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kiss-theggoat · 4 months

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I’m back again! I’m a sucker for Thomas Hewitt okay, and there isn’t enough about him! I was wondering if you could do another fic about him, a childhood friend of Thomas’s who moved away comes back in town. She ends up staying with them while she is in town, unknowingly having interrupted their killing plans, leaving a victim down in the basement and unknown from reader. But when the family isn’t home (who knows why) victim escapes and attacks reader. Reader attacks back but ends up killing the victim on accident. In fear she hides the body but the guilt kills her and she ends up telling Thomas. (I know out of character stuff)

A/N: Thank you for the request, I really love writing for Thomas and hope you like! 🖤

Surprise!

Thomas Hewitt x F!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Summary: After years of being away from home, you finally decide to visit your hometown…only to see it’s been shut down. Only one family still lives there, and thankfully, you know them, and they offer to let you stay there! But…after a few days, you start to sense that something isn’t right.

TW: Canon-Typical Violence

The drive to Texas was long, but as you watched the dust and sagebrush go by, your chest swelled with excitement. You hadn’t been back in your hometown since your parents made you leave when you were younger, and now that you finally had your own car and your own money, the first thing on your list was to visit that sleepy little Texas town you’d missed since you left. The only issue was that as you kept driving…you noticed that all of the street signs leading to town were decrepit. You thought…well, you’d been gone a long time…just normal wear and tear under the Texas sun, right?

Wrong.

As you drove into town…you felt your chest tighten at the state of things. Almost every single building was boarded up, windows shattered and spray painted, signs on the ground and covered in dust. There was no way that anyone lived here, hell, the only stoplight in town didn’t even work…

Your car sputtered to a stop in front of what used to be your favorite little convenience store. Where you used to go inside and beg your mom to buy you all of the candy she said was off limits. The same store you got caught stealing a candy bar with your best friend and thought you both might get arrested by the sheriff. You slammed your car door shut, dust clouding around you in a plume of sadness in nostalgia. It was so quiet…not even a cricket…until you heard a siren.

How can an abandoned town have law enforcement? You raised a hand to block the relentless sunlight, turning to the source of the sound, where an old cop car rolled up beside you. The tint on the windows was definitely illegal, but thankfully, the sheriff slowly rolled it down, revealing his scowling face, eyes blocked by sunglasses.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in town?” He asked, lip stuffed with chew. His voice was gruff, but sounded so oddly familiar to you. You leaned in closer, eyes squinting in order to get a better look at him. You peered at the name badge…Hoyt. That didn’t sound familiar at all…but then he said your name. You continued to look at him in confusion as he pulled his sunglasses off, his eyes full of recognition. This man obviously knew you…but who was he?

He stepped out of the car and shut the door, leaning against it as he spit a puddle of black sludge onto the ground. “Well I’ll be damned. Thought I’d never see your pretty face again.”

“I’m sorry…it’s been a long time since I’ve been here and…the name Hoyt doesn’t ring any bells.” I told him, pointing at the nameplate on his chest.

“Oh this is a buddy’s uniform. Lost my own badge. The name Hewitt ring any bells? Charlie Hewitt.” He spit again, closer to your shoe this time, making you cringe and step away just a little. At first, you didn’t remember the name Hewitt either…until you remembered Thomas. The one boy in your class that never came to school, was always bullied or called names because of his face. Your eyes lit up as you made eye contact with him, a smile spreading onto your lips.

“Hewitt! Yes! I remember Thomas.” You said happily. If the Hewitt family was still here, then the town couldn’t be completely shut down, right?

This seemed to annoy Charlie in a way, his lip curling up into a sneer at the sound of Thomas’ name. “Course you remember that big oaf. Hard to miss ‘im.” He spat the rest of his chew onto the ground, wiping his lip with the back of his hand, “Where you plannin’ on stayin’?”

This made you sigh. You were hoping the little motel would still be open, but you’d just driven past it, and from the looks of it, its only residents were probably rats and roaches. “Well, actually…I probably have to drive back to Austin tonight. I didn’t know the town had…” you stopped talking, eyes landing on Charlie’s wrinkled face, not wanting to say anything rude about the hometown you shared.

“Gone under?” He broke out into a wheezy laugh, making it very clear to you that he’d probably been smoking like a chimney since you left. “Yeah. Not a lotta folks left. But Austin’s a long way and it’s gettin’ dark…not safe for a pretty little thing like you to be alone.” The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. You knew him…but he seemed …different. His eyes had a sinister glow to them, the way he stared down at your chest made you want to hop in your car and never come back. “Why don’t you come stay at the house? M’sure Luda Mae would love havin’ another girl around.” He took a step closer to you, eyes still focused where they shouldn’t be.

You spoke quickly, definitely quick enough to make your uneasiness known. “No, that’s okay…I really don’t mind driving back into the city.”

This seemed to amuse Charlie. “Oh, we insist. Tommy will be there…don’t think he’s seen someone like you in his whole life.”

For some reason, the mention of Thomas made you actually want to go. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your memories of Thomas, while very little, were only fond. He was a big kid for his age, and very misunderstood, but always very kind and quiet. And…he did say there would be another girl there, right? So you wouldn’t just be alone with this creep. Maybe going to visit the Hewitt’s would be a nice walk down memory lane.

“Okay…sure. It is getting pretty late, I guess.” You agreed, making him smile and show off his stained yellow teeth.

“Perfect. Just drive behind me.” He told you, opening the door to his cop car.

The drive to the Hewitt’s home was longer than you’d thought, and their house was huge. As you parked behind Charlie, you stared up at the house in awe, seeing every single window illuminated. You supposed that with the entire town pretty much out of commission, they owned whatever property they wanted. Your shoes crunched against the gravel as Charlie led you inside, and the moment he opened the door, a feeling of discomfort settled deep in your stomach.

The house was cozy, but eclectic. Too eclectic, like every item inside belonged to a different owner at some point in time. It smelled like a mixture of expired perfume and rotting meat, a sickeningly sweet film settling on your sweaty skin, making it hard to breath inside the home. You stuck a smile on your face anyways, not wanting to seem rude as you were led into the dining room. It seemed as though you were interrupting dinner, everyone already seated in front of their bowls, full of some sort of stew. Your presence immediately turned heads, all six eyes fixed on you and Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Well I don’t believe it…” The lady whispered, who you immediately recognized to be Luda Mae. God, she’d gotten old. You remember her being old when you were in elementary school, and part of you wondered how she was still alive. Across from her sat an elderly man, who somehow looked twenty years older than her. He was sitting there, eyes on you but unfocused, like he was staring at the air between you and the table. Last to meet your gaze was Thomas.

Your heart sank when you saw him, or what was exposed. The leather mask covering his face upset you beyond reason. You knew that Tommy had been bullied for his looks when you guys were little, but never thought he’d make a custom mask to wear, even around his family, and at dinner for god's sake. That’s when it occurred to you, he wasn’t even eating.

“Found ‘er down by the old gas station lookin’ for a place to stay. Ain't she pretty?” Charlie asked, his voice low and predatory as walked towards his seat at the head of the table. The way he spoke about you, like you were just a piece of meat, made your skin crawl.

You gave everyone a polite smile and a little wave before speaking. “Well, I expected the motel to still be open…really, I can find somewhere else to stay, I hate to impose if-“

“Oh don’t be silly!” Luda interrupted. “We’d love to have you. You’ve just gotten so pretty…hasn’t she Tommy?” Your eyes shot to a very flustered looking Thomas, his eyes fixed on his steaming bowl of stew, still untouched.

“Please dear, have a seat, you’re just in time for dinner.”

To be completely honest…you didn’t want to eat their dinner. Something about the house and their demeanor made you want to leave, but if there was one thing you learned about growing up in Texas, it was to accept the hospitality.

“Thank you, Luda Mae.” You said softly, accepting the seat beside Thomas. Charlie scooped a full ladle of soup into a bowl and set it in front of you. With clammy hands you grabbed the spoon, noticing that none of their silverware matched. The spoon you had was delicate, handle slim with swirled details adorning the shiny silver.

All of the Hewitt’s stared at you with prying eyes as you scooped yourself a bite. It contained a chunk of meat, a carrot, and an onion, along with the broth they soaked in.

The moment that stew touched your tongue, you knew something was wrong. The meat tasted off, way too gamey. You’d had your fair share of meats, different kinds of game and homemade foods made with hunting prizes but this…unlike anything you’d ever tasted. It was tender, and didn’t taste bad, but the unfamiliar taste tainted the whole soup, causing alarm bells to go off in your head.

You were soon distracted by the sounds of the family scarfing down their own dinner, spoons hitting porcelain and lips smacking. In no time, your bowl was empty, and so was everyone else’s…except for Thomas’. But, this seemed normal among dinner time as Luda Mae cleared the dishes without a word.

“Tommy. Show our guest to ‘er room for the night, would ya?”

The wooden chair screeched against the floor when Thomas stood. He just seemed to keep going…he towered over you. You craned your neck to stare at him, mouth open and eyes widening. You stood from your own chair, noticing how much larger he was than you. You stood at his chest, and he easily doubled you in width.

Without a word he started walking past you, and you figured he meant for you to follow, so you did. The more you explored the house, the less cozy it got, and by the time you made it to the guest room, it was plain and simple, just a bed with white sheets in the middle of an empty room. Thomas stood at the door, taking up the entire entrance.

“Thank you, Thomas.” You said quietly, giving him a small smile that made him turn away from you. “It’s really nice to see you.”

The longer you stared, the more you realized that he was still the same old Tommy. A gentle giant with pretty brown eyes that sucked you in until you didn’t want to look away.

Just as you were getting lost in your thoughts, Charlie shoved Thomas aside, holding your bag that you’d left in your car.

“‘Ere you go, gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Charlie…” you said softly, grabbing the bag. That was nice of him, but you don’t remember giving him your car keys…

“My rooms just downstairs if you need anythin’.” Charlie sent you an uncomfortable wink, reminding you to lock your door tonight, and walked away. Thomas stood with his head down, still in the doorway.

“Uhm…goodnight, Thomas.” You said softly, a smile gracing your face again. This time, he looked at you. And you could’ve sworn that before you closed the door, his eyes crinkled, like he might’ve smiled too. You closer the door, and grumbled at the lack of a lock, finally getting ready for bed.

A shriek yanked you from your peaceful slumber, making you sit up straight in bed. Your heart was pounding, and you reached over to turn on the small bedside lamp. You were hoping it was just a nightmare, something you could just ignore and go back to the weirdly comfy mattress but the longer you sat there, the more you heard. Footsteps, whispering…but they sounded so frantic. Not like someone getting up for a glass of water or a midnight snack.

Slowly and hesitantly, you walked towards the door and pulled it open, bare feet finding every single splinter in the floor until you were finally in the hallway, staring down the stairs in the dark with wide, fearful eyes. Everything seemed fine…until a woman stumbled into your field of vision. She was bloody, open wounds on her back in an odd spot…did she just break into the house? She was near the front door and none of the Hewitt’s were with her. You stared at her, panicking, especially when you made eye contact.

Your blood went cold and you quickly backed up, barely hanging onto the banister.

“You have to help me, please! You have no idea what is going on here, we have to get out, you have to help me!” The girl started to ramble, but her voice was a whisper-like scream. Her bloodied hands hit the stairs and she began to crawl towards you.

You stared blankly, overcome by the fear and shock of seeing her inside the home…before you knew it, she made it to you. She gripped your ankle with a sticky hand, pulling you closer to the stairs. “Please!” She hissed, her eyes wide and crazed.

Instinctively, you tried to kick her hand away from you, pulling away. You felt your breathing speed up, panic overwhelming you. “Get off me!”

Her eyes flashed with realization, and she immediately recoiled. “You…you’re one of them…oh my god!” She wailed, voice full of dread and tears flowing down her cheeks. One of them? What did that even mean? This sorrow and dread only lasted a few seconds…before she turned to rage. Her face scrunched and it was like she’d been struck by lightning, body invigorated and suddenly strong enough to function. She stood and lunged at you, hands on your shoulders.

Your breath left your lungs as she slammed you against the wall, the back of your head aching in a way it never had before. In an attempt to get her off of you, you pushed her as hard as you could, feeling the slick blood on her shoulder and her neck where your hands hit her. Your eyes were closed tightly as you shoved, but it didn’t take vision to know what happened to her. Her body stumbled down the stairs, thumping all the way down, groans and grunts escaping her as she trailed blood all the way down.

You covered your mouth with your trembling hands…you’d just killed someone…you felt nauseous, you could feel your stomach turning as you stared at her body at the bottom of the stairs, laying limp. You prayed and prayed that she’d move, but she never did. A door slammed open from somewhere downstairs and that’s when you realized…

You’d just killed someone inside of someone else’s home. Tears rolled down your face and you slid down the wall to the ground, knees shaking and unable to support your weight anymore. Heavy footsteps approached the dead body at the bottom of the stairs…and Thomas came into your field of view. He stared nonchalantly at the woman, but turned to face you when he heard your sob.

“Thomas I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened…” you whispered, face bright red from crying and entire body shaking. Thomas stood still for a moment, but when he started moving, nothing could’ve stopped him. He knelt on the stairs in front of you, huge hand taking yours.

The warmth radiated through your fingers and up into your arms, making them feel less shaky and cold and traumatized. You stared up at Thomas, bleary eyes filled with tears, realizing that he wasn’t mad…or scared…he wanted to help you. Relief overwhelmed you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moving closer to him, arms wrapped around his broad waist, head buried against his chest. With your panicking, you barely noticed the fact he wore a button up and a leather apron, droplets of blood smearing against your cheek. You didn’t care. Thomas wrapped his tree trunk arms around you and held you against him…it was like nothing else mattered. Comfort washed over you and for a moment you felt like you hadn’t just killed a woman for no reason.

“S-she just attacked me, she jumped at me and grabbed me and she was yelling and-“

Thomas’ hand gently stroked your hair as if to shush you, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he held you as close as he could.

There was nothing that would stop him from being close to you. Not the three bodies in the basement, and definitely not the bitch that hopped off the hook.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt

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quackarl · 2 years

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MCYT HAVING A CRUSH • HEADCANONS

A/N: I write for Foolish and Punz now too, everybody cheered! Here’s some (really specific, too!) headcanons on how they would act when reaaallyyy crushing on someone… Any way, please keep sending me requests! May take a while for me to write them, but hey, I’ve been feeling really excited about writing lately 🫶🏻 My next, or one of my next, uploads will be a full-length little fiction piece of Dream having a crush, sooo we’ll continue with this crush theme… 👀

DREAM:

If you were a streamer yourself, he’d definitely gift subs on each stream of yours. Let’s be real, he wouldn’t settle for 20 gifted subs, make it a 100. Sometimes he’d donate and attach messages with them such as “hey nice stream you got there” or just straight up “(sugar) daddy dream is here”. UM, RIP CHAT. AM I RIGHT? Knowing him, it’d be an unnecessarily large amount of money, but he just wants to see the stunned look on your face and hear you thank and praise him for his generosity like no other. Man’s smiling so hard at himself and feeling a little prideful for being able to spoil you like that, in front of thousands of people watching too, and thinking if only he could spoil you as more than a friend.

Giving you piggyback rides! Or more like demanding to give you piggyback rides… Dream would give off such cocky energy when he’d get to carry you on his back, though. Like you were royalty and he was your carriage. I can just imagine him walking around piggybacking you and someone asking him for a favor, to which he’d reply “I’d love to but I’m kinda busy here, and my hands are kinda full so…” and gesture at you on his back and his hands supporting you. You’d hurrily try to climb off of him, to which he’d just yelp a little “no!” and then proceed to throw you a reassuring smile over his shoulder, silently telling you he likes having you so close to him.

Yeah so, those little acts of service are it for him. He’d feel the urge to spoil you, as stated before, and this side of him would strongly come out if you ever were to shop with him around. If you ever wanted to even look at an item, you better do it quick and not let him see. Because the moment he sees you looking a little too hard at or twiddle with something you’re considering buying, he strides over to you and starts asking “you want it? ‘Cause if you want it, it’s yours” and you can already see him taking out his credit card. And before he even gives you time to think, he has already bought it for you. Damn, he’d buy the whole store for you in a heartbeat if you asked. So, better not even joke about it to him…

You know the really cheesy move guys pull when they yawn and stretch and lift up their arm and then put it over their crushes’ shoulder? I feel like Dream would be so guilty of attempting that, successfully attempting that. He’d make it super playful though, he doesn’t want to scare you away, in case you wouldn’t feel the same way about him. After successfully getting his arm around you, he’d blissfully sigh “ah! This is nice, or what?”

He’d make playlists, for himself. And they’d be public for everyone to see. Nothing weird about that, right? Or at least at first, there was nothing exceptional about them, or so did everyone thought, until later a few fans pointed it out that, maybe coincidentally, the first letters of each track spelt out your name. Totally not a coincidence for Dream, even though that’s what he tells to the curious public: it’s all a coincidence. He wouldn’t be afraid to make his crush on you obvious to the world. Because no one would know just how serious he was about it, instead he’d just play it off as playful banter between two close friends. It’d be just for him to know that he did it out of true affection. Maybe someday for you to know as well, he hopes. But for now, he settles for playing it cool and laughing off the people online freaking out.

Even more of being close to you. Like in forms of giving you massages. Yep. He’d sneak up behind you and just start massaging your shoulders. In a totally friendly way. Or so he hopes it seems like, because again, he doesn’t want to scare you away. So a friendly massage. And who are you to turn down a free massage? And so he’s massaging away and relishing in getting to be close to you again. He’d get super into it though and probably make a few dramatic “Ohh! Ahh! Oh yeah!” sound effects of his own. He’d ask you then “you feel good now?” You know damn well that Sapnap would fight the urge to ask Dream does he like making you feel good.

SAPNAP:

Congrats, now that he’s (still secretly) hardcore crushing on you big time, you have a hype man of your own (that’s him). If it came to video games and watching you play them, he’d (sometimes lewdly) comment on every move you’d make in the game, such as “you’re so fucking good at that. You know what being around a good player, who’s also hot, does to me”, he’d scream “YEAH!” a little too loud whenever you’d win. Others hearing it will point out his constant praise with a “yeah, we get it already” to which he’d mumble a quiet “shut up” and bite back a smile. Like Dream, he just wants to like you loud and proud, but not give it away that he’s actually being serious and doing more than just platonic flirting. He also finds you being skilled attractive, no matter how small the said skill is. Even when it comes to mundane things, he’s still rooting for you. It could be something as simple as cooking with him and his need to praise you would get triggered by something as simple as you working a blender perfectly. Yeah… He cheers and claps when you’re done blending and then explains himself when you question what got him so excited, “n-no, nothing, it’s just that, that can be pretty tough, y’know? Especially avoiding spillage. Dream usually doesn’t know how to do it the right way so-“ “Yes, I do!” Dream would interrupt and yell from the living room. Sapnap just hopes he shuts up so he doesn’t blow his cover. He knows that Dream knows damn well how to use the blender, but in his eyes you’re just superior at everything, so even if it takes throwing Dream under the bus to make you feel superior, he’ll do it.

Okay, so, he loves praising you but he also likes hearing you praise him. He’d trick you into it though by asking you questions such as “don’t I just look so good today?” or “do you like this new hoodie I bought?” You’d have no choice than to agree and tell him that yes, he looks nice. It literally has him falling asleep with a smile on his face that night, wishing that the more you tell him that, the more you’ll also convince yourself that he is indeed pretty cute, and hot, and handsome, and all that. He’d do anything to convince you that he’s the most handsome thing you’ll ever see.

God help him if you’d ever talk to him about someone other than him, any other guy. Yeah, his heart would break a little, but it’d also make him super competitive and, well, petty as hell. You could even harmlessly compliment Karl and he’d instantly get into a “but I’m better” mood. And that’s also exactly what he’d ask you, “but he’s not as cute as me, right?” You’d be taken back a little and tell him that “I think there’s no reason for that,” which should be enough to reassure him and his petty mood, but he’d just pout and grunt back “we’ll see about that.” He can’t sometimes stand anyone else than him hearing those compliments from you, especially if he was in a grumpy mood to begin with. Talking about compliments, he’d also learn any skill just to impress you. And to be better than everyone else. Simp behavior…

He’d also be sooo whiny. He’d use that whiny tone to convince you. Trying to convince you to stay over at his house for a little longer. Or trying to convince you in voice call to play one more round of a game with him on stream when you’d have million of other important things to do instead. He’d talk in that tone only for you, but he wouldn’t really care if others heard him. Usually if any of the boys would hear him, they’d definitely gag at his sweet talk. All in good fun, of course. If you were to deny him and his attempt to get you to join his team for just one more round, he wouldn’t stop whining for the majority of the stream nor the call. 30 minutes later and you can still occasionally hear his voice whining, “whyyyyy? But why would you say ‘no’? Pleaseeeee....” aaand cue to Karl gagging.

Sapnap would be so slick when it comes to spending more time with you, or initiating to spend more time with you. He’d ask you “hey, do you remember when we went to that arcade?” and you’d be a mess of confusion because, you have never been to an arcade with him, so you’d tell him with a nervous laughter “no? I don’t think that ever happened” to which he’d smirk at you and say “well, should we make it happen?” And that’s how he took to you an arcade. And to many other places. He pretends they’re dates. But shh, that’s a secret. He wouldn’t want to ruin a great friendship. He just hopes you like the slick ones if he ever was to ruin it.

Letting you borrow his hoodie and then claiming that you can keep it when you try to give it back to him? YES. This actually would happen with a couple of his hoodies. Very gentleman-y of him. You wouldn’t even have time to finish your sentence about how cold it is outside, when he already is handing you his hoodie. You’d go through the bickering back and forth of him insisting that you put it on and that he’ll be fine without it, that he’s not cold at all, and you telling him that he doesn’t need to give it to you. He knows he doesn’t, but he wants to. So let him, please. Let him enjoy the cute view (he secretly enjoys) of you in his clothes. Later on he then tells you to “just keep it”, because he has ‘plenty of hoodies anyway.’ Oh boy, he just hopes you wear it around him sometime…

Sooo quick to defend you. Sometimes it’d be a little unnecessary how strongly he’d react, but he feels that it’s now (that he’s absolutely smitten by you) in his blood to defend and protect you from anything that could make you feel bad about yourself. It could be something as simple as someone pointing out that you bite your nails as a bad habit and Sapnap would open his mouth and tell them “bro, stop. Leave them alone.” Everyone would be a little stunned and tell him to calm down, to which he’d mutter “yeah, whatever”, but no, he wouldn’t let himself calm down just yet. For the remaining of the day he’s on high alert, ready to defend you some more.

GEORGE:

My God, he’d get so giggly and blushy around you. He’d definitely argue back that no, he doesn’t, but he does. Just hearing you laugh, he’d start laughing and giggling along, even when he’d have no clue what’s so funny and what exactly it is that you’re laughing at. And the blushing! If anyone was to point out the blush on his cheeks, he’d just shake his head, roll his eyes and assure that no, his face is not red (while he is visibly red). At his weakest, he wouldn’t even be able to look at your way without blushing. How much longer exactly will he be able to hide his feelings like that?

