#cleanly? is that a word?? i don't think it is but whatever. you get my point. his sound is clean as hell.

[houseofwolvess]

i fucking love ii. oh my god. im sorry but he's genuinely so fucking cool and im losing it

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Interference Part 1

Prompt: You run to your FBI neighbor when you and your boyfriend get into a fight.

Notes: Descriptions of DA scenario, mentions of drug use

Part 2

You tried to go over every thing you did throughout your day that might've caused your boyfriend to be so upset but couldn't think of anything. Maybe it was because you didn't stay up to wait for him to get home last night, even though you gave him till midnight. Or maybe you left some dishes in the sink that he had to clean up.

Either way, his anger was inconsolable and you knew better than to even utter a word as he slammed the doors and walked around the house with a hard set scowl on his face. You just took shelter in the kitchen as you nervously cleaned out the fridge, tossing the expired condiments away.

"This house is always such a fucking mess! You spend at least half the day here, you'd think it would look spotless!"

You knew he wasn't really mad about the cleanliness. You deep cleaned the house every single day till it was shining, he was just projecting. You weren't sure whether to respond to his outburst or just let it go but didn't even have time to make a decision once he came walking into the kitchen. The hairs on the back of your neck raised and your face heated up in anxiety as he stood there staring at you.

That's when you noticed the all too familiar state he was in. Dilated pupils, rapid breathing, slight sweat forming around his brows. He was high.

"What are you doing, huh? Throwing shit away? He said, grabbing the box of leftovers you had saved from a few days ago. "What if I still wanted to eat this? Were you going to bother to ask me?"

"I- uh- it's from a few days ago. I didn't think-

"Exactly! You didn't think! Just fucking throwing away whatever you want!"

You weren't expecting the box of expired food to be thrown at you, hitting you square in the chest, sticky noodles getting in your hair and falling into your lap.

"This is my fucking house! My fucking food! You don't get to throw away anything unless I say you can!"

You had barely recovered from food being thrown at you, you didn't realize he made a moved in on you and grabbing your arm tightly, jerking you up to your feet and pushing you towards the other side of the kitchen, the momentum causing you to lose your footing and fall to the floor.

Your senses were kicking into overdrive as you scrambled to your feet just as he grabbed a jar of pickles and launched it in your direction. It shattered on the wall besides you and you felt the sharp pain of small glass pieces cutting your skin.

You had never seen him this out of control before. There was something behind his eyes that scared you more than normal and you knew you needed to get out of his path of blinding rage. You made a run towards the hallway, him chasing you close behind but you managed to close and lock the bathroom door just in time.

"Oh, you wanna play this game now? Ok."

Your breaths were heavy, so much adrenaline flowing through your veins it almost made you woozy. There was a moment of silence, making you think he had walked away but was completely mistaken once you watched the whole door shake at the impact as he attempted to break it down. Another slam and you saw small cracks forming in the middle of the only thing keeping you safe.

You made a split second decision to escape through the window, sliding it open and trying your best to undo the screen that didn't want to cooperate. Another slam.

You looked behind you at the battered door and knew it could only hold maybe one more before he was able to get through- so like a rat trapped in a corner, you began banging on the screen until it popped off, quickly pulling your body to climb out, scraping your hips on the ledge in the process.

The gravel floor did no favors for you as you landed awkwardly, but at this point you couldn't feel anything. Or at least your brain wasn't giving you any time to register the pain. Springing to your feet, you ran out to the front of the house, your first thought to take the car but realized the keys were inside.

That's when you saw him.

He was standing on his porch going through his mail, seemingly looking like he had just gotten home from somewhere. You had heard rumors from some of the neighbors that he worked for the government or something, giving you some hope.

You began running over to him, not daring to look back to see if your boyfriend was chasing you or not.

He has seen you coming over and immediately looked concerned, putting his mail back in the mailbox and practically catching you in his arms once you reached him.

"Please. Help me- my boyfriend. H-he's gonna kill me."

You were crying now, trying to form sentences when he asked you what happened but couldn't.

When you spotted your boyfriend walk out the front door of your house and look over in your direction, a bat in hand your heart stopped.

"Please. Please," you pleaded, hiding behind his tall frame and holding onto his quarter zip for dear life.

"Here, get inside," he said, opening his front door, the both of you entering as he walked over to his kitchen counter where a gun, badge and handcuffs were set. He grabbed the gun and cuffs, clipping both of them on his waist band and turning to you.

"Stay here."

You nodded obediently and watched him walked back out. He didn't close the door so you were able to watch everything from the moment your boyfriend began waving the bat around crazily towards your neighbor to him pulling out his gun and pointing it at him.

"Get down on the ground!"

For a second you thought your boyfriend wasn't going to listen as he stared at your neighbor with fury but seemed to be coherent enough to drop the bat and put his hands in the air, looking over at you.

"Just you wait, bitch. You'll get yours."

By now, everyone was either peeping through their windows or standing on the sidewalk, nosey to see what all the commotion was about as your neighbor pushed your boyfriend to the floor and handcuffed him.

It wasn't long before multiple cop cars showed up, taking over the scene. Your neighbor made his way over to you and offered you a hand, making you realize that you were sitting on the floor, frozen to the spot, hugging your legs.

"The officers are going to want a report but I want you checked out by the paramedics first."

You took his hand but relied all on him to pull you up as your legs felt like jello. The feeling of relief and sadness overtook you as you fell into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Instead of being pushed away and teased for it like you were used to, you got pulled in tighter and long strong arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in a warm protective embrace.

He let you cry like that for a little until you calmed down enough to walk with him outside to the ambulance that was waiting. He didn't leave as they had you climb inside and lay on the stretcher so one of the paramedics could clean up the small cuts around your arm caused by the glass jar.

"How long have you lived there?" he asked, from besides you on the bench. You hoped he didn't feel guilty for not catching the abuse sooner.

"Not very long. He's been there for years but I just moved in about a few months ago. I don't usually leave the house since I work from home so that's probably why you didn't see me too often," you answered, wincing as the antiseptic touched your raw skin.

Just then, his phone rang.

