from highschool, hannah, grace and yolanda, leaning on the counter, all laughing with eachother.

''hey!!" chris says with a wide grin, running up to me and wrapping his arms around me. "chrisss" i smile back at him.

this weekend is the sturniolos birthday, they've invited madi, me, nathan, and 3 other friends round for friday night, saturday and sunday, for those three nights chris and i are sharing a room, alone.

he grabs my small tote brag i brought and chucks it into the spare room. i walk into the kitchen and greet everyone else, instantly getting dragged by nick into the living room.

"we're watching the grinch." madi declares, "fuck no! its the middle of fucking august" nick yells back, nate chimes in, adding something to the debate.

before i can open my mouth i feel a cold hand grab my arm, its chris.

my head swings around, my hair hitting his neck. "c'mon" chris says, taking me over to the couch and throwing himself down and patting the spot next to him. i flop next to him, cuddling close to his side as everybody else piles down, "so we're watching the grinch?" madi says with a cheeky smile, "no." nick instantly replies, switching the tv on.

the intro song to rapunzel blasts through the small room, a loud cheer comes from the 7 other people around chris and i.

i'm basically frozen, my mouth won't move and i can feel my heart pounding out of my chest. sure, chris and i have been friends forever but god hes been so physical the past few weeks its been hard to hold myself together.

"you okay?" chris whispers down into my hair.

"yeah!" i chirp back

"you seem nervous"

"im not."

im 90% sure he knows.

"im sorry this movie is ASS." nate says, interrupting the movie. "gotta say, i do kinda agree with you." madi replies, "i told you the grinch was better!" she says, earning a boo from nick.

nick leans over to me, "go get a boardgame from chris's room cause these fuck heads aren't happy with rapunzel." he tutts.

i heave myself up off the couch, "chris where do you keep your array of boardgames" i scoff, shaking my head with a smile. "first of all i dont have 50 boardgames i play" he laughs as he walks over to me.

i walk upstairs towards chris's room, him closley behind me still yapping about the fact hes not that big of a fan of board games.

i open the large wooden door to chris's room, the familiar sight filling my vision.

chris shuts the door behind us, i don't question it, he probably just wants to keep his room air conditioned. i look back at him,

"so where are the-" i start but get interrupted by chris's hand on my jaw, he looks at my lips then my eyes, then my lips before slamming his onto mine.

i kiss him back. of course i do? i've practically dreamt about this moment since i was 16.

"i know i make you nervous y/n" he rasps into my lips, his second hand grabbing my cheek as he walks us back, our lips still connected as my back hits the wall, pinning me down slightly with his mouth.

he pulls away for a second, scanning my face for a readable expression. "chris" i breathe out, running my hand through my hair.

"im sorry, im so fucking sorry i shouldnt've done that-" he starts, taking a step back, "chris." i interrupt him, reconnecting our lips.

"you make me nervous, really fucking nervous." i say into his lips, his hand finds its way to the back of my head, his fingers intertwined in my hair.

suddenly the door to his bedroom rattles, i instantly pull away, my head spinning round to look at the door which is being pushed open/

madi, matt, nick and 3 of our other friends walk in, all laughing with each other about god knows what, i scramble towards the closet, looking for any board game i can.

i pull out the despicable me version of 'game of life' which has several minions on the front. a small laugh exits my mouth before i join the small circle which has formed on the floor with our friends.

"y/n...." matt says with a laugh, grabbing the board game off me "despicable me?" hannah says with a scoff

"im sorry! chris doesn't have the collection of board games i expected!" i tease back.

"it'll be okay!" grace says, a somewhat optimistic smile painted across her face.

chris joins the circle of friends on the floor, sitting down opposite me. hes got a small panicked expression, his lips red and raw, his cheeks a deep pink. his eyes are fixed on mine.

"so whos gonna roll first?" nick chuckles.

(8:45pm)

madi won the boardgame about 30 minutes ago, i've been laying on the floor of chris's room with all of our friends, execept for chris.

he disappeared while everyone was celebratings madis 'epic' win.

"we've gotta play truth or dare.." yolanda says, "like the corny middle school shit you know?"

nick claps his hands with a goofy grin, followed by matt rolling his eyes but later agreeing.

"nick, truth or dare" grace laughs,

i stand up off the floor, walking out of chris's room while everyones distracted watching nick try to do a head stand.

the wooden stairs creak as i jog down them, i swing open the back door and im met with chris. he's sitting on the outdoor bench, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

his head shoots up to look at me as i walk over to the bench, sitting under it.

"hey!" he says smiling, then putting his phone down on the armrest.

"how was despicable me game of life?" chris nudges me in the arm, a stupid smile on his pink lips.

"shut up!" i scoff, flicking his arm softly.

a silence fills the air, only sounds of distant cars vaguely humming in the background. chris runs a hand through his brunette hair, his long fingers peeking through the strands of his hair.

"um-" chris clears his throat.

"chris.." i whisper i start, then get off by his voice

"i dont think i'm ready for a relationship."

my heart sinks.

i didnt even say i liked him like that to his face?

"come with me." he declares, standing up abruptly grabbing my hand and pulling me inside.

everyone's hanging out in the living room, nobodys really paying attention to rapunzel anymore. nicks head shoots up "y/n come over!!" he smiles at me.

"we're gonna go get ready for bed, super tired." chris speaks for me. i run over to nick, giving him and matt a goodnight hug before returning to chris. he grabs my hand firmly then pulls me upstairs into his room, slamming the door shut behind us

my heart thumps as chris looks down at me, his hand reaches out for my chin, his other hand firmly gripping my waist as his fingertips lightly squeeze my waist. i stare at his lips, he stares at mine before colliding them for the second time today.

without another word his shirt is across the room, his necklace resting on his chest. my shirt follows, ending up somewhere around the room. "chris" i moan lightly into his lips as his hand snakes round to my back, unclasping my bra and letting it fall to the floor.

he frantically rips off his sweatpants, i shimmy my shorts down my legs.

the air surrounding us grows hot as i fall back onto his bed, "chris- we can't, nick always tells me that he'd kill me if i even though about his brothers sexually, i mean-" i ramble, but chris cuts me off.

"no one has to know what we do." he whispers, his hands intertwined in my hair.

my eyes switch from chris, to the amount of our clothes scattered across his room, the same room chris and i grew up in.

i nod "okay." a smile creeps across my face.

chris pulls off my panties, throwing them ontop of his desk. he pauses for a second, his eyes exploring every inch of my body. "oh my god." he mutters, "you okay?" he asks quickly while he pulls down his boxers, his hard length springing out. his dick is strangely perfect, "yeah, more than okay.." i whisper, my eyes fixed on his cock.

he nods "you've done.. this before right?" chris laughs slightly. "yeah- yeah" i giggle. "you're so pretty." he says, stroking his length while his eyes stare at my exposed body.

"ready?" he asks, his tip lightly pressing against my hole.

i'm not even fully processing whats happening right now, the boy i've secretly been practically inlove with for a few years is now about to fuck me.

"very." i tease, gripping the sheets for support. he pushes into me, a low whimper escaping his mouth "squeezing me so well." he stutters, bottoming out in me.

i let out a string of moans as i arch my back off the bed "so good, doing so good." he says, his thrusts rapidly increasing in pace and intensity. his fingers lace into my hair, tugging lightly but not painfully.

i let out a desperate groan "chris- fuck!"

he reaches a hand down and presses on my lower stomach, feeling how deep he is inside of me. "you feel me?" he says in between thrusts.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my vision fogged.

"i said you feel me?" he mumbles, his hair flopping with each time his tip hits my cervix.

"yes! yes-" i blurt out,

chris grabs my throat, pinning me down to the bed.

my eyes open in shock, a few short breaths exiting my mouth.

"finish, finish for me."

and with those words i do, i clench around him and release my built up orgasm. chris instantly lets go of my throat being careful not to push me too hard, he pulls out, painting my stomach with warm streaks of white.

"fuck...." he groans, throwing his head back.

i catch my breath as chris collapses next to me, he pulls me ontop of his body as he strokes my hair.

"you did so well." he whispers into my hair.

after a good 10 minutes of laying in silence i break it,

"um chris.."

"yes?" he replies.

"what are we.. now."

another silence fills the room "i dont know." he says, a bit of guilt in his voice.

he starts "i mean if you give me a few weeks we can put a label on us or we could just stay friends and forget this happened but i dont know if i want that because i really enjoyed this but i mean we could be friends with benefits-"

i interuppt his rambles "friends with benefits!?" i say with a small smile.

"if you want, could be fun like sneaking around.."

i nod frantically at chris's words "i'd like that."

-

(saturday 5pm)

after yesterday nights unexpected encounter chris and i have kept our promise, this whole day everyones been hanging out at the pool but currently we're in the bathroom, and hes fully inside of me.

"fuck-" he mumbles, slamming into me as i sit on the countertop. my bikini bottoms are pulled to the side as he pounds into me repeatedly, "close." he warns.

i clench around him, the knot in my stomach snapping as i release around his length with a scream of his name. he pulls out, orgasming on my thighs.

"you okay?" he asks, panting as he wipes my thigh with his hand.

i collide our lips together "yeah." i mumble into his mouth.

a few seconds pass before we pull away, he helps me down off the countertop as i catch my balance.

he grabs my hand and unlocks the bathroom door, he guides us both back to the pool, rejoining all our friends like we weren't fucking each other 3 minutes ago.

i lay down by the poolside, my legs shaking slightly from the intensity of the past events.

chris sits down next to me "you got a little something." he whispers with a laugh, quickly reaching down and wiping my thigh where we missed a spot.

(1 month later)

a month ago today chris and i were sneaking around at his 20th birthday party, for the past 4 weeks we've been meeting up at each other's houses, hooking up every time we get the chance. we didnt speak about anything, i think hes happy staying friends with benefits even though i want more, ive needed more for 3 years.

11:32pm

i roll over in bed, checking my phone one last time before i fall asleep. suddenly my phone frantically vibrates,

its chris?

i pick up the phone "chris its late..." i groan into the phone.

"i need to talk to you, can i come over.. please?" he asks innocently, "okay if you want to just talk, im so tired."

i hang up, after a couple minutes i hear the rumble of chriss car in my driveway, followed by his footsteps upstairs. he swings open the door to my room "hey!" he says nervously, jumping into bed beside me. "you alright?" i ask, holding his hand.

he stays silent for a few seconds, before starting.

"i think im in love with you?" he blurts out.

"you- what?" i repeat, confusion painted in my voice.

"i know, but for the past few.. years? ive liked you- alot.. and i dont just want you to be my fuck buddy anymore, i want to be more."

he takes a deep breath, i stay silent in shock.

"i feel the absolute exact same Christopher." i say, looking over at him.

"do you wanna.. make things official." he asks quietly.

i roll over ontop of him, smothering him in kisses "yes!" i laugh, wrapping my arms around him. relief washes over his face.

we lay still for a few minutes, "can i stay the night?" he asks with a laugh, "please do." i reply, my eyes fluttering shut.

we lay in silence for a few minutes, but a small laugh exits his mouth.

"yeah?" i smile into his chest.

"nothing it was just painfully obvious i was head over heels for you, how did you not guess" he laughs

"chris, im sorry but i was terrified to make a move purely because of how it wasnt obvious." i say, planting the 84th kiss of the night on his face.

----------------------------

[briefalpacashark]

~Ghost of the Past~

=Part Two=

Warning: Violence, death, graphic scenes.

Cleared area your ass. You saw three of your former team. Jamie was standing out in the open. He was dazed stumbling around while holding his gut. He didn't see the enemy, but you did. You crash tackled the poor lad behind a piece of felled debris as bullets rained down upon you. You felt a hot pain travers up your arm. You checked to see only a bullet graze. Jamie on the other hand. 

“Fuck,” You whispered seeing his spitting shoulder hit. And the hole in his lower stomach. Readjusting you gun you peeked over your cover taking out a few of the advancing enemies. At your returned fire they all moved for cover. It gave you a really short amount of time to bind Jamie shoulder with a pressure bandage. You checked in the bullet had gone straight though his stomach only to see it hadn't. You returned fire again before stuffing gaze into the hole. All the while Jamies head rolled around with disoriented pained grunts.

“This is Doc. Requesting medevac,” you spoke into the coms. What greeted you was static. 

"It's gonna be ok Jamie, I got you mate," you said.

“This is doc, is anyone there?” you spoke again. Your eyes widened when the click of metal got you attention. A grenade had landed beside you. Faster than your brain could comprehend you grabbed it chucking it back over, throwing your body on Jamie. The blast rocked you slightly, throwing all manner of barbies and dust over you.

“THIS IS DOC! IS ANYONE THERE OVER!?” You yelled into the comm. Across the way you saw your other old team members pinned behind a building.

“I NEED assistance. Im pinned down,” you spoke again. 

“Well, this sounds familiar,” Adam's cold voice invaded your ears. Turning the swirling storm of panic into a sharped edged blade. He had cut your comms of from everyone else's. Set up a line just for the two of you.

“The fuck is happening Adam. You said this area was cleared,” you hissed.

“Oh did I. Must have been my mistake,” he muttered.

“I need assistance. Jamies down,” you hated him, you wanted to kill him. but you hoped that he still had some good in him. if not for you then for Jamie.

“Pity, sorry can't help you. It looks mighty dangerous over there,” your eyes wafted over the battlefield. You found Adam standing a way away. With a shit eating grin on his face. Half of your team was with him. They were moving away from the action, towards the exit. the panic stabbed right through your heart at the all to familiar sight.

“What the fuck are you doing Adam?” you asked. They were leaving you.

“We got orders to retreat. But it seems like they have a comm blocker. Can't get into touch with team bravo,” your blood ran cold, panic sweeping the breath from you lungs. Bravo team. The boys. 

“Looks like our intel was wrong to. Seems to be a lot more bogies than originally thought,” he stated a cackling chuckle leaving his lips.

“Good luck Maddog,” he smiled giving you a mock salute before turning and leaving. If it was any other situation you would have taken a moment to let the situation sink in. But this was battle, one moment could mean the difference between life and death. 

“GET OVER HERE!” You yelled across the way your old team members grateful for the sanctuary of orders in their blind panic. Rising up you provided covered as they rushed towards you.

“Mad dog,” Anna greeted your briefly. She swallowed unsure of what you were about to do. She was surprised when you placed you hand on her shoulder.

"You hit?" you still wore the same concerned frown you always had. She didn't understand why you still cared for her. Not after what she did. She numbly shock her head the other doing so as well.

“Take him and get your asses out of here,” you ordered nodding down to Jamie.

“Yes ma'am,” she nodded. You pulled a pin of a grenade and threw it. 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you sprinted down the hallways. Everybody you passed you searched for familiar features. Soap's mohawk. Ghosts mask. Prices hat. Gaz cap. It was a brutal game of tag between dread and relief. Then you saw them. Standing around a group of captured soldiers like it was a Tuesday lunch.

“Comms are on the fritz,” Gaz announced.

“Anyone got Doc's location?” Price asked.

“I'm here!” You announced. They all turned to you taking in your appearance. you were covered in dust. Sweat lines dragging through it like art.

“You look like shite,” Price grinned at you. Relife, utter relief filled you. They were ok. They were alive.

“Your hit,” Soap took notice of the blood first as they moved towards you.

“Just a scratch. We've got orders to retreat,” you stated. The boys frowned.

“But we completed the mission?” Gaz stated. They had. Lucky bastards cleared out the whole base themselves. 

“Those are the orders. Comms are being blocked,” you stated. 

“Alright, let's get going lads,” Price announced. You quickly made your way from the base and back to the transport. As you drove back you couldn't help but stare at the boys. Your heart was still pounding. The boys were joking about something or other. You looked down to Ghost hand that rested against his thigh. You were suddenly overcome by the need to see if it was real. If they were real. To make sure it wasn't some fantasies you had conjured up in your head. Ever so slightly your fingertips took ahold of the lose fabric. A deep breath left your lips as you held it tightly. He was there. They all were. Throwing you head back you rested it against the side of the truck tears glistening between your lashes. Ghost looked down at your hand, at your spaced breathing pattern. At the slight pinch of your brows as you finger clung so desperately onto his sleeve. Feeling pressure on you left side you opened your eyes to see Ghost had pressed himself against you. Your relished in the warmth and reassurance it gave you. It was subtle, unnoticed by the other boys. But it grounded you. Pulling your head out of the 'what ifs' to the now. 

When you got back to base your eyes locked in on Adam. He was laughing with his team. When they noticed you guys, they seemed shocked. Understandable, not many could do what your boys could.

“So, they weren't joking when they said you guys meant business. Gotta say I'm impressed,” Adam stated with a wide blown smile. Your team stopped in front of them.

You didn't.

It took three large strides to close the distance between you. And only a second for you to pull your knife from its holster and shove it against Adams neck, your other hand gripping his collar to hold him stead. 

“THE FUCK YOU PLAYING AT HUH!?” You screamed.

“Whoah hey hehehe,” he held his hands up in surrender.

“DOC STAND DOWN!” Price's order went over your head.

“I swear to god, anyone touches me, and I'll cut his throat,” you threat was real. You wanted them to give you an excuse to do it.

“Its alright Maddog. The fights over. Your safe,” Adam went to put a hand on your shoulder. His movements only stopped when you pushed the knife flush against his neck slicing the skin ever so slightly.

“How fucked up in the head are you? What makes you think you can get away with this huh?” you asked. The sly smile pulled over his lips.

“I dont know what you mean,” he said innocently. Fury, utter fury raged within you. You could feel you hand wanting to move. Wanting to slice his neck open and watching him bleed out infront of you.

“Y/N,” Price called softly. You were breathing erratically as you hand shock. Most thought you would actually do it. You flinched lightly as a hand encompassed your own. You looked to the side to see Ghost. His gaze soft. 

“Its alright. We got you,” he whispered softly. His hand trailed up your arm. to your hand which he gave a soft squeeze before pulling it back. He gently took the knife from your grasp. And you let him. 

“Good choice,” Adam swallowed. Your fist snapped out cracking into his face sending him on his ass. Ghost wrapped his arms around you pulling you back where Soap took the other side of you. 

“Enough!” Price yelled stepping between you two. 

“I don't give a fuck what you do to me. But the next time you throw my boys under the bus like that again it will be a bullet I put though your face. Not my fucking fist,” you seethed glaring dagger at him. He chuckled whipping the blood from his broken nose.

“And that's why she's called mad dog,” he uttered getting to his feet with the help of his men. Some which held guilty looks.

“Keep that one on a short leash captain. She can tend to wander,” you tried to get a second hit in, but the boys held you back.

“Walk it off sargent!” Price deamned pointing you in the opposite direction. 

“Yeah, walk it off,” Adam tainted. Price turned to glare at him.

“You stay the fuck away from her you understand boy," Price got into his face talking to his as if he would scold a child. And Adam hated that. Ripping yourself form the boys grasp you turned on you heel and stomped away. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You were all informed that another mission would take place the day after. After the whole ordeal the boys had looked for you. They were worried about you. You had completely disappeared. Nobody knew where you were. You hadn't signed out of the base. So, Gaze tracked your phone.

So there you stood hidden in the bushes as you stared at a certain grave not to far from you. You heard the boys walk up to your side. You were wearing a hood an a medical mask to cover your features.

“Visiting an old friend?” Price asked. They had all lost someone special to them. Whether it be a fellow soldier or family. You had hardly talked about your past, so they didn't know who you lost. 

“You guys shouldn't be here,” you whispered softly. Then from the hill emerged two people. And older man in his late fifties. Under his arm sat a bottle of whiskey. He had lanky legs and a beer belly. With a kind old smile on his face.