Sometimes when he’d feel extremely bold and brave, he’d take things to Twitter. Or someone would do it for him. What I mean is that, George would look up or come across a video of let’s say, two cats cuddling or kissing, or whatsoever, and tag you and tweet “Me and you?” Twitter has a meltdown. Meltdown is an understatement. Maybe he’d get cold feet almost immediately and delete it before too many people would see it. (Too bad that there’ll still be hundreds of screenshots of it.) Sometimes someone else like Sapnap would instead tag you and George in a similar tweet and say “this @y/n and @GeorgeNotFound???” Yeah, you may be blind to the massive crush George has on you, but Sapnap isn’t…

Filming totally pointless TikToks with him... Yeah, they’re pointless and it’s his ideas that usually are just causing confusion amongst anyone watching them. There’s no plot, just vibes. But he can’t ignore how happy and comfortable he feels with you even on camera, even when you’re doing some stupid TikTok dances. And in a way, he also gets to show off your friendship, he wishes it was more than friendship, to the world. So yeah, most of the time they were spontaneous clips that we’re just filmed in the heat of the moment, a little humorous, definitely chaotic. What anyone watching would see on the screen is just two friends hanging out and having fun, but it’s totally different from what he feels. And he totally plays them back and watches them alone afterwards, smiling at his phone, smiling at you on his screen. And then checking you out a little bit too, “wow…”

Sure, he’s able to gently joke around with you, but then somehow end up feeling a little bad for it. He could offer you a snack and ask you “you want this?” and when you’d say yes, instead of feeding it to you, he’d instead eat it himself and laugh at you “hah! You can’t have it!” Soon he’d start feeling bad for you, even though there definitely was no harm done with that little prank, but he feels bad enough to go above and beyond to get you your own snacks that no one can steal away from you, not even him. He’d present them to you with a “woo-o! Look what I have!” and wow, he’d be so red in the face again when you stare at him with your mouth agape in surprise and ask him “you did this… for me?”

Whenever someone in the room told a joke, he’d always look at you first to see your reaction, your smile, your laugh in response. That’s such an adorable little habit he has formed now that he has a crush. For him, seeing you happy and content comes first. He’d also laugh at pretty much anything you’d say. Maybe it’s nervous laughter, for how he always feels a bit nervous around you. You could be saying the most normal things, such as “I took a walk today,” and he’d burst out laughing at that. Yeah, don’t even ask... He thinks laughter is the way to your heart, as dramatic as it sounds.

But he’d also have that side of him to be loud and… annoying around you. Maybe it’d be to keep your attention on him, to keep him on your mind at all times, even when he’s not with you. So he’d find the most bizarre ways to find his way into your days. Like, prank calling you out of nowhere. He’d call you and when you’d pick up, he’d just scream down the phone and then hang up. So romantic… But then he’d get you to call him back, to ask him if he has something to actually tell you, and then manage to keep you on the phone for an hour, just chit-chatting about nothing in particular. After you’d tell him that you have to go, he’d shriek at you “nooo! But I am so bored! Don’t leave me die of boredom! And what would you do without me then, hmm? What’s even more important to you than talking to me right now? Are you scheming to get rid of me? ‘Cause you won’t!”

He’d usually turn to you for advice, he really trusts you to not screw him over. I mean, why wouldn’t he? You’re a savior and an angel in his eyes. You could give him the worst advice and he’d still blindly follow it, just because it’s advice that came from you. And in his eyes, you could never be wrong about anything. He could text you “should I get a haircut?” and you’d tell him “sure but it’s really up to you?” and yeah, he knows it’s up to him but at least he got an opinion from you so he just texts you back “yeah I guess :]”. You best believe that he goes ahead and gets the haircut, that you technically agreed with, and only hopes you like it.

KARL:

When Karl is crushing on you, he’d be genuinely offended if you did stuff without him. Stuff that usually the two of you would do together, like watch anime, or cartoons. Or any TV -show. He’d ask you if you’ve seen the newest episode of an anime you’ve both been hooked on that just came out a few days ago, thinking that it’d be nice if you could watch it with him, but when you’d tell him that “yeah. I watched it last night,” he’d let out a frustrated sigh and tilt his head back in annoyance and tell you “nooo! I really wanted to watch it with you! Now, why would you do that and watch it without me?” Of course, he wasn’t actually mad at you, but he was really hoping he could’ve made it your thing to keep up with that anime together. So yeah, he’s a little annoyed you’d watch it without him. He likes the nights when you’re both cozy on the couch, watching it, commenting on every plot twist. Big sigh.

He’d talk to you, like a lot. Even when there was nothing to talk about. Because, in his (secret) opinion, there is always something to talk about with you. He makes conversations out of anything just to get to talk to you. You could be sitting with him in his room, looking out the window, watching birds fly by and he’d just ask you “what’s your favorite bird?” and then smile at you like he didn’t just ask the most random question and like he actually doesn’t genuinely seem interested in knowing the answer. Because he does. Well, you’d end up talking about birds, flying, nature.... and he is so happy. Because all that matters is that he’s talking to you.

He’d insist on making secret handshakes with you, that no one else knows and can learn except than you two, and then feeling so proud about them afterwards. He’d remember them even after a long time, you’d ask him how does he still remember and he would just blush and stutter, “I- it’s just kind of special. Of course I remember.”

Okay, so... Fan-fiction. He’d definitely read the fan-fictions people would write about you (there already are shippers out there, even though he has not admitted crushing on you). Maybe that’s adding fuel to the fire when he’d read them on stream. Bad idea? Maybe... He’d put so much effort into the reading, making it all feel as real as possible, voice acting to the best of his ability and all. It makes chat question though, why is he so into it? And why is he giggling every five seconds? Any possible kissing scenes... He would not even skip over them, but instead he’d make literal kissing sounds into the mic... Someone stop him.

For some reason, I can imagine him casually showing up when he knows you’re around in a shirt that says something like “if you’re reading this, I have a crush on you” and look out for your reaction. Well, yeah, you read it, and so did everyone else that talked to him that day. You laughed it off and joked that “everyone already knows that he’s a homie hopper” and so did everyone else. He’d dream about the day he could eventually confess his crush on you and also tell you that he has actually told you about it way before, and when you’d confusingly ask him when did that happen, he’d tell you that “you read my shirt, that one day when you called me out for being a homie hopper, didn’t you?” And then it’d all click.

Aww, you’d get to model for his merch! He’d ask you, no, he’d beg you. Is there really anything he’d enjoy more than seeing you in his brand new merch, before anyone else sees it? And have those pictures plastered all over his social media accounts and website? No way. Between every shot he’d take of you, he’d giggle and mutter a little “perfect”, his eyes gleaming and cheeks blushing. Every minute he’d resist the temptation to tell you how perfect you really look, because 1. he doesn’t want to get too sappy now, and 2. he still has a secret to keep... Yeah, he’s crushing on you harder than ever after that.

Whenever there’d be a group gathering and not enough seats for all of you... do I even need to say it? This man would immediately get up and give up his seat for you. A few hours later you’d call over to him, “Karl, you’ve been standing for two hours now. Don’t you want your seat back already?” and he’d shush you with a “nonsense! I’m a big man. What’s a few hours more!?” Actually, he’d give up on everything to share with you if you needed, like earbuds. Or food. Anything. If nothing, it’s always the seat he saves for you or gives up for you.

QUACKITY:

Mostly you would play Minecraft or Roblox with him, if you’re into it. And oh man, he’d enjoy that a lot. He would not leave you alone even in the game, he’d follow your character around for the majority of it. You’d turn around in the game and boom, he’s right there on your tail. He’s actually been there the whole time. When it’s not only you and him, but also other boys in the game and in the voice chat, he’d sometimes just... act like it was just the two of us talking. Listen, he’s not rude like that, but he just really likes talking to you. You just get him, he’d think. And sure, you have a similar sense of humour. He likes. He’d crack so many jokes and funny remarks throughout the whole game. Just trying to be the funniest person in the call for you. Every time someone else, like George, would laugh at his joke that he told to you, he’d shut him down with a “bro, the fuck? That joke was obviously meant for (Y/n). You weren’t supposed to get it.” All in good fun, again. He just likes having his moments with you.

Phone calls! So many phone calls. He just wants to talk to you and hear your voice. Isn’t that sweet? When it’s time to hang up, he’d tell you “ah, I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?” and you’d agree, thinking that he’ll call you again in a few days. But he calls you exactly a minute later. You’d pick up and he’d excitedly tell you “I said I’ll talk to you again soon, didn’t I? What do you mean this is ‘too soon?’”

Would, gently, make fun of you. This doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Maybe he’d try turning the tables a little bit, when people online would get a little suspicious of his sudden fondness towards you, he’d make it seem like you are actually the one crushing on him, and not the other way. Maybe that would be also a way for him to test the waters a little bit, to see how you’d react to the thought of it. He’d just make ridiculous posts online, like tweeting a poll that says “Is (Y/N) down bad or down good for me ?? Idk about you guys but they seem a little obsessed lately” or post a picture of the two of you and caption it as “after this picture was taken (Y/n) told me they like me 😳” (You definitely didn’t and the people online seemed to side with you).

The words “I like you” has actually come out of his mouth a few times around you. In a friendly way. He knows he does like you, definitely as friends, but also definitely as more than friends. But for now, liking you as a friend is the most he can do and he wants to seize it. It was when he has done a nice favour for you or given you advice on a tough situation that’s been bothering you, when you’d thank him for what he did for you, he would reply with a “yeah, of course. I fucking like you, and care about you, so..”. It was a friendly reminder and affirmation and that’s how you perceived it. So he does tell you sometimes, not just in a way that it’d make you realise he likes you more than as a friend.

So, back to him gently making fun of you, or mocking you, he’d imitate you, your gestures. I can imagine he’d pull that with any of his friends, but you are definitely not safe from that. He’d know the limits though, he’d know not to be too harsh, but you know, from spending so much time with him and the others, you’ve kind of grown into it that there’s a lot of joking around and poking fun at each other. He’d also comment on your height, like so much height talk! If you were shorter than him, then bless you, he’d love it. Always teasing you, using you as an arm rest or asking if you need a ladder. Or you could be doing absolutely nothing and he’d tease you, “what? Do I make you nervous? You have a crush on me or something?” Orrrrr you could accidentally just mispronounce a word and he’d never let you live it down. Just reminding you of it and repeating it back to you like a parrot. But, don’t take any offence, it’s just his love language.

He’d make over-the-top fan-cams or edits of you, and purposefully make them as ridiculous and exaggerated as possible. Usually he’d also include himself in them. Making sure that everyone knows that he is your #1 shipper, but also at the same time not wanting everyone to figure it out that he’s got it bad for you. He’d put them up on Twitter regardless. You’d reply to him “wtf ???” and he’d just reply back to you “😎😎 😎” He’d dare to be more bold and confident online. And I know what you’re thinking, Alex shy in real life? Well, around you, yes, a little. But online, he’d be thriving, tweeting unhinged things at you, or of you.

He definitely has some gentleman-y in him. He’d express that by, for example, offering to carry your things for you. You’re carrying a rather heavy looking bag? “I’ll take this,” he’d just announce and snatch it out of your hands. You don’t have anywhere to put your phone or keys? Swoop, same thing, but they’d go in his pocket. A few times fans has gotten glimpses of him emptying his pockets for you and handing you back your phone and other little essentials, and it was a pretty adorable sight.

WILBUR:

I mean, the way he’d even look at you gives it all away, it’d almost be a little intimidating. But he can’t help it. The way he listens to you talk and then smirks at himself, glancing piercingly at you, occasionally glancing down at his lap trying to hide his lovey-dovey smile, trying to collect his thoughts, because God, he thinks you are so adorable. I feel like his eyes can tell more than a million words could. It’s just too bad you haven’t figured out the real emotions behind his eyes.

He’d memorise pretty much every little habit of yours, no matter how little, and then slyly smirk at himself every time he’d catch you doing them. One of those days, he’ll definitely tell you that he has taken notice of them. You’d be caught off guard and ask him “you really notice them?” and there comes that smirk on his face again, as he just nods with a quiet “yeah” and then carries on the conversation like nothing happened. But not without adding on that “it’s really cute”.

A little cliche, a little predictable, but he’d definitely all of a sudden start writing down some new mysterious, a little mushy, song lyrics... He’d run them by you and ask if they’re any good, you’d then end up asking him the important question, “who is it about?” (because, how could you not ask when it’s literally a love letter in form of a song?) and he’d sigh and say it’s about “unrequited love”. You’d leave it at that, not wanting to intrude too much, since he looks and sounds so vulnerable. He’ll wish you would’ve intruded a little more though, since he literally wrote it about you, his crush! He just doesn’t leave it at one song, but writes a couple of them. All of them about you. He dreams of being able to play them at a gig, with you in the audience, telling you they’re all about you right before going on stage... Someday, he sighs.

As a person, and especially as a person who’s really crushing on you, he would be keen on sharing every little detail with his family and close friends. So, some of his family and friends would be aware of how he feels towards you. He trusts them not to spoil the secret and hey, he could never keep his mouth shut when it comes to talking about you anyway. Sometimes while hanging out with you, he’d keep checking his phone and just smiling at it, occasionally typing long paragraphs, or so it seemed to you. You’d wonder if it’s about something you said, or if there’s someone special texting him, someone who he really cares about and really wants to talk to instead. But actually, it’d be him blowing up his friends’ phones, telling them how adorable you’re being right now. He’d be doing the whole keyboard smash thing as well. That’s how gone he is for you.

Boom, his energy and happiness levels would suddenly rise whenever you’re in the room. He’d feel super playful too, like sneaking up behind you and then whisper “boo” in your ear in a low tone, trying to playfully frighten you, and when you’d turn around to face him, you’d come face to face with the brightest eyes and smile you’ve ever seen. He’s like the happiest he’ll ever be when he’s around you. No matter how many times he has already done that, he does it almost every time he catches you alone in the room. It had almost became your thing now. You’ve learned not to get as frightened anymore as you used to, and he has learned how much he really likes getting to come so close to you and getting a reaction out of you, whether it’d be you scolding him for scaring you again or laughing at his antics.

Strumming something on his guitar for you. I know, again, very cliche, very cheesy, very romantic, very predictable of him, but no, he doesn’t do that just for anybody. But you’re very special. (Even though you don’t know how special yet). And to spice things up a bit, he’ll make it a little more lighthearted, he’d literally play you memes, or vines. Yeah, for example, you know that “I love you bitch, I ain’t never gonna stop loving you bitch” vine? Mayyyybe he’d replace the word ‘bitch’, with some platonic pet name, if he was feeling generous, lol. But yeah, just not to make things seem too serious, he’d try to make you laugh with those amusing private performances, and also try to flex a little with his guitar playing, of course. If you’d admire him in his element, strumming away on his guitar, a little too much, he’d get super cocky and yeah... Cocky Wilbur is a whole different breed.

Everything you’d ever feel embarrassed about, he’d embrace it. He’d never let you dwell on something embarrassing that happening to you for too long. If you’d totally mess up your words, or stumble and fall over, or be caught talking or singing to yourself, he’d reassure you that he finds it “very cute” and not embarrassing at all. In some situations, if you’d mess up and embarrass yourself in front of a lot of people, or in public, he’d intentionally mess up with you, just to take the attention away from you and make you feel better about it. You’d fall over? He’d make himself trip too. You’d bump against a glass door? He’ll be right there behind you to walk into it as well. He’d just never let you feel like there’s ever anything worth feeling too embarrassed over and, in his thoughts, how could anyone as adorable as you even be embarrassing? If anything, it’s just cute.

FOOLISH:

Oh man, he’d be an awkward one at first when he’d realize his strong feelings towards you, but he does get a lot smoother with time. And, he’s trying his best, okay.

He’d also be someone who would find it very important to make you laugh lots, be an entertainer just for you. Because he doesn’t think there is anything more attractive than someone he’s able to laugh with over the most ridiculous things, things that always wouldn’t even make sense to others. And yeah, also seeing you laugh is attractive to him, even more attractive if you’re laughing at a joke he made. Basically just whenever you’d be hanging out, it’d be an ongoing urge for him: must make you laugh. Sometimes it’d be him just squatting down to your level and starting to make random noises in your ear. That’s literally his sense of humour... And it’d be even more hilarious for him, if you’d do the same back to him. The most random noises he could think of, chirping, squeaking, beeping.... anything. Or suddenly starting up a game of tag with you, running around chasing each other, and the only way to tag each other was to tickle them. He’d squeal and wiggle like a worm when you would tickle him. It’s always something silly with him...

Protective Foolish would suddenly become a thing when he’d realize his feelings for you, and also realize that there’s nothing more he wants to do than protect you and your feelings. Keep you away from anything or anyone that could make you feel even a little uncomfortable, or hurt. His way of protecting and defending you would be just a chunk of sarcasm coming out of his mouth. He’d turn sarcastic any time when he’d feel like it’s time to protect you. If there was someone badmouthing you, he’d put on the most spiteful face you could think of and with his voice dripping with sarcasm, he’d ask them “is it so? Is that what you think, now? Was there a little shit talking there, or what?” You could tell that it’s okay, that he doesn’t need to do this, but he wouldn’t give up. He’d be so intimidating, with his tone and height and all, that he could get an apology out of anyone. And he usually does get the people badmouthing you to apologize to you, while Foolish just stands there with his arms crossed examining that it’s a genuine apology, feeling like he has accomplished another mission of his, which is to make sure that in the end your feelings are unharmed.

Now, he’d be definitely someone who would mess up his hair a little on purpose, in hopes that you would fix it for him and smother the strands sticking up back in place. He’s so desperate for some touch from you that he’d go to such extreme lengths. God forbid if anyone would catch him doing that, he’d be so embarrassed. You’d turn around from him for a few seconds, which would give him time to very aggressively ruffle his hair with his hands and when you’d look back at him, his hair would suddenly look like it’s been through a tornado, and so you’d laugh a little and ask him “what happened? What’s going on with your hair?” and then laugh some more because he looks so ridiculous. He’d chuckle a little bit too, a little out of embarrassment, because he still can’t believe himself for the things he’s doing just to have you touch him and pay a little extra-attention to him. But regardless, he just shrugs and bends down to your level and asks you “I don’t know what happened? What? Is it bad? Fix it for me?” and you’d be a little taken aback because, did he really just ask you to do that? But of course you’d agree to it.

Every little thing or favour you’d do for him, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem to you, he’d appreciate the heck out of them, and you. Because, was there a better feeling for him than having the person he truly, genuinely likes, to be willing to help him out with anything? He’d thank you a trillion times, and a trillion more if he could. Something as simple as you turning on the coffee machine for him, he’d tell you “seriously, thank you. That helped me like, a tons. It saved my day,” and you’d giggle and reply to him “you’re welcome. But all I did was just press a button.” He wouldn’t have that belittling, so he’d be a little more dramatic just for you and proceed to tell you how much easier it made his day, “no, like seriously, that was the best thing you could’ve ever done for me.” Okay, then.

A crushing Foolish would be so sweet that he’d totally blew off his other plans to be with you instead. You’d know that he’s been looking forward to seeing this movie with a couple of his friends that one night, but when he’d become aware of how you have no plans for that night, he’d declare how he’d rather spend the night with you anyways. You’d tell him that “Foolish, you don’t really have to do this. I thought you were supposed to go the mov-?” and he’d interrupt you “now, that’d a silly thing for me to do, I don’t know why you’re thinking like I’d leave you alone. That’s crazy thinking right there.” And so, you’d just settle for smiling coyly at him and accepting that he’s not going anywhere, and that for some reason (that’s still unclear to you), he’d even blow off his friends for you. And he’d do it over and over again. And he does.

PUNZ:

Ouch, he’s a tough one to get to. But once you breakthrough the walls and the sort of intimidating facade he has, he is all soft for his crush.

Usually he’d be a little reserved and keep to himself, maybe a little closed off. But whenever you’d be around, it’s a whole different thing. He has never smiled so much than he did that one day when you hung around, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the other boys who were also there. Karl would text you about it after you had all gone home and ask you “What did you to punz ?? This man won’t stop cheesin” and Quackity as well would text you “punz today be like ‘😃😃’”. You’d make him happy, you’d just make him love life, just purely by existing and especially when you’d exist in his presence. He’s also extra observant around you, and so you’d catch him looking at you a lot. He’d just rest his chin on his hand and not take his eyes off of you. You’d wonder if there’s something wrong, something on your face perhaps, by the intense way he’s staring at you, but no, he’s just admiring. So let him.

Every picture of himself he’d consider posting on social media, he’d send them to you first and ask you “u like??”. Kind of like a test run. He’d do it ritually almost each time, but if you ever were to call him out for it, asking how come you’re the one he sends them to, he’d claim that it’s just all a coincidence. Sure is... But you better reply back to him as soon as you can, or he would start feeling a little insecure and think if you really like them, because if you do, why haven’t you replied yet? It’s been 20 seconds. Yeah, so, he’s a little clingy too. He just wants to talk to you as much as possible, have you see as much of him as possible, from all of his best angles as well, and maybe fish for a few compliments? Maybe. After you’d reply to him “yes, it’s good”, he’d text you back “nice. now your turn”, and you’d ask him that it’s your turn for exactly what? He’ll tell you then that it’s only fair that you send him a picture of yourself too in that exact moment. And so, it kind of really then becomes a whole ritual that after approving of his picture, you send him one back with a thumbs up or something.

Unlike with anyone else, now that he has taken a massive liking towards you, he’d actually share his food with you. And that’s major. Or, even more major and better, he’d sometimes get you food without you even having to ask, or even without mentioning that you’re hungry. He’d order takeaway for himself, or so you’d think, but he’d then turn up with an extra large portion of food and you’d ask him “damn, are you feeding the whole town?” He’d chuckle a little and then casually tell you that “nah, it’s um, it’s for you.” At that, you could’ve fallen off your seat. Let’s call it his love language to serve you even when you don’t ask for anything.

This man, he would sometimes not show up to plans if you weren’t there. He’d tell his friends that he is only willing to come if you’ll be there too. And if they tell him that you’re not going to be there, then, too bad. He simply just wouldn’t come. Any plans that you’d make without him, he’d call them ‘boring’ and ‘lame’. Sooo, he only is your good time?

6K notes · View notes

sinsandsweetness · 7 months

Note

Please for the love of god write something about Rick chasing the reader down in the woods I’d DIE

(Rick and Daryl x fem!reader)

cw- reader already has a baby with the boys, reader being chased in a maze, threesome, smut, slight breeding kink… think that’s all…

notes- happy Halloween! This is a fun little one shot placed in Alexandria. It is a follow up of “taking turns” however you don’t need to read it to read this. It’s just the same relationship, a couple years later. I had a few requests for a follow up and for some chasing/hunting vibes so… here you go! I won’t lie this is a bit rushed and not proofread at all so I apologize for any errors or if it’s not my best… but i hope you enjoy and tell me what you think<3

“Alright,” Rick breathes out with a sigh, dropping the large box onto the ground. Daryl right behind him with another.

The kids run over. Judith, at just 4 years old, Gracie, Sam, Carl and a few of the older kids and teens in Alexandria. Your own baby coos in your arms. Incoherent, yet adorable babbles leave her mouth, with chubby little hands grabbing into the air in the direction of her daddy.

While Rick cuts open the cardboard box of costumes, Daryl sneaks away from the cluster of children, all way too excited to get their hands on a cape and a mask. Or a dress and a tiara.

“C’mhere, sweetheart,” he grabs your daughter from your arms. Immediately she’s smiling all big and giggling into his jacket.

“Were you good for your mama while I was gone?” He whispers against her dark curls before pressing a kiss to her head.

“She just missed you, I think.” You respond. In reality, she was fussy. You figured that would happen after two nights without her dad. Daryl definitely being her favourite parent.

The kids are noisy as they ooh and awe and fight over the Halloween costumes.

Rick finally makes his own escape with a costume cowboy hat on his head.

“Hey, officer,” you tip your head up for a kiss as he wraps his arms around your waist. Eager to hug you. To touch you.

He stays holding you for a moment. Just soaking in your warmth.

“Miss me?”

“Every minute.” He confirms against your mouth for one last kiss, before moving to kiss your daughters cheek.

“How’s our little princess?” He asks to no one in particular.

“She missed her daddies. Kept me up all night.”

“What?” Rick faked a shocked tone, “our little princess would never. That doesn’t sound like her at all, does it?” He runs his hand over her hair and plants a kiss on her head.

You roll your eyes but your smile peaks out anyway. The sight of your men being such good fathers will never fail to make you smile.

“Daddy! Daddy look!” Judith’s high pitched voice brings attention as she tugs at Ricks pant leg.

When the three of you turn to look, she’s dressed in a unicorn onesie. Adorable. A bit warm for the weather. But adorable.

Rick picks her up with a groan, “oh my goodness, almost too big for this, aren’t you?”

She nuzzles into Ricks chest, little arms wrapping around his neck.