"Hotchner....I'm actually busy at the moment but you can reach out to my Communications liason, Jennifer Jareau at the office....yes of course....goodbye."

"So you're names Hotchner?" you inquired, wanting to talk about something to keep your mind off the stinging pain.

"Aaron. Hotchners my last name."

"Nice to meet you Aaron. I'm Y/N," you greeted, offering your hand for a shake. He took it with a small smile and shook it gently.

"I wish it was under different circumstances but I'm glad you're safe."

"Thanks to you. I appreciate you by the way. You handled the situation really well."

He did that half smile again and played with his hands, almost nervously.

"Well unfortunately I deal with a lot of high stress situations like that so it was almost second nature."

"Cop?" you prodded, wanting to know if there was any truth to the rumors.

"FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit to be specific."

He didn't go into anymore detail than that but that was more than enough for you. So he's an Federal Agent. You literally couldn't have picked a better neighbor to run to.

- - - -

After the paramedic was done cleaning you up and you gave your report to the officer, Aaron came over, hanging up the phone.

"I know the house is technically not yours but he won't be back anytime soon and I'm sure you need to get cleaned up and everything. I'm gonna give you my card, I wrote my personal cell number in case you need anything but also feel free to come over if my car is in the driveway."

You took the card, reading his slightly sloppy writing and nodded with a smile.

"Thank you again Aaron. Really, you're a lifesaver."

He pulled you in for another hug, surprising you but you accepted it happily.

"No strenuous activity until those cuts and bruises heal," he advised seriously, making you laugh. You both pulled away and it took you a second to actually walk away, not really wanting to leave the comfort of his safe presence but you did and went back into the house, ignoring all of the mess and taking a long needed shower, thinking about everything that happened.

[lovelybarnes]

dog tags- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: language? umm crimes about: rewrite!! wanted to get back into writing and i thought rewriting some of my favorite prompts would be fun, PF12 “committing crimes” + DH8 “how dumb can you be?” a/n: hello! i meant to post this like. five days ago LMAO but i started school and should be doing work right now and i came up with a false memory claiming i did, in fact post, when i, in fact, did not. anyway. here it is. i don't know how much better it is than the original but i had fun writing it, though, surprise! i still suck at endings. ummm i am thinking or rewriting more to get back into the groove and i am writing an actual new request. this got long okay thank you

"We're going to get caught."

You shoot Bucky a look, nose wrinkled. "You are so negative," you say, legs kicking as you climb over a fence. "We are not going to get caught." You watch as he leaps from the ground, metal hand grasping the top of the fence and launching his body over it cleanly. He lands crouched and stable, watching you slowly turn your body over the ledge and subsequently topple onto the ground.

"We're gonna go to jail," he sighs, bending over to hoist you onto your feet by your armpits. Your hair has leaves in it.

"Oh my god." You stumble, hands wrapping around his arms from the speed. "How the fuck do you—"

You shriek when Bucky spins you around to press your back against his chest and clamps a palm over your mouth, gentle even through the fingers keeping your lips shut. Your eyes widen cartoonishly, flailing as he manhandles you behind a shrub. You're still complaining to the best of your ability when he shushes you, directing your attention to the woman walking out of the house.

You quiet down and stare, brows furrowed. She's not supposed to be there.

It's like Bucky can read your mind, glancing at you with a sigh. You try your best to give him a look back before looking at the woman again. She has a phone pressed against her ear, lips moving angrily. Her voice upticks sharply with the end of each word she says.

You relax when you realize there isn't a chance of you getting caught, kind of wishing you had popcorn to watch her nearly trip over her heels and become even more furious, kicking at the grass. Bucky's silent enough for you to seriously doubt you'd know he was there had he not been tightly wrapped around you. You squeak at the fact, impressed. Bucky pinches your side unhelpfully.

She unlocks her car, keys tinkling harshly with her movements. Bucky finally abates when she throws her door open and sinks inside her white Jaguar, the slamming door narrowly missing her pin-straight blonde hair.

You gag, pushing his hand away. "When was the last time you washed your fucking hands? That's disgus-"

"I thought the house was empty," he interrupts, head cocked.

"I thought it was, too," you defend lamely. "She's off schedule. Maybe that's why she was so pissed. Late to her HOES meeting or whatever."

"What the hell is HOES?"

"I don't know!" you cry. "The one with the lawns."

"Are you trying to say the HOA?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "James Buchanan showing his face?"

"This is not-" He sighs your name, "I swear, if any more of your information isn't right, I'm leaving."

You make an incredulous look. "Is that supposed to be a threat? You were not invited."

"I wanted to make sure you didn't die or get sued or go to jail. Which, hey, really likely in a neighborhood that has 'HOES' meetings."

"I'm not gonna 'die' or go to 'jail,'" you insist, finger quotes up and perplexing Bucky. "I don't need your help, anyway, I'm a very capable person with a very capable plan. You just followed me. You're some guy's little brother."

"What?"

"You know. Annoying."

Bucky breathes in slow, watching you creep around the bush for a better angle of the house. He closes his eyes and counts to three, and when he opens them, you're at the porch, tiptoeing like a fuckin' cartoon character into the house and leaving the door open. Spectacular.

He sprints inside inconspicuously, head darting both ways just in case before he closes the door. When he turns, there's an alarm system set up that lazily blinks green. No disturbances. Huh. He glances at you, impressed for a very quick second when he sees you snooping in a cabinet, clueless to the huge dog growling behind you.

He stills immediately, breath slowing. He stares at you and tries his best to make you feel it, but it either goes wrong or he fails entirely when you drop a file, groaning loudly at the injustice of it. The dog twitches. Bucky's heart jumps into his throat.

You're halfway into an inelegant bend when you spot him, face breaking into a smile. Fuck, he thinks. You're pretty even when you're going insane. "Hey! You're finally here. Look at—"

He shoots you a warning look, moving his lips as little as he can. "There's a dog." He glances between it and you, thinking every move ahead to avoid a nasty bite and the failure of your stupid mission.