“Come on. You know how she gets when were late,” he called behind him. 

“Coming dad,” a teenage ran up to him. He had tosseled brown hair and stood just about as tall as his dad.

“Who are they?” Gaz asked.

“My family,” you whispered.

“You sure lass. Height dosent really add up,” Soap joked softly.

“What can I say. I lost the gene lottery,” you shrugged.

“You gonna go say hi?” Price asked.

“No,” you whispered solemnly. Getting the message that you wanted to be quiet they all slipped into silence.

“Still ordering me around huh?” A woman with olive skin and black hair walked up to them. A steak of silver shone in her perfect updo.

“We were married for eighteen years. I think I deserve some penance for my sentence,” the two smiled at each other. The divorce had been amicable, and they had become good friends after it. 

“Goodmorning sweetheart,” you father called softly a solemn smile gracing his features as they approached the grave.

“Sup cunt,” Your brother stated earning a slap from your mother.

“Dont be mean. Go on tell her what you did,” she encouraged him.

“So rember when you said I had a knack for engine and stuff. And I laughed and said I was just gonna become a millionaire,” he trailed o scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I got a scholarship to this really good school. Everything paid for. Dad was really happy about that,” the joke had your family smiling.

“It turns out you were right. I'm doing well. Really well. Skipped a grade. And I'm really enjoying it,” he stated.

“Got his cherry popped to,” you father said earning a blush from you brother.

"Her names Ella. Sweet little thing. Shes got him by the balls," your mother stated.

"Mum," he groaned with a heavy blush.

“I meet a man. His name is Greg. I think I'll being him next time,” your mother said.

“He's a cunt,” you father stated. 

“He's better in bed than your father,” she stated. You smiled as they slipped into their usual banter. The insults having the weight of jack shit. 

“Found this hidden in your little secret compartment,” you dad tapped his nose with a knowing look. The boys watched on as they talked to the grave like it was an actual person.

“Have a drink with your old man yeah?” he suggested. The drink was passed around as they all poured some in their cups. An extra cup was set atop the grave. 

“To our little girl. Shortest little shit I've ever meet,” they cheer.

"Happy birthday darling," you mother said. It was silent after that. Your family moved to hold each other as they mourned. Tears falling to the freshly cut grass.

“She would have been so proud of you,” you mother whispered running her hand through your brothers hair. 

“She would have been proud of us all. Thats just how she is,” he whispered back. You watched as they drank and talked about there lives. What they had been up to. The sun had begun to set when they decided to leave. Your bother lingered slightly tears rushing down his face.

“I miss you bitch,” he mumbled knocking his knuckles on the edge of the grave. The boys knew that move. You would do that to them wherever they went in for a fist bump. He turned and walked away. With a heavy heart you watched them leave. “Why didn't you say hello?” Soap asked. You didn't answer, instead you walked up to the grave and took the drink in hand. You swirled it around watching the car pull away. The boys slowly walked up to you examining the grave.

Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. 

Beloved daughter, friend and soldier.

“The fuck is this?” Soap asked in shock. They were all shocked, but they quickly put two and two together.

“It was part of the deal,” you rolled the words on your touge.

“What deal?” Price asked. You wanted to tell them. No, you needed to tell them. You couldn't go on another mission with the bloody hells. You had gotten lucky. Extremely lucky. Sure, telling them the truth might put you in a dangerous situation, but you would do it to protect them. And you trusted them.

“Way back there was a mission. Things went south. Adam got his hands on some valuable information. I stayed behind to make sure everyone was safe. And when I went to regroup with them,” you trailed off your throat becoming tight.

“They didn't wait for me. They left. Leaving me in a deep hole of shit. I was captured. Tortured for the information Adam had stolen. When they realized I wouldn't break they proposed a deal. The information for me. Adam didn't agree,” you recalled the events.

“The information wasn't intergyral, but it did make him rich. I don't know what he did with it. Probably sold it to a third party. When I realized, nobody was coming to save me, I got myself out. Came back here only to find out that they had all given reports that they had seen me gunned down. That they confirmed I was dead. Head office chucked it up to some bull shit Mirical. Having escaped I had a lot of heat on me. I had fucked around with some pretty important people. Friendly and otherwise. Turns out a lot of important people had their hands all over that mission. They went after my family. I made a deal with the military. In exchange for my families safely I would become there lacky,” you said nodding to the grave. “If I stayed quiet about it all,” you added.

“By all official records I am dead. Only a few choices military know otherwise. They thought I was a nifty little card to hold. Someone they could send where every they want to do whatever they wanted. No red strings attached. Someone that technically didn't exist. A ghost,” you chuckled bitterly.

"I was actually doing their dirty work when we first meet. I was surprised when they gave the green light to join the 141," you took a sip of the drink.

“In the end I was supposed to die on that mission. They used my family as leverage to insure I had,” you whispered looking deep into the dark liquid.

“Why are you telling us now? Wy not before?” Price asked solemnly.

“He threated you guys, told me to behave,” you admitted.

“So why tell us?” Ghost asked.

“Because I'm scared,” you admitted honestly. Your breath shock as you turned to them your eyes welling with tears.

“On that mission. He cut the comms. He lied bout the numbers. He sent you guys into a trap and he fucking smirked at me while he did it,” your hands trembled as they gripped the drink.

“I was so scared I had lost you guys,” you said. 

“I was scared to lose another family,” you cried. It meant a lot to the boys to hear that. That word. Family. That exactly what they were to you. And that's exactly what you were to them.

"But were here love. Were all alright,” Gaz tried to lighten you up.

“By sheer dumb luck!” you snapped.

“I know I might lose you one day. I've known that for a long time. Were soldiers. That comes with the uniform, but I'll be dammed if I let that fucker be the one that does it,” you huffed. Silence washed over you as you looked each of them in the eye stopping at Ghost. “You guys mean too much to me,’" you added. "So please. Don't send us on another mission with him,” you begged turning to Price. 

“He can't know I told you about it ither,” you added. Price walked up to you his expression deathly serious. 

“Then why would he risk you coming back here?” he asked. You shrugged frustrated with it all.

“I-I don't know. I don't know if he's goanna hurt my family. If he's gonna hurt, you. If he wants to finish the job he started?” you gestured to him. There it was again. That anxiety. Seeing the start of your panic Price stepped forward again. 

“Come er,” you were slightly surprised when he pulled you into his chest. He held you firmly as he tucked you head under his chin. 

“It's gonna be alright love. You've done well,” he whispered. It felt like the hugs your father used to give. You reached up gripping the back of his shirt and hugging him tightly the tears free falling.

“We got you,” he whispered.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On the drive back you were sandwiched in the back with Ghost and Soap. You had been silent since the graveyard. Which wasn't like you.

“Can we get hungry jacks?” You asked. It was a relief to the boys to hear that. At least you were still hungry.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Price nodded. It was quite funny watching price try and order for the whole car. Especially because the drive thru guy couldn't understand there accents half the time. And Soap yelling from the back just made it worse. After getting the food you picked away at it happily as you drove back to base. Ghost paused as he felt a wight drop against his shoulder. He looked down at you to see you fast asleep. You mouth open mid chew. A burger in one hand and a drink in the other. Soap smiled when he noticed taking a quick picture before taking the food from your hands. When the car stopped, they all piled out, except Ghost and you.

“Coming?” Soap asked bending down through the door.

“I'll stay a little bit,” Ghost whispered. Soap smiled knowingly giving a nod and silently closing the door. 

It was two hours before you stirred awake. 

“We here?” you asked finishing chewing the remnants of the burger.

“Yeah,” Ghost murmured getting out of the car. You followed after him frowning when you saw a wet patch on his shoulder. Whipping the dribbled form the corner of your lips you shrugged.

"You got a wet patch there," you stated.

"No I don't," he stated.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next day you and the boys sat down decided on what to do. When you explained in more detail about what went down in the mission the boys were furious. 

And lets just say that the 141 gets even. 

The mission involved clearing out a safe house of sorts. A back up base. During the next mission you walked into a room, gun raised with Gaz on point. You were right behind him. Everything was going perfectly. Till it wasn't. 

The movement was so quick you only saw what had happened when you turned. Gaz stood, with Adam behind him. A gun pressed against his temple. Terror took ahold of you as you mad eye contact with Gazs own fear filled pupils. You paused in the doorway. Adam didn't know the other two were there. 

“Let him go Adam, lower the gun” you demanded. Price and Ghost pressed themselves against the wall. 

“Come on Maddog. You know I can't do that,” he stated. You glanced out the doorway as Price held up five fingers. He was asking how many were in the room. You glanced around. It was only Adam. 

“Looking for your friends?” he asked. Price had told him the team would split in two. It was part of your plan. Price slowly put his fingers down.

“Of course,” You answered when Price got to one. Price turned to Ghost giving him hand signs before nodding him off. He looked back at you tapping his watch. 

Buy some time. They were your orders. The comms was open so you could hear Ghost rapid footsteps.

“Unlike you I know they have my back,” you said.

“Cute. Drop the gun,” he ordered.

“Or I can shoot you,” You suggested.

“I know you're a good shoot but that's cutting it a bit close huh?” he asked sliding further behind Gaz. He was right. You ran the risk of hitting Gaz. 

“Get him Doc,” Gaz encouraged you. Your face scrunched up as Adam shock him slightly pressing the barrel painfully further into his skull. Chucking you gun to the side you glared.

“Good girl. Now on your knees,” he demanded. You obeyed.

“Put those on,” he kicked forward a pair of zip ties. 

“What are you doing Adam? Whats your plan this time huh?” you asked.

“Well, this plan is a little more brutal than my last. After all I tried so hard to make it look like an accident. I knew you bleeding heart wouldn't leave that kid. I even told then to target you as well. But no, you just won't die huh? You should have just died Y/N,” he hissed. You stared at him. 

Adam was more than just your former commander. He was your best friends since diapers. You had grown up together. Your bond used to be the strongest in the world. You had entered the military together, built up your carrers and skills side by side.

“What happened to you Adam?” You asked. The man before you was a shadow of the one you once loved so dearly.

“I got smart, that's what happened,” he spat.

“This isn't like you. The Adam I knew would have never sold me out for a lousy paycheck,” you were buying time. But you were also trying to reason with your friend. 

“Would you just quit it. I've always been on the bottom run. Always poor. Do you know how differently they looked at me with my raggy shoes?” he asked.

“So you sold me out to get rich then?” you asked.

"Wow. Smart you are. And no, I didn't sell you out. You were just a chess piece. A tool to get what I wanted” he said.

“You know that's not true,” you murmered. You could see it, the conflict inside him, however small it was it was still there. 

“Please, just put down the gun,” you begged. For a second he saw you, only a younger you. And instead of begging to put his gun down you were begging him to stop shooting you with a water gun. You wore such a bright smile. Perhaps he had loved you once. Along time ago. But that side of him had died a long time ago.

"I really should have killed you that day," he admitted.

"Then why didn't you?" you asked.

"Because I was weak. I let you live because I didn't have the guts to kill you myself," he hissed.

"Thats not a problem now," Your eye's widened as the gun turned to you. The window shattered as Ghost emerged from it having sung down from the higher level. The distraction allowing Gaz to shove Adam back. All the while you pulled your handgun from its hoister and pulled the trigger.

Two shots' still rung out. 

Pain split through your left chest as the bullet cleaved through you. 

“GAH!” you hit the ground. Adam body following shortly after a bullet hole sizzling between his eyes, his brains splattered over the wall.

“DOC!” Your vision blurred with tears as you hand was forced away from your wound. 

“Fuck,” Ghost grunted as he ripped you vest from you. With your luck the bullet had just missed the vest. Since you were still gasping for breath, you gathered it hadn't hit your lungs or vital organs, but it stung like a bitch. You were jostled up into a seated position. Where your sanity somewhat returned to you.

“Theres and exit wound,” Ghost stated. 

“FUCKING HELL!” you yelled as they started to shove gauz into the hole. 

“Gaz?” you blindly searched for him.

“Right here Doc,” he said giving your leg a squeeze. You gaze focused to see them crowded around you. Price standing guard while Soap tended to the wound and Ghost held you up. 

“That really hurts,” you chuckled a laugh before grunting again.

“You are one lucky little fucker,” Price huffed.

“Who me?” you asked.

“Can you walk?” he asked as Soap finished tying off the bandage. His eyes glanced down at the bandages that quickly became soaked in blood. He didn't like how fast it had happened.

“Walk? I fell like a running a marathon,” you joked. 

“Ghost,” he nodded to Ghost who nodded back.

“Let's move,” he said. With Ghost taking most of your weight you started making you way from the base. With a fleeting look to the dead corps, you felt your eyes close.

You had passed out somewhere between leaving the room and getting back to the transport.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

While you were unconscious Price made some bullshit excuse for Adams death. The excuse worked well. Nobody questioned anything. After all missions go south all the time.  He was simply listed as a casualty. That was all the respect he deserved.

When it was time to go home you at in the plane your shoulder in a sling. You were on strict orders not to use it for a bit. Your mind reeled with Adam dead gaze. At the moment you took aim and pulled the trigger. Did you want to kill him. Never. Would you have done it save on of your boys. Defiantly, without a moment's hesitation.

“Y/N,” you stood as you saw Jamie run towards you stopping at the plane ramp. Well waddle as best he could in his state.

“What's up kid?” you asked.

“Thankyou, for everything,” he yelled as the plane started up. He was a good kid.

You gave him one of your signature smiles. The one you always gave him before everything went to shit.

“Look after yourself alright,” you yelled.

“You have friends here Y/N. Whenever you need. We owe you that much!” he called. You nodded.

“Goodby Jamie,” you called as the ramp lifted. Silently you walked over to your seat struggling with your buckle.

“Need help?” Ghost asked. You nodded. Reaching over he quickly buckled you in pulling the strap tight.

“You know I've been wondering. Why Maddog?” Soap asked. A melancholy smile graced your lips. 

“I bit the finger off the doctor that was giving me a shot. Adam was there for it. The doc called me a mad dog. Name kinda stuck,” you shrugged.

“So you did bight his finger off?” Ghost asked.

“I did. Rember that next time you fuckers try and give e a shoot,” you said clacking your teeth together in a biting motion. 

“God help your future partner,” Soap shock his head. You all chuckle. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When you were back at base you sat out on the little patio a beer in hand. You were simply thinking. about it all. You wondered if you had done something different if it would have changed everything.

Ghost silently walked out stopping by your side to offer a cigarette. You shock your head.

"He was more than a team leader to you, wasn't he?" Ghost asked.

"How did you know?" you asked.

"The look of regret you had when you saw his corps," he stated simply.

"We grew up together. Thought I was gonna marry him for a bit," you whispered.

"You did what needed to be done," was he trying to reassure you?

"Doesn't make it any less painful," you whispered.

"I faced something similar. Had to end two of my teammates. Their brains had been corrupted. They had changed," he began telling his story.

"Did you ever forgive yourself?" you asked.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly.

"Well, I have no regrets," you stated.

"Really?" he asked.

"I'll never forgive myself for killing him. But I'll never regret it," You stated standing up and finishing your drink.

"Whys that?" he asked.

"Because no one messes with my boys and gets away with it," you stated with a cheeky smile patting his should.

"Thats for trying to reassure me. Ya big softy," you smiled brightly.

"I'm not soft," he grunted.

"Yaha of course you're not," You cooed in a baby voice.

"I will end you," he threated making you laugh.

That night you and Ghost would drink till the early hours of the morning, simply talking.

"We should get to bed Ghost," you stated standing upon your wobbly legs.

"It's Simon," you head snapped around to him.

"What?" you asked.

"My name. Its Simon. You can call me that if you like. But not in front of anyone that's not the team," he said.

"Well Simon. Its officially nice to meet you. My names Y/N," you said holding you hand out for him to shake. He shook took you hand covering it completely from view.

"Big ass hand mother fucker," you grumbled drunkenly before trotting off. Simon following after you making sure you didn't run into anything.

================================================

--COD Master List Here--

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[bunny-1111]

Matteo Riddle angst - Us on Repeat

Description: Matteo gets jealous and possessive over reader at a party after they've broken up

Angst/slight fluff ish /// only roughly edited

Warnings: swearing, no smut, but sexual innuendo, toxic relationship, alcohol

Music blasted.

Alchool spilt.

Dancing bodies spun

You occupied the dancefloor with some guy you had met tonight when a familiar frame knocked your date unsteady.

Matteo smirked helping your date back on his feet "shit man sorry, well now that I'm here I'm gonna have to steal my girl so a second, yeah? He initiated

"Your girl?" you questioned

"its a phrase, whats wrong with it?" He saying coming closer

"sure, if I was your girl, but I'm not." You stated trying so seem soberer than you really are

"You know you're my girl, I know you're my girl, so does your pathetic date, he knows it too" He said, coming closer to you he began "That guy, he was real close to you"

"Well, he's my date. He's supposed to be close; in fact, where has he gone?" looking around, huffing at the fact that Matteo successfully scared him off.

He grabbed the bottom of your chin with his fingers pulling your face inches away from his, "Who gives a fuck where he went, I'm here now" he said looking deeply into your eyes.

Looking so intenstly that you felt like you couldn't breathe

"Stop looking at me like that," you said head pounding, it was so hot in the room, so crowed, it was getting harder to take a proper breath in, Matteo studied your face, watched as you began to crumble in front of him

"Come on, we're leaving", grabbing your hand and dragging you out

When he got you alone in the hallway, he asked "You can breath, ok?"

"Yeah" you said, pulling yourself together, before you could, you feel Matteo push you towards the wall "I've got a few ways of making you gasp for air, if that's what you need" He smirked,

You pushed him off you "No Matteo" now standing next to him

"You never complained before" "Yeah, well, things changed. I changed"

"I remember the girl you were all too well" "Right, reminisce all you want, Matteo. Cling to the memory because that's all you ever have of me" you manage

"Wrong again, Darling" he started pulling you close "we need each other, you and I" he continues

"Fuck you, Matteo, why do you do this to me? When will you be done involving me in your bullshit, HUH?" you spat out.

his eyes darkened, inching closer lips making their way to your ear as he whispered "You don't hate it at all, that's your problem"

"you're my problem," you said weakly

"I know baby, you get so angry at me, yeah, because I push your buttons, because I can't watch you be with anyone else, my girl" he chucked as he undid the top buttons of your skirt.

"How can you be with girls in front of me, Teo, but hit any guy that nears me" you huff out

"those girls are nothing alright, forget about em'. and for the guys, No ones gonna touch whats mine" he grits

"So I have to hurt while a girl's tongue is down your throat, fuck you, you asshole I'm done" you say, throwing your head back

"Well, you don't seem very done, baby. You're letting me touch you, talk to you, and sneak you away. You're so far from done," he smiles.

"I'm gonna go back to my date, and I'm gonna let him fuck me tonight" You said with confidence

His hand on your waist tighten, "Over my dead fucking body" he said jaw clenched "You're staying with me" he continued eyes darkening

"I know you haven't let anyone touch you since we broke up. It's staying that way, or someone dies," he stated

"what about you Mattoeo, what have you done, who have you done" You say through the hurt

"lets not talk about it" he said quickly

"Tell me the truth or I'll never speak to you again" you insisted

He huffed in frustration. "I've seen a few girls, alright? Are you happy"

"did you enjoy it?" you qestioned, heart hurting inside

"why the fuck are you worried about what I do after we break up?" he replied back

"I don't want you with girls the same way you don't want me with guys" you admitted

"I know, I see it in your eyes, everytime you see me with someone, I hear it in your voice too, we're the same, just as jealous as each other" he smiled

"you know, you're never touching me again, not after you touch another girl," you said seriously

He threw his head back in frustration. "You're not gonna punish me for what happened during a breakup, please", he whined, coming close again

"Stop acting like we're back together" you fought

"Then stop acting like my girlfriend. Can't be upset at me if you're not mine", he said

"I'm what? Not yours, great, I'll go sort myself out then." starting to walk off, he gripped your wrist pulling you back in your place, when you slammed your body back against the wall you looked up at him and cried.

