Tumgik
#merriell shelton fanfic
theweirdgoodbyes · 2 months
Text
never asked me once about the wrong i did: chapter 1
“Po’, po’ thing,” his granmere would lament from her rocking chair, gazing at him with those same eyes he sees in the mirror, “He already dead.”
His mama would hush her, whispering in a hurried Creole that Merriell can’t quite understand. He thinks Mama doesn’t teach him more so she can say what she wants around him, secret things he’s not old enough to understand at seven years old.
It’s Sunday after church, and everyone has made the walk to Granmere’s house which has long become too small to fit them all. They strip off their nice church shirts and hang them on the hook at the front door, a habit Mama drilled into them by the time they could walk and one of the few times all seven of her boys listened. They then make their way across the house to where Granmere sits in her rocking chair, smile across her ancient face. She sits and rocks, accepts each boy with a kiss on the cheek, a squeeze to their arm or bare belly, a tsk followed by, “Oh, po’ baby. Anna Mae, you ain’t feedin’ my boy.” By the time Merriell reaches her, he can see her expression change. The smiles fades, those pinching fingers stop their search for flesh.
“Oh, baby,” she says, reaching for the cross around her neck. It’s an old thing, as old as her and the dirt below their feet, made of crude wood. She rubs it and shakes her head, “Po’, po’ thing.”
Merriell doesn’t try to hug her anymore, and doesn’t tell anyone how much it bothers him.
Their jobs begin after greetings, shuffled into a boiling hot kitchen with the rest of the cousins, sitting Indian style wherever they can find a spot. Picking beans, chopping the sausage, whatever task Granmere has delegated to her brood takes up the next hour. Mama and the aunties bustle around the kitchen while Daddy and his uncles sit outside and smoke their cigarettes. Merriell liked Sundays for the most part, aside from Granmere’s unrelenting gaze and worried quips. Daddy didn’t drink on Sundays, so he knew the only beating he could get was a sharp rap on the knuckles for sneaking bites from the pot before dinner.
“They talkin’ ‘bout you,” Llewelyn says, a finger slick with the grease from the sausage pointing at him before motioning to Granmere and Mama, “‘bout what you did.” Llewelyn knows more Creole than the rest of them combined, on account of being the oldest, a fact he made sure they all remembered.
Merriell lowers his eyes, focusing on picking out each pea from the pod he’s cracked. He counts as he goes, a habit he’s picked up to keep him calm during these very accusations.
“Mama says it not on me,” he mumbles, the same answer he always gives. Mama says it was God that took Vernon, born minutes after him with Merriell’s umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Mama says God took him straight to Heaven, that he was too good to be on Earth with the rest of them. Merriell always wonders if he was left behind because he wasn’t all that good. He tries to be a good boy, he really does. He listens to Mama better than any of his brothers, and always does his chores without fussing. But he’s not always a good boy. He steals candy from the store by their house, and chases their old fat cat under the porch only to poke at him with a stick while he hisses and yowls. Merriell wonders if God can see him waiting each night for their neighbor Mr. Leconte to come home, sitting on the stoop until he passes by. He always gives Merriell a wink and a wave, something that gets his heart thumping hard. Even at seven, he knows that alone makes him wicked.
Next to him, little Eugene, the only cousin younger than him, pipes up in his soft voice.
“My mama say don’t say that.”
“Your mama ain’t my fuckin’ mama,” Llewelyn spits back, sticking his knife into the next link of sausage. Eugene shrinks back, leaning closer to Merriell. Twelve years younger than Llewelyn’s fifteen, he’d always been scared of the older boy. “We all know it’s true. Ain’t you listen at church? Killin’ a sin. Don’t matter none what Merriell do for the rest of his life; he goin’ to Hell.”
Llewelyn stands with his plate of chopped sausage, handing it off to Auntie Lorraine before exiting the kitchen. He’s about to go stand with Daddy and the uncles, satelliting the outskirts, hoping for an offer of a cigarette and to be included in the menfolk talk.
Merriell keeps staring at his peas, picking away. His mind is far, far away from Granmere’s kitchen. He’s nearly counted to 50 when he feels Eugene’s small hand on his knee. He doesn’t look up.
“I don’t think it, Mer,” Eugene says, barely above a whisper. The threat of Llewelyn coming back, angry at being sent back to the kitchen with the little ones, looms over them. “You’ll be in Heaven with us.”
Merriell doesn’t say anything. He keeps picking his peas, counting, wondering if when he gets to those pearly gates in the sky, they’ll be shut tight.
Omg, hello everyone. This is the first stab at fanfic I’ve take in quite a while. Overall what I post here will be my first drafts, I will likely be posting it at ao3 upon its completion, but please enjoy this humble chapter in the meantime!
25 notes · View notes
eugeneroehoe · 4 months
Text
Hi @lamialamia! I was your secret Santa :)
Here is the link to your Sledge x Snafu fic! It was a bit intimidating writing for uncharted territory but I had a lot of fun with these characters. December was kind of hectic for me so there’s a chance I might need to go back and make some edits that I missed, but I hope you enjoy what I came up with nonetheless. Thank you so much for your help and responses to my asks!
11 notes · View notes
jump-wings · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
HBOWarDaily's Short Story Exchange 2023
Show: The Pacific
Ship: Eugene Sledge x Snafu Merriell Shelton
General Reader
For @ahsokatanoss I hope you like it!
An Evening
They crossed the corridor, Eugene in front, Merriell behind. When they reached the door, Eugene moved aside and allowed Merriell to enter his room first. He closed the door behind them. The door made no more noise than the beating of Merriell's heart. Eugene leaned back against the door, hands in his pockets. He was watching Meriell with his eyes. Merriell walked around the room a bit. He picked up a few items on the shelf and looked at them, but he neither saw what he picked up nor was he interested in the decor of the room, just a few pathetic attempts to postpone the inevitable conversation. But somehow someone had to say something, and he knew it had to be him.
''You have a nice room, Sledgehammer.'' His voice came out lower, higher-pitched, and more strained than what he had planned to say in his head. The words almost reached his lips like tiny daggers, creating wounds in his throat. Eugene caught Merriell's eyes on his own and wouldn't let go. He said thank you and waited. He would push Meriell to the end. Merriell looked away. He waited for a few seconds in the middle of the room, looking helplessly at the carpet.
''The food was very nice.'' Again a thank you came from Eugene and he waited again. His eyes are fixed on Merriell. Merriell waited too, the bitter water rising from his stomach to his throat. He finally made up his mind, he could postpone while he ate and chatted with Eugene's family, he could postpone while Eugene's father showed him their land, he could postpone while he listened to his brother reminisce about the war in Europe, but here he was in Eugene's room in Alabama, the two of them alone and he found himself in a kind of trial in Eugene's eyes. He couldn't put it off any longer, feeling like prisoner b5rought tıo court. He had nowhere to run and no excuse to escape. He lifted his eyes from the carpet and stared into the big brown eyes watching him.