"Oh my god, Brutus?" You spin too fast, startling the dog both from with your movements and apparent knowledge of his name. 'Brutus' makes a noise between a growl and a whine. You gasp, a palm pressing against your lips. "Brutus, I thought they retired you!"

You drop down to your knees, opening your arms wide. Brutus stares at you for a second, inching closer to sniff you apprehensively. Then, his ears tuck and he whimpers, tail tucked and wagging gently as he walks closer to you.

"You... know the dog."

"Yes, I know the dog," you start, voice careening into a higher, softer pitch as you rub the pads of your fingers behind Brutus' ears. "Brutus has been the guard dog here for two years. I fostered her for a little while until she was adopted but I kept in touch." Brutus licks your cheek, making you squeal. "Her name was originally Poppy but they wanted a scary name." You roll your eyes.

Bucky shoots you a look.

"I sort of spied on them for a few months to make sure she was doing well," you rub her ear, "and she was, yes she was," you baby-talk. "Her owners have shit values but they really spoil their dogs."

"Wow. Okay. One question—the people we are stealing from know you?"

"Yeah, they have my number."

Bucky pinches the skin between his brows.

"Good girl, Poppy, protecting the house from evil intruders," you coo.

Bucky looks at the clock and then you, slowly lowering yourself further to pet Brutus-Poppy. He nudges you with his foot. Poppy growls at him. "Hey. Fellow evil intruder. She's gonna be back at some point."

"Not for another hour at least. Nat's in charge of the distraction." Still, you press a loud kiss to Poppy's head and stand.

"I'm an overachiever. Let's leave ample time."

"Fine," you say loudly, arms swinging petulantly at your side. "I'll make it quick. You're such a bore."

"Yeah, yeah. What are we looking for anyway?"

You use a pencil to look between books and couch cushions, humming distractedly. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Buck." You wink.

Bucky's cheeks pink against his will, shaking it off as quickly as he can as he watches you look around. You pause in the middle of the room, do a full spin, and sigh. "Not here."

Bucky frowns but trails after you into another room, Poppy close behind. You open the door grandiosely to a giant room. "Wow."

"Okay, I know what you said, but you kind of need to tell me so I can help you find it," he says. You ignore him, striding toward a desk and pulling open a drawer. He says your name exasperatedly. You observe a notebook, shaking it vigorously before tossing it over your shoulder. Other items follow in quick succession, which he catches amidst his frustration. "What are you—you're going to break something—" He catches a crystal ball.

"I'm not, I know what I'm doing," you insist. "You are so pessimistic. Have faith." You dig in a little further before grumbling, rising to your feet and kicking a chair down. "I'm going to look in another room," you say and take off, leaving Bucky with an armful of miscellaneous objects to put back. He screws his eyes shut and counts to three.

You walk down the hallway quickly, peeking into the rooms until you find what you're looking for. Three doors in, you stop, scanning the walls until you find a hideous painting hung up next to a dusty bookshelf. You make a triumphant noise and stride toward it, running your fingers along the frame until you find the indentations of a security panel.

"Aha! And, if I remember correctly..." You enter 1234 and the painting swings open to reveal a safe. "Losers."

You count silently as you unlock the safe, laughing in triumph when you beat Natasha's record. Keeping the door open with an outstretched finger, you contort to find a pen, holding the cap between your teeth as you scrawl your time on the inside of your wrist, giggling in the anticipation of letting her know.

You turn your attention back to the safe after you've written a few wobbly exclamation points, rifling around until you find what you're looking for. Your fingers dig through a dark box filled with stolen valuables, a grin on your face when your fingers get tangled in the one you're looking for, eyebrows jumping in satisfaction as you tuck it safely into your pocket. You stick your head in the safe again, searching for something shiny to throw in Sam's face when Bucky bursts in.

"Oh, hey, do you think Sam would—"

"They're here."

Cursing, you shove everything into place, closing the safe and carefully moving the picture back. You step back and grimace. "God, that's ugly."

He says your name urgently, wrapping his hand around your wrist and dragging you away, throwing you over his shoulder when you keep lagging behind. You squeak, clamping your mouth shut when Bucky squeezes your thigh in warning.

He dumps you out of an open window and into a bush, rolling himself out onto cropped grass. "Okay, I think that was unnecessary," you mumble, crawling out next to him. There are lines of bubbling red all over your skin from what was apparently a rose bush.

"We have to hurry before the gate closes," he huffs, lifting the both of you up with ease and hurrying to the slimming entrance. You squeeze out unseen and stop at the beginning of the blind spot you came in through. Bucky's huffing when he puts you down.

"What's wrong? I thought you had super high stamina or something," you tease, poking at his shoulder. Bucky glares at you. You laugh and reach for his hand, beckoning him enticingly with your fingers. He appeases you suspiciously, capturing your hand in his. He squeezes and rubs a soft line up and down near your thumb.

"Let's go home," you say.

Bucky blinks. "What?"

"Let's go home. I'm hungry. And I kind of want to take a nap. Can we stop by and pick up some ramen?" You tug at his arm gently, beginning the trek to Bucky's bike down the path without surveillance. "Breaking and entering really wears me out," you say to his furrowed brows.

"Don't forget robbery," he muses.

"Right. Breaking, entering, and robbery really wears me out," you say with a laugh. You turn to him and grin, eyes sparkling.

Bucky stops, staying in place when you pull at him and whine. "What was it?"

You cock your head.

"What did you want to steal so badly?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking at him thoughtfully. "I'll tell you if you give me a piggyback ride," you proffer, wagging your brows.

Bucky rolls his eyes but crouches down, holding onto your index finger as you climb onto his back.

He readjusts you as he stands to full height, wrists twisting under your knees and holding your calves tight but kindly. You hum, one arm falling over his chest and the other dipping into your pocket, unzipping it and taking out the chain. You wrap it around your fingers delicately and rest your chin on his head, looking at it dangling from your hands.

Bucky begins to walk. "So?"

Your thumb draws wonky hearts on Bucky's chest, tracing the letters on the tags with your other one. "Do you remember how disappointed you were when you came back and your dog tags had been auctioned off? It was the one thing you couldn't get back because it wasn't in that museum." You feel Bucky nod. "Well, I've been looking for them," you confess, pursing your lips. "I didn't want to tell you because you'd tell me to stop and that it didn't matter but I know it did—I know it does.