"I'm too drunk for this ok, too tired for these games, we can't keep doing this every weekend, what do you want, to get back together, what are you fighting for Matteo" you sniffled through your tears

he didn't reply at first, just stared at you, taking a moment to really wonder what he wanted, he realised his grip on your wrist instead pulling you into a hug "Of course I want us back together alright?" he said hiding his face in your neck "You know I've got a fucked way of showing it" he admitted

you took a deep breath in, he felt it

"I'm sorry, sweet girl, alright? I love you, let's do this right, again, tell me you love me too, tell me we're gonna try," he pleaded

"you know how toxic we are, right," you said back, not moving.

He chucked softly, moving back to kiss your forehead, then resting his chin on the top of your head. "Yeah baby, I know, we'll fix each other up eventually", he admitted swiftly

"I love you" you said, he looked down at you pulling your face close to his "Say it again" he smiled

"i love you Matteo" you rushed out

"Don't forget it. We love each other more than anyone else will,"

"What now Teo?" You look up into his eyes

"I'll show you exactly what now", he practically growled out

...

part two coming soon - my first Matteo fic go easy on me. Xx

[luveline]

thought of a cute eddie and roan request!! since it’s almost summer time they go to the pool or beach?? roans having a blast

thank you!! dad!eddie takes you and his baby for a trip to the beach (lake)!! this is when they haven't been together as long and roan is younger!! dad eddie x fem!reader ♥︎ 3k

Eddie's daughter is nearly five years old, about 3ft 5in, and weighs less than fifty pounds. She has slightly chubby cheeks, a huge smile, and she has never been this excited in her life. 

"I swear I've taken her on vacation before," Eddie says, his eyes moving between the road, the side of your face, and Roan's joyous expression in the rear view mirror almost frantically. 

You push your sunglasses up your nose. "I believe you. I've seen the photos, Edward." 

He snorts. "You know that's not my name." 

"But it makes derision much funnier to call you something formal."

"You usually go with Munson." 

"I'm feeling festive today, it's such a good day." 

Roan agrees from the back with a small shout. 

You turn in your seat before Eddie can, eyes creased with affection when you see her again. Roan is in her best summer dress with her hair braided back out of her face, ending before her ears so her curls can take centre stage. She's got her delicate blue cardigan on, and a sandwich in her hands. You've been trying to break the long drive into smaller bits for her with snacks and songs, and it's worked thus far. 

"Do you want another sandwich, baby?" you ask, clicking open the the tupperware in your lap. "We've only got PB and J left, Eds. Can I give her that? I don't wanna ruin her dress." 

"If she wants it," he says, shrugging. His expression is cut short as he turns the wheel sharply to the side. "Woah! Sorry, ladies, I almost missed the turn. What a loser."

You tear Roan's sandwich into a smaller one and hand it back through the seats. "Try not to get it on your dress, princess, it's so pretty," you plead. 

"I won't," she says. As soon as you hand her the sandwich she drops it on her skirts. She's just old enough to understand what's happened, and giggles like she thinks she's about to be told off. 

You've seen Eddie do it enough times. Roan drops a crust or spills a drink and Eddie pretends to be cross, eyebrows drawn together in an unconvincing glare. "Roan," he always says, and if he can reach he chucks her under the chin with his knuckle, "how dare you. You know accidents aren't allowed." 

It warms your heart that her reaction to a potential chastisement is laughter. 

Roan has firmly passed baby stage: she doesn't look like a big baby, she looks like a very small child, with deceptively long arms and legs. She waves one leg toward you and says in her high-pitched, sometimes illegible voice, "My shoe's coming off." 

Her shoe isn't coming off, but the buckle around her ankle has come undone. 

"Oh no," you dote, leaning through the two front seats of Eddie's car to help. "What happened? You're too happy, babe, all your dancing must've wiggled the buckle free."

"I'm too happy," she agrees, "we're going to the beach now." 

"We're nearly there," Eddie says. 

Indiana Beach is an amusement park on Lake Shafer ninety miles away from Indianapolis, which is a good eighty miles from Hawkins. If you were to draw this journey on a map, it would look like the hands of a clock at three thirty, or a 'Y' without one of its eyes. With Eddie's cautious driving but not much traffic, it had taken you guys nearly three hours from the time you set off from his trailer at seven in the morning to now. It's an aching amount of time to confine a child, and Roan hasn't slept a wink, so her happy attitude is miraculous and perhaps precarious. 

Which is to say, you smother her in love and hope it will keep her from becoming too agitated. You and Eddie have already discussed the possibilities of her behaviour — if she started a screaming crying tantrum as she sometimes does, Eddie would pull over and you'd climb in the back. If your company didn't help, he'd pull over again and you'd take a break wherever you were. If she still didn't improve, you'd think about going home. The point of the trip is for Roan to have fun.

You can see the Galaxi from a mile away, a huge curling roller coaster on the Indiana Beach pier. Eddie starts grinning, really smiling, the kind you don't get to see very often. He smiled like that when he asked you to be his girlfriend outside of the Hawk movie theatre, and he smiled worse when you told him you loved him for the first time, your hand pressed against his chest and your face hiding in the crook of his neck. 

"Ro!" he says loudly, turning onto a side street in search of the parking lot, "look, baby! Can you see the lake? The beach? It's so sunny, oh my goodness." 

His hand reaches across for you. He squeezes your leg roughly, and it aches in the best way, fingertips digging into the soft inside of your thigh. You can't help laughing, pleasantly startled by his obvious joy. 

Roan starts talking and you're sorry but you're not an expert in her warbling yet, not when she's speaking a mile a minute. You catch "beach," and "sunshine," and "daddy!" but that's about it. 

He drives into a ticket parking lot a fifteen minute walk from the pier and finds a space with ease. You quickly undo your belt and get out, stretching your arms behind your back and leaning forward to roll your neck out. You're sore from all the back and forth, attention split between Eddie and Roan for the last three hours. 

Eddie gets out on the other side, and he should get Roan's stroller first, but it was never going to happen. He opens Roan's door and the excited stream of chatter increases between the both of them. You come around the back of the car and watch him pull her out of her car seat, fussing over her skirts and her hair and her tiny shoes. He makes one of those heaving dad groans when he picks her up, one arm skewed under her butt and the other behind her back. It's more hug than carry. 

"Hey, baby," he says, "how's that? Is it nice to be out of the car?" His hand moves to her legs. "Should we do some walking and stretching?" 

He rubs her legs. 

"Daddy, it's sunny, it's like– like with Uncle Wayne, when'd he says that the sunshine is out to play," she says, her hands moving from her chest and into the air above her head like a burst. "It's not messing around!" 

You laugh, your heart melted to a wet goo. Eddie gives you an eyeful, as if to say, Yeah, I made her, that's my kid, and I know she's the cutest thing on God's green earth, thank you very much for noticing. 

"It's not," he agrees, putting her down on the ground. You stand a little ways away, knowing she won't run into traffic but worried anyhow. 

Eddie holds one of her hands and Roan puts the other one back in the air, stretching up big and tall. Eddie strokes a hair behind her ear, and his thumb lingers affectionately on her cheek. 

"Will you wear your hat?" he asks. 

"Do you have a hat?" 

"Uh, no, daddy doesn't have one," he says. 

"But I do!" you butt in.

They turn to look at you. You open the trunk, digging through your packed bags to find the sunhat you'd brought with you. You pop it on your head and turn to smile at them. "See? So you wear yours and we'll be matching." 

Roan doesn't hesitate to crowd your legs. You grab her hat from her 'baby' bag and place it carefully on her head. It hides her beautiful hairdo, but it'll keep her safe from the heat. She looks you in the face and grins. 

"Beautiful," you compliment. 

Eddie doesn't look quite as summer ready as you both. His hair is down, shiny clean but unlikely to stay that way considering the heat. He's wearing blue denim rather than black, something he'd spoken of with horror but more than pulls off, and a black Motorhead t-shirt. There's one chain around his neck that he never takes off, but besides that he's sans jewellery. 

"Roan," he says, "we're gonna walk to the pier to stretch our legs, but you have to hold hands. And you can sit down in the stroller when they're tired again." She nods hurriedly at the idea that she'll be free for a while. "Okay. Alright." 

Eddie gets her stroller out and unfolds it, putting her baby bag in the seat. You rake your fingers through the ends of Roan's hair while you wait, the sun warming the back of your neck already. 

Eddie locks the car, and the three of you start toward the pier. Roan holds your hand and Eddie pushes the stroller out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk that leads to the pier. 

The smell of salt tickles your nose. Roan's hand flutters in yours like a hummingbird, excited gasps breaching her lips when you pass an ice cream stand bragging rainbow cotton candy bigger than her head, kaleidoscope gelato, Popsicles in cherry red, raspberry blue and lime green. Her eyes widen at the sight of huge diamond kites, yellow rubber dinghies, surfboards and wetsuits dripping water down sandy ankles. 

You know Eddie's been saving. He confessed, when you'd brought up your concern one night, that he wants her to have everything. 

What's going on? you'd asked, frowning at his bedraggled face after another late shift. You knew Wayne had been picking Roan up from daycare to let him keep working, and it just hadn't been like Eddie to do that. You can tell me anything.

You'd been expecting, regrettably, money troubles. The Munson's aren't rich but they've never been hurting for money since you met, and all these extra hours has you assuming the worst. 

Eddie rubbed a tired eye. I just want her to have everything. I don't want to say no. Not even once. When we go on vacation, I want her to point at things and I want her to know how it feels to be able to have them without a fight. 

Admirable, a tinsy bit silly. Of course he wants that, isn't that what everyone wants for their children? Admirable, because he wanted it and he worked for it, and he saved up enough to bring Roan here and spoil her within an inch of her life. Silly, because Roan doesn't ask for much. She does ask for stuff, of course, but she's not gonna beg him for a two hundred dollar professional kite, or state of the art arm floaties. But just because you think it's a little silly doesn't mean you aren't incredibly in love with him, impressed by and proud of his efforts. 

He wants to get Roan everything. And so they start with shaved ice. 

It's the second stand you see, just off of the pier with a long, long line. Eddie scoops her up off of the floor so she can see the different flavour combinations, and it's no surprise when she chooses all the pinks and red. Strawberry, cherry, and pink lemonade. The cone is bigger than her hands and costs a ridiculous seven dollars. 

The small smile on Eddie's lips when he can crack out a crisp twenty dollar bill and hand it over makes you smile, too. It's satisfying. All that hard work was worth it for this moment. 

And the moment after. Eddie takes the snow cone and Roan audibly sighs. 

"Oh, my gosh," she says. 

You laugh. Eddie looks at you from over his shoulder and beams. 

Roan wants to do everything, as Eddie predicted. She plays arcade games she's too short for, hoisted up on his knee or in your arms, face screwed in concentration every time, and though the controls escape her she loves hitting the big red button and watching the claw come down. 

But she also wants stuff money can't buy. She wants Eddie to hug her when the clown walks past because he's big and bright and a little scary. She wants kisses when they stand at the side of the pier to look at the lake, blue and clear as an ocean, and drops some of her own against Eddie's sweaty cheek when she's been loved up. She wants you both to swing her by the hand when you're walking down the ramp to the beach, which is difficult but not impossible with the stroller in Eddie's other hand. 

She wants to get ice cream, and a slurpee despite her half eaten snow cone. She wants soft pretzels and churros and a hotdog with extra onions. She wants a surfboard, and you dissuade Eddie from getting her one of the proper ones in favour of a floatie. 

She wants you to put the finishing touches on her crumbly sand castles, and to cuddle in your lap when Eddie makes her drink from a cold bottle of water. When you've been sat in the sun so long that your brain is jellified and you have more sand in your shoes than sock, she springs up from her stomach where she'd been kicking her little feet drawing smiley faces in the sand and demands you take her down to the waterfront. You leave your towels on and the stroller further up the bank and pray for the best, and Eddie peels out of his t-shirt and rolls up his pants a couple of feet from the water. Eddie pulls her sandy dress off to reveal the swimming costume she'd been wearing underneath, a bright yellow costume with a skirt, not too tight to hurt, and bends down at the waist to talk to her as they wait for the water to rush in. You encourage armbands over her elbows. 

"It's gonna be cold, Ro, so we have to run in! Are you ready?" 

"I'm super ready!" she says, squeezing his hand and squaring her shoulders. 

You secure her bands and take her other hand into your right hand, your shoes in your left, bracing yourself for the shock. 

You run in full pelt and screaming with joy. Roan's voice turns into a stream of "oh my god oh my gosh daddy pick me up'd it's too cold oh my gosh," as the water covers your calves and her waist. Eddie immediately leans down to pick her up, out of choices and surprised by her loud aversion. Water stains him from knee to navel. 

"It's not that bad, babe," he says, though he meets your gaze over her head and mock glares at your shaking head. It's freezing. "We just have to get used to it. Ready?" 

He doesn't let her get ready. He doesn't let you get ready. He grabs your wrist and pulls you with him, fighting the cold as the gentle lake tide laps at your waists. 

"Eddie, our pants!" you protest. You'd brought spare clothes in case of any accidents. This is decidedly not an accident. 

"Please, sweetheart, just come in," he says. 

He should legally be prevented from saying please and sweetheart in the same sentence. You submerge yourself to the waist as he wanted and stand there in the water, the taste of river water heavy on your lips now, splashes of cold wetting higher up your chest. It's close to intolerable, the only saving grace the heavy heat of the sunshine above you.

"How's that, Roanie?" he asks.

He's clearly having a blast. His eyes are brighter than the sun dappling that kisses the waves. 

"It feels squishy," you say, adjusting your footing in the sandy bottom of the lake. 

"This is so FUN!" Roan shouts, letting go of Eddie's neck to put her hands in the water. She splashes the surface and soaks Eddie's t-shirt to the neck in the process. 

You almost fall over trying to find his waist in the blue. You wrap and arm around Roan and Eddie wraps and arm around you, the three of you much too deep in the lake and with no plans of turning around just yet. 

"This is so fun," he says, kissing her cheek, kissing yours. "We should do this every year." 

You smile at his chest. 

You hadn't realised, yet, that he wanted you every year. Roan babbles her agreements, talking about her snow cone and the sunshine and her floatie. She stops suddenly. 

Eddie rubs her shoulder, water shining across her pale skin. "What, babe?" 

"Daddy, where's my floatie?" 

You head back up the beach to find it. Her stroller and your towels have been left alone, but the floatie must've been too tempting. 

Eddie, without complaint, goes to buy another. 

—

more Eddie and Roan ♡

please reblog if you enjoyed, it means so much!

[chaosology]

chills

— Sam Kerr x reader

based off this request. i hope i did you justice :)

“Bit cold this morning, are we Kerr!?”

Sam’s head rose as the voice reached her ears. Her favourite hoodie had been missing from its normal spot and she was left freezing in the middle of the field, the morning sun no use. How did this happen? Sam was a routine person - the same socks at every game, the same seat on every bus. She wore her hoodie every morning she trained, placing it atop her bag the night before as to not forget it.

She stood midfield, her Aussie accent loud and clear as she let out an exasperated “I don’t know where the fuck it isss” at the sky. The team just laughed at her antics, chucking a ball at her feet and mumbling something under their breath about how it “wasn’t even that cold.”

Though, it was an unusually frosty morning in Melbourne. The grass crunched under their feet as they walked across the field, leaving trails of green footprints in a sea of almost white. The Australian was racking her brain, where the actual fuck was it? The wind was beginning to bite, and she resorted to rubbing her hands up and down her arms just for some relief.

That morning’s training passed quick, and Sam eventually warmed up as she stretched with Kyra. She had formed a now loved routine: wake up, train, go for brunch with her girl. Y/N would swing by after training to pick her up, rolling down the window and smiling as she pulled up on the curb. She usually didn’t get out the car, instead choosing to admire from afar and pick the most raunchy, explicit song to blast when Sam got close.

It’s funny, you should see your face! A little bit of Megan Thee Stallion never hurt anyone...

She would pretend to be annoyed, but Sam knew Y/N loved the idea of the team’s stoic team captain climbing into a car blasting “real hot girl shit.” And Sam just loved seeing her happy.

As coach dismissed them, she wandered over to the changing rooms to grab her bag and meet Y/N at the car. However, she wasn’t expecting for Alanna to clap her on the shoulder with a giggly I think you’ve got your answer, Sammy.

Y/N stood by Sam’s locker, chatting with Katrina and twirling Harper’s hair absentmindedly. Something had made her laugh, and Sam just admired. The way her eyes lit up and she threw her head back, her hand coming to her chest to fiddle with the strings of her hoodie.

But it wasn’t Y/N’s hoodie.

The slight frustration that had built up over the morning had lifted. She looked so goddamn cute, and Sam couldn’t help but stare. She was walking over in an instant, her hands coming to rest on Y/N’d hips as she whispered a small “hey, you” from behind.

Y/N turned in an instant, excusing herself from her prior conversation to embrace Sam. She was warm and soft and adorable, and the star striker almost couldn’t let go. By now, it was just the two of them. Y/N looked up, her eyes almost glassy.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Mini told me this was your special one and I was just cold, I really didn’t know”

“Stop”

“No, you love your routines. What if you really needed it, or-”

“Stop,” she said, pulling Y/N to her chest. “To hell with that. Do have any idea how goddamn adorable it is to see you in my clothes?”

Sam’s hand came to Y/N’s chin, tilting her head upwards. Her finger ran delicately across her lip as she sighed,

“Don’t ever take it off. Wear it to my games, make that our routine now, hey?”

No words were shared as they kissed, Y/N’s arms coming to wrap around her love’s neck. In truth, Y/N had purposely seemed out this hoodie. She didn’t know it was special, but it was the one Sam wore the most. The collar smelled just like her, and when she slept that morning without her girlfriend by her side she’d feel less alone.

“So, if we’re trading now… does this mean you’ll wear my barbie hoodie?!”

[bellysoupset]

Heyy soupppp! You tagged you were requesting for Bell and Luke so maybe this could work? 😭

Luke is hanging w the guys, Jonah, Leo, Vince, and he’s already pretty out of it, and he falls asleep while the rest are playing video games or sm (idk)

When he wakes up it’s dark, he’s sweating, and he pukes on the floor. His fever is so high he’s delerious, crying, and finds Vince, he takes his temperature, panics, gets Jonah and decides he needs a hospital?

xoxo

No hospital in this one, sorry, but I think I got everything else!

----------------------------

Leo was sure they were doing this for his benefit and part of him thought he should be embarrassed, but he really wasn't. He had missed spending time with his friends so much, Leo couldn't care less what had motivated their little "boys night".

It had been almost a full month since everything had gone down and he was back into therapy twice a week. His boss had pulled him aside asking if there was something she should know, thanks to his week long absence leave he had taken, but when Leo had brushed it off as just a family emergency, coupled with a hellish flu — an excuse Wendy had been happy to corroborate as his "doctor" —, she had left him alone.

His coworkers weren't as easy to convince, Leo had caught Sandy, Dean and Chuck whispering and all three of them had approached him separately to ask if everything was okay. Chuck seemed convinced it was something related to Jonah, judging by how he had squinted when Jon appeared to pick Leo up, seeming incredibly confused as if he had made up his mind about them breaking up, when nothing in reality supported that rumor.