“I think someone needs a little snooze before all the festivities tonight, hm? You feelin’ a little tired, Judy?” He asks her. You don’t hear anything but you see the white fluffy ears on her hood move up and down as she nods into her fathers shirt.

“This little rascal should have one too.” You nod towards your own sleepy girl, “I can go put em’ both down for a nap.”

“Nah, I’ll do it.” Daryl insists.

“Are you sure-“

“I’ve got it.” He scoops Judith up in one arm, balanced on his hip and very happy to be carried to bed. A snuggly little 6 month old on his other. He starts off upstairs and leaves you and Rick in the living room. Surrounded by a foam sword fight battle that appears to have ensued between a couple ninja turtles and a fairy Princess.

The whole reason for Rick and Daryl’s last run was to find these costumes. Among other Halloween decorations and as much candy as they could salvage. Anything to make it a special day. To show the kids what things used to be like. To remind the ones who did know, exactly how fun the holidays were. You weren’t even sure it was Halloween. Sure, the leaves were beautiful tones of orange and yellow, falling to the ground and crunching beneath your shoes. But you arent sure what day it was. Honestly, you arent entirely sure what month it is. However, according to Eugene’s calendar, It is in fact the 31st of October.

Ricks head tips low to your ear and he whispers an invitation to go shower. He needs to clean up. And he really wouldn’t mind some company.

“Carol,” he turns for a moment and nods to her in the kitchen, prepping some food for tonight. “Can you…” he motions to the living room full of children running around. Carol nods and you can hear her telling them to beat it and go play outside while you’re led up the stairs by the hand.

—

The party is supposed to start at 7. Carol offered to take your daughter for the night, to give you some time off. To have fun. To go to sleep early if that’s what you wanted.

It’s a bit cold out. So you’re in a cream knit sweater and some jeans. A pair of cheap bunny ears are on your head. Your daughter is dressed in the smallest costume you could find in the box, a plush orange carrot. And she’s the cutest carrot you’ve ever seen, that’s for sure.

There’s wine. Lots. And food. And candy. Eugene is setting up a spooky film to be played on a projecter in the middle of Alexandria. A few bonfires surround the yard, scattered with jack-o-lanterns. Carved and lit up with tea lights and glowing eyes.

It’s beautiful. Slightly spooky. And so familiar. It’s everything you remember about Halloween.

An arm snaking around your waist startles you as you sip on your wine. But the smell of smoke and leather soothes you quickly.

“Hey,” Daryl says. You turn to face him, only slightly confused as his voice is being muffled by something.

He’s wearing a mask. A scream mask more specifically. The rest of his attire is typical. His leather jacket on, though no vest tonight. Dark jeans and boots.

“Mmm, spooky.” You lean in and press a quick peck to the white plastic. You can’t see him smile under the mask, but you know it’s there.

Another arm wraps around your waist from the other side. It’s Rick. You know by the thick brown jacket brushing against you. He’s also in costume, wearing a Friday the 13th hockey mask.

“Well hello, Jason,” you tease.

“You scared yet?”

“Should I be?” You ask. Though you’re pretty sure you know the answer.

Rick opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by some commotion from the yard.

Eugene has a microphone, standing on a picnic table and telling the crowd to sit down and get comfy. That the movie will be starting in two minutes.

“Well, are you two ready for some Hocus Pocus?” You ask.

They look at eachother through the masks. What the hell are they plotting?

“What…?” You finally ask.

“We were thinking… maybe we could do something a little different.”

“What, you wanna watch something else?”

“Not quite,” Daryl chimes in, “we were thinking that while everyone is watching the movie, the three of us can make our way through the corn maze.”

The maze is outside the walls of Alexandria. A bit dangerous, but it was part of the fun. The kids had all had their turns in it earlier in the day, heavily supervised by adults and parents. Ones with weapons and training for situations outside the safety of the walls.

“You want us to all get lost in the maze?” You bite your bottom lip and smile.

“We want you to get lost in the maze,” Daryl corrects you.

Rick dips down to your ear and lowers his voice, “and we’ll try and find you. Play a little game.”

“Grown up hide and seek?” You ask. Heat raising to your cheeks at the thought of what they want to do once they find you.

“Exactly.”

You swallow, looking back to the yard where the kids are all lid out in sleeping bags and on blankets. Focused on the film playing in the dark.

“Ok.”

“We’ll give you a two minute head start,” Rick hands you a switch blade. Just incase. Nodding towards the back fence, where you know you can sneak out without being caught. Your heart is already starting to race a little at the thought of having to hide. At the thought of them searching for you. Hunting you down. And Daryl’s little comment when you start off towards the fence doesn’t help either,

“Good luck, little bunny.”

—

It’s pitch black when you reach the maze. Actually, as soon as you made it over the wall and into the woods, it was dark. But inside the maze, the stalks of corn all towering over 10 feet tall and fluttering creepily in the breeze. The only light you can see is a faint glow from the moon. And even then, it’s only when you’re out of the shadows.

You walk into the maze. Immediately met by multiple twists and turns. You weren’t one of the supervisors earlier, so you really didn’t know the route. The straw and leaves crunch under your feet as you walk further into the maze. A quick, brisk walk trying to find the best place to hide. Or, if you’re lucky, to find the end of the maze before the boys even get in.

But you know that’s unrealistic. And you’re sure your two minutes must be up because you can hear them. Footsteps and muffled voices behind a couple walls of corn. Shit.

You start to walk faster. A borderline jog at this point, trying to keep your footing light.

It didn’t occur to you until now how easy it’ll be for them to find you. Daryl’s a hunter for Christ sake. He’ll be able to track your path through the maze in no time.

They’re closer.

Fuck.

You have to run. You can hear their voices. They’re so close.

“You’re gonna have to be quicker than that, baby.” Ricks voice rings out towards you. He’s on the other side of the wall. Through the thick corn stalks and the pitch black of the night, you can’t make out exactly where he is. But he’s close.

You run.

And they follow right after.

The sound of their footsteps is clearer and clearer the further away from Alexandria you get. And the further into the maze.

You shriek at the feeling of a hand on your sweater, jolting forward and starting to sprint. It was Daryl. He’s behind you.

And though him and Rick are both stronger, you have one advantage. You’re faster.

Over your shoulder as you sprint you can see them. White masks still on, glowing in the moonlight.

“Fuck”, you swear to yourself when you

come to a dead end. You only have two options. Turn around, or be caught. They couldn’t be more than a few seconds away.

Without really thinking, you shove your way through the stalks. Catching on every leaf and stick, but ultimately coming out the other side without a scrape.

You can’t celebrate your quick thinking victory too long because you still hear them.

“Split up,” Daryl whisper shouts at his friend, and with their footsteps scattered, it’s even harder to tell where they are.

Fuck.

You keep going. You take a left. And then a right and another dead end. Shit. Is this … is this the same one?

You turn back and take the left instead. But it’s another dead end.

What the fuck?

You’re lost. You don’t even know what direction you came from anymore. Circling the same two dead ends before you finally take a right that leads you a couple meters further than the other options.

You hear a stick crack on the ground behind you, but there’s no time to see who it is.

You turn the corner fast with your heartbeat so loud it drums in your ears.

“Shit,” you stumble right into a brown jacket in front of you. Arms wrapping around you and picking you up. You scream.

Someone warm presses against your back as your feet touch the floor again.

You’re trapped.

“Gotcha,” Daryl’s gravelly voice is already in your ear.

You’re breathing heavy in their hold, sandwiched between the two men.

Their hands grab at your sweater and start to roam.

“Take this off,” a voice demands as you struggle against their arms,

You try for a moment to reach the mask covering Ricks face. But Daryl, or maybe Rick’s, hands are clamped on your wrist.

It’s claustrophobic, but you don’t entirely mind. As long as it’s their arms your trapped between, you’ll never complain.

They don’t kiss you. They can’t. But everything about their demeanour is screaming that they want you. That they want to be in you.

Hands gripping and tugging at your jeans. Your hands snake around Ricks neck in front of you as they peel your jeans down your legs. The air is cold and gives you goosebumps, but your legs wrap around his waist immediately. Daryl’s bulge pokes at your ass while his hand trails under your sweater to pinch your nipple. Ricks pants are tight as his own bulge rubs against the thin fabric of your panties. Your jeans long lost to the straw and dirt ground underneath you.

It doesn’t take long for them to get you how they need you.

Granted, the three of you did have a lot of practice. Your panties swiftly ripped off by the man behind you who wanted more access. The cold metal of both their belts hit your skin.

And with little preparation other than some spit and arousal, you’re stretched to the max with both men. Both holes filled with very little regard for your comfort.

They know you’d say something if it really hurt.

But it hurts so good. The pain of being so fucking full. Stretched to a limit you’d experienced over a dozen times, but no matter what, it just never gets any easier.

“Wanna kiss you,” your voice comes out in wet gasps, lips brushing the plastic of Ricks mask. One hand trying for Daryl’s hood, reaching awkwardly around. You need their touch. Their lips on your lips. Tongues tracing each-other and fighting for dominance.

They’d win.

They always do.

The three of you find a rhythm quickly. Hands on your thighs, holding you up and using you as leverage to pound as fast and hard as they could. Your moans and their grunts fill the air as pleasure starts to swirl low on your abdomen.

“Please,” your head tips back in ecstasy. “Please, please,”

“Please what, sweet girl?” The cold plastic of Daryl’s mask brushes your ear.

“Please- want- uh,” you’re interrupted by sharper thrusts from the two men, catching you off guard. Their both picking up their pace.

“Speak up, darling.” Rick demands, nails digging into your hips.

“Fill me up,” you gasp again. “Want it so bad, Rick, please.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on the swirl in your stomach. The one that keeps getting warmer and warmer and warmer until-

“I’m cumming,” you tell them as a courtesy, but you don’t have to. The way you’re involuntarily clenching down around them gives you away far better than a couple raspy words.

“You really wanna get filled up, baby? Bred like the little bunny you are, huh?” Ricks words send you over the edge and a hand toys at the fluffy rabbit ears that are shockingly still secured on top of your head.

You’re out of words. Too stimulated to talk. So you just nod in agreement. Yes. Please. Please.

Their hips stutter to a stop and warm liquid seeps out to drool down your inner thigh.

Breathing heavy, you’re lowered back to the ground, colder now. without the friction of their bodies.

“Here,” Daryl grabs your jeans from the ground and dresses you again. His soft side peaking out now that he’s had his release. Your shoes are back on and your legs a little shaky, and finally, the boys finally take their masks off. The whites of their eyes are bright in the moonlight.

“You alright?” They both ask you as the three of you somehow manage to find your way back out of the maze.

“A little cold…” you smirk.

“But we didn’t-we didn’t scare you too bad right?”

“No.” You smile, “Don’t know if I could ever get that scared by you too love bugs.” You tease, arms wrapping around their waists and pulling them in close to you.

“Pfft,” Daryl brushes off the comment and Rick only smiles.

“Well if we didn’t scare you, then maybe next time we oughta try a little harder.”

“Next time?” You ask. The thought already going straight between your thighs.

The boys share a look over your shoulders that can only mean one thing.

“Hey, baby,” Rick catches your attention, hand guiding you towards the community gates by the small of your back as he searches in his jacket pocket for his keys. “You ever been to a house of mirrors?”

#rick x reader #rick x you #rick x y/n #Rick grimes x reader #Rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #Daryl Dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #Daryl x you #Daryl x reader #rickyl x you #rickyl x reader #rickyl x reader smut #rick x daryl x reader #rick x reader x daryl #taking turns part 2

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chilschuck · 16 days

Note

beach day headcanons please (any characters you’d like)!!! we were deprived of the typical anime fanservice imo

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ ohhhhhh my gosh anon i was literally SO SO HAPPY to get this ask!!! decided to stick with the usual charas you guys enjoy, plus some falin!!! hope this turned out okay and thank you so much for having me write it for you!!! <333

— DUNMESHI BEACH DAY HCS.

꒰ charas: ꒱ laios, chilchuck, falin, & mickbell.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! sfw + fluff with gn!reader.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1.4k

✦ hope this turned out okay!! it was such a cute idea and so much fun that if anyone has requests for more charas, i’d be more than happy to do it!! <33

— LAIOS:

✦ We know that he doesn’t do well in hot weather, so you can imagine he’d be sporting only swimsuit trunks and flip flops for sure.

✦ Definitely enjoys being in the ocean, especially to try and cool off. You can imagine he’d be really interested in knowing more about what’s in the water around him, and probably points things out to you that he finds interesting.

✦ Be prepared for him to burn really fast, so make sure he gets plenty of sunscreen!! It’s always cute to see him walk up to you and ask for help, in which you gladly oblige. You help get those spots he can’t reach, and he does appreciate just how thorough you are.

✦ You’ll probably end up splashing him, which he’ll return in kind. Be careful what you start, because you’ll end up drenched by the end of it!

✦ A picnic on the beach with him is definitely something that happens while you’re there. Laios is so excited to share a meal with you in such a beautiful setting, and finds himself giving you that goofy grin at just how happy he is. He makes sure to pull all the stops to make this enjoyable for you, even preparing your favorite snacks.

✦ Definitely goes home with a few shells or shark teeth, if he found any. Laios thinks they’re too cool not to pick up and examine, running over to you and showing you what he found in the sand.

“You won’t believe what I found!” Laios calls out to you, jogging over to where you sat on your towel. His hands cradled something, and as he stretched his arms out to show you, a smile grew on your lips.

In his hands was an almost perfect conch shell, something he held with pride and excitement. His smile matching yours, he said your name softly. “Do you think if you put it up to your ear, you’d hear the ocean like those stories?”

You shrugged your shoulders, not able to hold back the giggle at his glee. “Only one way to find out, right? Just make sure there’s nothing still living in it.”

Laios still keeps that shell in a safe place, wanting to remember the day you spent together.

— CHILCHUCK:

✦ This man is definitely showing up in a Hawaiian dad shirt and cargo shorts. The first few buttons are undone, and he has a pair of sandals on that he insists he only saves for days like this.

✦ Chilchuck plans on staying at the spot you claimed with towels and an umbrella, a drink in hand. He’s definitely enjoying the sight of you in a swimsuit and the breeze ruffling your hair, but he’d never admit that.

✦ You try to pull him towards the water, but you only manage to get his feet wet. Chil tells you this is as far as he’ll go, but that disappointed pout on your face makes his heart race a bit. Ok, fine… Maybe he’ll go up to his knees for you…

✦ Probably spends most of his time drinking and relaxing, a hand behind his head and alcohol in the other. Very dad-like of him, you muse, which causes his face to heat up and grumbles to leave him.

✦ Ends up falling asleep, the sound of the waves and the secluded shade from the sun causing his eyes to flutter shut. You can’t help but laugh a little, returning from your time in the water to study his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful like this, and you don’t have the heart to wake him up…

✦ If you do somehow manage to get him fully in the water, be prepared for him to get targeted by the tide. Maybe you even suggest getting him a float, which he gives you that blank stare in reply.

“There, that’s not so bad, is it?” You say as he finds himself in the middle of a tube float, eyes narrowed towards you.

“This makes me feel like a kid.” Chilchuck complains, yet you see him grip onto it tighter as an incoming wave makes an appearance.

You pull it over to you, the inflatable bumping into your stomach as you give him that teasing grin. “Guess you’re stuck with me while we’re out here, huh?”

The half-foot groans, debating on whether or not he’d make it if he tried to swim back to shore right now.

— FALIN:

✦ Wears a light t-shirt and shorts, opting to be comfy! She also has a hat she wears to help keep the sun out of her eyes. If she did plan on swimming, I like to imagine she’d have a swim shirt and a one piece swimsuit!

✦ Like her brother, she was excited to see all the shells and creatures at the beach, bringing you things she found fascinating. You might even find her entranced with a sand dollar and stating how pretty it is.

✦ Walks into the water hand in hand with you, but also really enjoys walking along the sand near the shore. As the sun sets, she intertwines her fingers with yours, leading you along and watching the pinks and blues in the sky reflect on the waves.

✦ Also definitely goes on a picnic with you, the beach making her cheeks even more rosy than usual. You can’t help but tell her how cute she looks in her outfit, her hair loosely blowing in the breeze. Falin would give you a sweet smile, the same one you fell in love with.

✦ Don’t be surprised if she leads you back to the water after you make sure she’s not getting burnt, insisting that she wants to enjoy how cool the waves feel. You’re more than happy to walk out a little deeper with her, noticing how she still keeps your hand in her own.

“It’s so nice out here…” You heard her mutter, a content smile dimpling her cheeks. The sunset left a sweet gradient in her hair, something that made you unable to look away.

“It really is. Too bad it’s getting dark,” you reply, a little disappointed that the day is already over. Falin squeezed your hand, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“Maybe we should stay and watch the stars come out.” Her voice was so gentle, causing you to give her a grin of your own.

“Let’s stay a little longer.”

— MICKBELL:

✦ Like the official art we have of him swimming with Kuro, he’s definitely sporting a pair of swim trunks and flip flops, with his hair in his signature ponytail.

✦ He and Kuro are so excited to swim, and drag you along to the water as soon as you get there. Of course, Mick is either clinging to you or to Kuro when in the waves, not seeking to really swim on his own.

✦ You definitely enjoy watching them swim and play around more than you’d like to admit, especially with Mick hiding his face and complaining when Kuro decides to shake all the water out of his coat.

✦ Mick really likes finding shells he thinks look neat, and showing them off to you and Kuro proudly. Maybe you even find yourself building a sand castle, with him and his buddy watching closely and moving to help you. He’s in charge of decorating it, while you’re in charge of building it! Kuro helps dig up some of the sand to use.

✦ The three of you end up getting a sweet treat, cooling off in the shade and enjoying the time spent together. Knowing Mickbell, he’s going to lay his head in your lap as he rests after so much activity, looking up at you with that cheeky grin he usually has.

“I could get used to this!” Mickbell sighs, nuzzling into your lap as he makes himself comfortable. Kuro is watching the waves, sitting beside you as the sun begins to fade from the horizon.

“I would’ve thought you’d be ready to go home a lot sooner.” You teased him, brushing his messy bangs out of his face. Scoffing, he made sure you saw as he rolled his eyes.

“If I didn’t have you and Kuro, maybe… But this is something we’ll have to do again. Right, Kuro?” The Kobold nodded, causing a warm grin to spread on your face. He was certainly right about that.

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#HOPING THIS IS OK ANON HHHHH #i’m hitting a creative roadblock with school #which is causing me to stress a bit #but i wanted to get this out for you guys!!! <333 #first time writing for falin so i hope it’s ok…#sorry if anyone’s ooc!! WAHHH #laios x reader #laios touden x reader #falin x reader #falin touden x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #mickbell tomas x reader #mickbell x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dunmeshi x reader #dungeon meshi x reader

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hayleythesugarbowl · 11 days

Note

you should do a spencer agnew x reader but reader is the new smosh games PA and she has a slow burn / flirty relationship with spencer :)))

Cool Shoes || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist • spencer hcs ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you join smosh as the newest addition to the games crew, you are immediately attracted to spencer. but will your little crush turn into something more?

word count: 3.7k

warnings: mild language

a/n: thank you so much for this request ml!! i love writing for spencer sm and honestly i kinda fell in love w him a little bit while writing this so ty 🤭 this isn’t superrr slow burny (i got to excited and eager lol oops) but there’s plenty of flirting and i hope you enjoy this!! 🎀

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And this concludes your official tour of Smosh,” Shayne said, throwing his arms wide. “Any questions?”

“Yes,” you answered, “Is that my ring?”

“(Y/n),” Shayne whined as he slipped the ring that was definitely yours into his pocket quickly, “That’s what you got out of my tour?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry Oh Wise Guide,” you teased, “You know I wouldn’t be here without you. Or if I was, I’d be really lost.”

You had just officially begun your job at Smosh that morning. Shayne had immediately started showing you around and you really were grateful.

You’d known Shayne for years and he was the one that suggested you try and get a job with Smosh when you’d moved to LA a few months ago.

You’d gotten a job as the Smosh Games PA and you couldn’t wait to get started. You already knew a lot of the people who worked there—either because you’d met them through Shayne outside of Smosh or from the multiple times you’d visited the studio before you’d applied for the job.

Plus, this was the first job you’d had where you actually felt like you’d be doing something you enjoyed.

“Who’s lost?” You heard a voice from behind you and you spun around quickly.

“Oh, (Y/n), this is Spencer, the director of our games channel,” Shayne introduced you to the man who had spoke. “Spencer, this is (Y/n), the new games PA.”

You knew you should’ve said something to him along the lines of ‘hi, nice to meet you. i’m (y/n). i look forward to working with you’ but all that came out was “Cool shoes.”

You didn't know why that was what your mind had landed on—he was wearing basic gray sneakers—but you were so caught off guard by how attractive he was that you’d kinda choked.

Because damn. He had the most gorgeous eyes you’d ever seen on a person before.

Spencer smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Either you’re just trying to kiss ass already or you’ve got really bad taste in shoes because these babies are mid at best.”

You smiled, looking down at your own shoes. “Definitely the second option—these are someone’s grandma’s shoes. Seriously, I scavenged them from my Nanna’s closet.”

This got you a laugh from Spencer and you continued, “Unless I should be kissing ass?”

“Nah,” Spencer waved the thought away, “most of your job’s just gonna consist of bringing me Mountain Dew. So unless you can screw that up…”

“He’s not serious, is he?” You turned around to ask Shayne. “Because you said this wasn’t gonna be like my last job.”

“You slung Mountain Dew at your last job?” Spencer asked.

You shook your head. “Just had a lousy boss who took the assistant part of my job a little too far. But I appreciate your concern for my employment history,” you teased.

You were surprised at how easy it was to talk to Spencer. Usually you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to joke around with someone you just met—let alone your new boss. Your new boss who you had almost undressed with your eyes upon first sight.

“Settle down, I was just gonna ask if you had any cans left over,” Spencer winked.

“Spencer’s kind of addicted to Mountain Dew Kickstart,” Shayne piped in. “And by kind of—”

“He means I’ve already had four today,” Spencer finished.

You made a face, “It’s 9:00am.”

“Ooh,” Spencer winced dramatically, “Sorry, but I don’t think our values align. Go ahead and bring in the next one, Shayne. (Y/n), it was nice meeting you—good luck with the shoes thing.”

Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “You already have another person lined up for my job?”

Spencer leaned towards you and you felt your pulse pick up ever-so-slightly. “Shayne doesn’t know it yet, but it’s actually just him,” he whispered loudly.

“Well then I may have to quit, just to see how this goes,” you said, turning to Shayne who crossed his arms.

“Not when I was just starting to like you,” Spencer pouted and you felt your cheeks warm.

“I was just starting to think you’re not so bad yourself,” you shot back.

“Woah, I just meant ‘cause you have a secret stash of Mountain Dew.”

“And I meant because you have cool shoes,” you teased.

“Well, now that we’ve got that settled,” Spencer smiled, “I expect to see you here by 5:00am sharp tomorrow morning.”

“Seriously?” Your job description hadn’t said anything about getting to work when it was still dark out!

Spencer shrugged. “I guess I can give you a few more hours. Y’know, so you can shop for some decent footwear beforehand. See ya later, grandma shoes.”

He began to walk backwards and you said a quick ‘it was nice to meet you’ before he turned around and walked back the way he came.

You couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on your face. You could already tell this was going to turn out to be a great job. You couldn’t wait to get to work tomorrow. And you couldn’t pretend part of that wasn’t because you wanted to see Spencer again.

And not just because that’s what your eyes wanted. You had enjoyed talking with him. You felt like you’d really hit it off. You felt like you two could really become good friends and coworkers.

You turned to Shayne, aware that you were probably still smiling like an idiot.

“What?” He fixed you with a quizzical look.

“Nothing, I’m just excited to start working here,” you said.

Shayne raised an eyebrow.

“And,” You added, reluctantly, and only because you knew Shayne would find out eventually, “you didn’t tell me my boss was hot.”

Now Shayne raised both eyebrows, “Spencer?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, “I mean, he’s single, so go for it if you want. He seemed like he really liked you and—”

“No,” you cut him off, “Definitely not. He’s my boss. I don’t want to ‘go for’ anything other than a good, friendly, professional relationship.”