''Eugene, I…''
''Why did you come?'' Eugene's voice was angry.
''To see you.'' He looked away, his voice a whisper.
Why? Why did you come to see the man you've seen too much to even say goodbye to? Suddenly, months later?
The anger in Eugene's voice grew with each word, but the anger in his voice couldn't hide the underlying pain. Eugene's pain reached Merriell. Snafu's heart ached again, with pain at the same frequency as Eugene's, a pain that had not stopped since the moment he got off the train.
Eugene rose from where he was leaning and stood upright. He clenched his hands into fists and pressed his nails into his palms.
Ever since they returned - one to Alabama, the other to Louisiana - from the endless forests of the Pacific, its hills, its rains, its muddy soil, and its endless islands that had turned into graveyards Merriell, who had always been overconfident, had been struggling with indecision. Eugene, who had a calm nature since his early youth, was angry. Everything they knew about life was rewritten in the Pacific.
He just couldn't return. He couldn't turn around and couldn't even say goodbye. He couldn't shake his hand and look into his eyes for the last time. He wanted to, but he was undecided and could not do it. His heart couldn't stand it. This was too much. He was asked to realize a reality that had never been more real until the train entered the station. Suddenly, he is asked to leave behind the last years of his life, the person was created from him in the war, the skills he was taught to fight, the brutality, the death, the blood, and the only person he has ever learned to trust and love - Eugene - and return to a life like nothing ever happened, many times he doubted its existence when he was in the muds of Okinawa. Which one was the dream? Louisiana or Okinawa? Which one was the reality?
If he had turned back and said goodbye to Eugene as he got off the train in Louisiana, he would have lost everything. He would lose those times, the times their existence was disgusting but still too valuable to lose, but most importantly, he would lose Eugene forever, his memory.
He was undecided until the last moment. While choosing what to wear - casual clothes, a suit, or even he thought about his marine uniform uniform -, while he was taking his best suit to his sister because he couldn't iron it himself, while taking leave from work, while buying the ticket for the train to Alabama, while waiting for the train to arrive at the station, while getting on the train, while sitting in his seat, while finding Eugene's house, while walking down the road to Eugene's house, while knocking on the door of Eugene's house, and yet he had come this far. Now he was standing in the middle of Eugene's room, looking into his eyes contains anger and pain.
When Eugene got off the train months ago, he didn't think anything, he didn't feel anything. In the months that followed, anger came to visit him. Why didn't he shake him by the shoulder and wake him up? Why hadn't he just woken him and said a goodbye? All this time, they had lived as if they had never met, they have never knew each other? After everything they've been through together in this world, who could understand them better than each other?Why didn't he even wake him up and say goodbye, didn't he even love him that much?
I wish I were like the men who wrote those thick books he saw in Eugene's hands, Merriell thought. Maybe I could explain it then. Snafu had made up his mind. In one breath, he said all the words that suddenly appeared in his mind.
''I couldn't say anything to you that day because I, because you… I can't say goodbye to you. I can't say goodbye to you because if I did, you would leave and I didn't want you to go. I didn't want anything to go away we lived together. I didn't know how to do it.''
Eugene listend him. Now he had figured out how to calm down. He smiled faintly, gently. He looked into the emerald green eyes of the man he loved. His eyes wandered over the dark curly hair falling on his forehead. Almost he had never seen him so helpless before.
''If you had woken me up, we would have found a way together. Don't run away from me, Snafu.''
''Never again. I am not going anywhere.''
14 notes · View notes
blood-mocha-latte · 23 days
Note
ok i know u and @merriell-allesandro-shelton didnt ask to be compared but i did it bc of prev anon and it stuck with me. u two are similar bc you both know lots of languages , live or have connection with louisiana , have a silly n funny vibe , u both ship luztoye and sledgefu (u are crazier about luztoye while lou is crazier for sledgefu), u two write fanfics a lot , rie ur married (therefor u have been engaged before) and lou has been engaged twice , and idk if theres anything else but thats my analysis of u two (yes i studied abt u two for a while .) u two slay so hard in this fandom thats all i know
bestie this is SO funny to me. genuinely the past two days my inbox has basically been going through this
Tumblr media
9 notes · View notes
caffeinated-fan · 30 days
Text
Oh, look! It's that fanfic I talked about like four months ago, then never mentioned again! YAY!
Finally got this done, and I'm pretty proud of it? I'm way more comfortable writing stuff like this than ship/xreader.
The boys who died in the hills (4258 words) by Caffeinated_fan Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Pacific (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Eugene Sledge, Merriell "Snafu" Shelton, Andrew A. "Ack-Ack" Haldane, Edward "Hillbilly" Jones, R. V. Burgin, Bill Leyden Additional Tags: Death, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Thoughts of death, non suicidal thoughts of death, Whump, canon-typical whump
5 notes · View notes
laminy · 6 months
Text
Thank you for the tag @merriell-allesandro-shelton!!
Twenty Questions for Fic Writers
How many works do you have on ao3?
Apparently 74! I'm not sure how that's possible but okay! Not what I was expecting. That's like twice as many as I thought.
What's your total ao3 word count?
2,178,053
What fandoms do you write for?
The works that I have posted on AO3 are for Bohemian Rhapsody Actor RPF, BoRhap/Queen, Ted Lasso, 13 Reasons Why, Teen Wolf, 6 Underground, Midsomer Murders, and Shazam. Pre-AO3, I wrote in a lot of other ones. Hypothetically, I write for Gran Turismo, but I've never finished any of those fics lol.
What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
1. I'm breathing in the chemicals (Teen Wolf) 2. and you know you don't have to go (Ted Lasso) 3. Fear and Self-Loathing in Beacon Hill (Teen Wolf) 4. you're the sunflower (Ted Lasso) 5. into the blue and sunny morn' (BoRhap Actor RPF)
Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes, absolutely! I appreciate when people comment and I like the interaction.
What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I try not to have angsty endings! All my angst is sprinkled throughout the story (maybe more than sprinkled lol) and then they get a happy ending.
What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Since most of my fics have happy endings, I don't know what the happiest of the happy endings would be. Probably a fic in the ITBASM-universe, because I tried to make them all very happy (they deserved it).
Do you get hate on fics?
I did get a couple hateful anons on here in my day but they didn't stick around. Thankfully I've avoided much of that (knock on wood).
Do you write smut?
I do, I do. All M/M, though for my original NaNo story I'm apparently going to be attempting M/F and idk how that's gonna go lol.
Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
I've written two 6 Underground x Midsomer Murders crossovers because Ben and Gwil.
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I'm aware of! I hope not.
Have you ever had a fic translated?
I'm also not sure I'm aware of any.