"Yo," Vince slung an arm around Leo's neck and pressed their foreheads together, "get out of your head and help me with the beers."

"I'm not in my head," Leo bitched, following Vince to the kitchen, "I'm thinking- Oh, hi baby," he dropped to a crouched down position, finding JD happily eating away her food. The cat rubbed her head lazily against his hand, before getting back to the task, ignoring his pets.

"I said help, not come pet the kitty cat," Vince groaned, grabbing multiple beer packs and passing them along to Leo, "thanks- Luke's late. Amazing how he's never on time."

Leo snorted at the whining, then started tearing up the beer packs in order to plant the bottles on top of the table, while Vince hummed a song under his breath, making the snacks. He had shown up earlier than everyone, with his arms filled with grocery bags to prepare bruschetta and other Italian goodies.

Despite the music playing, Vince shared Leo's musical taste and they had been secretly playing Kit Howard since Luke wasn't there, they both heard Jonah outside the front door, his keys jiggling and also his voice as he talked with Luke.

"You guys started without us?" Jonah asked, stepping inside and moving straight to their sound system to change the music. No matter how quick he was, Lucas had clearly heard it, because he was frowning as he walked in.

"I brought dessert," he said in an annoyed manner, holding up a huge box of cupcakes. Behind his back, Leo cringed to Vince, gesturing how annoyed their friend was.

Vin planted his hands on his hip, "fucking finally guys, we almost lost the game!"

Leo was having a blast. They watched the soccer game while sprawled in the living room and stuffing their faces and, of course, Jonah and Luke were cheering for opposite teams, so they were yelling bloody murder at each other by the time the game ended.

Vince was down on the ground, more than a little tipsy, playing with JD and giggling, shoving Luke's leg playfully, "oh my god, sit down, you prick!"

"It was clearly a fault!"

"You're such a sore loser, Atwood, grow uuuup," Jonah retorted, planting his fingers in his ears to ignore him and Leo cackled, not lost on him how childish his fiancé was acting.

"Real Madrid would've won if your stupid team wasn't cheating," Luke glared, grabbing a cupcake angrily and shoving it entirely in his mouth.

Leo was shaking with laughter as he heard Jonah start to argue it wasn't cheating if Chelsea was simply superior. Across the room the phone was ringing, so he crawled on the couch to go grab it, giggling as he shushed the other three.

"Yeah?"

"Mr. Wagner? It's Matt, from the front desk-"

"Oh shit, hi Matt. I'm guessing the neighbors are complaining about the noise?" Leo cringed, turning down the music and heard a sigh.

"Yes, sir. I need you to tune it down and to remind you that parties are only allowed with the administration's permit," Leo rolled his eyes, he abhorred this HOA rules, but he knew Matt was only doing his job.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's not a party, we're just watching the game and they got a little riled up. We'll be quiet."

"Thank you, sir! Have a good night!"

"Thanks Matt, you too," Leo hung up, then turned to glare at the group, "shut up all of you, the neighbors are complaining about the noise."

"Him and his stupid fucking team," Luke mumbled darkly, grabbing the cupcake box and sitting down in the couch, slapping Jonah's hand sharply when the man tried getting one.

"I said, hush," Leo flicked at Luke's ear, "the Olympics are on, you guys wanna watch the gymnastics solo?"

"I thought that was yesterday!" Jonah perked up, shoving Luke's head so he could grab three cupcakes and they all settled down to watch the beautiful floor routine from Simone Biles. It was probably the one thing Luke and Jon both agreed on, so they were fairly quiet and the previous animosity melted easily.

After Olympics, they switched up to a video game and it was Leo's turn to all but hiss at Jonah, while Vince and Luke watched, since neither of them cared much about that.

They played only one round of Apex each, then switched up to Mario Kart so Vince could join, at what point Luke had already spread out in the bigger couch and was playing quietly with JD, sulking.

"Don't be a horrible loser, you're not five," Jonah passed him a controller, "stop sul-"

"I'm not sulking," Lucas groaned, pushing the controller away, "I'm sleepy, today was a long day. I think I just wanna sit here, you guys play."

They all exchanged an amused glance, Lucas was definitely sulking. However, they had learned long before to just let him ride out the poutiness, so they kept playing for another one hour and a half, when exhaustion caught up with them.

It was a Friday night, so both Vince and Luke were crashing there, their respective girlfriend (and wife) had their own thing going on, because Bella was going to NYC with Wendy so they could watch the Family Addams play.

Leo yawned, resting his head on Jonah's shoulder, "I think we should call it a night," he was pleasantly buzzed, almost in drunk territory but not quite and every surface felt so soft... He looked to his right, to Jonah, the giggles as he looked past his shoulder and saw Luke was curled up, knocked out, and JD was sleeping almost on top of his head, "that's sooo cute, Vin-"

"On it," Vince didn't need to be told, as he crawled on the rug to get a picture, fixing JD's tail so it looked like a hat on top of Luke's head, "send it in the group chat, Bella will love it."

Leo did just that, leaning fully against Jonah and not missing how burpy his boyfriend was. They stared at the screen expectantly, then Bella sent a picture of them in the traffic jam, Wendy curled up against the passenger window, wearing a sleeping mask and a thick hairband that had cat ears on top.

Bells: they're matching 🥰

Jonah snorted and Vince let out an amused huff, sending a bunch of hearts about his girlfriend, then he yawned, "let's call it a night?"

Thirty minutes later most of the trash was put away and Leo was changed into his PJs. He walked down the hallway to throw a blanket on top of Luke and retrieve his cat, pulling JD to his chest and smiling as he noticed how much she was purring.

Vince was in the guest bathroom, flossing, so Leo leaned on the door and knocked, "I got Luke some blankets and there's extras for you in the guest room-" he yawned, "and the fridge is all yours, you know the drill."

"Ioweeeill," Vince agreed, the words coming out all mangled since he was busy. Leo smiled, patting his friend's arm softly, then turned around to go to the master suite.

Jonah was in bed already, sitting up against the headboard and muffling deep burps against his fist, while JD napped on his lap.

"Beer got to you?" Leo guessed, turning off the lights and shutting the door, crawling on the bed.

"Uhm, it'll pass in a minute," Jonah's voice was all soft, he was definitely a little drunk, "come cuddle."

Leo locked their legs together, pressing his cheek to Jon's bicep and rolling on his side, so he could move his hand between smoothing JD's fur and rubbing his fiance's belly.

---------------------------------

Luke hadn't been feeling well since morning. That was the truth, he had felt pretty damn shitty since he opened his eyes and had even skipped gym, something he never did, in lieu of lying in bed and trying to force himself to go to work.

He had wanted nothing more than to cancel all plans, but Bella was vibrating with excitement about her plans with Wendy so he didn't want her to know he was feeling gross and consider staying behind.

It was the same logic that got him to actually show up to his night plans. He felt horrid, but it was their first time all together since the mess with Leo and Luke didn't want to mess it up. Hell, Vince was driving four hours and missing a cool weekend with his girlfriend for this, Luke could suck it up about the lethargic feeling that kept trying to pull him down.

He had chugged an energy drink on his way there and plastered a smile on, that had quickly turned into a frown thanks to all of Jonah's picking on him, but thankfully his friends had chalked that up as their usual prickliness and laughed it off.

Lucas was feeling almost proud of himself when he fell asleep to the track of his friends laughing and JD's heat near his face.

He should've known better.

Luke woke up drenched in sweat and feeling like his heart was racing, drumming in his ears. He was flat on his back on the couch and was shivering, like they had left the balcony's door open and the freezing night air was inside.

He sucked in the air, feeling more than a little desperate and... Scared? For some reason? Then his stomach lurched suddenly and Luke coughed, nearly drowning himself. He managed to roll on his side in time to retch a large stream of vomit on the ground and Luke let out a pained whine.

His throat and nose hurt, since he had almost choked, and his stomach felt awful. He was sorely regretting everything he had eaten during the night, in his effort to force normalcy. All the damn cupcakes were churning inside and he could taste the chocolate on the back of his throat...

Lucas sat up, wrapping an arm around his stomach and waiting for the room to quit spinning. HIs head felt like it weighted more than it did, lolling to the side and causing Luke to plant a hand over his lips, muffling a wet belch in it.

He didn't want to cause a mess. Well, a bigger mess. Luke grabbed on the couch and forced himself up, wavering dangerously as wooziness washed him over, then blindly moved around the room. His mouth was watering all over again and he couldn't fight a sick burp, which caused liquid fill his mouth, but he gulped it down, all but falling inside the guest bathroom.

It was like his body was painfully aware this was a safe zone, because Luke didn't even have a chance to move over to the toilet, squeezing his stomach as another cramp hit and then coughing, struggling to breathe, when the motion set off a projectile stream of vomit all over the fucking tiles and down his front.

His knees buckled and Luke curled up, more than a little disgusted and humiliated, his thoughts a wind whirl- dark spots clumping together...

-----------

Jon woke up with a weight on his chest and it took him a minute to realize he was looking straight into his cat's big blue eyes. He frowned, blindly reaching to push her off his chest and causing the kitten to meow.

"G'away," Jonah rolled on the bed, still dizzy with sleep, snuggling up with Leo and hiding his nose in the crook of his fiancé's neck- There were whispers outside his door and he let out a sigh, rolling back so he was facing the ceiling.

"What do you mean don't tell Jonah, Luke?!" Vince's voice, louder than a whisper, filtered through the closed door and caused Jon to snort in amusement.

What were the two idiots up to?

He glanced at the bedside table clock, while JD climbed on his lap once more, nibbling at his fingertips when his hand automatically went to pet her. 3:23 AM. Definitely far too late for some secretive midnight snack.

Jonah leaned in, kissing JD between her ears, "keep daddy company," he whispered, before picking her up and slotting her in the little space that Leo left since he was curled up on his side.

The closer he got to the door, though, the less the whispers sounded humorous, turning frantic and distraught... Jonah tiptoed out of the room, hitting the hallway's light switch, "what is going on?"

Chaos erupted.

Luke let out a cry, while Vince shouted "JON!", behind him JD jumped from the bed and came to meow at his feet and Jonah's stomach reacted before he could fully realize the mess in his hallway, causing him to gag.

He swallowed, pressing a fist to his mouth, trying to piece together what was going on. Vince was crouched down in front of Luke, who had fallen flat on his back near the guest bathroom door and there was vomit... Well, everywhere. On Vince's and Luke's shirts, all over the ground near Luke's head, leading up inside the bathroom...

"Please, don't be mad..." Luke whined and Jonah's stomach froze over, not with nausea, but guilt and misplaced anger. He scoffed, shaking his head and stepping closer to the mess, despite his body begging him to turn away.

"What happened?" Jonah crouched next to them and Vince's shoulders sagged with visible relief.

"I- I don't know, I woke up just now and he had already fallen and was throwing up everywhere and- and-" he cupped Luke's red cheeks, "he's burning up, Jon-"

"Grab the thermometer in our bathroom," Jonah instructed, moving his hands so they were in Lucas's neck, "and wake up Leo."

"O-okay-" Vince jumped up and rushed away, while Jonah tried to ignore the way their sick friend was sweating buckets, fever so high he was shaking as if he was freezing.

"Don't tell Jon..." Luke groaned, pressing his forehead to the inside of Jonah's wrist, while the other man checked his vitals. Luke's heart was racing, "please, Vin-"

"I'm not mad," Jonah glared at him, grabbing Luke's ruined shirt by the shoulder and using all his strength to pull his friend sitting up, instead of lying on the groud, "c'mon-"

"Uhm," Luke moaned, Adam's apple bobbing up and down, "don'feel-good..." his words stuck together and he folded in the middle, all but drooling over his lap, "I want Bell..."

Jonah's own heart was racing now and he turned his head to holler, "VINCE, WHERE'S THE DAMN THERMOMETHER!?"

That caused some rustling inside the bedroom and Vince rushed out, holding the little device, as well as the bathroom trash and a bunch of towels, with Leo hot in his heels, although the blonde looked half asleep still.

"Here-" Vince dropped to his knees in the sick covered hallway, mess be damned, "what do I do...?"

"Luke," Jonah patted the other man's cheek, nervously, "hey. Lucas, Luke-" Luke finally opened his eyes, although they were dazed and confused, "look at me. Hey-"

"Jon...?" Lucas frowned, gulping down, "I'm sorry, I- I tried to stop-"

"It's okay, it's okay," it was terrifying to have Luke apologizing to him of all people, "you think you can hold the thermometer in your mouth?"

"Do we really have to? Anyone can tell he's got a fever," Vince protested and Jonah raised a hand to shut him up.

"I- Ye-yeah..." Luke nodded, squeezing his eyes shut, "I don't feel good..."

"We know, buddy," Leo had moved closer as well and was holding JD to stop her from getting her paws dirty, "Jon's gonna help, alright...?"

Luke sniffled pitifully and Jonah forced the thermometer in his mouth and under the tongue, checking the time on Vince's phone, since the man was the only one who had one.

"I'm gonna start cleaning this," Leo decided, squeezing Jonah's shoulder as he got up, "and put JD away."

"What do I do?" Vince asked in a small, worried voice, eyes glued to Luke's face, "this was so out of nowhere-"

"You're gonna help me get him in the shower," Jonah explained, "let's just wait a minute..."

Under his hand, Luke jerked and gagged, pressing his lips tightly around the plastic of the thermometer. He moved a hand to wrap around his stomach, but Vin held his wrist, "no, Luke, your shirt is covered in sick..."

"-urtsss," Lucas moaned, sniffling again and gulping down once more. A thin line of drool started to run from his bottom lip to his lap, as he was unable to fully close his mouth. He gagged and Jonah rushed to retrieve the device, as he heard the disgusting noise of liquid splashing...

It was just in time. Vince shoved the trashcan under Luke's chin and Jonah's hand was barely out of the line of fire as more vomit rushed up and splattered inside the bin.

Jonah glanced at the thermometer, a new one they had gotten after Leo complained about their European device one too many times, and cringed. 103.5ºF

Next to him, Lucas retched loudly once more and Vince rubbed his back in a reassuring manner, although his face was desperate as he said, "Jon!?"

"Lucas," Jonah moved so he could cup his friend's burning forehead and rubbed his opposite arm, "we're gonna get you up, okay?"

Instead of answering, Luke just nodded dizzily, and Vince removed the bin from his lap, wrapping an arm around Lucas' waist, while Jon did the same. Together, they pulled him up quickly to his feet, causing the man to let out a loud groan and pitch forward with a gag, bringing up another mouthful of bile all over the floor, just as Leo returned with a bucket and a mop, causing the blonde to cringe.

"Jesus," Leo winced, "that's some virus..."

Luke shook with a hiccup, which quickly turned into a sob and he crumpled towards Vince's side, hiding his burning face against his friend's shoulder and bawling.

"Aw man, it's okay, I got you..." Vince cooed, rubbing Luke's back while Jonah started to guide all three of them inside the ruined guest bathroom.

Jon side stepped the mess on the ground, gagging harshly himself and stopping in the middle of the way, still squeezing Luke's bicep, so he could spit inside the toilet. The lid was lifted, but the water clear, Lucas had never even made it inside the bathroom.

"Jon?" Leo poked his head inside the bathroom and Jonah shook his head, lips pressed in a line, swallowing down a burp.

"I'm fine," he pulled them further in, inside the shower area. Besides him, Luke let out another hiccup-sob, tears running down his swollen face, completely out of it.

Jonah opened the shower, turning the registers until the water was from lukewarm, ignoring the fact he was getting completely soaked as well, "Okay, c'mere-" he moved out of the stream, so they could hold Luke under it and the man immediately let out a pained yelp, very similar to the noise JD made when they accidentally stepped on her tail.

"Hurts..." he whimpered, sobbing harder, "please- pleasssstop... Why are you doin'this?"

Over his head, Vince looked mortified, and Jonah understood the feeling well. Last time he had seen Luke this distraught, had been back in Christmas when he was sick while in the midst of depression, but even then the fever hadn't been this high.

"You think he had a fever before?" Vince voiced his thoughts, worry coloring his words as he hugged Luke close, all but rocking him under the water, "shhh, bud, almost over."

"Probably," Jonah answered gruffly, turning around and starting to peel off Luke's soaked, sick covered shirt, "there's no way this climbed this high so quickly."

"What can I do?" Leo entered the bathroom, now with three towels draped over his arm, having just ditched the mop, "hallway is clean and living room too."

"Living room?" Jon frowned, glancing at Vince, who looked just as confused.

Leo cringed, nodding, "yeah, living room, I think he woke up sick..." Between them, Luke let out a groan and suddenly stopped crying- His knees buckled and both Vince and Jonah let out a shout as they almost went down with his weight.

"Oh my God," Vince cursed, stepping all over the place and forgetting Jonah was holding half of Luke's weight as he moved to fully grab his best friend, "Luke- Lucas, please, please, open your eyes-"

"Vin," Leo said in a small voice, "Vince, he's coming back to, calm down-" the blonde stepped almost inside the shower area, planting a hand on Vince's back in a reassuring way.

Lucas let out a little moan as he came back to, with Vince still patting his cheek frantically and all but snarling, "aren't you a doctor?! Do something!" at Jon.

"Was-what's going on-" Lucas' voice was raspy, but lucid, and all of them breathed out in relief. Jonah turned off the water, while Luke started to shiver violently, "M'fff-freezin'-"

"Yeah, we're gonna get you dried up," Jonah let go of his arm, side stepping Lucas and Vince, since Vin had a vice-like grip on the man, and as soon as he stepped out of the shower area Leo threw a towel over his head, starting to rub it in.

Jon squeezed his boyfriend's hand, but pulled away, stepping out of the rug so Vince could drag Luke there. The bathroom wasn't built for four men, so Jon was forced to step back in the wet section, while Luke fell sit in the still open toilet and Leo and Vin started to dry him up as if he was a toddler.

"Luke," Jonah wanted to touch him, but there was no space, "when did you start to feel sick?"

"Morning," was Luke's lethargic answer, head lolling with sleep, "I don't feel well..."

"Are you gonna be sick again?" Leo looked up from his crouched down position as they stripped Luke out of his soaked sweat pants, "Luke?"

"Hmmmm... No," he breathed in, "I'm sorry I got sick everywhere..."

"Shut up about that," Jon glared at his friend and Vince scoffed, rubbing the towel vigorously over Lucas' wavy hair, with so much force he was creating curls.

"Let's get him up-" Leo said and Vince was about to do just that, when the blonde shook his head, "you're getting water everywhere, dry yourself. Jon can help me."

"You two can't-" Vince started to protest and Leo glared at him.

"He's our best friend too," he said in a calm, but serious voice, "we can handle him. Dry yourself, you don't wanna get a cold on top of this mess."

Jonah decided he didn't need to explain contagion didn't happen like that, feeling a swell of pride at Leo voicing what he was thinking. He circled Vince, exchanging places with him, and helped Leo get Luke up.

They stumbled into the guest bedroom, which was the closest one. The bed was already unmade, since Vin had been sleeping there and Luke collapsed against the pillows with a heavy sigh, brows meeting in a frown.

"What hurts?" Jonah asked, going for the dresser where they left most of their older clothes for guests, and stripping of his wet pajamas, sliding on some new sweatpants.

"Head," Luke rolled on his side, until his head was resting on Leo's lap and the blonde promptly started combing his fingers through his hair, stroking lightly at Luke's cheeks.

"Like a migraine?" he asked in a whisper and Luke shook his head, while Jonah rushed out of the room to get their first aid kit. Once he came back, not a full minute later, Vince was inside the bedroom, now clad in his spare set of boxers and nothing else, curled up in the bed with Lucas and Leo.