"A few months ago, I found out who bought them and I tried to buy them back, but these assholes wouldn't budge no matter how much I offered—or anyone, I impersonated a lot of people. I think they just wanted to keep them because other people wanted them. And the things they said about you..." You shake your head, feeling yourself going hot with anger.

Bucky squeezes your leg, muttering your name.

You stop yourself, letting your face slant so your cheek rests on his hair. He smells sweet like your shampoo. Fucker. "So, anyway, I did the obvious thing: I tracked them down and broke into their house to get it back. It's not like the tags are theirs, anyway."

Bucky stops abruptly, jolting you. You yelp, complaining as he puts you down and stares at you.

"You did—this was to get my dog tags?"

You look back at him. "Yes? I didn't—"

He cuts you off, pulling you into a hug so tight, you cough. Your arms hang limply in surprise for a second before they come up to reciprocate, a dazed but still eager arm rubbing the line of his shoulder blade. Bucky hugs you a little tighter. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I don't think anyone... I don't know many people that would do that for me."

"Oh," you say, blinking fast. "I—of course I would. I love you, Bucky, you... I would do anything for you."

"Fuck," he says wetly, pulling away to hold your face in both hands. He smiles at you. One of those real ones that crinkle his eyes. "You're—fuck—"

You laugh, his hands falling away to your shoulders.

"I'm sorry you didn't get them back after you went through all that trouble."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean? You think I didn't get them?" You raise your hand to his view, dog tags dangling. "Your faith in me is shocking."

Bucky grabs the tags and you let them go easily, watching his hands turning them around slowly, index running along his name. JAMES B. BARNES. Then, two lines down, R. BARNES. "I can't believe you did this for me," he says softly.

You smile. "Well, believe it, baby," you tell him, gently teasing. Your wring your hands together. "Of course I did," you say, quieter.

When he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. "Thank you." He glances down at them once more and splits the chain with a finger to pull it on your neck. "Hold on to them for me?"

You pause. "Bucky..."

"Just until we get to the compound. You'll keep it safe for me."

You keep it safe for much longer than that.

[moondirti]

Who from the 141 speaks the best arabic do you think? From one arab girl to another, it’d be so hot if any of them were fluent 🫠

if my memory serves me correctly, we get a bit in the first campaign from price. to me it seems to be a basic knowledge. a few sentences he picked up on the field and memorised to make his job easier. evac orders, cardinal directions, how to ask for water, food, medicine. that kind of stuff. pure utility, though that’s his approach to most things.

i like to believe (call it bias or whatever) that gaz is fluent. this ties in to my headcanon that he’s the only member who attended and graduated uni, but he strikes me as someone intensely curious about everything. introducing him to something, be it language or cuisine or a skill he hasn’t mastered yet, is like knocking down the floodgates. it’s his time in urzikstan that does it. hearing the way it rolls off farah’s tongue (let’s ignore doumit’s canon pronunciations), or how she’s able to translate a long, winding, clumsy sentence to something short. beautiful.

there’s a word for everything, he finds. one for the state of gossiping with your friends over morning coffee. one to congratulate someone on their cleanliness after a haircut. one that means may you be the one to bury me, for it would be unbearable to live without you – that is used so casually in conversation, kyle is stunned when he learns the true meaning. it doesn’t hold the same expectation, the same trepidation, as it does in english, though it retains its weight all the same. he wonders what makes a language so special that its intrinsic devotion has found a common place within its cultures, and he sets to find out.

this turns into a thing. more rambling under the cut.

the largest learning curve is the alphabet. the sounds that don’t exist in his mother tongue. he’s especially hard on himself when it comes to enunciating them properly – half the beauty is in the way words flow together, and there would really be no point in indulging in arabic’s more lyrical aspects if he’s off pitch. he gets the hang of it eventually, of course, one too many vocal exercises later.

the weathered dictionary he picks up at a second hand store teaches him that most words have three letter roots, and that it isn’t so easy as to look them up alphabetically. picking up new vocab becomes infinitesimally harder, then. for twelve million choices, the distinction between some words comes down to diacritical marks. necklace, decade, contract, held, complicated, and knots are all spelt the same way, yet pronounced ever so slightly different — a fact he learns the hard way when he tells the cashier at the kibbeh place he frequents that he likes her decade.

reading. reading is what helps him get over that.

(he probably should touch on basic grammar first — nouns, verbs, particles, sentence structure, that sort of stuff — but figures he'll pick it up as he goes, basing his methodology on an inability to remember any rules for the english language. he grew up hearing it, reading it, watching it, surrounded by it, so it just is what it is now. why work so hard on task books made for kids, then, when he can just get right into the meat of the matter? acclimatise through force.)

he picks up stacks of books upon books upon poetry. naguib mahfouz. ghada al-samman. al-mutanabbi. mahmoud darwish. it takes him a month to get through the first, and another month for the second. which only means he really takes his time with them, roving over the same line until it's etched into his memory. the cadence, the beats for pause, the way a word he has to punch from his throat is followed by one that lilts, all sing-songy. eventually, he starts to (inadvertently) mimic that sweeping manner of speech, employing it in contexts which certainly don't call for it.

the cashier — the very same one whose age he mistakenly stressed, despite the fact that she couldn't have been much younger than him — is far too nice to say anything about it, smiling instead, endeared, while he waxes poetic about meze.

farah calls him out immediately the next time they catch up.

apparently, no one speaks in classical arabic anymore, go figure. it would be like talking in shakespearean english, she tells him. he imagines it, iambic pentameter and all, and cringes, newly determined. his own research unearths (though it wasn't really a secret) the fact that there are roughly 25 different dialects belonging to different regions — and while some are pretty similar (syrian and lebanese), others could classify as a whole other language on their own (moroccan).

reddit tells him what he already knows; that the best way to learn is through exposure. there are no dictionaries for patois. and farah, despite her total enthusiasm at his interest, is far too busy of a woman to help.