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I have not! I'll be honest that I really don't know how it works and I'm kind of a solitary creature in that regard. so, I don't know that it would be my vibe.
What's your all-time favorite ship?
Everrrrrr? Oh my gosh I don't know if I could pick. According to my AO3 bookmarks, apparently it's Joe/Nicky from The Old Guard but I don't think so (and for the most part I avoid that fandom these days). I don't know, ever???? I still can't decide. I'm too finicky. I will say that a ship that I will always love and I go forever without reading and then I'll be in that mood again is Eggsy/Harry from Kingsman. Like, they're the old stalwart.
What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
Probably those Gran Turismo fics I mentioned above.
What are your writing strengths?
I would say dialogue but I don't know if anyone would agree. I find it the most fun, so I enjoy it.
What are your writing weaknesses?
I don't know how to describe what people look like, because 99.9 of stuff I write is fanfic and readers already know what those characters look like, so that whenever I attempt anything original, I don't know how to naturally include some idea of "this person has brown eyes and is very tall." I see it done so badly sometimes and I just try to avoid that.
Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I have done it before sparingly. Different languages, I know fics I've done have included French, Spanish, Dutch, German, and Arabic. For most of them, I use Google Translate. for the Arabic, I watched YouTube and tried non-Google Translate sources. for the French, some of it I knew myself and wrote it as I know it (I am not fluent in French). I would never write an entire fic in another language but I think including other languages is fun and rounds out the characters.
First fandom you wrote for?
Probably shockingly, it was Friends. A friend and I wrote it together in the fifth grade. Handwrote it, actually. We had a notebook that we passed back and forth.
Favorite fic you've written?
Overall, every ITBASM fic because it's like, my universe, my world, my characters, and it covered so much time (and space, ha). I don't know that I could pick an individual fic.
6 notes · View notes
carolinemathildes · 25 days
Text
thank you to @merriell-allesandro-shelton for tagging me ☺️
LAST SONG:
Call Me Up by daydreamers.
CURRENTLY WATCHING:
Servant, on AppleTV. I’ve only just started though, no spoilers!
THREE SHIPS:
Eddie/Steve, Jann/Jack, Eggsy/Harry.
FAVOURITE COLOUR(S):
Green and brown.
CURRENTLY READING:
If It Bleeds by Stephen King
CURRENTLY CONSUMING:
I’ll be eating dim sum in an hour.
FIRST SHIP:
I think the first fanfic I read was Harry Potter fanfic (absolutely devastating now) but I can’t remember the specific ship.
PLACE OF BIRTH:
Small town, Canada
CURRENT LOCATION:
Toronto.
RELATIONSHIP STATUS:
Single. I’ve always been single, I’ll always be single, thank you for asking.
LAST MOVIE:
I saw The First Omen last night (after dim sum in a couple hours I will be watching Monkey Man).
CURRENTLY WORKING ON:
I’ve been working on an original romance story for over six months now, I’m about 2/3 of the way through the second draft. there will be a third draft, and then I have no idea what I’m doing with it. I’m really just writing it for me.
3 notes · View notes
footprintsinthesxnd · 5 months
Note
Okay maybe I should just stop saying I’m back because I’m apparently not leaving for a while 😅😂
Now for @jump-wings! What I can say about Lexie is that she so sweet and I love seeing her posts! She’s always been there to ask me things for ask games and I’m so thankful for that. She also wrote an awesome sledgefu work and is on ao3 (hoping the link works!) and she deserves more love!
Thank you Lexie for being absolutely wonderful and such a kind and caring person. Also when you sent me the ask about saying how you love the quotes I post, that still makes me smile while thinking about your lovely words. Thank you so much for everything Lexie and I’m so happy that we’re in the same fandom ☺️💙
Lexie makes such beautiful artwork for Band and Brothers and inspired by fanfics. I had no clue she had work on ao3 so I’ll definitely be heading over there to check it out.
Thank you for the recommendation @merriell-allesandro-shelton
Be sure to check out @jump-wings blog and give her a follow 💕
3 notes · View notes
theweirdgoodbyes · 2 months
Text
never asked me once about the wrong i did: chapter 2
tw: depictions of child ab*se, general Catholic suffering
Llewelyn gets his girl in trouble two years later, and poor Mama damn near dies of shame. She finds out when the girl’s daddy comes to the door hootin’ and hollerin’, demanding that Llewelyn make her honest.
They had all just gotten home from supper at Granmere’s, bellies full of etouffee, and were stripping out of their church clothes when all the hullabaloo began. Granmere had been real quiet that night, not even making her usual concerned comments about Merriell. She just sat in her rocking chair and rubbed her cross while they peeled crawfish, only stopping to touch that old thing to her forehead before going back to rocking. Mama always said she did that when she was praying real hard about something, something only she and God knew about. Sometimes Merriell feels like Granmere isn’t human like the rest of them, she’s something else from the other side, old as time itself, sent by God to see into his soul and spy on all his thoughts. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t love him as much as the other grandchildren; that him killing Vernon was just the precipice of the sins he’s committed, all of which can be laid out before her with just one glance. He still steals candy, still waits for Mr. Leconte to come home each night with bated breath, skips school now. At least he’s stopped chasing the poor cat, but Merriell isn’t sure that will save him from damnation.
None of them felt bold enough to open the bedroom door even a crack once they hear all the yelling, but curiosity has Merriell flat on his belly to peek under it, able to just make out Mama’s stockinged feet and an unfamiliar pair of shoes across the house. Daddy had run back to the docks quick after supper, leaving Mama alone to deal with this angry stranger. His brothers take turns pressing their ear to the door above him, quieter than they’d ever been as they try to piece together what the fuss is about. Llewelyn just paces the floor of their shared bedroom, biting at his nails.
“Oh, Llew, you one dead man,” Willard whispers when it’s his turn to listen, “Ain’t you know how to pull out?”
“Shut up,” Llewelyn says, still chomping away at his nails. Merriell’s never seen him look so scared, and it’s a fear he feels seeping into his own bloodstream. This is the worst thing any of them have ever done, far worse than stealing candy. He sees Mama’s feet begin walking towards the door, and scrambles back with a quick warning before there’s a sharp rap.
“Llewelyn,” Mama sounds as mad as a wet cat, “get out here, boy.”
Even though it’s Sunday, and Daddy doesn’t drink today, Merriell watches him beat Llewelyn harder than he’s ever seen when he gets home. Mama, who usually stays out of Daddy’s hair when he’s wailing on them so she doesn’t get hit herself, has to eventually throw her frying pan into the mix. She wacks Daddy hard on the back until he gets off Llewelyn, leaving him a blubbering blood-soaked mess on the kitchen floor. Despite how damn mean Llewelyn can be, Merriell has to stop himself from running over and trying to help his big brother. He stays at his spot huddled in the corner of the kitchen, unblinking eyes counting the spots of blood on the ground, easier to focus on the myriad of specks on the tile than his brothers shaking and sobbing body.