Jon scoffed, pausing at the doorway, "do I need to explain you guys don't wanna catch this plague?"

"Get in here," Leo rolled his eyes, "you can fit right here."

"Are you crazy?" Jonah pouted, planting the first aid kit on top of the dresser and fishing out an antipyretic, as well as a painkiller, "Luke, are you still feeling sick?"

"No," the man's voice was sleepy, as his head was still in Leo's lap and he was being lulled to sleep by the hair pets, "stomach hurts."

"Yeah, that's because you puked things you ate back when you were three," Vince joked weakly, squirming on the bed so he could rest his own head on Luke's thigh and starting to rub his friend's belly, "this alright?"

"Get him to drink this," Jon climbed on the bed, over Vince's legs and handed the pills to Leo. He was planning to climb back out, but then Luke grabbed the cords of his hoodie and Jon nearly faceplanted over all of them.

The bed let out a whine under their weight and Vince snorted, "this thing is gonna go down with us."

"Here, swallow this," Leo pushed the two pills unceremoniously inside of Luke's mouth and caused the man to splutter and almost bite his fingers.

Lucas swallowed with a grimace, then curled up even further, "you guys are warm..."

Jonah sighed, collapsing between all three of them, resting his cheek on his hand and draping his legs over Vince's. Clearly, no one was going anywhere.

Luke met his eyes, little pained lines around them, but no longer the previous confusion, "Thank you..." he closed his eyes, relaxing, as Jon reached in and pushed his bangs back, brushing his thumb over Leo's knuckles buried in Luke's hair.

The blonde smiled at him, then squirmed until he was lying down instead of sitting against the headboard, causing Luke's head to rest fully against his tummy instead of his lap. Vince moved closer and Jonah went boneless, resting his cheek to Leo's thigh and planting a kiss there, feeling exhaustion catch up with him as the adrenaline wore off.

Last thing he heard before fully passing out was JD sneaking back into the guest room and climbing the bed so she could snuggle up against Vince's tummy.

[cyberg4n]

✧ 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄

paring: earth42!miles x fem!reader

warnings: nothing, fluff, lowkey short sorry😭

a/n: i saw a movement test clip of him earlier on tiktok and i was SCREAMING and it just fueled me to make this

summary: you stop by during miles’ training sesh.

you walk up the stairs, hearing music blasting from aaron’s apartment. you knock on his door, waiting for someone to answer. you stand there for a few minutes, awkwardly looking down at your phone. you knock again — but louder. you hear someone approaching, so you back up. aaron opens the door, his brows raising once he sees you. “oh, hey.” aaron says. you greet him back. “uh, is miles here?” you ask, he turns around, nodding. he opens the door wider for you to enter. once you step inside, you see miles swinging at the punching bag in front of him. you hear the door close behind you, aaron walks over to miles. he stops the bag with his hand, “your girlfriend’s here.” he says, nodding his head over to you. miles raises a brow, looking over aaron’s shoulder. once he spots you, he smiles widely.

miles takes off his boxing gloves, walking over to you. “how you doin’ ma?” he kisses you, pulling you into a hug. he looks down at your hand. “what’s that?” he asks. you smile, “takeout,” he grins, kissing you on the cheek. “you always treat me, don’t you, princesa?” you hear a cough, looking over behind miles. aaron turns down the music, standing there awkwardly. “you two have fun, i gotta go run some errands.” he says. whenever he says he has to got run some errands, what he really means is he has to go buy more items for explosives. miles laughs, saying bye to him. once aaron leaves, miles pulls you over to the couch. you open the plastic bag, grabbing a few boxes out. the food neatly arranged on the coffee table. as you tear open the containers, you can’t help but admire him.

you watch miles devour his dumplings. you stare at the veins running down his arms as he lifts each bite to his lips. he looks over at you, a smug look on his face. “what?” he asked through a mouthful of food. “you’ve gotten so big, i guess aaron’s really working you hard with all that prowler stuff.” you say. he grins, “what you don’t like it?” he asks while purposely flexing his arms. you laugh, shaking your head. he reaches over to the table, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv. “so, how’s your prowler business going?” you ask. miles’ eyes light up as soon as you ask, “fucking amazing,” he says. “you know, the other day, me and aaron completely messed up these guys. it was crazy, i mean i—” you quickly raise a finger, shushing him. you point at the screen.

the news flashes on, bright letters on the bottom of the screen reads “the prowler strikes again — with a new apprentice.” when miles realizes what he’s reading, he immediately stops eating. you gasp, snatching the remote out of his hand, turning up the volume. you listen to the reporter as she stands by a large building, a visible chuck of it missing. “holy shit,” you mutter, you laugh as you realize half of the building has been blown up. “you blew it up?” you ask. his eyes are glued to the screen, “yeah, i did.” he replies back. the two of you laugh as it switches over to another angle of the building being even more wrecked. “i hate that they’re calling me an apprentice though,” he says while continuing to eat his food. you lean back, tilting your head to the side. “is that not what you are?” he looks at you, shrugging. “i mean, yeah — but you know.” you roll your eyes sarcastically, giggling. “i’m so proud of you, my baby finally made it onto tv.” you say as you pinch his cheeks teasingly. miles grabs your wrist, laughing. “aight, chill.”

he finishes his dumplings, placing the box back on the table. he gets up, grabbing a cold water bottle from the fridge before sitting back down next to you. he opens the bottle, gulping down his water. “i’m glad you’re having fun with all this, haven’t seen you genuinely happy in a while.” you say, he looks up at you, his gaze softening. “yeah,” he murmurs. “all of this prowler stuff really helps me ease my stress,” you smile at him, playing with one of his braids. “and your mom, she doing okay?” miles nods, “yeah, she still doesn’t know about it yet though.”

miles sighs loudly, laying his head down into your lap. he looks up at you, pulling you into a kiss. “and i hope she doesn’t find out any time soon.” he mutters. he turns in your lap, watching the news. you hear him hysterically laugh under you every time the reporter mentions the damage he’s done to the building.

please do not copy or repost my writings to any other sites !

[milliesfishes]

Enchanted (Part Four)𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

[fem reader] contains: kidnapping, prejudice, death, blood, angst pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: pirate billy x mermaid reader author’s note: based on my love @francixoxoxo 's pirate billy au- leaving the tag below. thank you all for the support on this series! it's been such a blast to write, I'm really proud of this one <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Many a man had been claimed by a siren’s song, and Billy was no exception. Though the way he’d been pulled under differed slightly from the others.

He stumbled across you singing one day when you were awaiting him on the beach, lying staring up at the sky as the tide re-soaked your tail. The words flowed from your mouth in a haunting, tantalizing way. But it was still you. He could hear the sweetness underneath it. That was his girl.

Kneeling at your side, Billy reached for your hand. “That’s pretty, baby.”

Your eyes widened and your head whipped to face him. Now your hands were on his face, his chest, seemingly checking for something. “Are you okay?”

He frowned in confusion. “Yeah, sweet, I’m alright.”

Still, you searched his eyes, breathing quickening. “I didn’t mean to sing in front of you…I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Hey, hey,” Billy’s brow was furrowed worriedly, and he reached for your hands, squeezing them. “What’re ya sorry for?”

“My…my song…” you choked, nearly hysterical. Your eyes wandered his face as if waiting for something terrible to happen. “It can hurt humans. I’ve never used it before…I don’t wanna hurt you, I-”

He pulled you into a hug before you could say anything else, trying to soothe you. Billy had never seen you this upset before, this despondent. The mere thought of hurting him was hurting you, and his heart swelled. 

The next time he came to the shore, you were bubbly and all smiles, reaching up for him with grabby hands like a baby. It was the polar opposite of how he’d left you last time, with a kiss to your brow and a promise he was okay. 

He succumbed to your touch, letting you pull him in for a long kiss. You broke it off, already chattering. “I found the answer! About my siren song!”

Grinning, he gently chucked you under the chin, a little unsure what you’d needed an answer to. “‘Course ya did, baby. Knew ya would.”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck. Though your voice was muffled by skin, he was able to make out the words, “It’s ‘cause I love you.”

“What is?” he murmured, face half in your hair.

“My song didn’t affect you,” you explained, still burrowed against him. “It should have sent you into a trance. But it didn’t and it’s because I love you.”

Pulling back, you tilted your head, watching his reaction. Smiling, Billy leaned in, planting a kiss on your mouth and pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb. He looked at you like you’d dotted every star in the sky. “You’re a wonder,” he said softly, his voice full of awe. “My girl…”

The rest of the night was spent with you bundled up in his arms. At his insistence, you were singing softly, hesitant at first, but leaning more into it as you saw the only effect on him was the lovestruck look in his eyes.

“My true love’s blood/ mixed with my tears/I drank it and walked/’till the end of my years.”

Billy was nearly in a trance at your voice. He shifted you against his chest, lowering his lips to your hair. “Pretty.”

You smiled softly, the look in your eyes reminiscent of the sea on a calm day. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Why?” he asked casually, his fingers trailing up your back into your hair. It was a subject of fascination to him, the way it flowed over your body as if it were silk, covered your torso modestly, but stuck to you like a second skin when it was wet. Billy loved to touch it, wind it around his fingers, braid it like rope. Sometimes he'd find primrose growing nearby and stick it between your strands, creating a crown of flowers that you wore regally.

You rested your chin on his chest. He’d removed his shirt earlier, knowing you liked to be skin-to skin with him. It was an intimate action that filled his heart with a gentle fire like a hearth in the winter. “It’s supposedly a recipe for how to turn a mermaid into a human forever.”

“Really?” Billy’s interest was piqued, and he hummed in thought. “‘S that somethin’ you’d wanna do?”

Half shrugging, you moved so your ear was over his heart, the steady thump a comforting thing. He adjusted the flower behind your ear and you smiled. “I’m not sure. But it’s nice to think about sometimes.”

Billy watched your expression, the way you visibly relaxed when you were between his arms. Now the future called from the horizon, and he watched the fantasies play out. He saw himself saving up enough to quit piracy forever and get a little house on the bay, where he’d see you every day. He watched his silhouette become a fisherman and live out the rest of his days that way, you at his side, always waving at him from the water. And maybe once in a blue moon you’d come ashore for a night and he’d get to hold you as he fell asleep.

These visions in mind, he looked back down at you, with your shimmery tail and long, lovely hair. “I’m happy with whatever you want, angel. ‘S long as you still want me ‘round. Even then I’d be fine dreamin’ of you forever.”

Lifting your head, you smiled at him in a bittersweet way. But there was hope in your eyes, he could see it ignite. “I don’t ever want you to let go of me.”

“I won’t,” he said instantly, leaning down and kissing your forehead with the gentlest of touches. “Isn’t gonna get better than this, sweet. Not one bit.”

With a sweet smile, you reached your hand up, fist closed around something. He cocked his head when you placed a little blue shell on his chest, pale and perfect. 

Grinning, he took it in his hand, and your pretty one came up to close his fingers around it. “Didja bring this for me, sweet girl?”

Nodding enthusiastically, you rested your chin on his chest, hair falling over him in its curtain-like way. “It looks like your eyes. And the ocean. And my tail.”

Billy raised his hand to rest on the crown of your head, bringing your face down so he could kiss you softly. He nudged his nose against yours. “All my favorite things.”

Your lovely laughter echoed in his head long after the fact.

It was bouncing around in his head now, as he awoke on the rocking ship, dreams lingering in his mind before they were lost to waking.

Springing up, he nearly fell out of his hammock when he heard the shout of Land, ho! Three days of sailing had finally amounted to the destination.

After the harrowing events of that fateful night you'd been stolen from him, he'd asked around back at port about mermaid bidders with a throbbing head and a sore lip. An older fisherman had directed him to a boat leaving within the hour, setting sail for Imber, the island Murphy and the crew were likely headed for.

Marching up to the ship's captain, he'd offered his services in exchange for passage, and the man had agreed. Billy worked and toiled over the ship, hardly able to think of anything except for you.

The circumstances were dire. You were in the hands of ruthless pirates, all of which had incentive to hurt you. He knew his sweet girl. He knew you wouldn't use your mermaid's powers against them no matter how bad things got. Even though you could have drowned them all in a second with a single note of your voice, you were too gentle, too empathetic to humans as a whole to even open your mouth.

There was no control to be had. Not yet. So, he labored diligently to try and get to the location. You were his compass, pointing to the big red X on the map of his heart. 

His body ached for you. At all times he could see your shadow swimming in front of his eyes, asking a question he was happy to have the answer to. Oh, he'd never let you leave his arms again. He'd make a thousand vows, utter even more apologies, bundle you in his arms with nothing between your bodies. 

With the determination of a man in love, he marched down the plank ashore, breathing in the scent of fish for sale and rotting wood of the time-worn dinghies bobbing nearby. He didn’t see Jesse’s ship in the harbor, though. The town was bustling, a steady hum of chatter giving him hope. Someone around here had to have seen a crew of pirates transporting a mermaid.

The first ten people he questioned hadn’t. Nor did the following twenty. All day he grabbed the arms of passerby, begging for any tiny detail that could lead him to your captors. But nobody had seen a thing, and quite a few thought he’d had too much sun for talking about mermaids. He was losing his resolve, dreading that maybe he’d come to the wrong island, or worse, that the crew had already rid themselves of you, sailing off with a ship weighed down in gold.

Finally, after dark, he came across a man with a harsh sunburn who was gutting a fish and admitted he knew of someone who worked in mystical dealings. “He’s an odd fella, but maybe ‘e can help ya,” he said roughly, nodding east. “Lives just outside town. Little shack on the shore. Can’t miss it.”

Billy thanked him eagerly, half-running in that direction as he did. If the crew had already passed through town, maybe whoever the sunburned man mentioned already had you. And while Billy didn’t have much in the way of funds, he was a pirate. Normally he cursed the fact, but now he reveled in it. Maybe his lifestyle would finally be of some use and he’d be able to steal you away.

The shack was ominous, more so than it would have been in the light; old and weathered by years of use. Billy warily approached it, summoning his courage. It was for you. He repeated the phrase like a mantra over and over again as he knocked on the door. 

A man just as haggard as his dwelling answered, peering at Billy through a crack in the door. “Can I help you?”

Shifting on his feet, Billy straightened to his full height, trying not to let on his fear. “I was wonderin’...have ya heard anythin’ ‘bout or seen anyone with…a mermaid?” The last part was said in wary tones. He waited for the man to call him crazy or shut the door in his face. After hours of asking that very question of so many people, Billy was aware of how crazy it sounded.

To his surprise, the old man’s eyes lit up. He opened the door fully, stepping outside and shutting it behind him. When he leaned in, Billy could see how cloudy his eyes were, as if he was nearly blind. “There was a pirate here earlier. He spoke of a mermaid. Apparently he’d heard of some of the trading I involve myself with.” His speech was surprisingly elegant given the circumstances, but it made Billy lean in. He nodded, encouraging the old man to continue.

“Folks speak of seeing mermaids all the time, but he had one with him,” the man tapped his chin. “Pretty little thing. Looked scared.”

“And what happened to her? Do you have her?” Billy looked up over him at the shack, as if it would reveal you behind the walls.

“No,” the man shook his head, and Billy’s shoulders slumped. “They said they would come up with another offer and come back tomorrow. The price I gave wasn’t high enough.” He shrugged. “It is what it is. Couldn’t give ‘em more because she was so weak. Brings the value down.”

Hearing that you were in an unstable condition only increased Billy’s worries. He shook off the comment about your worth. The man didn’t know better. “D’ya know where they are now?”

“There’s a little cove just a mile north,” the man nodded, casting his eyes to the side as he thought. “They didn’t wanna take her offboard so they brought me there.” Then he suddenly looked up, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You aren’t looking to buy, are you?”

Energized by the information, Billy quickly shook his head. “No. No, I…just was curious ‘bout…mermaids,” he finished lamely. 

The old man stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “I see. Well…wouldn’t get too close to the ship if I was you. They’re a nasty bunch.” He gave Billy a secretive look. “Maybe if I get my hands on her I can letcha see. For a price ‘f course.” Patting him once on the arm, the old man turned around, going back into his shack. “Good luck!”

 Billy’s eyes were fixed on the door after it shut, processing the information given. He looked northward, and without thinking, broke into a run. 

Everything reminded him of you. The moonlight took him back to the night he'd met you. The sand was remnant of the grains he'd find in his hair after a day well spent on the beach with you resting contently on top of him. But the most glaring thing was the ocean itself, ebbing and flowing as it was wont to do, conjuring images of your stormy eyes, thinly veiling the secrets beneath. Secrets he wouldn't dare name.

Fate was a mysterious thing, as mysterious as what it brought him. He yearned to rein it in but was as wild as a woman's heart. Billy had long known his future was as storm-tossed as his past, but with you, the present was clear, smooth, perfect for sailing into good-weathered places to remain forever.

He’d run the length of the earth to get you back.

Stumbling upon the cove, Billy instantly recognized the ship. It was half ashore, which was unusual, but he shrugged it off. As he got closer he could hear voices aboard. The tide lapped at his boots, and he strained to listen, but the sounds of the water muffled the voices.

Reaching up for the first rung of the makeshift ladder ingrained in the ship, Billy pulled himself up. This was the way you’d gotten up to visit him aboard so many times, and he marveled at your strength as he climbed. You’d done it without legs to support you, too.

Hauling himself up close to the railing, Billy peered up, hoping nobody would see him. Luckily, everyone on deck’s attention seemed fixed on someone in the direction of the hull.

He was able to make out Jesse from here, and Murphy too. Odd. He’d have thought the latter would have been the one everybody was listening to. Shifting where he was, Billy craned his head to try and see who was speaking. When he caught sight, his heart dropped and he nearly let go of the bars he was using to keep himself propped up.

Pat Garrett. His former crewmate.

They’d been like brothers, as close as Jesse and him had once been. But Pat had been marooned one day a few years ago, his reputation having made the law pay too close of attention to them. The action was for the safety of the crew, Jesse had said. It’d never sat right with Billy, and he silently held a grudge against his captain because of it.

Now, Pat seemed to be doing just fine, all trussed up in a commander’s uniform. He exuded power, and Billy could see Murphy and Jesse drawn to it like a fish to a hook. Even though he was closer to the action, he still couldn’t understand what they were saying. 

With what must have been Pat’s final word, everyone scattered, most heading belowdecks, likely toward the sleeping quarters. Murphy said something to Pat, and the two of them disappeared behind a door Billy knew to lead to the captain’s cabin.

Only Jesse remained on deck now, and for a moment, Billy could have sworn he saw him. Lowering himself a bit, Billy hoped the shadows of the ship and the night were hiding him well enough.

The captain stared at the spot near him for just a second, and then he turned around, going to a door he recognized as one where gunpowder used to be stored. Jesse was only in there for a few minutes, and when he came out he was holding a length of rope. He looked from side to side, as if checking for intruders, and in that instance, Billy knew that was where you were being kept.

You were so close he could almost feel your shape in his arms.

It was draining, being just above the ocean but not in it.

You could feel it below like it was your life force, the draw, the way it pulled at you. But there wasn't a lot you could do when you were tied up, stuffed into some back cabin of a ship.

Every day to keep you alive, a crew member shoved the door open and threw a crude bucket of water over your head so your tail wouldn't dry out. Then he would leave you, drenched and cold and alone, skin burning from the feel of the ropes. If they were ever removed, you knew there would be scars.

The room was windowless, which added to your desolation. It was dark in here, and you longed for the feel of the sun on your face, for the salt air on your tongue. Freedom was caged, and you wanted the key desperately.

You cried so much that first night, tears pouring like rivers. Not immune to the lore of them, the one who you'd met in the market- Jesse, you remembered, sat with you for hours, collecting your tears in tiny glass containers until you had no more water to spare. The little bottles were sitting on the floor near you, about twenty or so. It was almost like they were taunting you.