(really, it just gives him an excuse to finally do what he's been meaning to.)

the next time he's craving kibbeh, he's fixed on not making a fool of himself when he asks the cashier out to lunch.

[idyllcy]

from one admirer to another : sunny side up?

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas

Dear scrambled eggs,

¿Empezar por flexionar tu francés? Dos pueden jugar ese juego. Just kidding. That was machine-translated. I know minimal Spanish. I asked a guy for directions once and he started speaking English to me. That's how bad my Spanish is.

The extent of my Spanish is whatever I learned in college for my one year of a required language. I know how to ask where the library is and how to not die. I think that's enough. Thankfully, I'm in France and I don't look nearly French enough. Though, someone has stopped me to ask me if I am French. I'm not.

Thank you for the snacks. I got an earful from my manager, but the calorie count somehow convinced him that I can eat it without dying (gaining weight). I shared some with the other people in my airbnb, but some of the other more popular models have already gone back. It was so good.

Don't worry, I'm not going to go insane. I'm nicely adjusted to the fact that I shouldn't actually start thinking I'm dating someone. I haven't needed to use that sentence of yours yet, but— sorry, just did. I just had a young woman come up to me and ask me if I was single or something and then repeat the question in English. Am I... the rizzler? (is that how you use that) I'm kidding. I told her I had a girlfriend... or whatever you told me to say.

You think I'm ever going to end up dating that model? I don't.

Oh, right. The other models wanted to thank you, so I'm mailing back a signed magazine from most of the models here. Only person that didn't sign was Ada (obviously). Hope you like it.

Catch you back in Raccoon? Christmas

To be fair, Leon wasn't trying to smudge ink on his letter.

"T’as des beaux yeux, tu sais?"

Leon looks up at the person asking the question, blinking slowly.

"Ah, sorry. I... Je parle pas le Français." Leon laughs awkwardly.

"Oh, no problem." The girl smiles. "Single?"

"Ah, non. J'ai une petite amie?" Leon thinks that's how you say it. "Désolé."

"In America?"

Leon nods, waving as she nods and steps off.

Leon's heart rattles against his chest, heartbeat erratic as he takes a sip of his coffee, mumbling quietly to himself. He's still not used to being hit on by people. In retrospect, he really should be, but even as he writes the letter to you, he really thinks he's grateful no one took advantage of him in the industry. Raccoon wasn't an easy place to climb, and the fact that he's gotten up the ranks relatively cleanly is pretty impressive.

Well, always harder to climb ranks as a woman.

"Mind if I sit here?"

"A-Ada!" Leon nods, Ada smiling as she takes a seat. "Are you enjoying Paris?"

"I come here every year, so... same old." She hums. "I heard it's one of your first times. How did your shows go?"

"It went okay." Leon smiles.

"Writing a letter?"

"Penpal." He hums.

"One admirer to another?" She stares down at the handwriting, and Leon smiles.

"Yes."

"Huh. Interesting."

"Have you done it?"

"No. No time." She thanks the waiter for her coffee, taking a photo before Leon seals his envelope. "Who's your penpal?"

"An egg enthusiast." Leon hums. "When's your flight back?"

"In two hours. I like this place a lot." She hums, ripping her croissant in half. "Come here a lot with my friend." She raises a brow at him as she takes a bite, and Leon shakes his head.

"I can't control who I like."

"I know." She hums. "Don't break their heart."

"I can't do that if they don't like me."

"You don't know that."

Leon wonders if there's hope in her words.

prev letter : masterlist : next letter

[riconas]

You know who never gets mean rain overstimulation? Mountain. And that’s just unfair, don’t you think?

so unfair, actually. a crime, even. 

combining this with this prompt, which fit perfectly:

tags: blindfolds, slapping, overstimulation, degradation

“Don’t touch,” Rain snaps, slapping Mountain’s wandering fingers away from the blindfold over his eyes. “Are you even listening?” 

Unobscured by the blindfold, Mountain’s brows furrow, and he lets out a shaky exhale. He nods jerkily. 

Rain’s fingers tighten on his neck. “I didn’t gag you, did I? Use your words.”

Mountain whines, fingers curling into the sheets, but manages to mumble, “I’m listening.”

“Then act like it.” Rain rocks forward again, braced on Mountain’s chest to keep himself steady. Mountain’s hands creep up his thighs, probably unconsciously, and Rain slaps them away again. “Don't touch. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It’s worse, he knows, that Mountain is so wonderfully tactile. How terrible of him to deny Mountain the one thing he wants. He pinches Mountain’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger and twists cruelly. Mountain arches into his touch with a gasp. 

“Slow down,” Mountain pleads. “Rain, please. I’m gonna cum if you don’t slow down.” 

Rain tilts his head, even though Mountain can’t see it. “So? You’re gonna cum anyway.” 

Mountain’s mouth twists into the saddest little pout. “I don’t wanna cum yet.” 

“Why not?”

“Because I—Rain, Rain, nonono wait—” and Rain relinquishes the hold he’s got on Mountain’s neck, “—because if I cum I—I won’t be able to give you what you want.” 

Which is to say he’ll go soft, and using him like a dildo will be a real hassle, but Rain’s not stupid. It’s never actually been a problem before. He knows what he’s doing, and Mountain does too. 

“You’re not giving me what I want.” Rain clenches down as hard as he can, relishing in the anguished groan he gets in return. “I’m taking it.”

And he does. 

Mountain cums, lips parted in a silent moan, hands flexing as not to rip the nice sheets. His cock kicks deep inside Rain, hot spurts filling him to the brim, seeping out of him, dripping down the inside of his legs. 

Rain sinks down all the way, groaning at how full Mountain’s cock makes him feel, how huge he is, and the wet squelch of his thighs has his eyes rolling back in his head. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he moans, bouncing a little, trying to nudge Mountain’s still-hard cock against his sweet spot. It’s difficult without Mountain’s hands on his hips to help him along, but he makes it work. Certainly worth it, seeing the misery etched so cleanly into Mountain’s half-covered face. 

“Please,” Mountain gasps. “I can’t anymore. It hurts, Rain.” 