“You think that poor girl’s gon’ marry him with no damn teeth, John?”
Daddy relents, storming out of the house mumbling something about needing a drink, and slams the door behind him. At Mama’s command, Willard and Francis carry Llewelyn back to Granmere’s to get fixed up. She’s a traiteur, as good as any doctor they can find in these parts. She had been there at each of their births, helping Mama through the labors when Daddy was nowhere to be found. She had even been the one to dig the hole for Vernon, chanting in Creole and praying for his soul the whole time.
Merriell helps Mama clean the floor, pretending he can’t hear her cry as they scrub away all the blood. She doesn’t cry much, life and Daddy having made her hard. It breaks his heart to hear her but there’s nothing he can do, nothing any of them can do, to stop Daddy from being such a mean son of a bitch. Sometimes Merriell wishes him dead, and adds that to the list of evil thoughts Granmere and God can hear him think. When Mama goes to empty out the bucket of water and soap, he finds one of Llewelyn’s teeth on the ground, knocked straight out of his mouth and under the kitchen table. Without thinking, he stuffs it into his pocket before Mama can see. Long after the blood has been cleaned up and Daddy has stumbled home, Merriell lays in the bed he shares with Arthur and looks at the tooth. It’s a small, yellow thing and the jagged edges poke at his finger tips like a knife. He doesn’t know why he kept it, but finds some small comfort in rubbing it between his fingers. His own teeth have started to fall out and be replaced, and he feels bad for Llewelyn who won’t grow this tooth back. He presses it to his forehead, closing his eyes and praying to God like Granmere might.
Dear God, please forgive Llewelyn for his sins. Please forgive Daddy. Please forgive me. Amen.
A week later, Merriell finds himself back in church on a quiet Tuesday. They had all risen early that morning, been allowed to skip school but made to scrub their faces and underarms while Mama pulls a comb through their messy curls. She dons her best dress, a light purple number with a hat to match and does her best to keep a smile on her face.
“What a lovely day the Lord gave us,” she kept saying, fanning herself with her hand as they walked to the rickety old church. Daddy and Llewelyn walked ahead of them, Daddy with his hand firm on his son’s shoulder, either out of comfort or to keep him from running. Merriell wonders what they’re talking about, realizing he knows little about the man he calls his father. He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s had a conversation with him, finding that hiding away was his safest option. Daddy didn’t do much else aside from work, drink, and beat them silly; never much time for talking between those events. Mama did all of the childrearing, firm but loving while she did her best to keep them alive and out of trouble. His brothers accuse him of being a mama’s boy but Merriell doesn’t mind. He holds her other hand tight and has to take big steps to keep up with her hurried stride.
“It’s hot, Mama,” Robert complains, kicking at a rock.
“Hush. People pray for days like today,” Mama reminds them. “And don’t kick no rocks, boy, you gon’ scuff those shoes.” They continue their walk towards Llewelyn’s fate in silence, the Louisiana sun beating down hard like the fists of God.
“Ain’t this a crock o’ shit,” Willard mutters under his breath next to him as the ceremony progresses, pulling at the collar of his shirt. It’s a sweltering day in August and Mama’s rule of keeping their church shirts tidy has disappeared in favor of marrying off her son as soon as possible.
Merriell feels hot and sweaty all over, the sparsely filled church somehow stuffier than outside, shirt clinging to his back as he leans forward against the pews. Mama is up front with Daddy and Granmere, far enough where she can’t scold him for not sitting proper.
Merriell watches his eldest brother’s solemn face, still peppered with yellowing bruises, as he stands with his betrothed at the altar. She ain’t ugly, and Merriell thinks real hard to try to find something he finds attractive about her. She’s Creole like them, which is a blessing since Daddy would have surely killed Llewelyn if he knocked up a white girl, and has curly brown hair hidden under her veil. Merriell can see the curve of her belly poking out from her white dress, and wrinkles his nose thinking about how that baby got in there. He’s not ignorant to how babies are made, seen their cat go after more females than he can count and heard Willard and Victor gloat about their escapades. He just doesn’t understand what the fuss is about. He’s still young, he tries to convince himself, more concerned with fishing and helping Mama than girls and what they’ve got going on under their skirts. When he’s older, he’ll want to touch a girl the way his brothers brag about. He knows it.
“They in love?” He finds himself asking.
“You gotta be a damn fool if you think they in love,” Willard snorts, shaking his head, “Llewelyn love that she ain’t never say no to him. Look at him now.”
Merriell wonders what it’s like to be in love. He doesn’t think Mama and Daddy are in love; how could Mama love him with all the bad he does? Auntie Maude and Uncle Ed, little Eugene’s mama and daddy, might be in love; they’re real sweet on each other and steal kisses in Granmere’s kitchen when they think no one is looking. Merriell then wonders what it would be like to get married, now knowing that being in love doesn’t have anything to do with it. What it would be like to be kneeling up at the altar, in front of Mama and Daddy and God, binding yourself to another until the day you die. But when he thinks about who he might marry, as hard as he tries, none of the girls in his class come to mind. All he can see is Mr. Leconte’s face, hand pushing red hair away from his brow with a quick wink. The thought makes something in Merriell’s belly twist tight, and he squeezes his eyes shut to will the image away. He tries to trick himself into thinking he wishes Mr. Leconte was his daddy, someone nice and loving who kissed him goodnight, and that’s why he waits for him each night. The idea of a goodnight kiss brings that twisting feeling back, and he pinches his arm through his sweat-soaked shirt. Punishment for his thoughts, in God’s house of all places. When he opens his eyes again, he looks up to the windows and counts the stained glass panes until thoughts of Mr. Leconte and the heaving feeling in his heart fade away, replaced by the ringing of church bells marking the beginning of his brother’s loveless marriage.
Thanks for reading! I’m thinking this story will probably end up being around 5 or 6 chapters, depending on some ideas I have. I’ve been wanting to dive into snafus psychology and why he is the way he is (war trauma aside) so this chapter is pretty headcanon indulgent heehee
10 notes · View notes
Text
Day 7- Making Gingerbread Houses
A/N: Prompt #7 for @acdeaky ‘s writing challenge! I read this and I just loved the idea of Snafu trying to figure out gingerbread houses.
Pairing: Merriell ‘Snafu’ Shelton x Reader
Summary: You and Merriell make some gingerbread houses that makes Merriell a little frustrated.
Warnings: Fluff, a super subtle reference to sexy times, but nothing explicit
Taglist: @queenlover05 @theblossomknows
You pulled the gingerbread out of the over, inhaling the sweet smell of the cookies.