The only comfort to you now was the ghost of Billy's presence. He'd been on this ship, maybe in this very room. You pretended he was just outside the door, about to come in and scoop you up and tell you everything was okay.

Your body was weak. The first day trapped here you'd been sitting upright, but now you were lying on your side, eyes closed. The lack of sea rendered you unmovable.

The door creaked open, and you lifted your head wearily, seeing a figure in the doorway. Jesse again.

Was he here to collect more tears? Maybe pluck a scale from your tail while he was at it? The man shoved you to sit up, and you leaned your head back against the wall, closing your eyes again. Whatever he did, you hoped it would be quick.

Then you felt fingers undoing your bindings. Eyes opening, you turned your head to look at him. His face was firm as he loosened the ropes, tossing them to the side. "No sense in keepin' ya tied up," he said roughly, untying the final knot. "Isn't like you could get away."

With that he left, shutting the door and enshrouding you in darkness once more. You listlessly stretched your wrist out in front of your face, touching the burning part with your fingertips. It was hot. It hurt. You wanted to cry again, but you dreaded him coming back in and taking more tears.

Now that there were no restraints, your mind stupidly told you that you could get to the door. But your body was devoid of any strength, and you flopped to the ground again. Your limbs were heavy, your body akin to something shattered. Maybe you would die. And they wouldn't be able to use you.

Utter despair overtook your heart, and you let your hair fall over your shoulders and head, forehead resting on the wood beneath you. You hoped Billy would never find you, never have to see your crumpled form devoid of life. He could move on and find something else somewhere else. You wished a thousand things for him. None of them involved you.

At least you'd gotten to love so wonderfully before you died. Billy had taught you so much, given you all of him. You loved him desperately for it, and now you managed a weak smile at the thought, drawing a shuddering, gasping breath.

A creak sounded in the little room, and you didn't move, sure death was coming soon. What more could they possibly take from you? Life was slithering out of you the way the tide drew back from the sand.

Heavy bootsteps. Someone knelt beside you, knees touching your side. There was a hand in your hair, smoothing it. Stroking it. "Baby..."

An alarm sounded in your heart, and you lifted your head slowly with whatever strength you had left, blearily opening your eyes. Billy was sitting beside you, seeming relieved and concerned all rolled into one.

For a moment you were sure you'd died. He wouldn't be here otherwise, big hand on your head, feeling your cheek and looking at you with worried eyes. Then he whispered, "What’ve they done to my girl?"

Suddenly you registered the feel of his hand. Billy was here. He had come for you. Your eyes welled up, and you shakily let out a breathy sob.

Billy leaned down, lifting you up under your arms and pulling you into his lap, worn body supported by his chest. He buried his nose in your hair, pressing his lips there and holding you tight. "My baby...angel baby...my poor girl. I'm here, sweetie, I'm here. Oh, honey..."

He planted kiss after kiss on your face, almost trying to revive you with his touch. The presence of your lover gave you a little strength, and you sniffled, tears soaking his neck. There were a few little scars there, and when you lifted your head a bit, you could see them fading from his skin.

The pure joy you felt in seeing him could have replaced the sea for the rest of your life. Billy held you close, holding your limp body up, his strong arms contrasting it. You looked up at him, eyes wide. “How did you find me?”

“Asked around,” he muttered, his cheek pressed against your head. Nuzzling his nose against your hair, Billy brought his hand up to rest against the back of your head. “Woulda gone to the end of the world for m’ girl.” He studied your form, eyes catching on your dried tail. “Sweetheart…how long’s it been since you’ve seen the sea?”

“Not since that night,” you said softly, and he huffed, rubbing your arm. “They’ve been putting water on me.”

“Can only imagine how that’s goin’,” he frowned, looking around the room. His eyes caught on the bottles of tears. Reaching for one, he uncorked it, pouring it on your tail. The feel of the liquid made it twitch, and you felt slight rejuvenation.

Shaking your head, you stopped his hand before he could get another one. “Billy, those are my tears. They’re not gonna work on me.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s water and it’s makin’ ya feel better.” He firmly kissed your head. “I can see it. C’mon sweetie-” Propping you up so your back was against his chest, he secured one arm over your collarbone as he emptied the contents of each bottle one by one onto your tail, little strength coming with each one. Both your hands clutched his forearm, your head weakly leaning against him. 

He looked at you so tenderly, lovingly, that you nearly melted. He’d come for you; your hero, your love. Billy was too good to be true. On those lazy days of old on the shore he’d confessed to you his worries over his soul’s place. He hated his profession, his spot in the world. 

To himself he was nothing worth saving. A stain on your otherwise pure heart. But to you he was everything. You saw through the circumstances he’d been forced into and found who he truly was. A good man. The way he loved you was a sure indication.

And you’d be damned if he was hurt because he wanted to save you.

Before he could pour the last bottle, you tugged on his sleeve. “You need to get out of here…it’s not safe. You shouldn’t have come.” 

Face falling, he set the last bottle aside, shadowing with concern. His hand came up to brush your hair behind your ear. “Baby I ain’t leavin’ without you.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” you sniffled, shaking your head. “Not for me. You need to go.” 

He took your face in both his hands, thumbs smoothing your cheeks. “Honey, we’re gonna leave right now, m’kay? Both ‘f us.”

You were still worried as he scooped you up into his arms, standing and giving your brow a soft kiss. Something didn’t feel right. “Billy-”

The door burst open, pirates storming in and surrounding you. Unable to help it, you gave a helpless little yelp of fear, and Billy’s arms tightened around you. His head turned back and forth as the men raised their guns and swords, the threat apparent that they’d attack if he made a single move.

You felt the betrayal in waves. This had been his crew, his friends even. And now they were turning against him. Billy pressed your face into his shoulder, and you knew it was for your own safety. 

“Let us pass,” he demanded, his words rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your body. 

“Don’t think so,” a rough voice responded. “You’re holdin’ our money.”

“You had the chance to sell ‘er and ya didn’t, Murphy,” Billy responded, and you thought of the old man who’d poked and prodded at your tired body, speaking as though you weren’t in the room. How Billy knew, you had no idea. “Figured you weren’t gonna and I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“We ain’t sellin’ her,” Murphy responded. “That’s a one time payoff. What she has to offer’s much more valuable.”

Billy’s body tensed, and suddenly you knew what the bottles of tears had been for. “Either way she’s comin’ with me.”

“Slow down, Billy,” a new voice said. You lifted your head. It was that man with the mustache who’d come on the ship today. The way he looked at you was the way a shark eyed a fish. Billy tried to push your head back down, but you shook it once and he relented.

“Didn’t think I’d see ya ‘gain,” Billy responded to the mustached man. “Much less like this.”

“We’ve got a deal, Murphy and I,” the man said in even tones. “The law looks the other way and I get a little somethin’ for my efforts.”

Scoffing, Billy shook his head. “Never thought I’d see the day Pat Garrett was on that side.”

“Man’s gotta change to survive sometimes,” Pat folded his arms over his shiny uniform. 

“And yet here ya are,” Billy bit, and you tugged his collar. He was getting tense, too upset. Face softening as he looked at you, his tone grew benign. “Just let us go. Ya won’t ever see me or her again.”

Murphy and Pat exchanged looks. You could see Jesse standing slightly behind them, looking forlorn. There was tension in the air, and you held Billy tight, feeling his heartbeat race. He shifted you in his arms and covered your bare breast with one hand, having seen the eyes of some of the crew lingering on it. Normally you didn’t mind, but there was something in their gaze that made you vastly uncomfortable. And Billy had known. 

Lifting your chin, your eyes caught his, and you found safety in the blue of them. They reminded you of the water, clear and warm and wonderful. After being so deprived, you were swimming again.

He rested his cheek against your head, and your heart soared. Billy didn’t care about how the crew perceived him. It was clear by his actions and his expression that you were the only thing on his mind. And you loved him for it.

Turning back, you saw Murphy nod at Pat, and the mustached man lifted his chin at Billy. “Fine. Go.” He gave a motion, and the rest of the crew filed out of the room, save for Jesse.

Billy’s sigh of relief was soft, but you felt it, your own escaping you. He nodded at the three men, eyes landing back on you in the end. Adjusting your hair so it fell over your breast, he steadied his arms around you so he had a better grasp. Eyes tender, he dropped his nose to your hair, kissing it and whispering, “It’s gonna be okay,” with his lips touching you still. 

In his eyes you saw hope for the first time in days. Your Billy was here. He was here and he was going to get you out.

It happened in a flash. One minute Billy was taking a step, the next you were being wrenched from his arms, and then there was a gunshot. Billy hadn’t had his pistol drawn.

You squirmed and wriggled in the arms of whoever had grabbed you, digging your nails into your captor. He dropped you, cursing, and you crashed to the ground, whimpering in pain. His footsteps sounded as he ran, and you thanked the sea gods he did.

When you had your bearings again, you lifted your head, pushing hair out of your eyes. One of the men had collapsed, groaning in pain. The other two were standing above him, a pistol in one of their hands. You crawled forward, trying to see who it was, heart pounding in dread. Please…please…

The two men noticed your movements and turned. Neither of their faces were Billy’s.

Your mouth opened in horror, and you reached out for him, trying desperately to get to his body. “No, no-!”

Murphy whispered something to Pat, and he exited promptly. Then he bent down, grabbing your arm and beginning to pull you away. “C’mon. Out.”

“No!” The wood burned against your tail as he dragged you away, and your breathing grew shaky. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Billy, who was shifting on the ground, grunting in pain. As the older pirate lugged you away, you twisted at a new angle, catching sight of the wound on Billy’s chest. The blood.

A scream wrenched itself from your throat, piercing the air with your anguish. You didn’t think, your body acted on pure instinct. Though your eyes didn’t leave Billy, you heard Murphy shout in torment, and his hand shook around you. You turned your head to look at him, guilt creeping into your heart when you saw that his ears were bleeding, his eyes bloodshot. The effects of your siren’s voice had inched into his body, and now his knees were buckling, sending him falling face first onto the wooden planks of the ground. 

Breath hitching, you tried not to think about what you’d just done. Jerking your wrist away from his stiffened hold, you crawled toward your lover, gasping when you saw the extent of the wound. It was gaping, cut right through his chest. You took in shuddering breaths, shaking your head. There was blood dripping from him to the floor, and it stained your tail, your body as you leaned over him, hair brushing his side. “Billy-”

He smiled weakly at the sight of you, one hand grasping where the bullet had lodged. The other hand came to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Hey baby…”

“You’re okay…you’re gonna be okay…please…” You tried to summon your tears, but the shock of the event and the guilt over your scream had stilled your ability. Looking around wildly, you saw the last bottle of tears, the one Billy hadn’t used on you. Relief washed over you as your hand stretched out to grasp it.

“He’ll…he’ll be back soon…” Billy breathed, and you weren’t sure if he was talking about Pat or Jesse. “You gotta…gotta…”

“It’ll be okay, all okay,” you murmured hurriedly, shaky hands struggling to uncork the bottle. “Let me do this and you’ll be okay, we’ll be able to get out-”

“No…’s too big…” he whispered, wincing as he looked down at the bloody puncture. “Baby-”

You shook your head, eyes widening when you thought you heard footsteps. “I can fix it, I’m so sorry, I can-”

“Baby.” His voice was urgent, and you paused your motions, dropping the cork. Billy drew you in with his eyes first, and then his hand was behind your head, pulling you down into a tender kiss. You could feel tears on his cheeks, which terrified you. But his lips moved against yours, and you lost yourself in it. There was so much love, so much care in that kiss, and your eyes fluttered shut, hand coming up to grasp his collar. 

You hardly noticed him prying the bottle from your hand.

Eyes flying open, you tried to reach for it, but he was already holding it to the hand covering his gash, letting a single drop of blood fall inside. Your eyes widened round as sand dollars when you realized what he was doing. “No-!”

He shoved the vial to your lips, using his hand in your hair to tilt your head back. The motion forced you to swallow it, the bitterness making you cough. Billy’s arm became weak, and he dropped the bottle, glass shattering on the ground. The shards created a treacherous surface beneath you, but you hardly paid attention due to the nature of what was happening now.

 -My true love’s blood/ mixed with my tears/I drank it and walked/’till the end of my years-

This was nothing like how it’d been when you’d come ashore with the pearl under your tongue. No, this was excruciating, pain ripping through your lower half in waves. You cried out, head falling against Billy. He stroked your hair soothingly, other hand still gripping his wound. Feebly, he said, “I know, I know, sweet girl…it’s okay, it’s okay…”

Your sobs were dry, heaving, and your tail went numb. The pain eased away, and you lifted your head, aghast when you saw that two long, smooth legs had replaced your tail.

Frozen in shock, you stared at your new limbs, hating yourself for ever singing that song for him. Hating even more that he had remembered it. Looking back at Billy, you saw his somber eyes. “It’s…the only way…t’...t’ make sure they couldn’t…”

Your mermaid tail was gone. Your value was diminished. There was nothing left to take from you. 

But they’d already taken the most important thing.

Broken glass cut your skin as you shifted to be near him, hair falling over his face. Like curtains, he’d told you once. Billy’s hand slid from your crown to your ear, tucking your hair behind it. He smiled in an ailing way and you could see the light in his eyes fading. “I ever tell ya…how beautiful…you are?”

Your body shook as the awful realization crept over you. His expression softened more, if that was possible, an unknown force settling between you. Billy used his hand on your head to bring you close once again, pressing a single kiss to your forehead. He held his lips to you for too short a time. “Go live…I taught ya everything I know…’bout bein’ human.”

“I will with you.” Tears were welling up in your eyes, but you held them back. They were useless now. “I still have so many questions. You need to show me more Billy, please-” your breath hitched as your voice filled with sorrow.

“You know love,” he thumbed your cheek weakly. “You know kisses. That’s the most important part.”

“No-” It felt like the only word you knew, and you put all your wishing power into it. “No, no, I only kiss people I love, remember? Remember you told me that?” Maybe if he remembers he’ll live, he’ll live if he keeps talking.

Billy merely smiled, looking more tired than you’d ever seen him. He ran his fingers through your hair, his favorite place. You laid your head down on his shoulder so it was easier for him. His voice was soft. “I know. ‘n you know too.”

Breaths quickening, you grasped for something, anything. You longed to hear his roughened lips wrapped around your name. Then you felt his hand stiffen in your hair. And that was when you knew. 

You couldn’t look up. You didn’t want to. He couldn’t have gone, he was just resting. He had looked so tired…

But you could no longer hear that steady thump of his heart.

Lifting your head, you ran your hand over his chest, feeling a little bump in his shirt pocket. Brow furrowing, you reached in, pulling out a familiar little blue shell. Lower lip wobbling, you couldn’t hold yourself back as the sight of it sent you into hysterics.

Shaking, you sobbed helplessly, fisting his shirt and willing him to open his eyes. Your tears fell now, atop his chest and his wound, but it hardly mattered. 

Now you truly had nothing. This was your first real taste of human life; crying bare and bleeding beside the body of the love of your life.

No map could guide you to the treasure you’d just lost. No pearls or gold could replace what you’d had before. What kind of torture was it for humans, falling in love only to lose it?

You laid there for a long time. Nobody disturbed you. You didn’t know where the crew or Pat or Jesse had gone and you didn’t care. The cowards had likely fled, not wanting to be caught on a ship with a body.

Eyes squeezed shut, head on his body, you pleaded with higher powers. “Please…please let him wake up…I’ll never sing again…I’ll leave the water forever…just let him live…please…”

Every second without him opened a new chasm of pain for you. Love still existed after its source was gone, and it frustrated you more than you could ever say. You tried to go numb, but it didn’t work.

Slowly, you resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have to get up and walk away, without him holding your hand to keep you steady. Lighter sobs escaped you, all the fight taken out. 

It was time to let go. Billy had kept his promise, and now it was your turn.

Pulling your hand over his chest for a final goodbye, your fingers halted at the spot where he’d been injured. It was smooth.

Your head shot up, eyes gaping as you inspected him. While blood still stained his shirt, the wound was closed. Brow furrowing, you slid your hand to his neck, touching the skin there. Warm.

It was impossible.

Leaning your head down to his chest, you pressed your head against it, listening for a sign, a flutter, anything. 

The steady thump of his heart met your ear. And now you felt his hand lift, resting in that familiar spot in your hair. Lips touched your hairline.

Your tears on his chest…you’d thought their power was gone…

Slowly, you looked up, praying it was real. That crooked smile met your stare, ocean blue eyes warm as he gazed at you. The hand in your hair stroked it lightly. Lips parting, a single word fell from them. 

“Angel.”

The sun was in the east, pouring the last rays of light down on the earth before it said its final goodnight. Salt tousled the air and the steady sound of the water hummed in the background.

You were lying stretched out in the sand, on the border between ocean and land, hair loose and tangled with the grainy substance. One of your legs bent slightly as the waves kissed your body lazily. Fiddling with the necklace of shells resting on your collarbone, you squinted up at the sky, waiting for the first glimpse of stars. They were one of your favorite parts about living above the water.

A shadow fell over your body, and you smiled fondly, reaching up for him. Billy knelt beside you, taking your outstretched hands and pulling you into a sitting position. He nosed one, two, now three kisses into your hair, wrapping his arms around you contentedly. “Hi, baby.”

Nuzzling your head into his chest, you breathed in softly. “Hi.” His heart beat against your ear, and you nodded, as if you’d been checking for the very sound.

Billy ran his fingers through your strands, causing sand to fall from it. He kissed your brow. “How’re ya feelin’?”

“Good,” you answered honestly, one hand fisting his linen shirt. “Really good.”

He rested his chin on your head. “I didn’t overwhelm you? Scare you?”

“No,” you breathed, resting in the crook of his neck and pressing a little kiss there. “It was wonderful.”

There was quiet for a moment, and the two of you sat freely, listening to the sounds of the water. Then he squeezed his arms around you. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to. Since you’re-”

Knowing what he was about to say, you cut him off. “No. I’m human now, remember?”

“Agree to disagree, sweetheart.” Billy traced your chin with his finger. “Your tears saved my life. You’re all mermaid through ‘n through.”

His words made you smile, and you let it go. Any mention of that day and you went soft. 

He’d given you freedom. You’d kept him alive. And you loved each other. It was more than a fair trade. A deal sealed in gentle kisses rather than a handshake.

Wanting to kiss him again, you looked up. He met your need immediately, nudging his nose against you afterward. You rubbed his cheek. “Do humans do that a lot?” Referring to your previous activities, you watched him with wide, innocent eyes.

Billy nodded, his hands on your hips, stroking you gently. “Yeah, honey. Whenever they feel like lovin’ on each other. Or when they wanna make babies.”

“I can’t do that part,” you mumbled, and he squeezed your sides softly. When mermaids grew legs, their reproductive organs were rendered useless.

“That’s okay,” Billy reassured you. “We’ll just do it for lovin’ then.”

That went straight to your heart, and you nodded, hand coming up to play with his necklace. A little blue shell on a string. “I love you.”

“I love you, angel,” he whispered into your hair. You never got tired of hearing it. He never got tired of saying it.

The sunset painted the sky brilliant colors reflecting in the water. Made all the more wonderful by Billy kissing you as gently as the waves did the sand. You snuggled close as the night’s chill fell over the earth.

Mermaid and human, halves from different worlds as one.