Rain laughs, breathless and carefree. “Not my problem. Your fault for cumming. Should’ve held it in.” 

He grinds lazily for a few more moments, tugging at his cock, entranced by Mountain’s distressed little whimpers. Taking his pleasure like that, the angle perfect for him. No rush, now that Mountain’s done. 

Until he feels Mountain starting to go soft inside him. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he snarls. “Are you kidding me?” 

Mountain lets out a heartbroken little sound, and Rain nearly caves. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

Which is true, and Rain knows because he’s been on the receiving end many times before, but he rolls his eyes anyway.

“Whatever,” he says, as flippantly as he can. Thank Satan he’s a water ghoul. He presses his palm to Mountain’s abdomen, searching, concentrating, until he finds the thread of water that’ll give him what he wants. With a flick of his fingers, he yanks on the thread and doesn’t let go, and Mountain immediately starts filling out inside him again. 

Mountain’s back bows off the bed. “Oh, no, no no no—”

“Shut up,” Rain snaps, really pissed now. “Let me use you.” What a waste of energy, having to use his magick to help Mountain out. How selfless of him. “Can’t do anything right, can you? Can’t even use you as a fucktoy. Useless.” 

Mountain keeps bucking his hips, like he’s trying to throw Rain off, and Rain isn’t having any of it. He slaps Mountain across the face, backhands him the other way. The blindfold shifts with his carelessness, and Mountain—bless him—scrambles to pull it back down. 

“It really hurts,” Mountain says sadly. “Please, I can’t—I can’t take it.”

“You can,” Rain says, emphatic. “You’re taking it now, see? Look, you’re taking it.” He punctuates it with another nice, slow grind, rubbing his cock into Mountain’s twitching stomach. 

“I can’t,” Mountain gasps. The blindfold is dark where his tears have soaked through the fabric. He paws blindly in Rain’s general direction, only succeeding at weakly smacking Rain’s hip. 

“That’s one more,” Rain says coolly. One more time he gets to cum on Mountain’s poor, abused cock. “Touch me again. Do it. I’ll add another.” 

Mountain wails. Lucifer, Swiss can probably hear him from next door. Rain should really be more considerate. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Mountain pleads. “I’m sorry, Rainy, I didn’t mean to.” He paws at Rain again, not realising his mistake. 

“That’s three,” Rain declares, and Mountain sobs. “Better start counting. I’m not stopping until you’re dry.”

[mcflymemes]

MISCELLANEOUS SENTENCE PROMPTS *  collection #10

i need a lawyer.

it works for me.

what do you think went on here?

i don't get people.

you can't be here.

i'm looking forward to your speech.

you're serious?

tell me why you really stopped by.

what kind of a question is that?

what did you just say?

how many surveillance cameras do you have in here?

i don't eat out.

would you rather know this much or nothing at all?

what've you heard? who talked to you?

do you always process like this?

watch your back. it's gonna get ugly.

i want the job because i can do it.

would you just stop me and say something here?

no photos, no video.

can you say the same?

i'm not worried. i'm concerned.

i hope you get it.

this was an accident.

your loss was my gain.

i saw a sherlock holmes movie once. by mistake.

you may want to take a look at this.

what are you doing?

you know the coffee is free.

that time, i was talking to you.

i need your clothes.

ugh. don't get me started.

i didn't realize until today how lucky i am.

good, you're here.

i get the picture.

don't get your hopes up.

you're listening to music?

have you been to bed?

this doesn't concern you.

i think you oughta drop the accent.

i have no life of my own.

you got something stuck on your shoes.

that's a quick way to go.

i thought that was a myth.

it's okay to say you don't know.

when you gotta go, you gotta go.

i am wearing underwear... as far as you know.

if enough people knew what was out there hunting them, they'd never leave their house.

that's a big ass truck tire.

did you injure yourself?

i thought i was clear.

that took a long time.

i want to believe that.

what are you saying?

i can't believe this is happening.

look, i didn't see it.

just like being back in college, right?

they broke their word, huh?

if you're here, it can't be good.

it's a good analogy.

i'm trying a new technique.

i appreciate you telling me.

i heard you finally lost your virginity.

that's a lot of blood.

it's a tragedy.

you can take whatever you want.

i'm smiling on the inside.

i do want to thank you, though.

why don't you make up your mind?

what time was that?

cleanliness is next to godliness.

i don't have a death wish.

i'm just gonna move in here.

was it busy?

we have to do this quickly.

it's time i made a change.

i think they should know.

would you like to grab a bite later?

fill this up for me, will you?

don't bother.

you have no idea what it's like.

you think we had something to do with it?

i don't expect you to understand.

that's how we spell it.

i'm just always defending myself to you.

beauty is a societal construction.

what kind of a name is that?

[granolawriting]

New things ☆ ° *

pairing: Platonic Jedi!reader x Jedi Anakin

Summary: Anakin spent his young days as either a slave or "the chosen one". Never having the opportunity to really celebrate the holidays, you explain to him a celebration on your own planet for the fall season

word count: 1.8k

masterlist

A/N: This was literally so much fun to write, I really like writing anakins banter with the reader, and overall just the stupid things he'd say in my own interpritation of his character off the battle feild. I hope you enjoy!! This is the 3rd installment for my kinktober list, Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

“I feel dumb. Are you sure you’re not pulling one over on me?” 

Anakin stares with inquisitive intent at the pumpkin you laid before him. Sat upon a steel counter of the kitchen within your room in the Jedi temple. Tossed on a small ottoman in the middle of your home was a bag full of ingredients for baking, holodramas of sith legends, and most importantly, the means for cutting up the pumpkins that sat before you and Anakin. 

“Dude, I lived it and you didn't. Either you can trust me and stab the pumpkin, or you can forever live in a non-holiday spirit.” 

“I just can't imagine that this actually got popular. What’s the meaning behind this?”

“Yaknow, this was initially made to scare away the sith ghosts that would roam the halls at night on the night before halloween.” 

“That's total bull. I don't think this would scare a 5 year old.” 

“You haven't even cut into it yet!” 