“Hmm…smells good,” Merriell came in the kitchen, trying to sneak a piece of the cookie.
“Ah!” You smacked his hand away.
“Ouch!”
“It just came out of the oven. You’ll burn your mouth.”
“Dere’s a nicea way ta say dat,” he frowned at you, rubbing the back of his hand as if it actually hurt.
“Your mouth will hurt more if you don’t wait for those to cool.”
Merriell held his hand out to you. “Can I get a kiss ta make it feel betta?”
You took his hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Happy now?”
Merriell gave you one of those smiles that made your heart melt a bit. “So, what are we doin wif dose?”
“We’re going to make gingerbread houses.”
Merriell looked at you skeptically.
“Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ve got frosting to stick everything and we’ve got gumdrops and everything.”
“If ya say so,” Merriell shrugged and then walked over to the table where you had everything else for the gingerbread houses laid out. “How we gonna make ‘em stick?”
“With the frosting.”
After a few more minutes, you brought the gingerbread over.
“So we jus…make houses?”
“Yes! Here, I’ll show you.” You made a quick little house without much effort or decorations. “Ta-da!”
Merriell looked at the house. “A’right,” he then grabbed a couple rectangles of the gingerbread as you started to put more decorations on yours.
“What’s dat?” He asked as you decorated.
“Snow,” you explained, putting the white frosting in front of the house.
Merriell snorted. “We in Naw Lins, darlin’. We don’t get snow.”
You rolled your eyes, deciding to ignore him for now.
For a few moments, it was quiet. Until you realized that Merriell was muttering under his breath.
“Sonuva…stupid piece uh….UGH!”
You looked over to see the pieces crumble in his hands. You continued to watch him try, but it just made it worse. You bit your bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“Doin’ alright, Mer?”
“Don’t wanna hear it from somebody dat’s got frostin’ in dey hair.”
“What?” You almost reached up to see there was when Merriell swiped some in there.
Your jaw dropped. “You didn’t just do that.”
Merriell smirked. “What ya gonna do?”
You then swiped some frosting off your house and put it on Merriell’s cheek.
“Oh it’s on now, Cher,” he got some frosting on his hand and you got up.
You ran to the kitchen, laughing, looking for something to defend yourself.
“Ah ah ah, ya gonna be trapped,” Merriell’s voice was deep and husky.
Then you then grabbed some flour. You turned to face Merriell, him with the frosting in his hand and you with the flour in yours.
Both of you raised an eyebrow, playing a game of chicken.
“I’ll lowa mine if ya do da same,” Merriell offered.
You hesitated but started to lower your flour. You watched Merriell start to, but then he moved so that he had you pinned against the kitchen counter.
You gasped as he smeared frosting on your cheek.
“AH!” You squealed and flung your flour in the general direction of him.
The two of you continued to have your food fight, making a complete mess, but it didn’t compare to how messy the two of you were. Merriell somehow got you to the floor and finally pinned down.
“You’ll never win, Y/N! Marines never give up!” Merriell smiled down at you, trying to catch his breath.
You tired to get out from under him, but he still held you down. Merriell then leaned down so that your noses were touching.
“Gonna say I won?”
You shook your head. Then Merriell pressed his lips to yours. It was a strange combination of the flour and frosting on his and your lips.
He pulled away and you tried to chase him. You opened your eyes and looked at him.
“Fine, you win.”
Merriell’s face changed so that he was fully smiling and the two of you sat up. Merriell moved around so the two of you were sitting next to each other. You both took a look around the kitchen.
“We made a mess,” you told him as you rested your head on his shoulder.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah.”
“We should get it cleaned up.”
“Prolly,” Merriell said with a shrug.
“And then we can get each other cleaned up,” you smiled up at him.
Merriell looked down at you and grinned. “Imma take ya up on dat.”
52 notes · View notes
rami-hoe · 5 years
Text
Stress Relief
Summary: Times have been tough since Merriell came home. Y/N decides they could both use a little fun. 
Warnings: smut, dom/sub, daddy kink
Word Count: 2.6K
Tumblr media
Things had been tight ever since Merriell came home. He was looking for work, but most of the jobs had been taken up by the soldiers that came home six months ago. I wasn’t complaining- I’d happily live on the streets if it meant Merriell was by my side. But it did mean I had to pick up extra shifts at the diner whenever I could.
The clock read 6:47. I’d been on my feet for nearly eight hours, running between the kitchen and the tables. I just had to get to the next thirteen minutes, and then I could go home to Merriell. I just wanted to fall into his arms and sleep for the next three days.
I heard the phone ring as I delivered a refill to table six, and glanced over my shoulder. Lenny, the grill cook, reached through the kitchen window and got it. I plastered a smile on my face, placed the drink down, and asked it there was anything else I could get them.
“Just the bill, sweetheart,” the man said without looking at me.
I turned on my heels, and headed back to the counter to tally up their total.
“Hey, Y/N,” Lenny said as he hung up the phone.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Margie called in. Her kid’s sick. Can you cover?”
Fuck. “How long do you need me?”
He scratched the stubble under his chin. “Just until the dinner rush clears out,” he said. “I’ll have you outta here by nine, promise.”
I sighed. “Alright. Just lemme call Merriell.”
Lenny disappeared into the kitchen, and picked the phone off its cradle, dialling up my home number.
Merriell picked up after the third ring. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” I said.
“Hey boo.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “You headin’ home?”
“No,” I said. “Lenny needs me to stick around a while.”
“That’s the third time this week.”
“I know, Mer, but we need the money.”
Merriell huffed into the receiver. “I know we need the damn money.”
“Don’t snap at me, Merriell.” I knew Merriell hated that he couldn’t provide for me, but that’s just the way it had to be for now.
“I’m not snappin’,” he snapped.
“Like hell you aren’t,” I said. “I’m just doing what I have to to keep our heads above water. You don’t get to be mad at me for that.”
“I’m not mad at you! I’m just frustrated. I barely see you anymore, and when you are here you’re so exhausted we can’t-” He cut himself off, but I knew where he was going. It had been a few weeks since Merriell and I were intimate. But he was right- I was exhausted. Working double shifts was killing me. It’s hard to get in the mood when you get home covered in grease and coffee from a twelve hour shift of being yelled at by customers who didn’t realize food took time to make. “I love you, Y/N. I miss you,” he said.
“You’re not the only one whose frustrated, Merriell,” I said with a sigh. “I miss you too.” Our relationship had always been a physical one. Merriell was incredible in bed, and I loved him more than anything; of course I missed being with him. But things had been so stressful lately, for the both of us. We needed one night where we could forget about all of it, just let go, and I thought I had a way to make that happen. I looked through the kitchen window and saw Lenny scraping the black bits off the girl, not paying any attention to me. Nobody else was close enough to hear the conversation, so I leaned against the wall and murmured into the receiver in a low, breathy voice  “I miss the way you feel inside of me.”