“Okay,” Shayne nodded.

You nodded back and he was silent for a moment before smiling,

“‘Course that’s what I said about Courtney…”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You took a sip of your coffee from the mug you were holding as you made your way down the hall and towards your office.

You’d been working at Smosh for approximately seventeen days and you had finally stopped getting lost throughout the building on a daily basis.

Once Spencer had showed you the ropes and made sure you knew what you were doing, you had joined right in to the well oiled machine that was Smosh.

Unfortunately, your sense of directions wasn’t as good as your work ethic and so it had taken extra time for you to remember where everything was. Much to Shayne’s amusement.

You were deep in thought as you rounded the corner and you didn’t see the person right in front of you.

You ran straight into Spencer and as you collided with him, your coffee drink spilled all down your front as you were knocked to the floor. You quickly picked yourself up off the ground.

“I am so sorry,” you rushed, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“It’s all good,” Spencer said, standing up, “I am officially awake now, so I guess I owe you one.”

You laughed with him but you felt your face getting hot in embarrassment. You looked down at your blouse and found it more brown than it was purple from the coffee. You tried in vain to wipe it off.

“Damn, I hope that wasn’t a family heirloom too,” Spencer pointed to your shirt, “Here, take my hoodie.”

He started to pull the sweatshirt over his head as you protested, “No, it’s ok—I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad—it’s kind of a look.”

“Really, I insist,” Spencer said, handing you his hoodie. “Gives me a chance to show off my anime t-shirt anyway.”

You took the sweatshirt from him, mumbling your thanks and pulling it over your head.

Spencer’s scent engulfed you as you put on his warm hoodie and you tried not to get distracted by the way his cologne made you a little bit dizzy.

Over the last several days, as you’d been adjusting to your new job, you’d almost forgotten your tiny crush on Spencer.

Almost.

You’d been so focused on work that you hadn’t really had time to stop and think about your feelings towards your boss.

You really enjoyed working with him and he was quickly becoming your favorite person at Smosh—other than Shayne, of course. You sent a silent apology to him in your head.

And then there were the moments when Spencer would laugh at one of your jokes or compliment you on a task you did or smile shyly at you up through his lashes and you felt all warm inside.

Like right now—him giving you his hoodie. That brought you out of your reverie as you remembered where you were. Standing in front of the man you were currently lost in thought about.

“Right, well, I better get back to—” You gestured in front of you, trailing off as you had honestly forgot what exactly you were headed to your office for.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep you from—” He gestured in the direction you had, as if the nothing that you had indicated was what needed your attention.

You rolled your eyes at him amicably before heading in the direction you had been going.

After a quick stop in your office—you hadn’t found what you apparently had been looking for in there. And if while you were in the office by yourself you pulled up the collar of the sweater to your nose for a second or seven, who was there to see you?—you set off for the break room.

You saw Shayne sitting at a table with some other cast and crew members and you walked over towards him, plopping down across from him and Erin, an associate producer for Smosh.

You had gotten to know her a bit throughout these past couple weeks and already felt like you had been friends for months.

“Hey you,” Shayne greeted, “What’s up?”

You shrugged. “Oh, you know, same old same old. What’s new with you?”

“Well, we filmed a TNTL this morning, and I had this new idea for a character. So basically—”

“(Y/n), is that Spencer’s sweatshirt?” Erin interrupted, her eyes fixed on your top.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you told her.

At the same time Shayne asked, “How do you even know what Spencer wore to work today?”

“I’m a woman, we know these things,” Erin paused. “Come on, he wears that thing four times a week, like it’s hard.”

She turned her gaze back to you.

You cleared your throat. “But, yeah, anyways, I spilled coffee on my blouse so he gave me this.”

Erin raised an eyebrow, “Did he now?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked her, trying your hardest not to blush.

“No reason,” she leaned back, acting casual, “It’s just Dude 101, a guy doesn’t give a girl his hoodie unless he likes her.”

You scoffed, “That’s crazy, Erin. He was just being nice.”

This you felt sure about. Whatever your feelings were towards Spencer, you were sure he only though of you as his coworker.

Right?

“Well, it’s obvious you like him,” Erin added, as if that was an absolute fact.

“What?” You spit out, probably faster and louder than was necessary or convincing.

You glanced at Shayne and he raised his arms as if to say, Don’t look at me, my lips have been sealed!

“I’ve seen the way you act around him, (Y/n). And the way he acts around you.”

Was it that obvious that you had a little, tiny crush on Spencer? I mean, you guys got along really well. And we’re constantly making each other laugh. But that just meant you were friends, right? He definitely didn’t act any different around you than he did with anyone else at Smosh, did he?

Granted, you hadn’t even been working here a week yet and you weren’t one hundred percent sure how he acted around everyone else. But you had no reason to believe it was any different than with you!

“You’re crazy,” you told Erin.

“So you deny, it?” She folded her hands on the table in front of her, “You don’t have feelings for Spencer?”

“Well,” you started. You didn’t want to lie to her, not when you were just starting a friendship. You sighed, lowering your voice so only Erin and Shayne could hear you, “I might have some feelings for—”

“Spencer!” Shayne said loudly and awkwardly, as if to warn you of his sudden presence behind you.

You spun around probably too quickly and found yourself looking up at him.

“Hi, Spencer,” you said, sincerely hoping he hadn’t overheard any of the previous conversation.

“Hey (Y/n), long time no see,” he smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “So, I was wondering, since we’ve got that big project coming up next Wednesday, do you think you’d be able to meet me outside of work to get a head start on it? We could go to a coffee shop or my place or something?”

He almost looked…nervous asking you to work on a project outside of normal work hours. Probably just figuring you’d decline at sacrificing your free hours.

You watched as Erin raised an eyebrow and you promptly ignored her.

“Yeah sure,” you said, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Really?” He sounded relieved, “Ok awesome, I’ll text you some dates.”

“Perfect,” you said, “And it’ll give me a chance to give you back this hoodie once I have other clothes to change into.”

“Keep it,” Spencer shrugged, looking down “It looks way better on you that it ever did on me anyways.”

You brushed your hair behind your ears. “I might take you up on that offer.”

“‘Course you will have to give me something in return,” he said, “I mean, fair’s fair, man.”

“Naturally,” you looked down at your body to find something suitable, your eyes landing on the scrunchie at your wrist.

You handed it to him and he took your offering, slipping the scrunchie into his wrist.

“Classy,” he nodded, holding his arm out at different angles to look at it.

“Very,” you agreed, giggling.

You both fell silent and you looked back down at the table. Shayne said something to Spencer and they began a conversation—the chosen, something something—and you were silent until Spencer left the table, laughing at something Shayne had said.

Immediately after he exited the room, Erin pounced.

“Okay what the hell was that?” She asked.

“What was what?”

Erin put on a high voice and then a low voice and back again, mimicking your conversation “Oh, hi, Spencer. Hi, (Y/n). Wanna come to my place? Oh, I’d love to. You look so sexy. No you look sexy. Wanna exchange wardrobes?”

“Okay, that’s not how any of that went,” you said, but you couldn’t help yourself from smiling.

“That’s what it sounded like from over here,” Shayne added. “He invited you to his house, man. And he’s gonna text you?”

You’d exchanged numbers right after you began your job, but you hadn’t actually had many text conversations. You didn’t really think it was a big deal.

“Yeah, we’ve texted before,” you said, “But don’t think it means anything, so far he’s mostly just sent me memes.”

“What kind of memes?” Shayne asked, as though this was severely important.

“Cat, SpongeBob, the occasional wombat.”

“Trust me,” he said, “that means something. I’m a psychologist, so I kinda know these things.”

“Havingapsychologydegreeisn’tthesameasbeingapsychologist,” Erin coughed into her hand.

“You know what—” Shayne started, turning to Erin.

“Guys,” you interrupted.

“Right,” Erin agreed, “not the time. What I’m trying to say is, that was flirting Miss (Y/n), whether you like it or not.”

Had you and Spencer been flirting? You weren’t exactly an expert on the subject, so maybe Erin was right. A part of you definitely hoped that was the case.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Amanda leaned in from the table next to yours, “But I also think there was definitely flirting going on.”

You, Shayne, and Erin all turned to look at her.

“Come on people, you know I like kissing scenes, why should this come as a shock?” She threw up her hands and you laughed.

“Who’s kissing?” You hadn’t seen Courtney enter the room, but now she came and sat down next to her husband and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“We were just talking about how it’s just a matter of time before Spencer and (Y/n) are totally gonna ba—”

“Erin!” You cut her off, definitely blushing now as Courtney giggled.

“So you and Spencer, huh?” She asked, smiling.

“That’s what these two seem to think,” you gestured to your friends.

“Not think,” Erin said.

“We know,” Shayne finished.

“Fine,” you relented a bit, “I do like him, a little. Well, okay a lot. I guess I like him a lot. He’s smart and sweet and funny and charming and so cute and has great cologne, apparently,” you gestured to the hoodie. You took a deep breath. “And I really really like him.”

You realized as you said it, that it was true. You’d spent the past couple of weeks trying to convince yourself that you only thought of Spencer as a friend and a coworker. But you realized, the more you talked to your friends, that you really did have feelings for him. That were more than friendly or coworker-ly.

Maybe this was something that you really did want. And that could maybe happen. You had felt the connection between you and Spencer, so it was possible he might feel the same way about you.

Unless you were reading this all wrong and—Oh God, what if you told him how you felt and he rejected you and then you had to work side by side with him in awkwardness forever?

“But so what? It’s not as if he feels the same way. I don’t want to make things weird between us,” you finished.

“Trust me, my guy, he likes you,” Courtney contributed. “I’m married to a psychologist, I know these things.”

“See!” Shayne crossed his arms triumphantly and Erin rolled her eyes.

“Stilldoesn’tcount,” she cough-spoke.

“And I’m taking this back!” You said, noticing the ring on Shayne’s middle finger and reaching over to grab it, once and for all.

“Anyways,” Courtney finished, “I say ask tell him how you feel, see where this goes.”

“I concur,” Shayne said and his wife raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I’ve always wanted to say that!”

“She’s right,” Erin said, “and by the end of the week you’ll be ban—”

“Erin!”

She merely smirked as she picked up her soda drink and took a sip.

“So I just go up and ask Spencer out?” You messed with the drawstrings of your sweatshirt. You were encouraged by your friends’ words, and you really wanted to go up and just do it, but you felt doubt creeping in.

“What if I mess up what I’m trying to say? Or fall on my face walking up to him? Or worse, what if he says no?”

“He wouldn’t.” You heard his voice first. You looked up and found him walking slowly through the doorway as he kept speaking. “Say no, I mean. If I know him as well as I think I do—and I pride myself on knowing him pretty damn well—then he’d say yes.”

He was in front of you now. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”

You tried to catch your breath as you processed what was happening. “Oh yeah? What else would he say?”

“Well, uh, he’d probably that he’s attracted to you. And that he wanted to ask you out the moment he met you and is so glad you did it first because now he doesn’t have to continue his poor, pathetic attempts at making a move,” he said, placing a hand in the back of his neck.

You stood up, coming to stand right in front of Spencer. “When did you come back?”

You’d thought he’d walked away a few minutes ago after your conversation had ended.

“Never left,” he said, “Bent down to tie my shoe, and then I heard way too many nice things about myself to leave.”

You giggled, shoving his shoulder. “So humble.”

“Hey, when you hear someone professing their love for you…” Spencer shrugged.

“Ok, that’s not what was happening,” you crossed your arms.

“I beg to differ,” Erin piped in.

“Not what it sounded like from our side of the table,” added Shayne.

You had forgotten both of them were there. You’d been so caught up in what was happening with Spencer, you’d forgotten anyone was there, actually.

But as you looked around, you found that everyone currently occupying the break room was stopped to watch the two of you.

Angela whooped from a few tables over.

“Well since it’s unanimous, apparently,” you joked, “What do you say? Will you go out with me.”

“I most certainly will,” Spencer said, smiling at you.

You reached out and took his hand, linking it with yours. He looked at you for a moment before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

You placed your hand where his lips had touched yours. You couldn’t believe this was happening. And you couldn’t wait to see where this went—you and Spencer, you thought. You felt giddy with excitement.

“Well, I’ll see ya later then,” Spencer said, beginning to walk backwards. “and I already have an idea for our first official date.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m gonna take you to a Payless ShoeSource.”

“I thought you liked my grandma shoes,” you crossed your arms.

“(Y/n), I like everything about you,” he said, “but those things have to to go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this one!! have a lovely week all my spencer girlies 🤭🩰

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh fanfiction #smosh x reader #smosh imagine #smosh #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader

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precious-little-scoundrel · 2 months

Text

Friends in the Crucible

MOTA PACIFIC THEATRE || FLIGHT SURGERY AU

1: Welcome to Hell Island

Requested by the sweet @forsythiagalt

AU NOTE: due to a long-standing crush on real life heroine Ensign Jane Kendeigh and her work on Iwo Jima, the current ongoing anniversary of the battle and a hope to not step on the toes of any existing Nurse!xBuck pairings -I’ve gone with what excited my imagination the most and created an entire Pacific AU with our MOTA boys. If this AU ends up being as interesting and stimulating to y’all as it was for me in writing it, I’d be terribly down for exploring more scenarios with everyone in their new and varied roles.

Main paring: Gale Cleven and OC Flight Nurse Ensign Maureen Kendeigh…cameos by “Doc” Egan, John Brady, Ken Lemmons, Harry Crosby and Benny Demarco…and maybe a nod to a certain Marine Captain named “Andy” who I refused to let die, even though he was never on this island. You neither need to have seen HBO’s Pacific or know about the history for this to make sense, in fact it might help my ignorant writing go down better without it 😏

Warnings: WAR?! Graphic descriptions of wounds, battlefields, gore, foul language, period typical language: use of the word “Jap” and a joking insult of “fish eater” for a Catholic. Hints that John Egan is a terror to his nurses, Cleven having to take his pants off for a wound to be examined, brief mentions and emphasis on his never having been touched by a woman intimately, a nurse positioning a man’s member out of the way to his surprise, strictly professional tho. No joke, really. But they’re having a bit of a moment.

Only proof read once. So many thanks to Bee, Christi and Ashley who all enabled me into going this rogue with a simple request and for giving edits and assurances. Hope y’all enjoy!

There were a whole lotta jolts in the descent. Of course there were. Why, there were jolts and bumps even coming down to the runway at Pearl or San Diego, and there had been far more than jolts on the training tarmacs in Kentucky. She had been in enough planes, experienced enough banging about, and had enough wheels up landings that Maureen felt somewhat entitled to her opinion on the necessity of jolts or none.

So far, Major Gale Cleven had piloted this monstrous tin can like a limo, smooth, steady and with full warning for each bank and turn. Maureen had not even had to catch a single falling bottle so far and the rows of empty bunks lining each side of the plane had hardly rattled except in the same low humming frequency of the ever thrumming engine.

But now there were jolts. And of course there were, they were flying straight into a warzone. Cleven had gotten them to Iwo Jima two hours ago, and since that time he’d been circling the island in a wide arc, casually waiting for a pesky air battle between fighters to calm down enough for him to land. Sure, the beaches had been wiped clean and a landing strip had been carved out of volcanic ash and marine corps blood -cleared for their use. But still, there were Jap bunkers, Jap planes, Japs themselves and Jap equipment in that smoldering mountain and so far, no word had come down definitely as to when the island might be considered secure.

It was all very historic, Maureen has been assured -allowing a woman into a combat zone. First time ever, so they kept erroneously insisting. That’s why there was a man armed with a camera and not plasma sitting a few lines down from her on the cold metal bench. Maureen had once had plenty of time to ponder the historicity of her mission and that of her fellow nurses back in Guam, right now she wished she could focus solely on her training and ignore the ominous crack-pop of something hazardous in the air and the resulting wobble of Major Cleven’s steering.

Stupidly she wished the Major’s low voice would come back on through the near radio system and soothe them all back down like frightened livestock. Gale Cleven had a way of managing that even with his face obscured, and while it made Maureen blush to admit she needed any calming, the facts were she was 24 years old, practically untried and desperate to be brave enough to be of use. Rattling on the bench seat between equally nervous girls and a hawk-eyed journalist was no match for the cuticle picking anxiety.

Maureen chose to forcefully look up from said bloody cuticles and was met by Major Egan’s gum smacking grin across from her. How many carriers had he been on when they went down? Kamikaze planes jutting out the side of them, ocean water pouring in, sharks abounding and hundreds of patients under his care, in his charge to tow to shore?

Mild, scattered, poor-man’s flack wasn’t remotely disturbing to their flight surgeon. “He’s great, isn’t he?” Egan yelled to her cheerfully, the jerk of his head suggested his praise was directed towards someone in the cockpit.

Maureen knew well enough that much as Egan respected the co-pilot Demarco, it was no match for the love affair between him and Cleven, an appreciation that had Egan’s special request yanking his friend from Air Force to Navy to Transit. Such a series of bounces in a man’s otherwise distinguished career, all to chauffeur one charmingly entitled flight surgeon, was enough to put anyone into a bad mood -it would explain Major Cleven’s initial coolness on meeting them all at the departure tarmac.

Or maybe he was just businesslike. Maureen couldn’t fault anyone for that. He had been prepped, perhaps not as much as she had, but he didn’t act entitled in any way, and he kept the plane steady. Except for this mounting series of jolts.

“Yes,” she had chosen to holler back to Doctor -Lieutenant Commander? Bucky No Shits? Johnny? Doc “Smirky”?- Egan, knowing he’d want a favorable report on his friend, “it’s been remarkably smooth.”

Maureen was glad truth aligned with diplomacy in this instant. Although if any man could handle the outright truth it was John Egan, no matter what they all said. And “they” said a lot, he had once had two marine squadrons under his care and to them he was a Marine, simultaneously he’d had three navy squadrons to take care of and to them he was a Navy man. He’d even switched uniforms thrice in a day before. And now he was being flown about by his best friend to tend carcasses on a foreign strand, oddly suited to terrible conditions and bad scenarios, offering medical aviation expertise and poorly timed jokes wherever he went.

He’d trained her group of specialized Evacuation Flight Nurses the last three weeks of aquatic conditioning in the states, and he’d culled eighteen out of the group for getting winded after towing full grown men seven laps in the San Diego surf -all while puffing on a cigarette himself, seated with sunglasses on in an motorized dinghy. Maureen had come to hate him that day, and every day after she’d come to want to be like him. Kathleen Martin got her wings pinned first and Maureen right after, “well done, Candy!” Egan had praised while his fist drove in the tack.

“It’s Kendeigh, sir.” Maureen had dared correct for the hundredth time that training week, “Pronounced like: Ken-Day.”

“Cand-ay. Got it!” he repeated with jovial affirmation and that was that.

Major Cleven had given her the respect of calling her ‘Ensign’ as he shook her hand, a quick and firm squeeze and on to her next companion, she’d have judged him as too pristine in everything from mannerisms to features were his war record not ample justification for his bearing. The low cadence of his voice over the coms came in as a slight pitch to the plane and a swoop of decline in altitude became apparent under her—

“All personnel prepare for landing.”

Cleven was nothing like those pilots during training, barking orders laced with frantic warning in their voices. It was a cow pasture back in Kentucky and there they’d had no good reason for alarm. Here where there was real reason, Gale Cleven crooned to them and John Egan smiled opposite her as he took in the effect his chosen pilot had on his nurses.

“Like soothin’ a baby,” Egan sighed as he lounged a little deeper on his bench, long legs deceptively braced for impact, Maureen had long ago learned the man was nothing but smoke and mirrors of his actual intentions, “isn’t he great? In danger of fallin’ asleep with that guy at the wheel.”

To emphasize his point -or more likely to distract “his girls” from the imminent prospect of landing on a battleground, Egan leaned back all the way and tipped his cover over his eyes, pretending to fall asleep. Maureen caught him as he cocked one sharp eye open to see if she was still watching. She gave him a hopeless smile of recognition of his disguised kindness before forcefully suppressing a gasp of shock as the plane hit Amtrak smoothed gravel and ground its way down the beach. Egan hadn't budged by the time the momentum ceased and the plane became bizarrely still after hours of vibrating travel.

“Right. That’s us.” He straightened up, his cover and his posture, rising up in his seat and slapping at the metal ceiling of the plane, “Good job Buck.” he hollered and got no reply. “He’s still crabby about flying a C-47.” he divulged to no one in particular as they all rose and prepared to disembark, drilled for ages in this routine and finally let loose to practice it. Egan’s nonchalance was almost disorienting for such a momentous occasion.

The large cargo door was opened and a irreverently pleasant tropical breeze funneled through the plane, bearing with it the sounds of crashing waves and popping, far off gunnery. There was also a smell that came with it, sulfur and sweet. It was sickening from the first, and Maureen dreadedly wondered if it was from volcanic fumes and rotting vegetation or something more heartbreaking. With her kit on her back she followed her companions out the cargo door, finding Major Cleven blank faced and unphased on the tarmac beside it. Nothing but a smidge of sweat around his hairline to suggest the hours of flight he’d just clocked and the wacky landing he’d managed so well.

“Welcome to hell island, ladies.” he greeted in a droll monotone and Maureen’s gait stiffened without her permission.

There was no true tarmac, as they had been warned, just a strip of cleared back sand churned up by Cleven’s wheels. Lapping waves were on the left side and then a field of sheets to the right. It was the oddest sight. Rows and rows of camo tarp and white sheets blotted pink, hardly a spot of sand to be seen between. They’d been warned it was havoc here, the situation so bad that they’d finally allowed for this exception, allowed the sending in of specialized units to evacuate by air as the boats could hardly ferry enough of the wounded out in time to save them. But this -this beach of corpses was so daunting a task it seemed impossible to choose where to start.

“John,” she heard Major Cleven address Lieutenant Commander Egan as he dropped down beside her, “you’ve only got so many births, do what ya need to do to fill them, but I’ve got my orders. You’re not settin’ up a hospital. When we get the supplies off, get this plane full -we’re takin’ off. Full stop. I’m not gonna have us here like sittin’ ducks for the mortars while you fuss.”

“I hear ya.” Egan assured him in that remarkably unassuring way of his and lit a cigarette. “Alright nurses, gather round.”

Triage was crucial for such a mission, the prioritizing of wounds and necessary services essential for prolonging the lives of those in imminent peril, versus those with the likelihood of surviving on only the essentials found in a corpsman or medic’s arsenal. They’d be back tomorrow with another flight, and the day after that. Cleven was right that they weren’t here to establish a hospital, yet still the idea of how many would perish from being left behind, even by this first flight, was a sickening probability Maureen has been trained to ignore.

“Where are all the corpsmen?” Egan asked one pharmacist's mate who came to greet them, picking his way through the rows of groaning men. The boy couldn’t have been a day over seventeen.

“Up there,” the kid had nodded up to Mount Suribachi and its ominous veil of smoke, “or dead. Lost so many in the first week they started sending us in to substitute. We’ve done what we can. Sure glad to see you guys.”

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Lemons, sir.”

“Hell I can’t call someone a lemon, now can I?” Egan’s grin was infectious and the boy grinned back like he was seeing his first friend in ages.

“Then it’s Kenny. Sir.”

“Yeah alright Kenny, let’s get to it.” Egan had drilled you all so thoroughly you could have performed even without the aid of the grounded pharmacists and their mates, yet still it was odd to see such a mass of wounded and so few to tend them. The desperation and chaos was tangible.

Maureen had barely set off out from under the plane wing when Gale Cleven’s brusque reprimand arrested her steps as forcefully as a tug to her flight suit would have, “That bunch don’t need your help.”

The terse judgment in his tone gave her sharper eyes to notice that the particular section she was headed towards all had sheets pulled over their faces. Her own face blanched at both the misstep and the sensory overload of so much sorting to do. She wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself, not here, not when faced with the easy part of all this, and she wasn’t going to be crippled by criticism while enduring her first trial by fire. “Right, thank you, Major.” she agreed with him as stoically as possible and ground her heel back around on the sand and tromped off towards the direction of sheets that were visibly alive and writhing in misery.