Previous part

[the-kr8tor]

we need a Blob and Hobie alliance for like one thing they're tryna get from R, similar to Crowley and Hobie Of course this alliance is going to last from a few minutes to an hour or two depending on how stubborn R is, I feel like... After the tea has been spilled however they're going right back to bickering... "I made em spill, actually. you were just backup" (Angry bhbhbhhbhbhb noises) "shut up thats not true"

Yay Blob request! Thank you, angel ❤️

Paring: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Blob the symbiote cat AU, cat symbiote AU, CW description of illness. FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“You're sick, love.” Hobie says whilst he leans on the doorway of your makeshift office, aka your dark room that has your ac blasting and your humidifier blowing right across your sweaty, puckered face. “Rest, you can finish that tomorrow.”

“‘m not sick.” You declare, clearly sick, nose congested, sneeze rising up to your throat. “I have to finish this today so I have a free day tomorrow—!” A loud sneeze interrupts your sentence. The noise finally awakens the beast on your lap. Your typing hand briefly brushes along Blob's slime-like body, black tendrils wrapping along your wrist as if he's trying to keep your hand in place. But alas, you have work to do. “Sorry, Blobie, pet later okay?”

The alien snaps his big milky eyes wide open, disgruntled is an understatement, he expects to be coddled the second he wakes up. He meows, agitated, a deep roar that doesn't even faze you.

“In a minute, Blob.” Blob, you haven't called him that since he tried to bite a chuck off of Hobie's guitar. Speaking of said man, he saunters inside, eyebrows furrowed. Blob would open his maw at the close proximity of Hobie, but the alien has been around you two long enough to notice what's happening. Blob's big eyes flick between your sickly form to Hobie's concerned ones.

“At least drink some meds.” The foil packaging crinkles as he places it next to your laptop. A second later a cup of water that has you looking up at him through the thick fog of fever. “Drink—”

“I'm not sick.” You stubbornly huff.

Hobie sighs, palm reaching down to your clammy forehead. Within a second, your fever seeps through his skin, searing heat making him flinch away and has him more worried. “Love, drink, please.”

Blob, ever the sweetheart (just for you) leaps up to your keyboard, blank eyes staring at you intensely. He opens his mouth, jagged rows of teeth showing, long snake-like tongue flicking from side to side.

“Are you threatening to eat me, Blob?” You sniff, glaring at the blobby alien in front of you. “I'm working right now, so can you two please give me some space?” Your tone isn't even angry nor convincing. Yet, the two rivals move away from your feverish form.

Blob shuts his large mouth, hopping away, looking back once before following Hobie outside. Hobie keeps a close eye on you through the open door while he grows wary of the alien that is conveniently near biting distance from his ankles.

Leaning on the back of the settee, arms folded over his chest, Hobie thinks of a way to get you to finally rest. Or at least take some medicine. To his surprise, Blob hops right next to him. He sits all prim and proper on the back of the couch, white eyes narrowed at your hunched form.

Hobie nods once at the so-called cat, “you got any ideas?”

Blob doesn't hiss, or even scowl at him. Instead, he meows lowly, still vastly different from a regular cat's tone but close to it.

“You've got an idea then?”

Blob's black gooey tendrils inch closer to Hobie, to which he flinches away. “No, never in a million fuckin' years. Get a better idea, you parasite.”

Blob chirps, a sound that Hobie has never heard the alien make. He thinks you've never heard of it too. He blinks, smirking. “Can you do that again?”

With a Cheshire cat smile, Blob looks at Hobie mischievously.

—

You have no idea how you got into bed with the covers properly tucked around you. A minute ago you were cooing at the chirping Blob, his eyes were so cute that you forgot that he can wrap you around his tendrils. With your vision filled with nothing but black gooey skin, you blink and suddenly you're in bed with a thermometer in your mouth.

Hobie checks your temperature whilst you wrap your mind around at what happened. Blob is on your chest, guarding over you as if you can move under the thick blankets.

“38.5.” Hobie winces. Eyes full of worry, Blob sports the same look, he lays down on top of you, blinking slowly, tails tucked under him.

You frown, feeling the heat under your eyes, “I'm sick.” Finally admitting your illness.

“I know you are, love.” Hobie brings his palm over your cheek, his cool skin grants you reprieve from the fever clawing at your body. You lean into his touch, nodding as he gives you your medicine. “Sleep, we'll be 'ere when you wake up.”

As you drift off to sleep, head laying on Hobie's thigh while he soothingly rubs your head, Blob purrs on top of you, tongue peeking between his sharp teeth. His eyes says it all, “no thank you?”

“You were a good distraction,” Hobie whispers.

Blob stands up, eyes narrowed into slits, huffing and puffing angrily.

“Fine, thank you.” Hobie scoffs the words out. Blob makes biscuits on top of the thick blanket, nails purposely digging into the cloth, stitches coming undone. “C’mon, that's my favourite, you fuckin' gremlin.”

[teymars]

Imagine reader giving birth to twins boys

they become 14YO, and they are famous in the clan as troublemakers and Neteyam and reader have to deal with them ..

Ah isn’t that CUTE!!!

THIS IS SUCH A CUTESIE IDEA !!

-no warnings, just some fluff, family dynamics & sweet Dad(dy)!Neteyam (also mentions of bullying + fights if that counts??)

Loud caterwauling blasted throughout the camp, reaching you and Neteyam from within your family-hut. You glanced at your mate, resisting the incredible urge to roll your eyes, there were only two possible candidates for the source of that noise.

“Pshh, I’ll go sort it out, again.” Neteyam sighed, chucking his hands up in defeat. He quickly rose from his spot next to you and hightailed it to the awaiting ‘crime’ scene. For the past few weeks, your twin 14 year-old sons had been causing fights consistently amongst the clan’s young trainees.

You crouched for a moment, subconsciously counting down the moments before your lover’s deep, authoritative voice boomed over the ruckus outside. “BOYS, GET OVER HERE!!” The scolding your two son’s were now receiving increased in volume as Neteyam dragged them both by the neck, back into your hut.

“Ma ‘Teyam-” he cut you off swiftly “How many times do I have to repeat myself to you two?? You can’t just go around fighting people!” Neteyam bellowed, his tail thrashing angrily behind him.

“Sorry, Sir. It was my fault.” Tsyalu, the youngest twin, piped up bashfully. He tried hard to avoid his fathers menacing gaze. “That’s bullsh- ugf’ come on bro, you and I both know Rahaylo deserved it!” The eldest, Myerìn, blurted without shame, barely managing to dodge using ‘foul language’ infront of both his parents.

“Enough, I don’t care wether it was ‘deserved’. Tsy, you have to stop taking the heat for this skxawng! And YOU-” Neteyam gestured to a smirking Myerìn “-need to quit causing trouble, you read me??” Both boys nodded silently before stalking off to different parts of the hut.

You had observed the scolding, originally aiming to hold back a chuckle of amusement, until something in Tsy’s gaze and the way he spoke left you irked. You sat quietly beside him, assisting in preparing the fruits for dinner. Thankfully neither him nor his brother had been injured in the skirmish, you noted.

“What is the matter, sweet child?” You cooed, stroking the side of his cheek as slight tears swelled in his defeated eyes. “It’s nothing, mama..” the boy assured you, trying to hide his face. “Don’t be silly Tsyalu, you can tell me what’s wrong.” You encouraged, faintly aware of your husband’s ears flicking in interest at your conversation, as he watched from his place by the fire-pit.

“Well, we only keep fighting-” he broke off in a quiet sob “-be-because Rahaylo has been bullying me..” Both you and Neteyam fell stock-still at his words, feeling an onslaught of guilt overcome you. “Yea, and Dad told us to stick up for ourselves, so we did.” Myerìn informed, rather nonchalantly. Neteyam looked almost shell-shocked, having realised the poor communication that led to all this.

He moved closer to where you and both your sons were now crouched, reaching down to rest a hand on each boy’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sorry, boy. I had no idea.. why didn’t you say anything about this though? Violence is not a good way to solve these issues.” Neteyam offered, sounding solemn. “I- we didn’t want you to think we are weak, we thought you’d be proud of us, because we are brave like you.”

“Oh, Tsy..” you whispered, feeling ashamed that your children ever had to feel that way. “I am proud of you, both of you. So is your mother.. we just don’t want to see you both fighting all the time.” Your mate assured them, providing both with a warm embrace. “It is okay to come to us when somebody causes you trouble, we will help you, I promise.” He continued, allowing you to curl up at his side, joining the family hug. They both hummed in understanding.

“We are pretty brave though, right Dad?” Tsyalu whispered. “Just like you?” Myerìn added, hopefully. “Of course you are! You’re the bravest little warriors this clan has ever seen.” You and Neteyam chirped, nuzzling both boy’s foreheads affectionately. The twins smiled contentedly, feeling relieved as they relished within their father’s hard-earned approval.

“Sooo, who won?” Neteyam mused, smirking at his sons pridefully. “Neteyam!” You chided, smacking the back of his head playfully.

“Oel ngati kameie, my sons.”

Sorry this is a little short, I hope it lives up to what you had in mind! 🤍

Neteyam be getting some insane flashbacks 😭

[witchthewriter]

𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒊𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭

⤷ human female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: spoilers!!! Talks of the real world and real world problems, trauma talks.

a/n: Reader is a massive Barbie fan, but like every woman she's had to put away her toys and grow up.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿  

・It was a surprise for both of you; a very sudden surprise.

・Barbie had been in the human world for about a month when she ran into you.

・She had ventured out on her own, with a phone in her bag and some money that Mattel had given her (she got an allowance to basically keep her mouth shut about the whole Barbie Land thing)

・And she was staying at Gloria's, who had become quite protective over her.

・You were carrying a pile of books you had bought at the bookstore, and they fell on the ground as you collided with someone.

・Pages flapped in the wind, and you just hoped they didn't land into anything ... weird. This was California after all.

・Barbie was so startled, "I'm so so sorry!" She kept saying, over and over again, helping you stack them back up.

"It's okay, really, I thought I could make it to my car without an accident - looks like I was wrong."

"No, you were doing a great job! The accident is all my fault-" she said.

・Finally looking up at her, you became mesmerised.

・She had to be one of the most beautiful beings you had ever seen in your life.

・And words completely left you.

・You felt a hot blush creep up the back of your neck and spread across your face.

"Oh, your face!" She said, not realising that it was a blush. And blushes were normal things. (She was still learning.)

・Her noticing just made it worse, and words were no longer able to form. Only these weird sounds...

・And then you just scooped up whatever you could and ran to your car, hoping this wasn't a stupid tik tok joke or something.

・While in your car, you had to turn on the air con on full blast. Closing your eyes, you tried your best to shake off the encounter.

"It's fine," you said out loud. "I'm never going to see her again. So, it's fine."

・The drive back home was silent, except for in your head...

・You kept thinking of all the things you should have done differently.

・Finally making it home, you took your stuff inside and walked to your room, chucking everything on the floor, you fell face first into your bed. And screamed.

・It had been two hours later when you heard a knock at the door

・Clad in your pyjamas, you contemplated about just ignoring the person.

・But the knocking was insistent, and it didn't stop.

"Who the fuck knocks like that?" You said with half a biscuit in your mouth.

・Shuffling to the door, you opened it to find your blush-shamer.

"Oh," you said and all the thoughts evaporated from your mind. Was this the worst day ever? You knew this was the fucking worst scenario because you told yourself you'd never have to see her again.

"Hi! You left this behind," the blonde said and gave you your purse.

"Oh shit, thank you," you replied (after swallowing the food that was in your mouth.)

"Shit? Did I do something wrong?" (Barbie had only heard swear words used in negative contexts. Sasha hadn't taught her they could be used ... in different ways.)

"Uh, no. Oh, do you not like swearing?" You said with squinted eyes, sure she was taking the piss.

"I don't know. We didn't swear in Barbi- in ... where I used to live," Barbie thought it was a great save.

"Ugh, I get it- you used to live down South. You don't sound Southern though?" You said with a cocked head, trying to figure this out. Because this was definitely being filmed for tik tok. (And you weren't going to look a fool)

"I have to go now. Bye!" She said quickly and ran away, her blonde hair flying behind her.

・And then you stuck up both your middle fingers in every direction, flipping off all the hidden cameras.

・You turned on the tv and sat down, the blonde woman still in your head.

・She seemed so off.

・Getting up, you went over to your purse and found that nothing was missing. And there was a note.

"Huh, thought the cash would be gone..."

・But in fluid letters, your heart pumped as you read the note:

Sorry for bumping into you. Maybe we can be friends! This is my number, (insert number here - I don't want to accidentally type a real one) From, Barbie

・Your heart fluttered and the blush returned.

・And you thought, 'Barbie? Oh, she's definitely Southern....'

・But you looked at the number and put it into your phone. You typed and hesitated before sending the message. Hoping this wasn't part 2 of the tik tok.

・Or maybe you were on social media too much... either way, you pressed send:

Hope you got home okay, don't apologise! And thank you for returning my purse. And not stealing my money

From,

Y/N.

[hibiscesque]

// A short ficlet with some thoughts abt SKK & dreams (or lack thereof); CW for hand-wavey trauma mentions.

After the tenth time Dazai revs up the volume to blast Crazy Frog on his headphones after Chuuya had—way more patiently than he should have, by the way—requested that he turn it the fuck down, Chuuya is done.

They say it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission, an adage that leaves him genuinely contemplating the merits of breaking Dazai's bones in alphabetical order now and apologizing to Mori-san for murdering his executive in cold blood later for a few moments. Luckily for Dazai, Chuuya is both an incredibly magnanimous partner and a little bit terrified of Mori-san when he's angry, so he settles for storming over to the other bed, ripping the headphones from Dazai's ears, and summarily snapping the cord over his knee.

Dazai, for his part, seems enragingly nonplussed by the turn of events.

"You're paying for that," he chirps, tossing the cord over into the trash and pulling out his handheld to start again on that dumb 1v1 he was playing through the entire meeting with their contact earlier today.

"God," Chuuya rages as the telltale automated beeping and imitation punching noises begin echoing through the room, "don't you ever sleep?"

"Nope!" Dazai informs him cheerfully, popping the P.

Chuuya breathes in. He breathes out. He tries not to burst every blood vessel in his brain out of sheer doneness with the disruptive, obnoxious, and downright diabolical creature who he has the misfortune to call a partner.

"We've been on this job for three days now," Chuuya points out, trying so hard to keep his voice even. "And you haven't so much as closed your eyes for more than ten seconds at a goddamn time."

Dazai raises an eyebrow at him as if he's just asked him to discuss the relative merits of licking up Vaseline like it's frosting.

"Yes," he says, like his actions over the last few days are perfectly reasonable and Chuuya is the crazy one. "Do you have a point?"

"You need sleep!" Chuuya snaps. "I'm not your freaking mother, I shouldn't have to tell you this!"

The other eyebrow artfully ascends to meet the first. "And you, former king of a gang of orphans and runaways from the slums, are telling me this because you're some kind of expert in what mothers tell their children."

Chuuya splutters, red hot piping rage squishing his heart like silly putty and shooting nitrified sriracha up his veins. "For the last time, I wasn't their ki—oh, FUCK you!"

"Sorry, not interested," Dazai trills, clearly only half paying attention to the conversation at this point as he mashes his fingers into his controller buttons.

"You know that wasn't what I—you know what? Nevermind. I don't even know why I try with you." Chuuya huffs and throws himself back against the bed, mashing a pillow into his face and letting out a groan so heavy-hitting it's almost a scream.

"I'm a saint," he muses, though the only response Dazai gives to that is the continual fighting noises from his game. "I'm a motherfucking saint."

He lets his breaths come in and out in a meditative pattern for a few minutes, trying to ease his nerves and burning rage for despicable mackerels enough to drift back into another couple of hours of uneasy sleep before rendezvous tomorrow. Infuriating beeping aside, he's almost managed it when a series of expletives hits the air in artful semantic form.

"Dammit!"

Chuuya turns just on time to see Dazai chuck his gaming machine to the side and groan a groan of the weary wicked.

"I'm going to regret asking this, but what?" Chuuya prods.

"My Nintendo died," Dazai mourns, starfishing across his bed—being the gangly sonuvabitch he is, all four of his limbs stick off the bed like candles out the sides of a cake.

"Good," Chuuya grumbles. "Now maybe you'll finally go to sleep."

He starts to roll over to try and catch whatever ZZZs are still possible at this point, but an even louder ruckus than before makes itself known on Dazai's side of the room and Chuuya hears his socked feet begin to pad toward the door.

"What is it now?" Chuuya demands.

"I'm going for a walk."

Chuuya thinks it is quite magnanimous of him not to scream like a banshee and tackle Dazai American football-style upon the registration of those words.

"It's three in the morning," Chuuya points out incredulously.

Kouyou had told him once that the most important part of keeping control of an argument is to make sure you remain calm. To make her point, she'd showed him some not-so-friendly repartee between two billionaire tech moguls—Bill Gates and the late Steve Jobs. As Jobs grew angrier and angrier through the course of their conversation, Gates remained calm, level, composed. By the end Jobs was all but screaming, sweating buckets and face ripe as a tomato, while Gates looked just about like he was out on a casual stroll smelling the roses.

"Who do you think won that argument?" she'd asked.

Chuuya had gotten the point.

He tries to remind himself of Kouyou's words now. Calm on top, he repeats to himself. Calm on top, calm on goddamn top.

"Just going to stretch my legs," Dazai titters a little too casually.

Fuck it.

"What the hell is up with you?" Chuuya demands, fists clenched as he shoots up in bed to bear his teeth at Dazai. "Why are you so fricking averse to sleeping, of all things? I know you think you're further along the evolutionary chain than the rest of us, but you still need to rest, you dolt!"

When he catches Dazai's gaze he is not expecting what he sees at all. Dazai has gone so stricken he's all but ossified, staring at Chuuya with an indescribable war in his burning dark eyes.

There is silence, for several moments, so loaded that Chuuya almost regrets his words. But then...

"What do you dream about?" Dazai blurts out.

Chuuya is so struck dumb by his question that his fists uncurl and his mouth drops open, a little.

"What?"

"Nevermind." Dazai huffs. "I'm gonna go on that walk." He begins to turn toward the door, but as Chuuya comes to himself a bit, he realizes he can't let that happen.

He's not—he's not stupid, you know, no matter what Dazai says. He knows why Dazai wants to know.

Very few people know— knew, in the Flags' cases—about Chuuya's little dream secret. And Dazai is, quintessentially, exactly the kind of person Chuuya would never want to let it slip to on both a personal and theoretical level. But whatever haunts Dazai at night is apparently horrid enough that he's pulled three all-nighters to avoid it, and that... doesn't sit right with Chuuya. If a moment of vulnerability, though Dazai's surely going to use it against him later, would be valuable to him in some way, make him feel better—or whatever the equivalent of feeling better is for a miserable creature like Dazai—Chuuya would be an asshole not to give it to him.

"I don't dream," Chuuya blurts out. 

When he's met only with silence, his lungs grow desperately uncomfortable in his chest, almost like his ribcage has grown a size too small. A little heady on the feeling, thirsty to stop it, he continues to run his mouth.

"I think it's… a side effect of whatever they did to me in the lab. I can't remember having a single dream, ever, in what I can remember of my life. Not while I was with the Sheep, and not now with the Port Mafia either. Not even after the whole N stuff. I thought—" 

Chuuya chuckles, and it feels more like an ache than amusement.

"I thought maybe all that electricity would have knocked something loose, but it didn't."

He looks down. Laugh-wheeze-chokes. "I shoulda been the one with an ability called No Longer Human, I guess. What kind of person doesn't even dream? Heh. Those, those sixty seconds you gave me, with Guivre. My choice. It wasn't me being selfless. I just already knew the answer. So yeah. Now you know. Make fun of me or whatever. I can take it."