Merriell’s breath caught in his throat. “Do ya now?” He asked.
“Mhm,” I hummed. “I miss the weight of your cock on my tongue. I love sucking you off, Mer, you taste so good.”
The sound of Merriell’s heavy breathing passed through the phone.
“I miss your tongue on my clit, the way you stare at me when you’re between my legs.” I could feel heat rising between my thighs.  “And I miss the feeling of you stretching me open, reaching so deep inside me. You know what I would do to you if I was there?”
“Tell me,” he demanded in a low voice.
“Excuse me!” I looked over my shoulder to see the man at table six staring me down. “Are you getting paid to stand and jabber on that phone? Bring me my bill.”
I faked a smile. “Right away!” I rolled my eyes as I turned back around.
“I gotta go, Mer,” I said.
“What?” The distress in his voice made my smile genuine.
“A customer’s on my ass,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re gon’ be sorry when you get home.”
I knew he was joking, and played along. “That a promise?”
His voice darkened. “Yes.”
I bit my lip. I knew that tone.
“Waitress!” The man called again.
“I’ll be home by 9:30,” I said. I placed the phone back on its hook before Merriell could respond, and brought the asshole his bill.
It was hard to concentrate on work with the fire burning between my legs. I knew what was store for me when I got home; I loved it when Merriell got dominant with me. Luckily for me, I had been doing this long enough to function on autopilot. I spent the next two hours settling up with the customers and cleaning tables, all the while anticipating what Merriell was going to do to me when I got home. The fantasy was enough to jolt me awake.
Merriell was lounging in his chair when I walked through the door at 9:15. He brought his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag as I threw my purse on the counter, and hung up my coat. My arousal sparked back life the second I saw him.
“Come here,” he said with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. I walked over to him, and sat down on his lap. “You think it’s fun to get me all worked up, then hang up the phone?” He brushed my hair back, running his fingers down my neck.
“No,” I said.
“No what?”
“No Sir.”
His hand slid up my skirt to cup my sex. I gasped, and tilted my hips towards him. His fingers slid under my panties, and ran across my slick pussy. “What’s got you so wet, hm?” He pushed two fingers into me, and I moaned. He knew exactly where my sweet spot was, and how to manipulate it.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” I said, grinding into his hand. “About this.”
“Thinkin’ about me fuckin’ you while you’re at work?”
I nodded.
“Any of your customer pick up on what a slut you are?”
I shook my head.
“Good.” He pressed the heel of his palm against my clit. “Only I get to see this.” He took his fingers away far too soon, and took the cigarette out of his mouth. “Strip,” he ordered.
I stood up, and unbuttoned the top half of my dress. I faced him as I pulled the sleeves off my shoulders, and let the dress fall. His eyes dragged over my body slowly, taking in every inch of me.
Merriell’s eyes made their way back to mine. “You’re not finished,” he said.
I kicked off my shoes as my hands reached behind my back to unclasp my bra. I turned to the side to give him a better view as I pulled my panties down my legs, but Merriell didn’t give me the satisfaction of a reaction.
“You’ve been a bad girl,” he murmured when I straightened back up. “How do you think I should punish you?”
I chewed on my lip, and remained silent.
“When I ask you a question, you answer it,” he said.
“I think you should spank me.” I pressed my legs together, my body craving any kind of friction.
Merriell nodded, and waved me forward. “C’mon then.”
I lied over his knees, clasping my hands in front of me.
“I think ten’s enough. Count ‘em out.” He brought his hand down on my ass, and I yelped.
“One.”
His hand rubbed over the area before he gave me another stinging slap.
I whimpered. “Two.”
“You gon’ apologize for teasin’ me?” He asked.
I nodded. “I’m sorr- ah!” The third spank was harder than the other two.
“I didn’t quite catch that.” By the time Merriell had gotten to ten, both the throbbing on my ass, and the throbbing between my legs had reached a peak. I was squirming in his lap, my body begging him to touch my core.
Merriell pushed me off his lap. “Bedroom,” he said as he tapped his cigarette out in the ashtray.
I walked down the hall with Merriell close behind me. I could hear him fiddling with his belt, and felt a surge of relief wash over me. I needed him to fuck me.
“Lie on your back, hands above your head,” he ordered.
He slid his belt off as I got into position, and bound my arms to the bedpost. He pulled on the strap, making sure it wasn’t too tight before he moved away. His shirt was quickly disposed of, but he kept his pants on, much to my disappointment. He was going to make me beg for it, wasn’t he?
Merriell pushed my legs apart, and settled between them. He didn’t bother to slowly work me up, instead electing to jump right into it. My hips rolled towards him instinctively as his tongue licked up my folds.
“Merriel,” I moaned, and his lips closed around my clit. I let out a rather unattractive squeak, and bucked my hips up. Merriell’s hand pushed down on my stomach, stilling my movements. He sucked my clit hard, moving his head side to side to heighten my pleasure. God, he knew just how to work my body. My breathing laboured as I felt myself approaching the edge, whines and whimpers escaping my lips almost nonstop. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I breathed.
My stomach tightened, the pressure building up inside of me until I was just strokes away from an intense orgasm. And then he stopped. The bastard stopped. He pulled his mouth away from my core, and ran his thumb down my wet lips, carefully avoiding the spots that would give me any real pleasure. I groaned in frustration as my climax slipped away from me.
“Oh, did you think you were gonna cum?”
I glared down at Merriell’s grinning face.
“No no no, baby. You left me high and dry tonight. You don’t get to cum after that.” He lower his face down to my core, and lapped at my clit. I moaned, my hips trying and failing to twist out of his grip. He tactfully alternated between licking and sucking, but it didn’t take much to get me back to the edge. Within minutes, I was writhing beneath him, and begging him not to stop.
“Please, please,” I whined. “I need it.” He latched onto my clit, sucking until I was balancing right on the edge, and then he stopped once again. I sobbed.
He kissed just above my clit, then below, and to either side.
“Merriell, please,” I begged, and he delivered a sharp slap to my thigh. I sucked in a breath, and corrected myself. “Sir.”
He dragged his tongue over my core slowly before he sat up. “You want my cock?” he asked as he shoved his pants down, freeing his hard member.
I nodded, my eyes focusing on his hand slowly stroking his cock.
He rolled a condom on, and sat back on his knees, He grabbed my hips, pulling them up onto his lap so he could push his tip inside
I groaned, and tried to roll my hips to take him in deeper. I should have known he wouldn’t give me what I wanted that easily.
“Beg.”
My pride had long since gone out the window. “Please, daddy, I need you to fuck me,” I whined.
He slammed into me with one stroke, making me cry out in pleasure and pain as my walls struggled to adjust to his girth. His fingers dug into my hips as he thrust into me again and again, each one harder than the last. He ripped strangled moans from my throat. My body was so overstimulated, every small movement he made ignited my nerves.