That changed as soon as they saw her girlish form walking amongst them. Sounds of dying anguish changed to cheerful wolf whistles and happy greetings. It made Maureen’s heart swell with pride at the unbreakable spirit in each of them.

She spent the next hour and a half amongst those men.

Gruesome was a word that Maureen swore to herself that she would never use lightly again. She wasn’t one given to hyperbole anyway, and her years apprenticing in the hospital in Manilla and her most recent training for exactly such wounds as these, understandably led her to believe she knew the mettle of such a word.

But no.

Gruesome, she decided as she began her task again and again, applied only to this: the way the tiniest slip of her hand on any part of this poor boy took skin with it, charred and soupy flesh squishing off meat and sinew like the flaky crust on a prime bit of brisket. It was the only comparison fitting. His own flamethrower had bitten him as he tried to take a countless next pillbox. He’d said it like a joke even as his teeth chattered too hard from pain to deliver the punchline.

Maureen wasn’t here to contemplate ironies, or the unfairness of war, she was here to find some intact vein through which to stab her needle and begin giving him back the blood that was slowly leaching into the black sand beneath him. Ensign Smith was holding up the bottle, throwing a shadow over his charred form that helped Maureen discern a bit better, giving the boy a kind word or ten of reassurance about home and pain relief. Maureen bit through her own tongue when she finally slid the needle home, deep and pulpy, she could only pray it would hold the blood they gave back.

“Alright, bandages, Smith.” Maureen decided and did her best not to jump as a mortar thumped on the sand, hundreds of yards away, but still, they were getting ever closer, proving Major Cleven’s grim prognostication to not be unfounded. He was confirmed that the Japanese didn’t give two shits about red crosses, much less cargo planes carrying in supplies and taking away wounded. Maureen tried not to dwell on it as she and Smith began cutting away filthy uniforms and wrapping their patients' flesh in the Vaseline soaked bandages. It was a terrible business for the first few minutes before the interlaced numbing agents in the gauze took affect and made their care something less like torture for the poor men.

Some of them could walk, a missing leg being a mild injury comparatively, they just needed the helpful shoulder of a technician and off they went to amble into Cleven’s plane. There the Major met them despite it being beyond his purview, handing out cigarettes even though he himself abstained and kept an eye on the Navy mechanic refueling his plane from a bullet riddled jeep. When he wasn’t doing that he was scanning the sky, aviators turned up and reflecting a cloudless sky. Maureen’s mouth grew chalky at the thought of what he was looking out for.

Once wrapped and tended, the men were ready to be hoisted on stretchers and taken to the plane. But those men were select ones, ones that Egan had decided upon. He had a particularly odd way of triaging, one that upon initial observation appeared rather callous and aloof to his nurses who had been trained as much in medical practice as in solicitous decorum.

Doc Egan moseyed through the ranks of wounded, keenly aware he was not as popular as his pretty faced nurses, but making up for it with such easy-going banter that chuckles followed him wherever he went, making the men forget that he was deciding who got relief and who did not. Who were to be permitted the cooling sheets of Elysium by nightfall and who were to be left burning on the sand. Puffing a cigarette and making small talk, he clocked each injury and each likelihood of recovery without giving a bit of it away.

Nearing Maureen’s own patient of the moment, she felt him crouch down beside her and take in the hopeless gut wound she was ineffectually trying to stuff with bandages. A sturner superior would tell her not to bother, to move on, save such determination for someone with a longer life expectancy than five minutes. Maureen found it hard to make that call herself when met with the pleading eyes of someone’s dying son.

“C’mon Candy, move over, lemme try.” Egan murmured and his hip knocked hers gently as he crouched over the boy, perfectly aware of the futility. “Hey bud, breathe for me, breathe. You wanna smoke?”

Egan’s now bloody fingers reached up to his own lips and plucked his fresh and third cigarette of the hour and brought it down to the boy’s chapped mouth, shifting until he was fully seated on the sand, arms around the kid’s shoulders, gently taking the refreshment away when he puffed out, then replacing it for another inhale.

Maureen knew better than to linger. Beside this scene of brotherly last rites was another dying man and a hundred more beside him, so she moved on, seeing only vaguely the way the kid coughed blood as he laughed at Egan’s conversation. The topic seemed to be on the boy’s dog back home. The Sergeant she was tending added in a bit of teasing over the name -who names their dog “puppy”?!

Maureen had barely managed a tourniquet on the sergeant's arm before she could suddenly hear Egan’s gentle chatter turn to low shushing.

The sergeant looked away to the other side.

Maureen noticed the discarded cigarette laying on the sand, it had been smoked to a stub.

The heaving rattle of panicked breath beside them stopped.

Egan shifted onto his knees again and his long, bloody fingers dragged those sightless eyes closed. There was the brittle clink of dog tags being checked.

The sheet was tugged up all the way.

That triage was over.

Maureen politely ignored Doc Egan’s harsh sniff beside her -it was dusty here- but clocked the way he rose to his feet, a rough brushing off of his flight suit and his brusque inquiry regarding her morphine distribution in sector 2.

“All tended-“ she had begun when a shout from the far off plane rang out-

“-JOHN!” That was Cleven’s unmistakable bellow and Egan, despite being in a human sea of potential Johns- responded like he’d been made to hear that one voice alone. “Incoming, west!”

“Shit.” Egan spun westward and sure enough there were fighters with a blazing red sun, rushing straight down at them.

They were such a distance away still, Maureen doubted Cleven’s sight for all of fifteen seconds before horror set in. “They wouldn’t-?” she looked up at Egan whose bitten lip suggested that they would indeed strafe these poor men given the chance.

“Stretchers!” Cleven yelled again, “Get ‘em under the wings!”

There was a callous logic to it. Those men already prepped to be saved might as well be prioritized this much more. Fairness wasn’t something promised in war and Maureen chose to hate Gale Cleven instead of some ephemeral “war” for verbalizing the awfulness of that necessary.

“Do it.” came Egan’s agreeing order and Maureen and Smith took their respective sergeant down near the waterline at a run, fifteen other nurses and the various techs mimicking them. They deposited their men under the relative safety of the flimsy wings and dashed back out for more, leaving two techs behind to hoist the poor fellas into the cargo hold and deposit them in their respective bunks.

“Come onnnnn.” Cleven’s warning yell was drowned by the commencement of allied anti aircraft higher up the beach, trying to pick off the fighters before they reached the landing strip.

Maureen hardly noticed the closing drone of the fighter’s approach, nothing but her heart beat and memorized lines of her training on repeat in her ears. She’d been trained to fight hand to hand if necessary, her folks knew the risks of their daughter volunteering for such service but there was a sour dampening of resolve at the idea of being picked off from the air, not even allowed a bit of struggle to go out with.

All she could do was lift, hoist, run, deposit, do it all again.

They were getting near to full. On one pass through she saw Cleven counting berths and scolding poor Ensign Courter for her rushed method of securing her charge- “five feet drop to the floor on my first bank, oughta be just what that chest wound needs. For God’s sake, I’ll do it!”

He had a cold sort of fury to him Maureen found obnoxiously potent, and she felt a judgment rise in her for his obvious haste in wanting to get out of there. To his credit, when the planes did go by and everyone hit the ground, he was still standing yanking on the straps to secure the top bunk. Bullets punctured the side of the plane and riddled it, tiny specks of light flooding into the dark hold. One man was grazed as he lay in there.

“John!” Cleven warned again after they’d gone by.

“I know, I know damnit.” Egan snapped back from yards away, “There’s just not enough corpsmen -let me finish my damn job.”

“By the time you finish yours I won’t be able to finish mine.” Cleven retorted and the obvious finally occurred to Maureen -perhaps it was not his own safety that preoccupied him but the fragile capability of his riddled plane being able to evacuate once full. That, was indeed, his job. Still, such sentiments expressed as they were from the shelter of the cockpit and from a man who favored a silk blue neck scarf identical to the shade of his eyes, rankled Maureen.

The returning buzz of the Japanese fighters coming back around only cemented her futile rage. Her arms were aching and the sand caught at her boots and her mouth was dry with dust and there were so many, so, so many more left to help. Ensign Smith had been called away to assist with lifting another, and Maureen was knelt beside the man they’d managed onto a stretcher, doing her damndest to find how many bullets were embedded in his left leg and how deep the shrapnel was on his right. There was so much blood and filth it was impossible to tell and Andy, as his name was, couldn’t give her much help besides informing her it hurt like hell and she sure was a sight for sore eyes.

“Egan! At your three o’clock!” There was Cleven again.

Maureen grinned back at Andy and forced it to stay on her face as the buzz of the approaching fighters grew imminent and the dreadful thwump of machine gun fire thudded into the earth yards up the beach. It hit the section of the dead first, a further injury and dishonor. Maureen felt a lump in her throat at the realization she had no one near to help her lift this stretcher and that Andy himself hadn’t a usable leg to spare.

“Go.” her patient told her with a clear look of realization on his face as the leaden spatter of strafing began to elicit responses from those wounded men still alive enough to react.

“No.” The refusal came out of her mouth about as naturally as taking the next breath.

A shadow threw over them for a second and Andy’s facial expression grew surprised, but, stubbornly focused on her patient’s face, Maureen assumed it was the plane passing by at last and chose not to spend her last seconds watching what was going to kill her. “Ensign Kendeigh, lift.” Major Cleven’s voice was so close so suddenly it spooked her flat on her backside until she saw him, squatting down and casting a shadow at the head of the stretcher, poles gripped in both hands, ready to hoist. She scrambled to the foot and took the wood in hand, lifting for the twentieth time that day and running towards the plane.

Time was slow and fast all at once. Cleven’s shadow had come before even the first fighter. But as they ran it zipped by, bullets flinging up sand into their eyes, a near miss. The second one was close behind and as they ran near to the wings, they saw no room was left under them, as crowded as an awning at Coney Island during the height of summer.

Maureen squatted fast and lowered the foot of the stretcher, feeling Cleven mimick her movements behind her. Before she could turn ‘round and enact her training, there their pilot was, body draped over the battered Marine captain, his back as stalwart and protective as the wings of his plane. Maureen threw herself to the ground as well, propping herself over Andy’s battered legs. Together they made a turtle shell of sorts and, damned to be caught cringing when death took her, Maureen kept her eyes open and stared back at Gale Cleven’s gentle face as the -thud-thud-thud- passed them, a micro expression of assurance twitching his mouth and eyes as death passed over.

Who needed to look at the sky when you could find God in those eyes his mother gave him?

For as long as she lived, Maureen would never forget the gust of his spearmint scented breath on her face, the first sensation she registered as soon as the planes were past and they yet remained, alive, locked together above a man they’d both risked dying for.

“Major, you shouldn’t’ve.” Andy’s rough voice spoke Maureen’s own dazed sentiments as they straightened up, Cleven picking up his fallen aviators from the sand, “You gotta fly us outta here, you die an’we’re all sitting ducks.”

“Eh, that’s why we have co-pilots, Skipper.” Cleven grinned before glancing back at the sky, his face morphing into anything but carefree.

“Is that how Lt. DeMarco feels?” Maureen teased wearily.

“I’d never presume to know how Benny Demarco feels.” Cleven replied levelly but the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement, “Ensign Kendeigh, give me a task.” he demanded.

“Sir-“

“I want us outta here in ten.” His tone held no room for argument, “What’s somethin’ even a dumb pilot can manage? Egan!” He yelled as the Lieutenant Commander approached them at a jog, his dark face the picture of rage for the men in his care being further hurt. “Out in ten.”

“Not gonna happen, still got supplies to distribute-“ Egan was visibly inscenced.

“-one more pass on my plane and we’re not gettin’ up. Look at that back wheel” Cleven replied, nodding at the deflating tire. “Hand me your shit, what’re we supplyin?”

“Aren’t you queasy for needles?” Egan balked, finding time for teasing despite himself.

“Hand me the damn syrettes.” Cleven stuck his hand out.

“You're under Candy’s orders.” Egan stipulated, pointing to Maureen and Cleven nodded.

“Yup, and we leave in ten.”

“Okey Buck, go, go, go.”

The nurses that had gone before them had tagged and labeled each, making it easy for Maureen and Major Cleven to squat along the rows and complete what help could be given. Her other companions were doing the same, each staggered at a few yards and assisted by Corpsmen and pharmacists. And despite the tension from the strafing and the dismal prospect of having to leave so many behind, the hum of chatter soon picked up again on the beach.

“Shit, shit, shit, no-I hate needles!” Marty, eighteen years old but with eyes that had seen a little too much, bore his dressing with tired stoicism until Cleven pulled out the morphine syrette.

“Son,” Gale murmured with barely concealed amusement, “your side looks like a bear cub teethed on it, you’ll be fine. And this’ll help.”

“Don’t ‘son me’ you baby faced glamor boy.” Marty spat back, marine corps superiority coursing through his admittedly impressive veins.

Gale was midway through a good natured snicker at Marty’s venom when the heavy shock of lobbed mortars began to thud the beach again. “Jesus.” the Major sounded more annoyed than surprised and had the wherewithal to place a restraining hand on Marty’s chest as the kid began to scramble up in panic, displacing Maureen’s dressing on his ribs.

“Cleven, they’re chewin’ up our strip!” Demarco yelled to them from the cockpit and sure enough, craters were beginning to form at the end of their taxi-able stretch of beach.

“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave Major!” Marty suddenly clutched at Cleven and the Major had to wrench his arm free. “Calm down, private, you’re on a stretcher.” he then ducked his head as he moved round to seize the poles, “And if there’s one thing you should know,” he went on in a low murmur just for Marty’s benefit, “it’s that Doc Egan doesn’t waste his stretchers on dead men.”

Carrying Marty’s stretcher to the plane was Maureen’s last jog down the beach. She ran up the cargo ramp and Cleven was after her, handing over the task of racking the private into a bunk to one of the nurses before sternly ordering a path for himself through the crowded belly up to his cockpit. Demarco had the full radio system on, the better to communicate with the nursing personnel as they prepared for take off, and everyone aboard could hear his exasperated greeting as his reckless officer took his seat.

“You really game enough to try to get this Goony off the ground with less than a thousand feet of strip?” Benny’s broadcasted doubt made most nurses pause in their work and Maureen met Andy’s eye from the third bunk halfway along the plane wall.

“I thought he said that’s why they have co-pilots.” Andy joked to her quietly.

“Mm,” she agreed mischievously, “I guess co-pilots are one thing, co-Clevens are another.”

“Should find a way to mass produce.” Andy sighed, “War would be over in five seconds.”

Gale Cleven hadn’t even refuted Demarco’s concern verbally and already the crew shrugged it off, if Major Cleven couldn’t get them off Hell Island then no one could, and that was that.

“John Egan, get your ass onboard, it’s wheels up.” Cleven’s yell out the window blasted through the radio, too, and the girls grinned at each other -Major Egan wasn’t one to get bossed about. But, as if to challenge everything they knew about life and their own superior, mere seconds later, John Egan was hopping up into the belly of Cleven’s plane with his empty sack dangling and sweaty hair in disarray. “We’ll be back Kenny!” he yelled to the young pharmacist’s mate left on the sand as the cargo door was hastily wrenched shut by Brady.

“Honey I’m home.” Egan yelled up to the front and Demarco’s snicker echoed along the walls of the tin belly.

“Everybody stow your gear,” Cleven’s order came through, the pounding vibration of nearby mortars shuddering the plane even more than the engine’s revving, “we’re gettin’ outta here now. S’gonna be bumpy.”

“That’ll be one word for it.” Demarco snarked, “Death by bumps.”

The human cargo in the plane, those not groaning or insensible, let up a unanimous chuckle. It helped to have been to hell and back, a quick death as a plane failed to get air and plowed instead into a sand bank was hardly the worst prospect these men had faced.

“Believe, Benny, believe.” Maureen could hear Cleven’s soft smile in his voice as the wheels began to roll.

Brady, their engineer, navigator and the lone crewman besides the pilots aboard this transport, kindly manhandled Maureen to a seat between his legs on the rattling floor beside Egan’s built-in desk, his hand fisted in the back of her jumpsuit collar like she was a kitten. They kicked their legs out together and braced as they gained speed and the plane began to jostle into the milder craters at an ever more intense pace.

Shell fragments made a series of charming bangs off the side of the wing nearest her and Maureen could hear Brady whispering behind her in repetition “God spare the oxygen, God spare the oxygen, God spare-“

“50-“ Demarco’s countdown was unfortunately broadcasting like some morbid game announcer and Maureen could see Egan’s jaw ticking in stress under the harsh overhead lights.

There was a terrible blast in front, the sound of shattering glass or metal and a jarring shudder went through the plane, “Damnnit.” Cleven hissed but the acceleration remained.

“You hit?”

“No. Read me, Benny-“

“80-“ Demarco obligingly resumed counting.

“C’mon Buck.” breath gusting on Maureen’s neck behind her, as Brady had begun to direct his prayers to the Major now and as if in answer, the stomach swooping feeling of flight took over them seconds later as the cargo plane let out a mighty roar of strained endurance and lifted with a wobble that had more than a few bunks puking their guts out. There’d be over five hours to clean the plane floor and attend to housekeeping if they could just level out and stay up long enough to get out of range.

Down the way from them Egan was still seated, one hand holding aloft a not yet hung plasma bottle and the other gripping a support bar. But his head was starting to nod like a dancer keeping pace with the band’s ever growing tempo. The engines had a beat, if you’d been personal with a plane long enough to pick it up, and Maureen paid attention to Egan’s stippling fingers on the cross bar as they mounted and mounted, little bursts of enemy gunnery causing a comparatively mild wobble to the plane body every few seconds. She figured a veteran like Brady would know when it was safe to let her go; judging by the grip on her collar he was still highly dubious of their lasting success.

“Fighters, -everyone brace.” Cleven’s voice warned about as cooly as if he was pointing out the drip of ice cream slipping down a cone.

“Ice man.” Andy praised from his bunk to the agreement of his companions as the fighter zipped by without so much as a shudder from Cleven’s steering.

Plenty of the passing bullets had punctured the belly and one man got a direct hit. “Candy!” Egan commanded from his place checking the unfortunate man’s pulse, “Go remind Buck that we haven’t got the oxygen to go full bomber, he’s gotta keep low and -Candy! When ya come back, time to start throwin’ on blankets. Brady, get our pumps going. This is as steady as it’ll get.”

“You got it, commander.”

More than a little sure her mission was more provoking than necessary, Maureen still obeyed and followed Brady up the length of the plane and towards his electrical station, then past it to poke her head between the pilot’s seats.

“Well, well, this is a pleasant surprise, getting car sick, kiddo?” Demarco joked, “Hey, I get it, I’d find it hell back there with no windows to look out.”

Their front window was partially shattered and the metal on Cleven’s side was gnarled.

“Those mortars obligingly made a few.” Maureen joked back.

“Anybody hurt?” Cleven asked, and to her surprise, he turned from his panel to look at her with unmasked concern.

A joke was ready made there about everyone quite literally being shot to hell but she sensed he’d not appreciate it and following some uninterpreted impulse of desiring his good opinion, she hardly wished to repay his earnestness with flippancy. “Only one.”

“How bad?”

“He looked -dead.” Maureen admitted. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the man moving past him but she’d seen Egan’s treatment of the body and it wasn’t promising.

Cleven’s jaw worked overtime at the news and something snapped in his mouth, followed by a soft curse from lips too full and soft to always be so stern. Maureen thought he may have broken a tooth with all that tension but he spit out two halves of a blooded toothpick instead. It fell to his pant leg.

“Major Cleven, sir, you’re bleeding.” It had drawn Maureen’s attention to his wet lap.

“That’s what I said.” Demarco agreed.

“It’s somebody else’s.” Cleven shook his head.

“You know if you pass out on me-“ Demarco warned, completely ignoring Cleven’s denial.

“-that’s why we’ve got co-pilots.” Cleven finished for him with a maddening smirk that made Benny Demarco throw his hands up.

“Can you check him?” he asked, “I mean -you are a nurse!”

“What? Hell no!” Major Cleven spooked for the first time all day at the suggestion, glancing quickly from his reddened trousers, behind him to Maureen Kendeigh, and back again. “I’m fine.” he declared in a firm tone that dettered her almost as much as the challenge of getting over the instruments and a steering column to pull down his pants and look. “Ensign Kendeigh, was there a purpose to your visit?” He redirected, resolutely ignoring Demarco’s unabated concerns.

“Yes sir,” she replied, meekly as she could, “Doc Egan asked me to remind you that you’re not flying a bomber. To mind the oxygen, sir. And that it’s cold.”

Cleven let out a mirthless little laugh. “We’re full of holes Ensign, of course it’s cold.”

“I know sir.”

“Yeah, ‘course you know,” his eyes lightened for a moment and Maureen almost deluded herself he was being chummy when he murmured next, “you’re smart like that. Tell the Lieutenant Commander I’ll keep her nice and low, so low the Jap navy gunners can blow the floor out without a sweat.”

“Much obliged, Major.” Maureen chirped, pleased to have been trusted with a bit of morbid humor -it was the truest test of being taken seriously a woman could hope for in the service.

“Thank you, Ensign.” And with that she was dismissed.

By the time she got to the belly again her assigned job of doling out blankets had long been accomplished by her fellows. Brady had the place lit up like an operating theater and there was the added drone of medical equipment added to Cleven’s engines. She liked to think of them as his now, Maureen realized, a tiredness seeping in now that the rush was over, now there was just six hours of the same until they touched down again in safety. His engines stayed with them, consistent, steady, dependable yet a little absent, just like the man himself.

“Major Cleven said he’ll keep her low, Doc.” Maureen reported dutifully but whatever humor Egan once held when sending her to the cockpit was now gone, a bloody mess on his hands as he and Ensign Dormer worked over a head wound.

“Good.” Egan gritted out, “I need a monitor on vitals and I need new gloves, c’mon Candy, c’mon!”

The hours passed like this, no way of telling time in the artificially lit tube of metal. Some men needed a cup of water and a kind smile, others required every bit of grit and intelligence to keep even the faintest pulse discernible above the hum. When one of them passed away in the anonymity of the top bunk, Egan didn’t bother to cover his face, the man looked to be sleeping and it suited the morale better if his fellows were not disillusioned on that score.

It was impossible not to think for a split second on the unfairness of it all -live to be finally evacuated and only die before getting safe. To think how someone else less tore up might’ve been given that bunk and survived the trip.

“Can’t dwell on it.” Ida Brady, their headmistress back in Manila, had said -and she had been right. But seeing her brother Lt. Brady cross himself now in recognition of a soul passed did something to Maureen’s own spirit, a grieving sort of fury possessed her which matched Egan’s own as they worked on the next unsalvageable man until he became a likely contender for seeing his wife and kids again.

She had been up for nineteen hours, flying for ten of those, nursing for four. She was bone tired and yet there was always someone to be tended and the thought of leaving one of these poor men without even the slightest of their needs met felt impossible. Maureen didn’t even think to pause or lag in her expertise, neither did the nurses around her and up there at the front somewhere, Cleven’s eyes were sharp and focused as ever, she knew it, and knowing it brought a calm over her that made her sympathize with Egan’s own superstitious preference for the man.

Brady came through with coffee, an abnormal duty he picked up as a result of trusting no one else with the process or the electrical requirements to make it. “Figured our pilots could use it.” he explained before passing out a passel of paper cups to the girls filled with the peppy stuff, belying his practical excuse, before taking two to the cockpit.

He came back out with a funny look on his face- “Benny says he needs a pan.”

“What the hell for?” Egan balked.

“Or a condom.” Brady dutifully amended the petition.

“I repeat -what the hell for?”

“They’ve drank a lotta coffee sir.”

“Any of you fellas got condoms?” Egan asked his patients with a laugh and got a series of predictable replies. “Gale Cleven sure as hell don’t.”

There were light hearted moments like that, many of them in fact, but six hours of flying with wounds as bad as the ones they were tending was no joke, there were bits of laughter and there were times of quiet and there were restless sleepers whose terrors not even morphine could dim.