He scrunches his eyes shut, preparing for the worst, because honestly, despite what he said, he's not sure if he can actually take being called inhuman by someone who somehow, despite being the least human person Chuuya knows, is also the most human person Chuuya has ever known. It would feel like a death knell, or something. The fall of a guillotine blade. The first shovelful of dirt tossed onto a coffin.

He'd told himself, when Mori had told him that story about the lead, when he'd driven by his parents' house, after everything with Verlaine, that he didn't need that answer either way. Because whether he was human or not, the Chuuya he was before the lab was dead. Because he's learned that there's more to being human than having once been a zygote. There's no one that's better proof of that than the people he's met while he's in the mafia.

But hearing that he's nothing but whatever whatsit lines of code from whip smart, fierce, brave, angry, apathetic, cruel, kind, hungry, unsatiable, childish, thousand-year-old Dazai would kill him, he thinks.

"No," Dazai says, right when Chuuya is about to implode with anticipation, and though Chuuya doesn't quite understand what he's talking about, he's surprised by the intensity. The lack of caustic mockery in his voice.

"'No' what?"

"You're so stupid," Dazai informs him.

Chuuya's eyebrows scrunch. "That is… not the reaction I was expecting."

"Dreams aren't what make us human," Dazai informs him, bowling over his words as if he hasn't spoken at all. "Dreams are just your subconscious' license to make you process your life in the cruelest and most awful way possible. Chuuya probably doesn't dream because he's so straightforward that he scares rulers. I promise you you're not missing out on—on humanity because you don't."

Chuuya stares. And stares. And stares some more.

Dazai scoffs. "Doesn't think he's human. I promise you if someone was gonna make a human they'd make sure to make them smarter than you. Your clone probably had double the IQ points."

"Fuck off," Chuuya snaps immediately, but maybe his chest is a little warm. Perhaps.

Then, because maybe he's also a little bit sadomasochistic, "What do you dream about anyway, Dazai?"

That gets the bastard. Dazai goes absolutely still.

"Come on." Chuuya scoffs. "You're not telling me that you're not going to spill the deets after making me pour my heart out. And don't tell me some shit like 'I dream about my perfect suicide' or 'I dream about you slipping on a banana peel and snapping your neck like a cheap pencil', because I'll actually strangle you if you do."

"Kinky," Dazai says, but his heart clearly isn't in it. He lets out a scoff of his own, rolling not just his eyes but his whole head until his neck pops with a snap. "Fine. I'll 'spill the deets', as you say." He plants himself crisscross applesauce on the floor like the obnoxious leech he is.

"I dream about things from my past."

Chuuya waits for him to go on, but he is only met by the sound of first crickets and then the world's tiniest violin.

"I kinda figured that," Chuuya points out dully. "Care to share any more?"

Dazai scoffs again, wetting his lips with his tongue carefully as he challengingly meets Chuuya's eyes.

"If it so pleases his highness. There are lots of things, but mostly it's about thieves."

Chuuya raises an eyebrow. "Thieves?" he prods.

It seems whatever Dazai is about to say causes even his spite to not be enough to give him the wherewithal to continue looking at Chuuya. "Yes. People taking something from me that I don't want to give. There. The end. Can I go on my walk now?"

Oh. Oh.

There are attoseconds in the back of Chuuya's mind where he tries to convince himself that he's misinterpreting, reading too much into those words, but the part of him who's known Dazai long enough to know that he would never let an implication like that into his words if he didn't mean it, if only because he believed it would make him look weak, knows he's not.

Chuuya desperately steadies his face so Dazai doesn't see it cracking in the way it so badly wants to. 

He, he wants to be sick, he wants to punch a wall, he wants to—something. He doesn't know. He's always been an action, action, action guy, but for the first time since he can remember—since ever, maybe—he doesn't know.

Chuuya's met dozens of people with stories like that, in the Sheep and later, his dear late friend Lippmann, even, but Dazai was somehow the last person he'd ever expect to have something like that in their past.

"A fly just flew in your mouth," Dazai informs Chuuya.

Stopping himself from shrieking is a near miss. "Wha—whaaah?" He begins hacking and coughing, trying to spit it out. "EGH! Da'ai, Da'ai is ih gahe? 'I 'ou 'ee i' 'eae?"

It's only when he hears the first pitchy giggle that he realizes what's happened. 

"You asshole," Chuuya says in realization, so shocked it's almost reverent. He glowers. "You know, normally when people want people to stop gaping they say, 'Close your mouth; you'll catch flies.' They don't tell someone that there is a fly in their mouth!"

"Love you too," Dazai enthuses, causing Chuuya to devolve into another round of spluttering. By the time he's remembered what they were talking about moments ago, he's gotten enough distance from the immediate emotional overwhelm of Dazai's confession to remember that this is Dazai and pigs would fly before sympathy would be allowed on the table in their relationship.

"Yeah, whatever," Chuuya mutters, rolling his eyes. "Gonna regret asking this in about two minutes, but room for another person on your walk?"

Shocking Dazai twice in one night should entitle Chuuya to some kind of trophy, he thinks.

"You're not going to try and make me go to bed?"

"Hey, hey, don't get me wrong," Chuuya insists quickly. "Tomorrow you're not getting a fucking option. But I'm tired enough that I pity your dumb ass right now and I'm not gonna make you tonight. Look—" Chuuya hesitates, wondering exactly how to word this. "—I wouldn't want to sleep if that was what I was dreaming about either, OK? So this is your one-time get out of jail free card for basic human bodily functions."

When Dazai doesn't respond right away, Chuuya feels anxiety begin to stir up in his gut, wondering if he's said something wrong.

"You good, bastard?" he asks cautiously.

"Yep!" Dazai chirps cheerfully. "Just trying to figure out a way I can make you regret asking to come with me in less than two minutes. Chip, chip, cheerio, let's go, puppy-o!"

"Go die in a hole," Chuuya snaps, but maybe he's smiling a little.

[luveline]

Since we’ve seen zombie au with Steve may we have a little something of vampire!eddie?

Sorry I don’t have any sort of plot in mind, I just think vampire!eddie is cool :)

thank u for your request! vampire!eddie x ditzy!reader

"Eddie," you say, in that meandering way you do, like talking is a pastime with no urgent goal at the end, "one of your friends is in the bathroom."

Eddie blinks, the spoon in his hand quickly put back into the bowl of cereal it had risen from. "What?" 

"One of your friends is in the bathroom," you say, and only now does he notice you have soap all over your face. Suds in your brows and the baby hairs of your hairline, across the soft hill of your chin and at your nostrils. 

"Baby, you've half-washed your face. Come here." 

You sit at the dining table beside him and Eddie sets to work, one hand on your thigh, the other your face as he dabs the soap away with his hoodie sleeve. Your eyes flutter closed at his gentle touches. Eddie feels satisfaction in knowing you trust him to be so close while you're unguarded. You've never been scared of him, but Eddie is scary. He can hear your heart slow as he finishes, and that's when he wonders why it had been beating quickly to begin with.

He tries not to listen to your heart. It plagues him when he's hungry, and it feels like a strange invasion of privacy. "Sorry, it's freaky, but I can hear your heart–" 

"Sorry for what?" you ask. 

Eddie shakes his head fondly and chucks you under the chin. He wants to go back to his cereal, but he continues, "What has your pulse up?" 

"I told you, baby, there's a friend in the bathroom." 

Eddie knows better than to expect an explanation. He puts his bowl of cereal in front of you in case you're hungry, kisses the top of your head, and goes to investigate the bathroom. 

Eddie's shocked as he opens the door. The bathroom is in extreme disarray, which isn't unusual for you typically but he cleaned it last night, and you may be scatterbrained but you don't often leave the faucet blasting hot water full pelt. He turns it off, collects the pile of tipped laundry on the floor, and wonders how best to ask you if you're feeling alright when he notices something alarmingly large. Your soapy face is explained, as well as your quick-beating heart. You must've seen what he's seeing and run away. 

"Holy fuck," he says, flinching back hard into washing machine. "Holy fuck! What the fuck is that?" 

"So you've found your friend?" you ask from the hallway. 

Eddie scrambles sideways out of the bathroom and into the hall with you, almost knocking the bowl of cereal clean from your hands. "That thing is not my friend." 

"What? I thought you liked spiders, they subsist off of the same kinds of things," you murmur, a little drop of milk at the corner of your mouth. You lick it away absentmindedly.

"A spider could slap my ass and hand me a cheque for a million bucks and I still wouldn't like him," Eddie denies, peering into the bathroom cautiously. The Spider had been hanging down from a web and nearly as big as Eddie's hand. He's not making friends with that. "And how about you, huh? I thought you liked spiders? You keep enough of them." 

Sometimes you'll keep a spider inside of a mason jar for artistic purposes, sketching them before setting them free. "Yeah, Eds, I like spiders," you say around your spoon, "not tarantulas." 

He waves a hand at you, vaguely irritated. You giggle and offer him a spoonful of cereal, which he accepts. The two of you stand and chew with your backs against the bannister, staring at the bathroom door. Too afraid to look away, and too afraid to go back inside. 

"Wanna seal it off?" he asks eventually, morosely, knowing he's not brave enough to go and deal with it. 

"Yes." You scrape the bottom of the bowl with the spoon. "We could call Steve?" 

"I'm not calling Steve." 

"Okay. Hey, this could be good for us. Peeing outside connects you to nature, or something." 

Eddie sighs and rubs his pale face. He's way too hungry to deal with this, for both cereal and something less family friendly. He can't tell you, though. You keep offering to let him bite you. "Alright," he sighs. "I'll call Harrington." 

"Then you'll have two friends in the bathroom," you say, nearly to yourself as you begin down the stairs, "like a party. I'll go make you some more cereal." 

"Thanks, sweetheart," Eddie says with a relieved laugh, closing the bathroom door and drawing a cross against the woodgrain.

He doesn't notice the shadow of his definitely-not-friend as it squeezes under the doorway.

[iceclew]

They amount of times I redid this is ridiculous, srsly why am I always my biggest enemy when drawing..

ANYWAY - I totally thiefed the idea of this from the wonderful awestriking fanart of BNHA from @meru90 also a user called Noodles-and-tea (i guess), and Zowoe-Draws. They all did that kind of Behind-the-scenes of the Anime-Cast AU idea, and I love it so much, I had to redo this for Kaiju No8. ever more so since the Anime is quite freshly out now.

So big kudos to you guys for the inspiration, i love your work <3

ALSO THIS FANART by @viyojo- I LOVE IT and it inspired me a lot! <3 https://www.tumblr.com/viyojo/691671336807006208/popping-bottles-for-kn8-thank-you-kafka-for-the?source=share

I though up some ideas for AU interview contents, and thought I might share it with you

#######

Interviewer: thank's for your time guys, how're you feeling today? Kafka, Hoshina: Doing great, thank's! c: I: I'm so happy, you could make it! Also so refreshing to see you without gear and uniform for once! H: yeah, it's refreshing to actually SEE for once, you're right there :D I: *laughs* Seeing your eyes open so much is a first as well for me, haha. How's acting as Hoshina Soshiro for you like this everyday? H: ah, it's fine I guess. The look kinda suits me.. Also it is a big part of the characters personality. K: F'it wasn't for the migraine of yours all the time tho. You get that way too often. H: yeah, but it's fine, I'll manage. I: Oh my, sorry to hear that! H: No really, it's fine :3

########

I: I see you're quite different from the set as well, Kafka. I heard you're rather quiet and content off stage? K: *soft smile* yeah, I heard people say that about me too... H: He's such a dad tho, just like in the series :D K: *embarrassed tiny giggle* H: when the whole crew runs a havok, he's usually the one keeping everybody's sh*t together. :D

K: *annoyed grumble* and they run havok like.. a lot, I tell ya... -_- H: *giggle* remeber the time they crafted a whole cup of jell-o smoothie thingy and dared Mina to chuck it all in once? K: *traumatized war memories flashing* it was.... everywhere... If I could have just been a little faster with the bucket...before it all..came back... H: *cracks up* t'was hilarious! :D

#########

I: So let's talk about your roles for a bit, shall we? You're fairly famous in the role of Hoshina already for example. H: he, thanks :3 I: One of the many reasons to that is your authentic acting during fighting scenes. The entrance into your first "real" hit the audience like a blast. Regarding to that - i was told you do a lot more of your stunts by yourself than the rest of the cast, is that right? H: Yes :) I guess on of the reasons I got the role is cause I do Kendo IRL as well, so I'm not a first timer when it comes to whielding swords. And I like it a lot, so may as well go a little Jacky Chan on stuff, I thought :D As long as the directors let me do it of course.. K: and very cool to look, might I add. Whenever they let him to the fighting scenes, I always end up watching, while he beats the sh*t out of - um - my (other) selfs in front of the camera. Very cool to watch I say. H: *annoyes* well yeah, you could just go and practice your own lines tho, instead of hanging around you know... K:* slow sip from coffee cup* ...no. c:

[lunar-years]

How’s the arm?

Tentative footsteps patter over the hardwood floor, inching closer; but it’s Jamie’s voice that reaches him first: “How’s the arm?”

Roy immediately bristles, unable to stop his voice from rising several decibels as he snaps, “I’ve already told you half a fucking dozen times in the past hour, Jamie, it’s the exact fucking same as it was twenty minutes ago, and yes I’m fucking fine, and I’ll kindly remind you again that you fucking promised me you’d stop fucking asking—” he stops mid-sentence, registering what exactly Jamie said at the same time the man crosses into his line of vision, letting Roy spot the shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He blinks, momentarily thrown. Arm?

Jamie shrugs, and even that small motion is somehow made exuberant under his determinedly bright demeanor. His face breaks into a gleeful smile, ear-to-ear, right pleased with himself. 

Fucking hell. Roy has no idea how the prick has managed to stay this damn cheerful all day, considering he’s spent the whole of it waiting on his temporarily useless, opposite-of-cheerful boyfriend hand and foot. Keeping him confined to the miserable prison of his living room sofa, flipping through the sport channels with a commendable level of steady enthusiasm—even though the best they’ve had on offer were the bloody table tennis Olympic trials that ended an hour again—and fretting, every single second of every blasted minute, over Roy and his knee. Whether the pillow under Roy’s knee is fluffed enough, and whether Roy's morning brew has gone cold and could do for urgent replacement, and whether Roy needs help getting to the toilet before he pisses down his own leg. Jamie’s there all right, for all of it, and he’s bloody relentless. 

Roy appreciates it. Truly, he does. It’s also driving him completely up the fucking wall, just a little. Two things can be true. 

Jamie keeps right on smiling. “What?” he says innocently, sitting down next to Roy and handing over his latest freshly-warmed mug of tea, “I’m not having you on, it was a real question. Since you’re going to be a bit out of commission on the really agile shit for a while and all,” here he nods sympathetically in the direction of Roy’s mangled up, patchworked knee, the frankensteinish surgery scar thankfully covered up by fresh dressings (also courtesy of Jamie) and tucked atop Keeley’s fluffiest pillow. “Sorry,” he continues in a stage-whisper, hands going up like Roy's a feral cat he's trying not to set off, “know you want me to pretend like this ain’t happening, and I’m trying, swear down! But, well. Me point is, so long as your arm’s still in working form...we can at least exchange handies!” He beams at him again with great pride, like mutual handjobs are the certifiable cure to Roy’s every ailment, and Jamie’s the dutiful nurse who gets to present the good news and administer the necessary dosage.

(And well, a wank’s a wank, so. Roy’s willing to give it a shot.)

Instead of saying that, he chucks the pillow behind his back at his boyfriend's head and rolls his eyes in Jamie's direction, faking a pout. “All you care about is my cock,” he accuses half-heartedly. 

“Yes, poor, hard-done Roy, with a dead sexy boyfriend who wants him for his body as much as his mind,” Jamie grins, leaning in to give him a kiss. With lips practically still brushing Roy’s own, he adds, gentler, “I also thought, um. It might help, you know? With what you were saying earlier. I’m really sorry I made you feel like that.” 

Roy brow furrows. He wades back amongst all the day's many horrors to figure out which one in particular Jamie could be referring to. It must’ve been the last time, when he was snapping at the pair of them to stop bloody asking about his knee all the time. You’re both making me feel like a fucking pensioner. Then, to Jamie specifically, I’m not actually your fucking grandad, you know. You don’t have to treat me like I’m two steps from the care home. It was around that time Keeley excused herself for a drive to the pharmacy, bristling at him with intense displeasure and that familiar get yourself together look in her eyes on her way out. Soon after, after an comfortable stretch of moody silence, Jamie muttered something about more tea, and disappeared into the kitchen for far longer than it took to whip up a new brew. 

So yeah, he owes them both an apology, clearly. Again.

He looks at his boyfriend, now aching with guilt on top of everything else, most pressingly the persistent sting that seems to extend his whole leg, making it very hard to focus on anything good, even his very good boyfriend. His very good boyfriend who’s only trying to help him. Fuck. 

Jamie’s still got his eyes locked on his, searching his face for reassurance. Hesitant, like he’s half expecting Roy to get angry and snap at him again for bringing it up. It’s so sincere it slices Roy smoothly in half.

“I,” he starts. Shuts his mouth. Starts again, “I’m sorry for that, babe. Look, I won't pretend I didn't mean some of it. I do feel…I dunno. Not even old, just…useless? I guess. But you’re not the one making me feel like that, it’s my own shit. I never should have said that to you, or to Keeley. I likehow you take care of me.” He threads his fingers through Jamie’s and gives them a squeeze. “It’s just…hard for me to let you.” He chokes over the last part a bit, from the clumsy embarrassment of his own feelings. Immediately redirects his gaze onto their locked palms.

But Jamie responds without hesitation, his shoulders already relaxing as he says briskly, “You’re forgiven.” Like it’s simple. Like Roy’s someone easy to forgive. Fuck, he still doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this. Jamie leans back, smile softer now, more natural. It takes on a cheeky edge as he adds, “And I know a way you can make it up to me, yeah?” with a wink and a crude hand gesture. Right back around to where they started.

Roy rolls his eyes again, filled with adoration for this ridiculous man. “We can’t fix everything with sex.” 

“We can make a brave go of trying, though," he offers solemnly, lips quirked.

Roy laughs despite himself, but it’s cut off by a sharp sting to his knee, making him wince before he can help it. His boyfriend’s face droops immediately. This time though, Jamie keeps his hands forcibly pinned to his sides, trying so hard not to hover, not to be too much. It makes Roy crack open even further. He really fucked this up.

“Can we wait for Keeley to get back first?” he suggests carefully, eyes meeting Jamie’s as his fingers brush circles on the back of his hand. “Ought to apologize to her, too.” 

“Definitely. Also, she’ll definitely enjoy this. Vulnerability really does it for her.” Jamie waggles his eyebrows playfully, seemingly resigned to brushing over the moment of tension, but Roy doesn’t miss the way his eyes linger for a second too long over Roy’s features, as if trying to catch the slightest grimace that could help him suss out Roy's pain level. Jamie needs him to be honest here; Roy forces himself to let him in. 

“I think I need my meds, first,” he admits. “Knee really fucking hurts. Got worse just now. And maybe, um…you could, with the pillow?” 

Jamie, perfect as he is, needs no further instruction. His hands fly towards the cushion, readjusting it carefully into a more supportive position. “Anything else, babe?” he asks as he fluffs, focus entirely on the pillow. 

“Jay.” 

His boyfriend’s head snaps up again, and Roy gestures him to slow down, and sit back. As soon as Jamie’s back’s against the sofa cushion again, Roy tosses his arm around him and tugs him in as close as possible. “I just want you,” he whispers. Then he lets himself shut his eyes and sink into the calm, knowing Jamie's got him.