“Please, touch me,” I begged. I just needed a bit of pressure, that was it. Just a few strokes to my clit, and I would come undone.
Merriell laughed, and shook his head.
I let out a broken sob, my head falling back onto the pillow.
He hummed, amused. “I can’t stay mad at you,’ he cooed. “You can cum.” He leaned down, and pressed a tender kiss to my lips. “But I’m not gon’ help you get there.”
My breathing was laboured as I wrapped my legs around his waist, grinding against him feverishly. His cock was hitting my g-spot with every thrust, driving me towards a climax entirely too slowly.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers tugging at my hair. “You better hurry up, boo, I’m not gon’ last long.” He pulled my head back so I was looking straight up at him. “You don’t cum on my cock, you don’t cum at all.”
I tilted my hips up to try and get even the smallest amount of pressure on my clit, but I didn’t have the leverage. I couldn’t get the right angle. I groaned in frustration, bucking helplessly.
I was teetering on the edge of an orgasm I just couldn’t reach, and Merriell knew it. He grinned down at me. “Frustrated?” His voice was starting to lose some of its authority. I could tell he was close. He buried his face in my neck, breathing hard against my skin. His arm snaked around my back, lifting my hips up higher. He pressed his body to mine, and gave me the access I needed. I ground my clit against his crotch, and felt a rush of pleasure shoot through my body.
“Merriell!” My legs shook as my orgasm crashed down on me. My hands tightened into fists around the belt, pulling hard on the worn leather. Merriell moaned my name into my neck, his hips stuttering as he came.
Our movements slowed as we came down from our high together. Merriell lowered my body back to the bed, and reached up to untie the belt. He pressed soft kisses to the spots on my wrists when the leather had reddened the skin before rolling off of me. I snuggled up against his side, lying my head on his chest as he pulled the condom off and tossed it in the trash.
Merriell wrapped his arm around my shoulder, hugging me against him, and I felt warmth spread throughout my chest. I nuzzled into him, and he kissed the top of my head.
“I love you, you know that?” He murmured.
I nodded. “I love you too.” I tilted my chin up, and found Merriell staring down at me. “We’re gonna be alright, Mer,” I said.
A small smile tugged at Merriell’s lips, and he leaned down to give me a quick kiss. “I know.”
234 notes · View notes
nik0-l41 · 2 years
Text
Fanfic review: "The History Books Forgot About Us (And the Bible Didn't Mention Us)" by callmejude (Ao3)
english is not my first language, so if there's grammar mistakes / mistakes of any kind, please let me know.
Title: The History Books Forgot About Us (And the Bible Didn't Mention Us)
Author: callmejude
Fandom: The Pacific (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Words: 116.947
My first impression before reading this fanfic was that it was gonna be another "Eugene and Snafu fuck a lot, have feelings and that's it" kinda fanfic, with some-but-not-enough character exploration at most.
But this is the first fanfic that appears on the Sledgefu tag under the "most bookmarked" filter for a reason. And honestly, it deserves its place.
With 20 chapters and an Explicit tag certainly well-earned, I became enraptured quite quickly with the author's way of exploring Eugene and Snafu's relationship. The character development is beautifully done. The nature of their personalities was very spot on, and treated with care. Their decisions and thoughts were well expressed, and the author made it easy to emphasize with the characters.
The plot focuses on the exploration of Snafu's and Eugene's relationship, mainly during Okinawa and China, and their relationship's perception from the point of view of others. It is, esentially and without spoilers, what it says on the summary:
Things change between Eugene and Shelton after Hamm gets shot.
For me, the main theme or focus of this story is silence: the things left unsaid, the pregnant pauses on the dialogues (not only the ones exchanged between Snafu and Eugene, but also the ones with Eugene and Burgin). The power of silence, being louder than words, something that is shown beautifully during the sex scenes.
The sex portrayed in this fanfic is desperate and raw, filled with so much emotion (and kinks). The tags used for this story mostly center around this topic: from dom/sub undertones to biting, so there's a bit for everyone.
Even though it lacks an Angst tag (something that is usually a big "turn-off" for me, moreso when it's one of the main plot points), is not like you couldn't see it coming. If you check the other tags this story has (trauma, period-typical homophobia, among others) you get a general idea that this is not gonna be a walk in the park.
The pacing is very smooth. The events have a natural rhythm, evolving slowly when everything is peaceful and escalating quickly when there's anger, in a way that doesn't feel forced.
And I think this is where the charm of it fanfic lies: it lulls you inside, until you start to get slowly accustomed to the situation: then, it prods at your feelings, pushing to see how far you can go. Just like Eugene and Snafu do, in their relationship with each other and with their friends. I didn't expect the end, if I'm being honest. It even made me cry a little, but I don't think another ending would've been posible to this story, seeing the decisions Snafu and Eugene made, so I think it's a good conclusion for a good story.
(warning: spoiler of the last scene of the fanfic)
Reading Eugene and Snafu's goodbye, and the subsequent scene with Snafu crying alone, I could only think about this song, this lyric stuck in my head on a loop:
All by himself, sittin' alone I hope we're still friends, yeah, I hope you don't mind.
37 notes · View notes
that50shousehusband · 3 years
Text
Gene Reads: I Don’t Think Enough Before I Say Too Much
**I will try to avoid spoilers, but I may need to get specific at times**
I Don’t Think Enough Before I Say Too Much
I Don’t Think Enough Before I Say Too Much is a work of fanfiction written by @cantdwellonanyofit and co-authored and edited by @stolperzunge. It is based on the series The Pacific and takes place after the end of the series. It follows Eugene Sledge as he travels to New Orleans in hopes of reconnecting with Merriell Shelton. While he’s there, he begings trying to manage his relationship with Merriell, overcome his battles with PTSD, and allow himself to live freely. Eventually, he decides to return home with Merriell, to see how his friends and family will react to the prospect of him being with a man.
This work was published on Archive of Our Own (AO3) and has come to an end with a total of 10 chapters and a word count coming in at just over 54,000.
The fic can be read here. The author released a playlist related to the fic that can be listened to here.
Things to Note
This work is rated “Explicit”
There are sexual scenes and a handful of sexual jokes
Depiction of homophobia
A few uses of ethnic and homophobic slurs
Depiction of struggles with mental health and PTSD
Heavy topic of religion and religious trauma
My Thoughts
Wow. This fic is well written and very well crafted. The authors do a tremendous job of writing the characters true to the series and an outstanding job with the original character. The language used is so beautiful to read and helps get the reader into the story. This fic hit really close to home, and I think the author was sophisticated in her method of handling the topics of trauma and PTSD. Brilliant and very well done !