“Forty minutes out.” Major Cleven had gone quiet over the coms for so long it was like hearing from God again when he came on, gentle and steady.

Those they couldn’t get comfortable were at the height of their groaning as the cold and the endless buzz got to them. Helplessly the nurses offered pillows and water and irrigated the burns with saline and checked needle positioning. Maureen had taken to charting, something too often neglected in high stress environments but something that proved terribly crucial as soon as they landed and handed over their charges to a new set of professionals. On the left side of the plane she held one man’s wrist after another and noted their pulse. On the right side she did the same, one man’s left hand after another, wedding band or sans wedding band, in her notes it was only ever:

“94, 57, 88, 91, 63, 82”

The lights had been dimmed, hopes were some rest could be gotten by those in any shape to manage sleep. It made for a drowsy atmosphere, only the flashlight in her teeth illuminating the veins under her fingers and her co-workers faces, Egan’s face was a shiny mess of freckles in the torch light despite the chill, exhaustion seeping out of him but not a hint shown in his workmanship. It made the dull chorus of groans in the dark all the more ominous and Brady remarked to Smith on one pass that maybe they should have brought a record player.

“Twenty minutes out.” Maureen and every other soul on board was living for those little updates from Cleven.

Men told to hang in there and not die before they could be gotten to surgery suddenly had a goal in mind and the suspense was growing brutal. Stashed and stowed, secured and checked, landing preparations were already done and it was last minute tending before taking seats. Maureen found herself nearly piddling by one young private, trying to soothe him with a washcloth as sepsis fever wracked him when over the intercom came the oddest lulling hum, like a far off jazz intro.

It was too soft initially to be recognized but the surety picked up, something about the tone unmistakably belonging to their pilot, his hums about as characteristic of him as his laconic speech.

“Is that whadda friend we have in Jesus?” Demarco’s voice overtopped the gentle melody.

John Egan was wheezing in a chuckle beside her as Maureen shook her own head in disbelief.

“No,” Gale murmured, humming paused only briefly, “it’s ‘Leaning on the everlasting arms’ -you fish eater.”

“You gotta be jokin’.” Benny was wheezing too but Cleven was back to his gentle humming, words actually forming this time and filling the tired plane with a timbre that could put Bing Crosby out of a job.

“What have I to dread, what have I to fear

Leaning on the everlasting arms?

I have blessed peace with my Lord so near

Leaning on the everlasting arms”

It worked, the sickening drop in elevation was -if not noticed- bravely pushed aside for a hymn sing, Brady leading from the back and Cleven from the front. And for a brief moment, men from Kansas to Florida, Oregan to Rhode Island, strapped in a flying coffin of flickering souls, were seated back in the pews of their childhood, trusting something larger than themselves. Even if that something was Gale Cleven’s steady hands or the justness of a cause worth dying for or God Almighty, it was something big and above the pain of right now.

“Leaning, leaning

Safe and secure from all alarms

Leaning, leaning

Leaning on the everlasting arms”

The Navy station at Gaum had a runway, in fact there were five Cleven could have picked at whim, and there was no feeling so beautifully civilized and sure as the smooth roll of plane tires on asphalt after what they’d just left. “Flaps at quarter!” and they were slowing, the deflated back wheel only causing some slight disturbance, and then they were stopped.

That bizarre stillness settled again as the engines were cut. Egan gave Maureen a smile so soft and telling that her heart about seized in realization -they’d managed it. “Well that’s us.” he repeated for the second time that day, voice gone raspy with cigarettes and fatigue. “Welcome to American soil, boys.”

There were so many lights outside the cargo door, searing white flashes in the nighttime, jeeps and ambulances and all manner of medical personnel at the ready, it was overwhelming in the exact opposite way the beach at Iwo had been. Maureen hopped down onto the tarmac with Ensign Mann, ready and prepared to stay with her charges until the transition could be made. Clipboard in hand and kit on her back, she’d go in with her select five until they’d been admitted and charted meticulously in the various wards.

“How’s it feel to make history, Miss?!” -some of those lights, Maureen realized with a dull throb behind her eyes, were flashbulbs. Journalists were thick as thieves, snapping and hollering, others respectfully keeping a distance, “You're the first woman to step foot in a combat zone-“ Maureen kept her hand on her stretcher even as she watched Cleven limping over to a jeep and piling in after Demarco. Her mouth set in a sour line of suspicion regarding his claims of being unscathed. He’d be in interrogation and she in the wards for the next hour, she’d have to find out later.

A couple of hours later John Egan was sat with Captain Crosby in the administration office, nothing but a small alcove at the front of the ward, his legs spread wide in his chair and good scotch whisky being slurped from a cleverly injected orange while reviewing the charts. Croz was a whizz at this, meticulous and careful to a fault and John adored him for it because men who gave a damn were scarce after this many years of grueling loss and, also, because it allowed himself to wind down sooner than he was technically free to do so.

“Two men lost, that’s -that’s still good odds.” Crosby couldn’t manage an upbeat tone, he felt those two lives as deeply as Egan did, but facts were facts and over all, this experimental mission had proven beyond successful. Now to tell that to the families of the two men now being carted to the morgue instead of surgery and salt baths.

“Yeah, my girls were Trojans out there.” Bucky sucked his teeth, the squint in his eyes beginning to relax with a boozy sort of calmness. “Speakin’ of Trojans! —Candy!”

Maureen approached the little alcove at a tired gait, not above reprimanding Egan for his loud voice with all those occupied beds just feet away. “It’s late, Commander.” she reminded with hinting softness that only made him crane his head back and grin sloppily at her.

“It is, it is.” he agreed, reaching up to pat her arm and she squinted at the smell of whiskey, Crosby’s sudden and transparent busyness with the charts confirmed her suspicions. “You should get some shut eye, Candy! Back at it tomorrow.”

“So should you.” she hinted kindly.

“Mm,” he hummed in negative, “apparently my ‘specialty’ is needed elsewhere before then.”

“And so the booze?” she struck back and Crosby’s pen briefly dragged along his tidy line in shock at her daring.

“Steady hands, Candy darlin.” Egan responded, lifting two sticky palms up and showing, indeed, not a tremor. “I’ve got a surgery in less than an hour -working with Brady’s old sister, of all people, the one who snuck out of Manila after?- anyways, she’s 90 pounds of spit and vinegar. Starved for two years, but she takes three weeks off and a round of anti-parasitics and she’s all ‘let me back at ‘em.’ Hell of a dame. Anyway, surgery with her. I need this.”

“Well,” Maureen Kendeigh knew when to let go of a fight with a man who’d as yet never failed her or anyone else, despite his habits, “I can confirm it does nothing for your eyes bags.”

“Kiss ‘em better?”

“Not in my purview, sir.” she couldn’t help but smile, “Perhaps lieutenant Brady will be obliging?”

“She scares me.” he objected.

“And I don’t?”

“Only in the ways I like, Candy Darlin’.” he insited.

“Ah Major!” Crosby’s strained greeting drew their attention away from this over rehearsed banter and Egan straightened up fast upon sight of his friend.

“Buck!”

“John.” Gale Cleven was in the same uniform he’d been in for hours, flight jacket undone and scarf hanging loose. He must have come straight from interrogation and standing in front of the administrator's desk he was turning his cover over and over in his hands. Maureen was certain that were she to devote two hours a day to brushing her hair she could never bernish it to the golden brilliance that twelve hours of flight-sweat gave his. On a more concerning note, his was pale as death except for those lips. “I came to check in on everybody. Load of journalists out there.” He thumbed back behind him at the public area, “Mostly curious about you, Ensign.”

“Historical.” Egan affirmed and sent Maureen a sly look as she sighed over the fuss being made of her mission.

“I’m one of twenty.” she reminded.

“I hope you were nice about her.” Egan goaded his buddy and to her confusion, Gale flinched as if that were a remarkably successful mode of attack.

“O-of course.” he frowned severely and Maureen had a desperate urge to thumb those lines away. “I told them the truth.” he defended, mildly heated.

“Which is?” Egan was enjoying this and neither Maureen nor Harry Crosby could seem to puzzle out why.

“They did remarkably.” Cleven didn’t budge.

“Better than you thought.” Egan prodded.

“Yeah. Admittedly, far better than I thought. Jeeze, John.”

“But were you nice about her?” Egan insisted.

“What?”

“You said they were particular about Candy.” Egan said, “So what did you say?”

Maureen grew concerned that with such a level of fluster in the Major’s face not a stitch of blood seemed able to raise a blush.

“How ‘bout you read it in the paper.” Gale replied, coolly mean before clearing his throat and straightening up, back in possession of himself. “I came to see how many -how’d we do?”

“Twenty eight.” Egan confirmed.

“Outta thirty?” Cleven asked for confirmation.

“Yes sir.” Crosby answered him.

“Alright.” The Major accepted that, hat still whirling in his hands, a strange contrast to his perfectly contained posture. It drew Maureen’s eye to his hips and that deep red stain running down his pant leg.

“How’s your hip Major?” she asked, seeking to break the silence before Egan did so with some new and regrettable subject.

That did bring a flush and a sheen of sweat broke out on a face Maureen knew would be feverishly hot were she to touch it. He looked peeky, truth be told. “It’s fine, ma’am.”

“Hold up,” Egan stood from his chair and leaned over the desk to glare blearily at Gale’s trousers. “You're hit.”

“It’s a scratch.”

“Scratches don’t keep bleedin’ like that.“

“Well, mine do.”

“Hey, I don’t go tellin’ you how to fly your planes-“

“-you do though.”

“-so you don’t go tellin’ me what’s a scratch and what’s a wound. It’s still drippin’, that makes it a wound.”

Cleven moved his boot to the side impatiently and only succeeded in proving his friend’s point as a line of fresh blood smeared the white tile. “I was gonna just -“

“-What?”

“-Clean it in the shower.” Cleven sighed, defeated but with an edge that suggested he might yet do it .

“Oh, just gonna rinse mortar fragments outta of your thigh, yeah?”

“It’s not that bad. Dunno if it really got hit.” He protested, “Might be scratched.”

“Or you might have a piece of your instrument panel snuggled up to an artery.” John affirmed sarcastically. “We’re goin’ up again tomorrow. I need you fit, I need you good.”

“I am.”

“You’re gonna get checked.” Egan commanded and Gale looked back at the double doors leading to freedom and a pack of journalists and sighed. “You’re on the ground now, flyboy, I call the shots.”

“Ok.” Cleven mumbled, “If you’re so goddamn eager to pants me, do it.”

“I am, I am but I’ve got even better things to do.” Egan rounded the desk and flung an arm around Gale in parting, bringing him in close despite Cleven’s stiff necked antipathy that hid only the deepest seated endearment, “Like putting a left lung back where it should be and trying to get Lt. Brady to smile at me.” Egan expounded, letting go and beginning to actually leave, much to Cleven's sudden concern, “Which is, naturally, on the left -the left lung, that’s where it goes.” Egan went on.

“Wait, aren’t you gonna-?” Cleven called after him.

“Pantsing is more of Ensign Kendeigh’s purview.” John replied cheerfully. “Don’t look so appalled, I'm sure she’s seen smaller.”

“John!” Major Cleven and Maureen both inflected his name like twin, scandalized parrots.

“You deserve each other.” John laughed, “Ensign, do your duty.”

“This is the kinda behavior that has you gettin’ write ups for bein’ a terror to your nurses!” Gale growled after him in remonstrance but it did nothing to slow Egan’s tactical withdrawal.

“Bulshit, everybody on this ward loves me!” John dared to claim even as he was berated on his way out by more than a few wounded marines for being a little too jovial at two in the morning.

Cleven didn’t wait for the doors to fully close on Egan or for Maureen to collect her professional demeanor and clipboard before he was leaning over Captain Crosby at his desk, large hands splayed on the fresh paperwork, assuming the pose of a supplicant before a lawyer. “Harry, Captain, do me a favor this once and take a look fo-“

“-Major Cleven sir,” Harry Crosby interjected levelly and with the utmost respect, “I’m an administrator.”

Maureen composed herself, the sight of this stoic man losing a grip on himself due to the prospect of lost modesty was surprising, it was also motivating to find her own professionalism and put him at ease. “Major, if you’d follow me?” she nodded her head towards the ward and started clopping down the dim aisle toward one of the last empty beds. He didn’t need to lay down for it but she needed her instrument tray, an isolated light and, if his shyness was so severe, drawing the sectioned curtains would hardly be amiss.

When she arrived and turned round to instruct him, he was obediently there to obey. Something about that dogged respect for authority he possessed and his compliance with her own profession filled her with an odd protectiveness and she motioned him into the space gently, tugging the curtain closed behind him. He was taller than she realized, made more apparent as he took the initiative and tugged off the bulky weight of his flight jacket, methodically laying it out in a half fold on the bed, nothing but a lean line of him left in olive green.

Lanky, her mother would call him, a long drink of water. He looked all of twenty four, suddenly, soft and in need of a meal. “Your leg, yes?” she reaffirmed, jotting it down in the chart. She had found that men found it easier to talk of injuries when she wasn’t making eye contact.

“Yes.” His voice was low as the grave and hushed too, “And -I think maybe my hip.”

Maureen’s eyes flicked to the place in question, recalling how she had suspected his lap in general on the plane. “Right.” she made the customary jot down of the detail and then an arguably unnecessary note beside it, the longer to give him a chance to cool himself. “Your pants Major, if you would.” she filled in the date and the time, cursory information so as not to be idle while he undid his belt, the clank of the flat uniform clasp deafening in the space where he seemed to hold his breath.

She was used to discerning the moment when it was safe to look up. Often there was a brief period after the sound of pants hitting the floor where one might have the misfortune of catching a man adjusting himself to a preferred side. She was prepared to give him that moment in peace but his voice called her to attention.

“Is this?-“ he didn’t finish his sentence and she looked up to see his vague gesture as he stood in briefs and boots, jacket hung open, too.

“Yes I think we can manage with those on.” she smiled reassuringly, discerning his query. His skivvies were blood stained on the right and clinging to him but the wounds appeared to be above and below their coverage, “I’ve always got scissors if need be.”

“Scissors.” He repeated with a nod, teeth savagely dug into his lip.

“Jacket off, this could get messy.” She ordered and something about her decisiveness seemed to soothe him like she knew it would, he shrugged it off gracefully and laid it beside the sheepskin, and yanked at his tie to relive his bobbing throat. “Please, sit Major.”

He sat down on the bed, a little stiffly, and she reached above her to turn on the large overhead lamp, shining it down on them both and in the harsh glow of it she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen something so beautiful as Gale Cleven’s blushing face fixed upturned towards her own.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, looks like.” she attempted to make conversation and got a mere nod instead, once she stepped nearer, his eyes devoutly focused themselves somewhere to the right of them, on the floor.

She rinsed the area first, wiping away the crusted blood until his smooth, lightly haired skin came into view, little jagged tears visible in it with small fragments embedded. It wasn’t bad at all, but deep enough to keep it bleeding.

The touch of cool water made him jolt in surprise. What it didn’t do was make him shrink. She saw his hands curl, white knuckled around the mattress pad beside him as she gently dug out the metal, and she had a suspicion it wasn’t from the pain.

As unabashedly as her profession had taught her, Maureen tugged up his boxer leg until she was satisfied she’d uncovered the last little shard and did what was necessary, reaching atop the wet fabric and moving his heavy member up and away. He about bucked off the table at that mere touch of positioning and Maureen backed away out of pure animal instinct to avoid getting reflexively kneed.

“I'm sorry!“ he rushed out, his chest suddenly tight like an elephant were sat on it and his blood thudded in his ears, “Ensign, I apologize, I don’t know why-“

“It’s fine.” she insisted, stunned and pitying at the realization she probably was the first woman to touch him this way. To touch him at all. “I’m sorry this requires it.” she admitted.

“Please don’t -“ he took a large breath and began again, actually managing to meet her eyes out of sheer willpower, “-I’m the one who’s sorry. You’re doing your job, i don’t know why I get- it’s unprofessional of me, I'm sorry.” he repeated firmly and straightened his spine as if he could discipline a most human reaction away.

“It’s not at all uncommon.” She whispered, feeling compelled to be unprofessional herself if only to make him stop berating himself, “We nurses deal with this all the time, quite normal after combat, particularly.” Maureen paused for a moment and weighed the joke on the tip of her tongue as she dabbed iodine on a cotton ball and prepared to go back into the dreaded zone of his thigh crease, “It’s to be expected, the manual says; your blood is quite literally UP.”

Stood there in suspense between his legs with the iodine swab waiting mid air, Maureen waited until she saw a flicker of amusement twinkle his sad expression and a snicker escape that sober mouth. “Tell me about it.” he rasped, exasperated at his own body. “Every damn time.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” she teased, bringing the swab down and ignoring the sizable jolt his whole body and appendage gave at this dab to his thigh or the way his belly caved in with his deep intake of breath, “I’m telling you it’s normal.”

“Damn, you are sweet.” He declared suddenly with gut wrenching emphaticism that finally broke Mauren’s own precarious composure. “Not just to me,” he hastened to add in response to her melting expression so close to him, “to everybody out there. You were incredible today.” He paused and Maureen swallowed hard and tried with great difficulty to find the capability to thank him for the compliment. Before she could, he added with youthful honesty, “But you are -sweet to me.”

“Right back at you. Major.” she insisted, daring to stay that close and look back into those eyes she thought would be her last sight on earth for a second there on the beach earlier. His shuddering breath suggested he was recalling it, too.

“It’s nice to have friends in the crucible with ya.” he explained and Maureen felt her heart glow.

“Your poor hands.” she whispered, dropping her swab to gather his shaky hands in hers, the large palms engulfed her own even as she tried to cradle them. Never a hint of this anxiety while flying them, yet here he was shivering with it afterwards. “Probably blood loss.” she gave him an out, some men weren’t ready for talk of flight exhaustion or strained nerves.

“Then why’s it wasting all I’ve got to spare on…that?” He actually managed to joke back and Maureen actually allowed herself to laugh -god help her, she laughed at a man’s joke about an ill timed erection.

“John would say something about hope springing eternal, right about now.” she wheezed even as he groaned, his hands still placidly jittering in her grip, “I enjoyed your singing, by the way.”

“Mm, yeah, well,” he cleared his throat, “you didn’t see the hole in the wing or the busted flaps all the way home. That landing didn’t promise to be as pretty as it was.”

“But it was pretty.”

“Yeah. Not too bad.”

“A gorgeous landing.” she insisted and his eyes started to water under the harsh light. Impulsively, and in an act of unprofessionalism she would have never recognized before today, Maureen Kendeigh drew his hands close to her chest and pressed a kiss to his lined forehead. The way he sagged against her in a shuddering lunge suggested her impulse was a good one. “Doc Egan insists whiskey is good for this.” she whispered into hair that smelled so strongly of his musk and the wool of his cap she about buckled from it.

“Mm, but is it g—good for him?” he responded rhetorically, a gust of moist breath against the open throat of her flight jacket, his usual irony still remained with only a hiccup of nerves interrupting his speech. Maureen wasn’t sure anymore, what saved a life, well, it had saved a life, so why demonize it? She was here to force things to keep living in environments so hostile wildflowers gave up. Some men needed their booze and some men needed to be held in the hospital ward at two in the morning until their shakes calmed. As if he could read her mind, she felt Gale turn his head to the side a little for breath, face still pressed to her chest as he uttered quietly, “This is working. For me.”

“Good.” Nose buried in his hair she took a few measured breaths herself, feeling that odd calm still radiating off him, even as his body was shot to hell and giving off the overtaxed jitters. “You bring people calm, you know that, Major? It’s why Egan picked you for this, deep down, you make a plane load of dying men hang in there. That’s a gift. But when you’ve got a cup you keep pouring out of, it’s bound to go empty. Gotta refill yourself, sometimes, yes?”

“I thought this was blood loss.” Gale replied softly and it took Maureen a beat to recognize the sad mischief in his blue eyes.

“Alright. I’ll speak for myself.”She conceded with a huff.

“You must be exhausted.” he noted, suddenly as sober as they come.

“A little tired.” she admitted, questioning the way she instinctively tightened her hold on the back of his neck as he stiffened to pull away. Entirely unprofessional, she wasn’t a medicine spoon or a needle, he had every right to pull away.

“So what would fill your cup back up?” he asked in that low voice that sent a million varied undertones crashing through her, whether he intended it or not.

Too tired to be much more than plainly honest, or as honest as a woman should be with a half undressed patient cradled to her chest, Maureen admitted the half of it, which in many ways was the whole, “This is working for me.”she repeated his own words to him and watched them take effect.

Like a sudden reanimation had occurred, Gale Cleven untangled their hands with emphatic surety and then, in an act of kindness Maureen never expected, brought them to her shoulders and tugged her down for a solid embrace. “A hug and a nap then.” He prescribed, his solid shoulder beneath her cheek and his legs parted for her to step between. Only the bandages kept him from bleeding further on her.

“Not a nap,” she smiled, an inexplicable warmth and calmness flooding through her in his hold, his back was broad and lean under her hands, “we should go to sleep.”

“No such thing as going to sleep in the military, Ensign.” Gale murmured, “Sleep -that’s what happens when your mama tucks you in and you’ve got a whole night to waste. Naps. That’s what we take.”

“Alright, a nap, and a hug.”

“Alright.”

“You know,” Maureen dared with a little smile as some part of her slotted back in place and gave her the boldness to be a little too much, “there’s this thing people came up with ages ago where you hug and take naps at the same time.”

Pink cheeked but with a jaw clench that had defeated warzones, Gale Cleven pulled his head away and gave her a heavy look of admonishment, “Marriage.” he stated unamused.

Well, she had meant sex, and she wanted it, always had after danger -but Cleven had a point too.

“Uh, yes, that’s the most common-“

“-If I were to marry you, Maureen Kendeigh,” his voice took on a teasing lilt that was somehow more devastating than all his commanding earnestness, “there’d be no nap taking.”

“Oh.” A single utterance was about all she could articulate in the face of that smirk and gentle refusal. Both flattering and painful all at once. “Well, that’s not for us then.”

“No.” he pondered, full lips twitching downwards in disappointment, “At least, sounds like a decidedly post-war endeavor. No naps.” he clarified.

“Oh -yes.” she caught on, well used to the code of superstition all around her that didn’t allow men to spell out any sort of lasting, long term hope. “A postwar endeavor.” she agreed, never having heard marriage so smartly categorized.

“Uhuh,” his hands trailed up from her ribs to squeeze the sore muscles of her deltoid, “for now -naps. Back up tomorrow.”

“Alright.” she agreed, stepping a small distance back and looking him over, this time his presence didn’t shrink, in fact if anything he expended in the small room and it made her chest ache, “You're alright?” she made sure one last time.

He held his palms flat up and Maureen could attest they were indeed steady, terribly large, too, and his watch on his wrist was careening towards three o’clock. “Looks like it.” he rasped. “But you’re in charge here. Can I go, Ensign?”

Regretfully Maureen nodded, “You’re dismissed, Major.”

When he stood up from the bed he was by necessity in her space, looking down at her rather fearlessly as he yanked up the waist of his trousers and gathered the belt closed around his lean waist. Maureen felt her cheeks burn but couldn’t look away, if she were to glance away from those eyes she might see something even more tempting before he’d secured the fabric.

“Got any more duties after this?” he asked, breaking the moment as he bent to arrange his trouser hems over his boots.

“No.”

“Then I’ll walk you to your billet.”

“For naps.” she clarified cheekily.

“For naps.” he agreed with mirthful vehemence, finger pointed at her with almost paternal caution to not push his patience.

“Do you want your shell fragments?” she rattled them in their dish, the pieces she'd pried from the shallow muscle of his hip.