Anakin holds up the traceable mold that came with the package of serrated knives and spoons, triangle eyes and comically sharp teeth. 

“I don't have to to know that if a youngling saw this, they would start laughing at me.” 

You snatch it away from him teasingly, a melodramatic face of anger contorting upon you, 

“Well then, it seems like they have no holiday spirit either! Pay them no mind. There are those who get it, and those who don't!” 

“Whatever. Just hand me the knife.” 

“You don't even know what to do!” 

Thus the first activity begins, detailing the two of you slowly cutting into pumpkins while a music box softly plays soundtracks of scary films from your childhood. Demonstrating to Anakin exactly how to cut into a pumpkin with less than graceful precision, 

“You don't know what you’re doing.”

“Shut up! It's been a while.” 

And as the top finally pops off of the head of the pumpkin, you and him rejoice in quite a small victory. Though the excitement upon his face only lasts a moment, because as he watches you delve elbow deep within the inside of the pumpkin, horror shocks him stiff. 

“What the fuck are you doing.” 

Eyes widened at the prospect of having to do that himself. 

“What? Big scary Jedi doesn't like getting his hands dirty?” 

Teasing inflection coats your voice at the sight of his distress.

“This is just disgusting! I don't mind getting dirty if it's not slimy shit all over my body.” 

“Well, I suggest you take off that fancy robe.” 

Exasperated sigh exits him with great dramatic flair, as he walks over to the living room to slowly disrobe as to take in his last seconds of cleanliness before his agreeance to engage in your home planet festivities weighs more and more on him like one of the worst decisions he’s ever made in his whole life. 

Slowly does he inch his fingers inside the pumpkin itself, and when he reaches the bottom eyes close and eyebrows contort upwards. 

“Stop looking like you’re about to die. It's a pumpkin not a dead tooka.” 

“Thanks for that image.” 

And so the two of you slowly scrape pumpkin into a larger bowl of insides between the both of you, melodramatic whines by Anakin that really bring out the kid in him. Anakin, despite being such a great warrior and chosen one, was still quite young. He never really had the ability to do childish things, growing up as a slave and thrusted into the jedi temple thereafter there was no room to be a kid-- do kid things. So that's what you focused on in your time with him. It consisted of helping him get in touch with who he really is, not who people exactly wanted him to be. And you bore through it, even if sometimes it meant feilding his complaints like a whining child who has to share their toys with other kids. When Anakin wasn't in the line of fire he was a simple, silly person. A boy, really. 

The moment his pumpkin was satisfactorily scraped, he runs to wash his arms under water and copious amounts of soap. 

“Oh, did you know people can be allergic to pumpkin?” 

“You’re kidding right.” 

“Yeah well I just hope you’re not.” 

“Could've told me that before I just violated it like that.” 

“Slipped my mind.”

After a bit more carving within the eyes and mouth of the hollow pumpkin, you adorn the iconic face of a halloween grin upon yours, and Anakin opting for a more sinister look upon his. 

“You said it was supposed to scare people, none of the designs has that effect.” 

Well Anakin, I think the most scary thing about this is how you cut it. I can barely tell what's going on here.” 

“You don't understand my vision. It's for the sith ghost, not you.” 

As the first activity of pumpkin cutting comes to an end, a small glow emitting within the pumpkins as you place the small glowing orb that completes every carving inside its center, you and Anakin stand back impressed with one another's work. 

“I guess it wasn't half bad.” 

“Told you” 

The next project you two had up against you was baking. Now, once again you were well convinced that Anakin had never cooked his own food his entire life. At least, anything complex. Whenever he had to make his own food it was often very simple, laced with struggle. The peak of his culinary journey was 5 years old, for reference. 

“Why do we need to put so many things in here? Aren't we making cookies?” 

“Yes, but to make it not taste like sand then we’re gonna have to add more flavors.” 

“Sand, very funny. What's with the paste?” 

“The icing?” 

“Whatever.” 

“It's for after the cookie. We’re going to decorate it.” 

“This seems like a lot of work for 2 bites.” 

“You eat them in 2 bites?” 

“I’ve got things to do.” 

And thus the teaching begins once more. You have to explain how to keep the wet from the dry until you’re willing to mix everything, teaching him how to crack an egg as he fails in the process getting residue all over your countertop. You show him how to whisk, watching him struggle with the thick batter as the automatic one you keep in your cabinet stays sadistically untouched. And as you two finally finish the batter, you show him how to put them on the sheets properly. 

“When you roll them, you have to remember they’re going to flatten and expand. Don't make them the size of a cookie, make them like a third of the size.” 

“But if I made it the size of a cookie, I could have a 3x cookie. Mathematically speaking.” 

“Yes, but don't do that. They’ll all stick together.” 

“To make one monster cookie?” 

“Theoretically yeah.” 

“Noted.” 

As he grabbed huge chunks of dough within the bowl you both shared, you just chose to pick your battles. 

Setting the timer for 40 minutes, there were now 40 minutes to kill before you were able to get to the next part of the process-- decorating. Looking within your bag of festivities you find the holodramas that lie at the bottom of the bag, reminiscent of your childhood. The exaggerated stories of siths and creatures of the outer rim that would haunt and stalk you, stories that scared you awake when you were younger. You allow Anakin to pick from a few of the titles. 

“Frankensith? The uh.. Friday before 429. The ewok in the woods. These all sound a little corny.” 

“Again, you don’t get it. But I promise you watching these things will freak you out. The ewok  one scared me so much I couldn't sleep for days afterwards.” 

“And how old were you when that happened?” 

“...fifteen.” 

“You’re joking. Put it on.” 

Dimming the sights of your living room do the both of you sink into the couch as you pull out the final thing that will stave you from hunger until the cookies are completed. 

“What's with the wrapping on these?” 

He pointed at the chocolate you unveiled, wrapped in various depictions of horror legends over the years.

“Isn't it scary?” 

“He looks like he has a lazy eye.” 

“He’s supposed to be undead!” 

“Yeah, and with all that reanimation they cut him a little short.” 

“That's mean!” 

“Nothing so far has scared me, and the candy definitely isn't much different.”

“Whatever.” 