59 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Tattoos (Bill "Hoosier" Smith)
Requested by: @alienoresimagines
Summary: Birthday in Australia.
Author's Note: I'm so bloody late for Al's birthday and I hate myself for it so apologies my lovely friend, I'm the worst, the writer's block is a bitch. Anyway, happy birthday!
Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans  @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @stressedinadress @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @order-of-river-phoenix
[link to my taglist is in my bio, requests are opened ♡]
.
.
.
No, it wasn’t definitely something Y/N expected or wanted but his warm hand in hers was telling her that this was exactly what she needed. The way he squeezed it sent goose bumps all over her body even though the weather was sunny, no cloud could be seen on the sky that day. Y/N felt safe, like she had never felt in her entire life, and she knew it was all because of him.
Bill pulled her closer to his body like he was afraid the summer breeze might take her away from him.
“We’re almost there, lucky we haven’t met anybody.” he whispered into her ear, his lips slightly brushed against her skin, and she shivered under his touch for the second time in two minutes.
“No one can know, okay?” Y/N laughed as she looked around closely to make sure that there is indeed no familiar face watching them walk right into a tattoo parlour. “We’re still in the army, Hoos.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that, darling. No one cares about that shit any more, they just want to go home.” Bill responded quickly, a hint of irony behind his voice. Y/N couldn’t take his statement the wrong way, she wasn’t able to get mad at him for his slightly bitter note, not after what they’d been through.
“Now, the real question is,” he silenced himself for drama, “what should we get?”
Y/N made it look like she’s thinking real hard about the current problem, she could feel his hot stare, but she had decided already. “Promise me you won’t laugh.”
“I promise,” Hoosier chuckled taking his hand in hers, “unless it’s some cheesy mainstream crap. Like a wing, or heart, or a damn quote.”
The young female Marine immediately burst out laughing after those words left his mouth - typical Bill. “I can assure you it’s none of that crap.”
“So what is it?” his voice suddenly soft and tender. Hoosier looked at Y/N with so much admiration he thought it’s impossible to love someone that much, the short moment of laughter made him realize just how desperately he wants to run away with her and never come back.
“A Marine symbol. The anchor with the eagle, the globe and the rope.” she mumbled as she was somehow ashamed of what she just said. The truth was, Y/N was a proud Marine, no one could take that away from her, but admitting how important her duty was to her to Bill, that was another level of intimacy. They never talked about the war, why they enlisted or why they chose the Marines. They just did and that was all there was to it, nothing more, nothing less. They took the presence as it was threw at them, no thinking why now, here and them.
Hoosier wasn’t sure how to react at first, whether to marry the woman now and there or take her away, make passionate love to her and then marry her right away. Never in a million years did he thought that something like this his lovely Y/N would imprint into her skin forever. To remind her of all the horrors, the inhumanity and never-ending suffering?
“Why that?” Bill managed to get out of himself. He surely was surprised.
“Well,” Y/N smiled softly looking at the ground, “because it means a great deal to me. It will show me just what I’ve been through, that I shall never give up on life despite all of these things happening, that those scars that will accompany me for the rest of my being are a proof that I was there. It will show me just how much we’ve suffered so I should never ever take anything for granted. Sleep, silence, water. But most importantly,” she looked him right in the eye, her right hand caressing his cheeks gently, “Marines gave me you.”
It was as simple as that, nothing more. Y/N considered herself the luckiest person on this planet, after all they’d been through she was still standing in the dim light of an Australian tattoo parlour with the man that made her believe and hope again.
“And because it’s my birthday and I wanna do something silly and fun.” she giggled and Hoosier thought he had never loved her more like he did in that moment.
They silenced themselves for awhile, just enjoying the presence of the other. Bill’s look dropped on the little simple gold ring shining on her left ring finger that he gave her earlier that day.
•••
“Just shut up, I’m trying to be the romantic boyfriend I’m.” Hoosier frowned, pouting his lips. He looked rather cute than mad to her and another sweet giggles left her mouth. “Alright.”
“Okay, this isn’t some sort of proposal, okay, but I want you to know that…” he cleared his voice, glancing from her eyes to her lips and back. She could say this was pretty hard for him, expressing his feeling out loud, Hoosier was always more of touchy guy, and it made her to fall in love with him even more.
“I want you to know that you keep me sane in this mad world, the reason I’m alive is you and only you, Y/N. Happy birthday, darling.” he slipped a simple ring onto her finger, looking at the jewelry for some time as he soft smile appeared on his face.
77 notes · View notes
sherlollydramoine · 4 years
Note
Dad!Snafu he’d be such a great dad Maybe like morning cuddles or something with your child
OoOOoooOOOOOoooO… I’m loving this.. I haven’t written Snafu as a dad yet. I’m going to go with a kiddo that’s about a year old.
Sighing softly as you made your way into the bedroom trying not to wake your two precious boys. The night shift at the hospital had been absolute hell and you wanted nothing more than to have a quick shower and then a good cuddle with your two favorites boys before you drifted off to sleep for a few hours.
Standing in the doorway of the bedroom you had to stifle a soft giggle at the sight before you.
There was your gloriously beautiful husband sprawled out on his back, sheets clinging to his bare hips (yes he sleeps naked- and no he doesn’t care), with your almost year old son on the mattress next to him sprawled out in the exact same position.
You’d never noticed before but like father, like son. 
Quietly you tiptoed into the bathroom and took your shower. You refused to kiss, snuggle, cuddle, or hug any of your family until after you’ve washed any potential lingering germs from your body.
Finishing your shower you were about to tiptoe out of the bathroom when you heard it. The sleepy, raspy southern voice saying “Good morning” and a soft giggle from your son.
You turn off the bathroom light, and crack the door open just slightly to watch the two for a minute.
You’d never tire of watching him interact with the baby.
Your son was now up on his knees, gurgling, and gently smacking his dad’s bare chest, while Mer just looked on wearing the dopiest of smiles.
“Hey little man, let’s go change your diaper and get breakfast started so we can feed your mama before she has to take a nap.”
Your son just cooed and slobbered all over your husbands chest while Mer giggled, he gently moved your son away so that he didn’t topple over, and then stood up allowing the sheet to fall away from his body. 
He must have known you were watching but he didn’t care, he bends down to pick up his shorts from the floor, sliding them on and securing them at his hips.
He turns around and scoops your son off the bed, bouncing him around in his arms while softly humming a tune. 
“C’mon little man, I bet you your mama is gonna be ready for some cuddles here real soon, so come help daddy make breakfast.”
Your son giggled and babbled all the way into the kitchen, drool dripping down Mer’s back. Merriell was so unphased and unbothered by that fact. 
62 notes · View notes
txmel · 5 years
Text
Me writing Rami fanfics:
Tumblr media
After I'm done writing:
Tumblr media
Reading what I wrote:
Tumblr media
484 notes · View notes