Cleven paused with his hand on the dividing curtain, shaking his head in amusement, “Give ‘em to Egan,” he suggested with a wicked little smirk, “knowing him he’ll make a talisman out of them or something equally useful.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s life blood, lemme head your thots or screams! Xoxo

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added for my MOTA fics)

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

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#mota fanfiction #mine #archive #friends in the crucible #Gale Cleven x OC #Buck Cleven x OC #Buck Cleven #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #masters of the air #Bucky Egan #doc Egan #Maureen Kendeigh #iwo jima #hbo war #john egan #callum turner #Callum Turner fanfiction

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justmediocrewriting · 4 months

Note

Hi!! I don't know if your requests are open still, but could you do a luffy x reader fiction where she feels insecure sometimes at the fact that luffy didn't ask her to join the crew. The reader asked first out of desperation or excitement, and now sometimes wonders if she would have even been on the crew if she didn't approach first. And of course Luffy comforts her and makes her feel more secure about it.

Thank you!! 🦭

“Why wouldn’t I?” {m.d.l}

Summary: you’d never been one to second guess yourself — and you remained happy with your decision to ask the captain of the Straw Hats to take you on their seafaring journey — but in the last few days, you’d begun to feel more and more unsure of the decisions you’d made up until this point; namely because of the knowledge that Luffy had asked every other member of the crew to join, except you.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Luffy x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested: ✅

Warnings: brief depictions of insecurity

A/n: thank you so much for your request nonnie! My requests are always open; though getting them out in a timely matter is another thing entirely. You know, when I’d first started this blog, I expected all of my works to be about Sanji, but I’ve been writing for Luffy more and more — and to be honest, I kinda really like it 🤭

{=================================}

The atmosphere in the galley was calm; Sanji had retired for the night, but was confident enough to leave Luffy under your supervision within the room, and you in turn had offered to wash the rest of the dishes for him — the man was clearly exhausted, and if you could take some weight off of him, you were more than happy to.

Luffy was currently devouring some extra lamb legs that Sanji had generously told him he could eat, and the silence in the room was companionable — but the confines of your mind were not. Despite the calmness, your brain was a whirlwind of negative and impulsive thoughts.

It had been roughly three weeks since you’d asked to join the Strawhats, and truthfully, you wondered just how wanted you were.

Your askance was brought upon by sheer excitement; your humble little village never saw much action, seeing as it was tucked away on an island that was small enough to be a pebble. It was both a good and a bad thing — your village was never raided by terrible pirates, but it was definitely a bore, and the quaint little bakery you owned offered services to the same exact faces every day.

That was until they arrived; the infamous Strawhats and their captain. You’d recognized them the minute they’d walked in. Luffy was the easiest to recognize, as you’d seen his face plastered in the news before, bearing an ungodly bounty of thirty million berry. To say you were nervous in his presence was an understatement; given what had been told of the pirate, of his crew and their atrocious actions, you weren’t sure what he’d do, or what his intentions were. You were on the defensive immediately, one hand dropping below the counter to wrap around the barrel of the shotgun in case you needed to draw it.

But Luffy had simply approached the counter and gazed excitedly at the array of sweets displayed behind the glass container; and when he met your eyes with a wide smile and asked for one of every pastry, you felt your heart melt — the rubbery man was just too adorable for his own good, and despite the rumors that had been spread across the seas of his viciousness, you couldn’t help but relax in his presence, his exuberant and innocent aura immediately washing away every bad thing you’d heard about him.

Hundreds of pastries later and many tells of their adventures on the sea, you had come to a conclusion; you would ask to join his crew, to sail the seas with him, and find the legendary treasure, One Piece.

You weren’t sure why, but all of his tales and his excitement bled into you, and your heart began beating rapidly as you were overcome by the urge to experience exactly what he had — you wanted to feel that freedom, that excitement of adventure. At first when you asked, you weren’t sure if he’d even say yes; after all, you were just a small time baker barely scraping by on poor rations, and you had no experience at sea or on a boat whatsoever, and upon first look you didn’t exactly scream pirate.

But then again, neither did a good number of the crew.

You’d set sail with them just the next morning, without so much as bidding goodbye to any of the other villagers — there were plenty of other bakeries within the village, if you weren’t there to sell bread and pastries the inhabitants could get them elsewhere easily. You didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about leaving your village behind, though as time went on, you began to feel guilty about asking to join; not because you regretted your decision, but because you couldn’t help but feel as though you had burdened the crew somehow.

With no real skills to offer, you’d resorted to helping out in any way you could; scrubbing the deck, washing the dishes, helping Sanji with prep, doing laundry, fishing, recording stock, and every other odd job you could fit into your schedule. It had helped to alleviate some of your negativity, but when you’d learned the stories of how Nami, Zoro, Usopp and Sanji joined the crew, it all just flooded back into you — because obviously Luffy had seen something within them that made them worthy to be on his crew, so much so that he practically begged them to join.

So why were you on the crew?

You paused in your rinsing and cast a weary glance at your captain, who was completely oblivious to your inner agony, still digging into the lamb legs like a man starved. Your heart cinched within your chest, and you felt tears stinging at your eyes. Did Luffy even really want you here? Or did he just agree to bring you along because he felt sorry for you? You’d never had a good filter on your mouth, so that inward thought quickly became an outward question.

“Luffy, do you even want me here?” You wanted your voice to sound strong, to convey nonchalance or maybe even anger, but it came out muted and weak — all the insecurity and desperation that you tried so hard to keep shoved down bubbled up to saturate each and every word.

Luffy paused his chewing for only a moment, his brows furrowed ever so slightly, then, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “of course I do, (Y/N). Why wouldn’t I?”

You wanted to laugh, because his answer was just so Luffy, but you held in the sound because you just knew that it would come out choked and wet — the last thing you wanted was for Luffy to see the evidence of just how weak you are. If he didn’t want you to join in the first place, as you were sure was already the case even if his words opposed it, you knew that seeing you in such a state would only make his conviction grow.

You were silent for a long moment, the only noise being the backdrop of waves splashing against the hull of the Merry and the slightly wet smacks of Luffy’s chewing. Biting your lip, you briefly wondered if you should be honest with Luffy; that would be for the best, wouldn’t it? What was it that they say? Rip the bandaid off? With a heavy sigh you parted your lips to speak, but Luffy swallowed his bite loudly and cut you off.

“I mean, you’re a great baker. And you’re kind, compassionate, and you really care for everyone on the crew. You’re always asking if we’re okay, if we need anything, and any time one of us is feeling down, you always do your best to pick us up. You’re thoughtful, too; if you see something you think one of will like or if it reminds you of us, you get it for us. Like that time that you bought me that stuffed monkey from that town, because you said it reminded you of me.”

You were speechless — you weren’t even aware that Luffy had noticed that about you, and the more his words registered, the more your skin heated until you felt as if it would burst into flames. Luffy didn’t seem to have the same issue; he just continued to bite into the lamb leg as if what he’d just said didn’t just discombobulate you at the seams.

After fumbling for a few seconds you finally found your ability to speak. “I-it’s just… you didn’t ask me to join, like you did with everyone else.”

“Because you asked first,” Luffy said without missing a beat, the sunniest of smiles painted on his face, making your heart thump crazily within your chest as it tightened.

Warm smile still plastered on his face, Luffy placed his half eaten lamb leg on the plate with the rest (and some nearly clean bones) and slipped from the stool. Your heart sped up with each step Luffy took towards you, and by the time he was standing in front of you, you felt as if the organ would beat right out of your chest.

“I was going to ask you either way, (Y/N). I knew I wanted you on my crew from the moment I talked to you.”

Luffy’s hand reached out and gently plucked the plate from your grasp, dropping it into the soapy water with a soft thud that made you wince in sympathy for the fine ware. When your hand was empty, Luffy grabbed it in his own, and you swore your heart completely stopped in that instance. You wet your lips and glanced up at him shyly.

“Why? Why did you want me to join?” Your voice was soft, bashful, his words and close proximity making it nearly impossible to think — but his smile was so bright that it easily cut through the fog in your mind.

“Because I really like you! I want to eat your delicious pastries every day. And I want to sail the Grand Line with you, and find the One Piece together.”

You stared at Luffy with wide eyes, cheeks heating rapidly as you processed his words.

“L-Luffy, do you mean y-you—”

“Yes, I like you a lot, (Y/N).” Luffy cut you off, his hand squeezing yours tighter. “And I want you by my side. I’m sorry you ever thought differently. I promise you’ll never feel that way again.”

With those words Luffy pulled you into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around you and pressing you flush against his lean body. Luffy was so warm, so open, so genuine, that you were helpless to do much else other than melt into his embrace.

You didn’t think you could love being on the sea more than you did, but Luffy just made it ten times better, and any and all regret you’d had previously was washed away like a stream to the sea.

#opla #opla x reader #opla luffy x reader

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peachhcs · 1 month

Note

because will surprised sam i think sam should tell will that her parents said she couldn’t go to Sweden but she actually is going with like ruts girlfriend and surprises him

a surprise in sweden

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy surprises will in sweden for the world juniors!

1.4k words

warnings: like the smallest tiniest illusion to sex, two kisses, mostly fluff though

this was so cutie to write. woo i'm posting again to make up for my lack of posts. i know kayleigh didn't actually go to world juniors, but let's pretend she did for this haha. pls keep requesting i enjoy writing these :)

au masterlist

“did you hear? did you hear?” will's excitement made samy smile from her end of the phone. the girl giggled while nodding her head even though her boyfriend couldn’t see.

“i did hear. i’m so excited for you. sweden sounds awesome,” the u.s. team picks for world juniors came out only minutes ago and in two seconds, the blonde eagerly called his girlfriend to tell her the happy news.

“god, i can’t believe i get to play for my country for what might be the last time. leno, perreault, fort, minnetian, and cut are all coming along to,” will was most definitely rambling, but samy didn’t care. she loved hearing him so excited about something to the point where he couldn’t stop talking about it.

“you guys are gonna dominate. rut, sean, gav, and nazar got picked too. i'm excited for you guys to play on the same team together,” the brunette chuckled a little. It was almost ironic how her two worlds of hockey were colliding on the same team in a few weeks.

“oh god, mcgroarty’s gonna pick me apart isn’t he?” will groaned, but samy giggled again.

“he won’t, trust me. i’ll make sure they lay off you and won’t ask embarrassing questions.”

the umich guys knew all about will and were definitely eager to meet the guy that stole their little sister’s heart. they only had ethan and mark’s words to go off and you could guess the things they said only playfully poked fun at the blonde, so will was determined to prove himself so the other guys could properly get to know him.

“i’m sorry i won’t be in the states for break. i know how excited we were to finally see each other for more than two days,” will changed the subject, his tone laced with a hint of disappointment.

samy smiled, “it’s okay. this is a big deal for you and i’m so proud of you. i’ll just watch you from the comfort of my living room.”

her words had a grin spreading across the boy’s lips along with a small chuckle. “you’re sure you can’t convince your parents to let you come with me?” it was worth a shot to ask even though will knew how much samy loved spending the holidays with her family. he didn’t even wanna ask if she could come along knowing how much the holidays meant to her.

“i doubt it. i know they trust me, but an entire like three weeks in a different country with my boyfriend..i don’t know if they’d be so keen on that idea,” the girl laughed, a slight blush coating her cheeks.

a similar pink color spread across will’s face as well, “okay, just thought i’d ask. i’ll miss you. i’ll send your gift in the mail so you’ll hopefully have it.”

“i’ll see if i can get yours to boston before you leave. i’m still waiting on something in the mail.”

“i hope you didn’t go overboard. we said not to,” will said despite the smile on his lips.

“even if i did, it’s the first christmas that we’re together and not getting each other gag gifts,” samy stated.

“when have i ever gotten you a gag gift? i think my gifts have been very thoughtful no matter what our relationship is,” the boy quickly defended himself.

“well whatever. i think you’ll really like my gift,” samy chuckled.

“i think you’ll like mine too,” will eyed the unwrapped gifts sitting on his desk and he couldn’t help but smile thinking about samy opening them in a few weeks.

the two stayed on the phone for the rest of the night just mindlessly talking and getting to hear one another’s voices. there was one thing will didn’t know though and that was samy texting with kayleigh as they bought plane tickets for sweden—their trip already thoroughly planned out because the two predicted very early on that their boyfriends would make the US team, they just needed the confirmation before they bought their tickets. they couldn’t be more excited to fly out and surprise everyone with the hope that ryan and gabe knew how to keep their mouths shut.

—

will sat in his hotel room making an attempt to get some of his school work done, but the tv playing as background noise was taking more of his attention than he thought it would. his eyes were glued to the show, computer open because if it was open, then at least it seemed like he was being productive.

samy followed gabe and ryan to the 5th floor, unbeknownst to will. her and kayleigh landed about an hour ago and the girl was trying to shush the boys before the surprise was ruined. Her and ryan shoved themselves against the wall while gabe knocked on his friend’s room—their surprise plan setting into action.

will lifted his head when he heard the knock. he walked towards the door, eyes still flicking back to the tv as he pulled the wooden frame open. “what?” the boy asked gabe on the other side.

“can you come to my room real quick? I think i broke something,” the dark-haired boy muttered.

will raised his eyebrow, “what do you mean you think you broke something?”

“like, i was trying to open up the cabinet under the tv and the handle like snapped off in my hand.”

ryan and samy struggled keeping their laughter from slipping out as they stood a few feet away from will’s door. the blonde crinkled his nose, “dude, i’m not getting involved if you broke something. you’re gonna have to pay for that shit.”

“can you just please come look? i don’t know if it’s actually broken,” gabe tried.

“how do you not know if something is broken? it’s either broken or not broken,” will argued a bit, not knowing gabe was only trying to get him into the hallway where he’d see samy.

“please just come look? for like two seconds.”

a sigh escaped the blonde’s lips along with a shake of his head thinking how stupid his friend was. he shuffled into the hallway ready to head down to gabe’s room when samy suddenly popped out from behind ryan, “surprise!!”

will jumped back, a small screech falling from his mouth. it took him all of ten seconds to take in his girlfriend standing two feet away from him, ryan with his camera out, and gabe snickering to himself to realize what was happening. when it did finally click samy was swept into the boy’s arms.

“what are you doing here? i-i thought you weren’t coming?” will could hardly form any coherent thoughts. it felt like he was dreaming or something.

“i was coming all along. i said i wasn’t because i wanted to surprise you,” samy explained, giggling into the blonde’s shoulder.

“what about your parents? Your brothers..”

“they were cool with it. kayleigh and i have been planning this for like weeks,” the brunette pulled back so she could properly see his face. she brushed his little curls away, a blush spreading across his cheeks at her gentleness.

his eyes slid towards gabe and ryan who nodded. “we knew all along,” gabe snickered.

"i’m surprised you two could keep a secret as big as this,” will teased them knowing how bad they both were at keeping things from other people.

“oh shut up. we got your girl here so now you can stop moping around,” ryan rolled his eyes which earned the middle finger from will.

another giggle escaped samy’s lips as she squeezed her boyfriend’s waist, putting his attention back on her. “It’s good to see you,” she hummed.

“you too. I’m glad we get to spend a few weeks together,” not caring that ryan and gabe were still watching, the hockey player connected their lips into a sweet kiss.

“yooo, save that for the room. Iim out of here. don’t be too loud,” gabe mumbled before retreating back into his own room.

samy and will shared a laugh. ryan quickly escaped as well, promising he’d send the surprise video. that left the couple standing in the hallway together, loving smiles on each of their lips.

“you’re sure you’re okay with not spending the holidays with your family?” will wondered because he didn’t want to be pulling her away.

the girl cupped his face, “i’m sure. mom and dad were cool with it and my brothers are hardly home anymore anyways. plus, how could i miss something like this?”

her words convinced the boy for now. he planted one last kiss on her lips before pulling her inside his hotel room—a very long night ahead of them.

#hughes!sister x will smith au #will smith hockey #samy x will #boston college #boston college hockey #samy hughes #umich hockey #will smith imagine #will smith x oc #uofmichigan #will smith fluff #will smith hockey fluff #bc hockey #ryan leonard #gabe perreault

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miintsprigz · 3 months

Note

Hi! I was wondering if I could ask for the Demo, Engie, and Heavy for the fear-punch prompt if that's okay. Thank you!

FINALLY WRITING THIS. I appreciate your patience so much, Anon. It means the world to me.

GN!Reader fear punching the Mercs, part 2

Characters: Demoman, Engineer, Heavy (Team Fortress 2)

Warnings: uh some stuff relating to anxiety/panic attacks, cuz fear response.

Part 1 can be found linked below!

Demo ⚔️

You finally had the base to yourself, or at least, you thought so. Everyone had been all up in arms lately, it was just exhausting. Having fixed a cup of your preferred hot drink, you went to walk back to your room.

A door suddenly opened loudly behind you, and with your free hand, you swung, not even registering what you were doing until your fist made contact.

“Hey—oof!”

Your mug clattered to the floor, breaking and spilling everywhere.

“Demo!?”

“…oh! Did I scare ya there? Sorry ‘bout that!” His eye caught the mess on the floor as you tried to catch your breath.

“…now, that won’t do—”

“Tav, lemme—”

“No, no; I scare you, you drop it, tis only fair that I clean up the mess—”

Stumbling over to the closet to grab a broom, mop, whatever else he might need—still a little hungover—Tavish got to taking care of it in no time. He worked with surprising efficiency.

“Now, we oughta replace that drink o’ yours.”

“…Tav, I’m sorry.”

“Wha? Whatever for?”

“…I punched you…” Your voice shook a bit. The guy had only just woken up, and you’d socked him in the face.

He seemed confused at first, then touched the side of his face that you’d struck tenderly, realizing.

“Ah…that ya did.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Oh no, no! That’s alright, luv. Sometimes ya just get spooked. Used to do it to me mum all the time.”

“Really?”

He smiled in a somewhat tired sort of way. “Yup. Ya’d think I’d be more careful, especially cuz she couldn’t see me, but I guess I sorta forgot m’self there.”

Demo gave you a pat on the back, gentler than the usual. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’ve definitely knocked a few lads on the floor m’self, so trust me, I get it.”

“Thanks, Demo.”

“O’course, mate!” Your hair was lightly ruffled, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Want me to help ya replace that drink though? Heh, maybe I’ll make one for me, too!”

“That might be good. Do you want some ice though?”

“…nah, nah I think I’m good.”

Engineer ⚙️

It had been such a long day. You were more exhausted than you’d thought you were capable of being.

So when you arrived back at home base, you basked in the peace and quiet and decided to kick back and read for a bit.

Hearing sudden rapid, thundering footsteps, however, your adrenaline skyrocketed again, and so when the “intruder” inevitably entered…your adrenaline did the work.

The Engineer bursted into the room, clearly quite excited about something he was working on.

“Ah, (Y/N), c’mon, I gotta show ya—agh!!”

Your eyes locked onto him, staring daggers in fright as he rubbed at his jaw, wincing.

“Now what in Sam Hill—oh. Oh no.”

Those wide, terrified eyes told him all he needed to know. He didn’t even realize how suddenly he’d come flying in…

“…oh, darlin’. I scared the daylights outta you…”

“A little…” Your voice came out as a squeak, and all at once, everything became all too much. Tears flooded your field of view.

“Honey, I’m so sorry…”

“I, I didn’t mean to hit you…”

“Shh shh shh, I know…I know, I’m okay… lemme just…”

Offering open arms to silently ask first, Engie wrapped you in a hug when you stepped closer, petting your hair softly. He didn’t say anything really, aside from the occasional coo of reassurance that it really was okay.

There was a slight sway to him as he held you, trying to soothe the sudden rush of anxiety he’d accidentally triggered.

You knew, but between the fright and the guilt you felt for socking him in the face like that when he was just excited about something…you couldn’t help but cry for a minute or two.

After a bit, he pulled back, looking almost as though he could cry himself.

“I’m…sorry about that. I wasn’t thinkin’. I know ya had a long day, I just…”

“You were just excited to show me something.” With one last sniffle, you smiled over at him. “It’s okay.”

“…would ya still wanna see? I get it if uh, you’d rather have some time alone…”

“No, no! I’d love to see…”

That warm smile returned to his face once again. “You promise you’re alright?”

“I promise, Dell.”

With a nod, he took your hand sweetly. “Well alrighty. I think you’ll really love this, (Y/N), I’ve been tinkerin’ with this new feature for weeks, and I think I finally got it down!”

Chuckling, you followed after him, feeling your frantic heart slowing once again as his fingers gave your hand a light squeeze.

Heavy 🥪

You are in the thick of it now—bombs flying all over, a hail of bullets seemingly around every corner.

Truthfully? It was too much. But you had no intention of letting the enemy team know that.

Although it seemed cowardly to you, you ducked behind a corner for a minute to just…exist uninterrupted for a moment.

Your overwhelming didn’t go unnoticed though. Help was on the way…but you were unfortunately not able to fully recognize it.

A tap on your shoulder sent the tension building in your mind over the edge. Your fist made contact with the stiff gray of Heavy’s protective vest.

“(Y/N)! Is only me! Do not be afraid. Am here to help you.” Thankfully, the person you’d struck was basically a brick house. He had hardly felt it. He didn’t look angry…actually, he seemed worried.

“Uh…Heavy?!” “Da, it is me.”

“Well. I punched a friend. Great…” Looking down at your hands as you went to pick your dropped weapon up, they were shaking.

“Hold one moment, (Y/N).”

One huge hand carefully cradled yours, holding it steady.

“All due respect, I am giant man. Is very hard to hurt me. So do not feel so bad, okay?”

You tried to breathe, and it caught in your throat. Carefully setting Sasha to the side for a moment, Heavy looked down at you. Even with the chaos nearby, his eyes were so soft when he looked at you.

“Take deep breath.”

You followed that direction as best as you could.

“Very good. Again?”

It got easier.

“Perfect. Battlefield can be scary place…I know that too. Is okay to be afraid.”

He gave you a quick hug—it seemed he really was full of surprises today. His hand practically covered your shoulder as he gave it a pat when you pulled apart again.

“You need minute? Heavy is here! Giant man is on your side, remember?”

Now that you thought about it, maybe you’d be a little more prepared if you had a minute or two to yourself. “…could I just take a second back here out of range? I know it’s kinda chicken of me—”

“Not at all, (Y/N)! What do you think I carry sandvich for! Even big strong man need break. Smaller strong one like you no different.”

To your surprise, he actually handed you half of the tasty treat in question.

“Here. Enjoy, eat, and do not worry.” Picking up his minigun, Misha gave you a determined smile. “Heavy and Sasha will crush anyone who move too close until you are ready.”

If you weren’t where you were right now, it honestly might have made you cry. “Thanks, Heavy.”

“Of course, (Y/N). You are very important to me, you know that?”

A bit of warmth rushed into your face as he gave you one last grin before walking back out from behind your little shelter to face the opposing team.

“That’s right, I AM BACK! YOU MAY NOW RUN AWAY! HAHAHAHAHA!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you took a bite of the sandwich and breathed easy, knowing nobody would get within range of you anytime soon.

Whew! I hope that was good, Anon. I had fun writing it. I’d love more Heavy, Demo, and Pyro requests! I don’t write for them much but they’re a lot of fun!

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reasonsmandy · 1 year

Text

Make Rumors Come True

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — can i request #34 i’d totally marry you right now with eddie? thank you! 💗💗

✧.* summary — The label's marketing strategies were in full swing, and one of the main ideas to leverage your career was a fake relationship with Daisy Jones and the six bassist, Eddie Roundtree.

✧.* warnings — mention of drugs.

✧.* word count — 2.2k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — Maybe I have an addiction to referencing Evelyn Hugo book magazines 😫

The label executives had been pushing Eddie Roundtree and you to fake a relationship for months. They claimed it would generate buzz and boost sales, but Eddie had always been reluctant to go along with the plan, after all he had never talked to you for more than 5 minutes, it seemed like a crazy idea. That is, until the label's head of marketing, came up with a new twist.

"What if we said you two were secretly dating?" he suggested over drinks one night. "That would really get people talking."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but you saw the potential in the idea. As a rising star in the music industry, you knew the value of publicity, and the prospect of being linked with one of the hottest bassists in the business was too good to pass up. So you look at him, waiting to see what he would say, Eddie just pulled out a cigarette and lit it up.

Eddie rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. "I don't know, man. That seems like a stretch."

You got tired of listening quietly to the conversation, and spoke up.

"Actually, I think it's a good idea. People love a good secret romance."

Eddie turned to you, eyebrows raised. "You really think so?"

You nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement at the thought of being linked with him. You had a crush on him for a while now, and maybe that was an opportunity to get close to him. "It could be fun. And it might be good for both of our careers."

Eddie looked thoughtful, and Teddy jumped into the conversation. "I believe they're right, Tweedle Dee, this could be huge. We just need to be careful about how we play it. No PDAs, nothing too obvious. We'll plant a few stories here and there and let the rumors do the rest."

Eddie takes a deep breath, looking right at you, he raises his eyebrows. "So what nightingale? You're in?"

You look at him and smile, shrugging. "I'm in!"

…

A few weeks after their suggestion, the magazine Sub Rosa published a story claiming that Eddie Roundtree and you were secretly dating. The article was filled with details about their supposed relationship: how you had met at a label party, how you two fell in love at first sight, and had been seen leaving a restaurant together late at night, and how you had been spotted holding hands at a music festival.

As soon as this magazine got on your hands you ran towards Eddie on the label, finding him sitting on the floor and writing some bass lines, you quickly sat down next to him, placing the magazine on top of his notebook. He takes his gaze to you, cigarette dangling from his lips, he arches his brows in question.

"What's this nightingale?" he takes the cigarette from his lips, smiling small at you.

"Our love story Tweedle Dee, apparently we're the hottest couple in the music world," you said, trying to suppress a laugh. "According to Sub Rosa, we're deeply in love and have been spotted holding hands at a music festival."

Eddie can't help but laugh with you. "Is that so? I must have missed that part."

"Did you forget our unforgettable night so quickly?" You pretend to be offended and he plays along.

"Oh my love, I beg your pardon, I didn't mean to treat you like this." He says, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it.

"Lucky for you I can't get mad at you, my honey bun." You say and Roundtree squints at the extremely cheesy nickname. "Too much?"

"Definitely too much." He laughs, stopping now to read the magazine you had left there. "People actually believe this?"

"Apparently." You say with a shrug, pointing to a specific line. "Look at this, Y/N L/N despite singing about being a free spirit was captivated by the skills of our favorite bassist Eddie Roundtree."

"I do indeed have a lot of seductive skills." Eddie had a smirk on his face, finding himself with the words chosen by the magazine.

"Now you seem to be having fun with this dating story, huh?" You say laying down on the floor, Eddie couldn't take his eyes off you... Looking at you more closely he finally noticed how beautiful you are.

"What are you talking about, nightingale?" He says offering you a cigarette, you accept. "I love my girlfriend, it's written right here."

You laugh along with him, and after that day it has become a habit. You always picked up all the magazines that had your theme to show each other, always finding something for you to start using to your advantage, soon you started not only feeding the rumors but also living them without noticing, you were always together, laughing together, talking until late at all parties, meetings and shows. And soon you noticed that your heart started racing every time you saw that blonde hair from afar, or a chill in your stomach when you heard him laugh, little by little what you pretended the most was coming out of pretending you were falling in love.

It had been a while since Roundtree felt this way, it's been a while since he felt his heart beat as fast as when he saw you looking back at him, he wasn't used to the feeling you caused him, he just knew he wanted more and more. As Eddie played along with the fake romance, he found himself drawn to you more and more. He loved spending time with you, whether it was goofing off on stage or having deep conversations over coffee.

At first, he tried to ignore the feelings, telling himself it was all part of the act. But as time went on, he couldn't deny the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw you or the way his stomach tightened with jealousy when he saw you talking to other guys.

With the return of The Six with Daisy Jones shows being booked in various venues across the country, Roundtree couldn't be more proud and happy with his work, he felt this would be the time they were going to make history!

Teddy had asked you to open the shows, and even though the idea was very good at first, you were reluctant and told him that you would think about it and get back to him at the end of the week.

"Hey nightingale! I want to talk to you." Eddie says getting your attention, you turn to him smiling and waiting for him to say something. "What's this about you not wanting to accept Teddy's invitation?"

"I didn't refuse... I just said I'd think about it, that's all." You shrug and he shakes his head.

"Is there any reason why you don't want to go?" He asks and you look away, "Oh, come on, Nightingale, I know you. What's going on?"

"I don't want you to be upset." You start to say, and he looks at you intently. "But it's just, you know what they're going to say... They're going to say I'm only there because of you."

Eddie sighs, understanding what you mean, he holds your hands trying to comfort you and you smile with the act, feeling butterflies in your stomach at the touch.

"You know you just have to ask and we stop this whole thing." He says in a whisper. "I don't want to bother you in any way"

"Hey, don't say it like that." You feel a tightness in your chest, thinking that with the breaking of the agreement you would no longer see each other was heartbreaking. "I just wanted my work to be recognized, you know? It has nothing to do with you"

"I understand what you mean." He says and you feel honesty in his words. "But I would love to have you there with us, with me…"

You can't contain your smile at his words, he places his hands on your waist as a gentle gesture. You take your hands to his neck and pull him close in a hug, Eddie returns the hug feeling your presence close to him was comforting.

"Promise you'll think about it." He whispers in your ear and you nod getting out of the hug.

…

The audience screamed the lyrics of your song with enthusiasm and an indescribable energy, you felt an adrenaline rush through your body and you just wanted more and more of it. You hold the microphone and jump on stage as your vocal cords show the audience all the emotion in your songs.

Eddie stood in the wings, watching you in awe as you commanded the stage. He had seen you perform many times before, but tonight something was different. Maybe it was the way the stage lights hit your face, making your eyes sparkle, or the way your voice filled the room, sending shivers down his spine. Whatever it was, he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

As the song reached its climax, you closed your eyes and belted out the last few lines with everything you had. The crowd erupted in applause, and Eddie found himself clapping along with them. He felt a sense of pride and admiration wash over him as he watched you take your final bow.

In that moment, he realized that he was completely and utterly smitten with you. He couldn't explain how or when it had happened, but he knew that he was falling for you, hard.

You bid farewell to the audience with a charming smile on your face, blowing kisses and thanking them for their great energy, and of course announcing that very soon Daisy Jones and the six would be performing for them.

You go backstage feeling the immense energy inside you, you will hug Eddie as soon as you meet him he hugs you tight.

"You were ripping in there, nightingale!" He says in your ear. "I'm so fucking proud of you."

"Thank you." You smile as you break free of the embrace, jumping up and down with joy.

He watches you with a huge smile on his face, he thought everything you did was adorable, you notice his gaze on you and stop jumping, a little embarrassed by all the attention he was giving you. You drop your gaze to the floor, avoiding looking back at him.

"What is it?" You question, feeling a flush in your cheeks. "Why are you looking at me like that Tweedle Dee?"

"You know, I'd totally marry you right now." Without thinking, he blurted out

Eddie's unexpected confession catches you off guard, and you freeze for a moment, trying to process what he just said. Your heart starts racing, and your mind races with all kinds of thoughts and emotions. You can't believe that he just said that, but at the same time, you can't help but feel a wave of excitement wash over you.

"Uh...what?" You stammer, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I mean it." He says, his gaze never leaving yours. "I know it sounds crazy, but every time I'm around you, I just feel this...connection, you know? Like we're meant to be together."

You can't help but feel your heart swell at his words, and you feel a smile spreading across your face. "Eddie, I..."

Before you can finish your sentence, he leans in and presses his lips against yours, catching you completely off guard. The kiss is soft and tender, and for a moment, you forget about everything else in the world.

When he pulls away, you're left breathless and a little dizzy. You stare up at him, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "Eddie, I don't know what to say."

He takes your hand and looks into your eyes. "Just say that you feel the same way. That you want to be with me too."

You smile, a huge smile full of sincerity. Grabbing the bassist by the collar you kiss him with all the love you've held inside of you these months, he kisses you back in the same passion and love, he had lost count of how many times he had imagined this feeling but nothing compared to actually fulfilling all these desires.

"I do, I'm in love with you too." You smile and kiss him again.

…

A few weeks later, a new magazine article was published with the headline, "Daisy Jones and The Six's Eddie Roundtree Proposes to the rockstar singer Y/N, the rockstar lovebirds are going to get the toothbrushes together!" The article was filled with details about your supposed engagement: how Eddie had proposed to you backstage after a show, how you had tearfully accepted, and how the rest of the band was ecstatic for the happy couple.

When you and Eddie saw the article, you couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I guess we're engaged now," you joked.

Eddie chuckled, taking your hand in his. "Looks like we are. And what are your thoughts on that nightingale?"

"Oh and why do you ask that now, do you want to propose to me Roundtree?" You tease, pulling him closer to you.

"And what if I do?" He says making his heart miss a beat. "What would your answer be?"

"Well...if you asked me to marry you now." You sit up in bed, smiling at him. "I would say yes and make love to you all night."

"So we are engaged, my nightingale." He says pulling your face and kissing you tenderly. "I love our tendency to make rumors come true." He says making you laugh along with him.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

#djats #daisy jones and the six #djats x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones and the six fanfic #eddie loving #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x y/n #joshua whitehouse #josh whitehouse #the dunne brothers #daisy jones & the six #the six

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 1 year

Note

Hey :) this is a bit if a sensitive topic… but i got an idea for a request and i don’t know if you’d be willing to write it? I’ve been struggling with anorexia for a very long time and i’ve been thinking what if y/n was in the love band and she has an ed and body image issues and you know the outfit the band’s always wearing? For me personally, it’d be so triggering to wear because i know i’d feel so fat wearing it (don’t know why tbh)…Anyway, what if she hasn’t really told anyone about her struggle (maybe they saw signs but don’t know for sure) and she’d agreed to wear the outfit but then before a show she has a huge panic attack and Harry finds her crying backstage…

And also like i just want to say that there’s nothing wrong with being bigger and that "fat" is not a feeling but i just can’t help my brain 😣

Sorry for the long ask.. and I also hope you’ll feel better!!🙂

Hello friend! First off, thank you for sending this request and for trusting me and this online space to share your struggles. That can be really challenging, especially on the internet where you don't know how people will take things or react sometimes. Especially with eating disorders, there's so much guilt and shame that comes with this kind of mental illness to begin with and it can be a hard thing to admit to as well.

I will also share with you anon, that I've struggled with an ED for many years and was finally diagnosed with EDNOS in 2016. EDNOS stands for eating disorder not otherwise specified and you can receive that diagnosis for many reasons. I won't elaborate on my case in this post (I don't mind talking about it anymore so if ppl have questions you can ask), but anyway.... all this to say that I totally understand your struggle. And lately, I've been struggling to not fall back into those harmful ways after some comments my mom made a few weeks ago. It's been a tough few weeks for me for many reasons. But anyway, thank you so much again, for sending this request. Writing this is definitely going to be cathartic and therapeutic for me as well and I hope that it is for you too and anyone who struggles this way.

LAST THING! If you or anyone you know struggles with an eating disorder or shows concerning disordered eating patterns, please consider getting help. Some resources are linked HERE including helpline contact info.

And of course, the content below can be triggering for people who struggle with any E.D.

This was quite literally your dream come to life. You had been asked by Harry himself to join the Love Band in Ny-Oh's place for the final leg of Love On Tour. This all seemed insane and unreal as you thought about how you'd just met him around 2018. You'd been brought in as a session musician for Harry's last 2 albums and started a nice little friendship with him. But you didn't know that he considered you enough of a friend to ask you to join his live ensemble. Sure, you talked regularly enough and had graduated into hugs over fist bumps during the making of Harry's House, but still...it just seemed so insane. You were excited though, getting to see him perform every night knowing how hard he worked to make this music...it was like a full circle moment.

There'd been plenty you'd done in preparation for your travels. Including getting your measurements taken for the little love minion jumpsuits you'd be wearing every night. None of that really seemed to trigger you or your concerns over your weight and body image. You'd been doing so well, you'd been managing your eating disorder well the last few years without any major setbacks and you were proud that you were healthy enough to do this. Proud that you felt comfortable accepting this gig and knowing that you had the stamina and health to make it through the entire leg of the tour. It was huge! But none of that really seemed to matter when you got a look at your uniform hung up just a few inches away from you and felt this sudden rush of anxiety crawling through your body. Why did it look like it'd be so tight on you? The material obviously wasn't too stretchy so how was this supposed to fit on you? You weren't exactly sure what about the look of it suddenly had you feeling this way, but all you knew was that you didn't feel good about it.

The logical part of your brain reminded you that you got fitted for this - it was custom made to your measurements. And you tried to keep that in mind, but you soon realized that you had been fitted for this about four months ago. Maybe you'd gained tons of weight? Your days of obsessively weighing yourself were past you, so you had no idea if you had or hadn't. You had body dysmorphia so your mind wouldn't know the difference. And it was maddening to you that you had been feeling OK about yourself until you'd entered the little temporary changing room and saw the outfit on the hanger. Your heart started to beat a bit faster as your anxiety started to grow.

"30 minutes to show time!" you heard someone call as they walked down the corridor and then they shouted the same warning into the large dressing room a few of you shared and you just exhaled sharply and decided so just ignore this feeling and suck it up. If you didn't wear this what would you wear? You had no choice, you just had to get over it.

However, now that something about this outfit had triggered the obsessive and intrusive thoughts about your body image you started to feel uncomfortable looking at your reflection. You tried to avoid looking at yourself right now because you knew that you'd see things that weren't accurate. You tried to slow down your breathing as you turned away from the mirror in there and folded up your clothes before turning back around and looking at the outfit once again before taking it off the hanger. It felt suspenseful to undo all of the little buttons lining the seam to join the two sides together. But soon you were pulling it off the hanger and getting your legs into it and doing up the buttons, avoiding the mirror again until it was fully on so that you wouldn't freak out before you fully were dressed. Of course, you had no issues with getting it on, it felt just fine, a little loose if anything. But when you looked up the feeling of the fit didn't really matter. You had no idea if it was the cinched in waist that felt restrictive even if you had some wiggle room. Or maybe it was the way the fabric bulged a bit at your stomach and made you feel like you were carrying a lot more weight there than you realized before? But as you turned to the side to see how you looked from that angle your frown deepened as your fears rose tot he surface. It looked a little big on you and that somehow made you feel even worse because it wasn't like flattering/comfy baggy. This outfit somehow accentuated just how thin you actually were and then a new fear came into your brain: They're going to know I'm anorexic.

You felt that you did well enough to keep your eating disorder speculations at bay. People closest to you knew, but you were very private about it because like any illness, there is sometimes an element of shame involved. It wasn't something you advertised, especially as you recovered! But most people just knew you were into health and wellness, but they didn't know the dark side of it; that you struggled with obsessing over quantities and ingredients and portions because you were terrified to look bigger than you were, terrified to gain weight, terrified of feeling fat. You couldn't tell anyone why you felt that way, but you just did! And sure, you were a lot better now than you were years ago, but you had just been massively triggered that you looked sickly and that, that would arise suspicions of your health. The fans might start to say things and ask questions and if they noticed other people would too...the crew, the rest of the band...Harry...

As you stared at yourself for a bit more your eyes started to tear up and you silently fanned at your eyes to try and dissipate the tears, but your vision was only getting more and more blurry. You just needed some fresh air to calm down. You peeked out and saw that you were alone in the dressing room so you rushed out before anyone could stop you and you headed out back behind the stage. They were in the middle of changing the setup after the openers so the crew and roadies were closer to the structure helping change things out and unloading. You had the space and privacy to pace around and let your tears fall. But the audience was so loud...there would be so many people and they would look at you and see you in this outfit and just know that something was wrong with you. Obviously they would be scrutinizing you since you were the new person! And suddenly everything just built up inside of you and you started to panic.

You found a place to sit down when you felt your breathing catch in your throat. This couldn't be happening.... you were just minutes before the show! But you were hyperventilating now as your tears cascaded down your cheeks. You felt like you were going to crumble apart. This was a huge mistake... you should've said no...you weren't ready for this. There was no way you could do this. You were sat off to the side as you sobbed and tried everything you could to calm down and get through this panic attack so you didn't notice Harry's car pulling up across from you until you heard the stadium cheering loudly and when you glanced up you saw Harry wave quickly before he headed backstage. You didn't want anyone to see you like this so you stood up and went to hide behind one of the trailers, but you didn't notice that he'd seen you rush off.

********

"Y/N!" Harry called after you but you didn't seem to hear him and he frowned a bit. He could've sworn you were crying...maybe you just got really nervous or maybe it just hit you now that you were on tour. It could be exciting but nerve-racking. So he decided to just check on you and maybe give you a little pep-talk. "Hey, I'll be right in, just gonna make sure she's OK." Harry said to Tommy and Brad.

"I've got it, H. You should really go get changed. You're on in 15." Tommy advised.

"It'll be quick. I'm sure she's just a little nervous." Harry said and they sighed as he jogged off to where you'd taken off. When he rounded the corner to where the trailers were he immediately frowned when he saw you gasping for air, choking on your tears as you sobbed uncontrollably. "Y/N, oh my god." he said as he hurried over to you.

You felt mortified as he rushed up to you and reached for your hands. You started to cry harder because this was so fucked up. You felt so stupid and ridiculous for crying over an outfit, but you just felt so awful. Worse than you had in a long time and it was scary to be triggered so intensely. When he wrapped you up in a big hug you started to calm down. His voice and touch and scent helped to ground you a bit, enough to help you breathe properly.

"What's the matter?" he asked you softly as you continued crying. You cough as you tried to answer him and he gently rubbed your back to help you out a bit.

"S'fine. I'm fine." you choked out and he sighed.

"How can I help if I don't know what the issue is?" he asked you and you sighed.

"You can't help Harry, this is me. This all me and I...I don't think I can do the show." you finally said and he pulled back with a big frown as he looked at you. You couldn't bear to see his disappointment for more than a second before you looked back at the ground.

"What do you mean? Are you nervous?" he asked you as he rubbed at your arms with his ring clad hands and you sighed.

"I-it's the outfit. I can't wear this outfit. Like...I'm not...able to wear this." you said to him and he looked a bit confused.

"Is something wrong with it?"

"Yes! I...don't know w-what it is..." you gasped through your sobs, "But I just...don't like how I look or feel in it." you explained.

"Love, you look great!" he said with a small smile and that made you feel worse because it was a testament to just how insane you actually were, "And well, I'm not really sure we can change the uniform at this point-"

"Exactly, this is my issue! So I can't go up there." you cried.

"Well what's the issue you're having? Maybe there's something we can do about it right now?" he asked and you bit your lip for a moment before looking into his eyes and then just turning your gaze away from him. You couldn't bear to see his face when you said this to him.

"I...I have an eating disorder." you said softly through your tears, "And something about this outfit has triggered me into this psychotic episode. I feel...really awful physically and in my head too...and I'm trying... I'm trying to get it together but I haven't felt like this in years and just one look at me in this and everyone's gonna know something's wrong with me because I look sick!" you sobbed, "And that's why I can't do this. I'm so sorry, Harry. I just can't do the show." you blubbered and his hands slid down your arms and grabbed your hands.

"I'm so sorry." he said softly and you sighed.

"It's not your fault...how were you supposed to know that this would trigger me? I didn't even know until I was staring at the fucking thing." you shook your head as you looked up at him again and he sighed.

"I mean, yeah but like I... I noticed stuff before, like when we first met that made me wonder if...maybe you were anorexic or struggled with something like this. So I'm sorry that I never checked on you." he said and you sighed.

"Well, it't not really something I like to talk about." you explained through a sniffle, "And I've been doing really well the last couple years, I swear I'm like eating regularly and stuff. I wouldn't have agreed to do this if I wasn't well enough to do it." you said quickly, "But something happened back there and for my own wellbeing I just feel like I can't go out there like this." you explained through your tears. "Like...at first I thought I looked fat or maybe the cinching made me feel really restricted....but like I had this...moment where when I looked at myself f-from the side I just...looked like a fucking Tim Burton character...." you chuckled through your tears, "and I just...know that people will notice that I'm anorexic. And the audience is gonna see and start saying things about me... and things are just going to get worse and I'm gonna lose control again! And I don't want to lose control again. I can't lose control again." you vented through your tears and he just listened attentively with a slight frown. When he saw you were finished he squeezed your hands gently.

"I get that. And I also want you to be healthy and feel healthy and to feel good about yourself." he assured you, "You being safe and healthy and happy, that's all I want for you! But you're also a fucking brilliant musician and friend and I don't want to do this without you." he said to you and you sniffled, "I'm willing to figure something out to make sure that you feel comfortable and confident enough to perform if you want. We can get with Harry real quick and see what we can come up with." he suggested.

"The show starts in a little bit...it's fine. We can work on it tomorrow. I can perform from backstage today or even just sit this one out." you said and he scoffed through a laugh.

"I'm not gonna make you perform from backstage! We're just gonna run a bit late, that's fine." he said to you and you shook your head.

"Seriously H, I don't mind it a-"

"Seriously, Y/N." He cut you off, "I don't want to hide any member of my team, ever. I want to work with you to figure this out, OK? You mean a lot to me, and having you up there with me and Mitch, like that's so huge! You've been there for a lot of the work on these songs...you brought my vision to life in the studio and now you're here, getting to see it play out! And you do not have my permission to experience this magnificent and magical moment for the first time from behind the stage, all alone. There's no fucking way." he said and you chuckled softly through your tears as he squeezed your hands reassuringly again. "You deserve this. Let's figure this out." he offered again and you sniffled and nodded.

"OK." you agreed softly and he smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." you sniffled and smiled at him before he hugged you tight and you relaxed in his embrace.

"Perfect. Just gonna hold you for a bit, OK?" he said and you just hummed.

Your eating disorder had robbed you of tons of incredible experiences in your life. Either because you weren't well enough to show up or because you felt ashamed...but the buck stopped here. Not anymore. Harry was right, you deserved this and you wanted this, so you were gonna do it with his help and other Harry's help. After a few moments he let go of you and pulled back to wipe away the slightly smeared makeup beneath your eyes.

"If you don't mind not saying anything to Harry about why I-"

"Of course not." He said right away.

"Do you think the band'll mind that I might not be in the uniform?"

"I doubt it, but if someone has any issues I'll take care of it, OK?" he assured you and you nodded.

"Thank you, H."

"Course, love." He smiled kindly, "And I know that for now we might scramble a bit but what if we get you a tour shirt or sweater to wear on top and you can just tie the jumpsuit sleeves around you or something so that you just have the pants on?" he suggested.

"Yeah, I think that's good. I can't very well go out in my spandex shorts, that’s what I came in." you giggled and he chuckled.

"Yeah, sorry not happening. This is kind of about me so...." he joked and you laughed softly, "There she is." he said, his thumb swiped over your smile line for a moment before he pulled it away, "Sorry." he said softly.

"It's alright." you assured him and he smiled.

"Let's get this figured out then." he said and you nodded and headed back.

Of course, Harry had been right about not wanting you to miss the first show because you were hiding backstage. It had been one the best experiences of your life so far. The crowd were so loud and happy to be there. Hearing everyone sing the songs with you all, specially getting to sing Matilda and seeing how much it meant to everyone was amazing. It had been absolutely magical, you had even teared up. And when Harry spared you a glance at the end of the song and saw you wiping a tear he shot you a thumbs up and you returned the gesture. You guys started to wave at the fans at the barricade as you headed back to the main stage. You felt someone come up behind you and then Harry's arm draped over your shoulder.

"Alright, love?" he asked against your ear.

"Yeah, you were right though." you said to him, "I'm glad I'm not stuck in the back and missing this." you smiled up at him and he smiled.

"Me too." he assured you.

Of course, hundreds of fans had recorded this little interaction between the two of you and the only thing that people were obsessing over was how protective and soft Harry seemed to be with you and in turn it made the fans even more gentle towards you during the next shows. With each show the cheering for your introduction grew louder. By now you had talked to the other Harry and the band about what you were struggling with and they were all so kind and supportive. And now, each night when you were introduced you had that incredible support from the audience as well. No one was paying attention to your flaws or your issues or your body, they were just showing you the love and acceptance that you so often failed to give to yourself. Being built up that way gave you a new motivation to stay on track, to take care of yourself, and to keep getting better.

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