The bowl sat between the two of you held various kinds of candy from chocolate to sower, as the movie slowly came to a head. Laid back and judgemental, did Anakin lie unbothered upon the couch, expecting nothing to really catch his eye about this film more than dumb special effects and poor acting. 

Though as time went on you watched as his body slowly straightened, eyes with greater focus on the projection as the story grew deeper. You saw his face contort from indifference, to morbid curiosity, to the well awaited fear. 

BEEP!

The oven goes off, which makes Anakin jump. 

“HAH! You’re scared shitless aren't you.”

“Are you kidding me? These things are freaky by nature. Their little swords.. Their agility. I couldn't live.” 

“Uh huh. Well get up we need to decorate the cookies.” 

After allowing them to cool for a moment you begin to teach him how to pipe the icing onto the cookies. However as you gaze upon his own tray, there seems to be about 3 discernable cookies to your 6 well shaped ones. 

“All this means is that I have more room for artistic expression than you.” 

“Right. Just watch what I do and you can make whatever you want.” 

And as you draw cute ghosts, small faces decorating each of their eyes and little bats and pumpkins to match their theme, another glance at Anakin's tray once again reminds you you’re dealing with a 10 year old. Upon his cookies did he design quite crude depictions of the ewok’s with angry expressions on their face, forever immortalized- until eaten of course -a glare of small and furry anger upon the cookie. 

“Nice Anakin.” 

The night came to a close after that, finishing the ewok holo with greater ease as the fear inhabiting Anakin slowly dissipated in the ability to eat them at the same time they were eating others in their traps. A dark sky fell within your room and as you sat there with Anakin, pumpkins illuminated with silly faces and a growing pile of colorful foil piling on your coffee table as the candy bowl depleted, you felt complete. The feeling of having not only someone to celebrate the holidays with, but someone to share them with made you feel a little less alone. And you knew Anakin felt the same. 

[ao3-oner]

hi oner!

im a really big fan of your writing, thank you for posting so much!

quick question just for fun: if someone could only read five of your fics and no more, and you got to pick which ones, which five would you want them to read? you can include wips if you want

im just curious lol, happy writing and hope you post soon

Hi there, anon! Thank you so much for reading my stuff. I hope I post soon too LMAO, life can be busy sometimes but hopefully I'll be able to find time to write more in the upcoming weeks. I'm glad you're enjoying my fics so far :)

Man, your question is really hard to answer, though - asking a writer to pick their favorite pieces is like asking a parent to choose a favorite child. That said, I never claimed to be a good fic-parent, so ofc I have my faves. If someone, for whatever reason, could only read five of my fics, the ones I would recommend are:

1. Metro Lines and Their Prismatic Tears - 10,000 words, Rated T, minor background ships, Peyz-centric

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I think Metro Lines is my best-written fic so far. I also think it's unique in that none of my other fics really capture what it does - like if I wanted to include a GuKe fic on my list I would have a handful to choose from, but this fic is truly one-of-a-kind. I like the AU, I like the characterizations, and overall I'm really proud of my work on this fic.

2. Mad Scientist Incorrigible - 30,000 words, Rated E for lots of sex, multi-ship (Lehends x Everyone) but RuLehends-focused, Lehends-centric

Even though I think Metro Lines is better-written, I still see M.S.I. as my magnum opus and likely the coolest fic I'll ever write. Writing this fic as the tournament was going on was such a fun experience and I'm still shocked that it all came together so well narratively. I really enjoy all the drama of the piece and I think no list of ArchiveofOurOner fics would be complete without it.

I think those two very cleanly take the top spots on my list. From here on out, things get a little more debatable, but for number 3, I'll add the one other fic that I've referred to as "my favorite one" before:

3. The Man Who Talked Shit About Choi Wooje - 4,000 words, Rated T/M for violence, One2eus, shifting POV

I love this fic because it defines "crack treated seriously". Every part of it is just so ridiculous and it was super fun to write. I think part of why I consider it one of my favorites is because I had such a blast writing it, but it also shows a different tone of fic than the other two, so I think it's a good inclusion. I also sorely need to include more of my T1 boys on this list, which brings me to my next entry:

4. Facecheck - 14,000 words, Rated E for some smut, One2eus with background GuKe, Zeus-centric

As my first and most popular fic, I feel like Facecheck is another requirement for the AO3 Oner list. That's not to suggest that I don't love it - I do, but I definitely think that I've grown in my writing since then. It would still be a good include to show that growth, plus it's a fun read even if I personally consider it to be more middle-of-the-pack in terms of my work quality.

For the final slot... damn, okay, this is actually really hard. See, if the question was simply which other of my fics do I like the most, then I'd probably go with 04.11.2023, but that feels way too similar to Mad Scientist Incorrigible (since it's literally just an extension of that fic). I would also consider including my Spider-Oner AU, Strand By Silken Strand, which I'm quite proud/fond of, but let's be real - I haven't included any CanMaker on the list yet and that's a complete sin. So, with that in mind:

5. Flash-Ult - 2,000 words, Rated T, CanMaker, Canyon-centric

It was a really close call between this and Heartbreaker, but I think Flash-Ult won out for me primarily because it's much sweeter and a good deal less angsty (though there is still a bit of angst at the end). All in all, Flash-Ult is a classic, feel-good hurt/comfort fic that I think suits my dynamic of CanMaker very well and is therefore a good representation of how I write the ship. I think between M.S.I. and Facecheck, there's already enough smut on the list, but if I were to include a CanMaker smut fic instead... maybe Unleashed Power, tbh? Ig that would also allow for a taste of my Omegaverse AU...

But yeah, that's my list of 5, plus a few bonus ones tossed around in between. They aren't my best fics, they certainly aren't my most popular fics, but I think they make up the best representation of my total LoL RPF corpus so far. If someone could only read a small portion of my writing, then I think this selection would give them a pretty good taste of what my fics are like. Hopefully, they'd enjoy them as much as you have, anon!

Thanks for the ask - it was certainly an interesting one - and have a great day, wherever you are!

[garden-of-omegas]

☘ THE DEVIL AT MY DOOR [DIAVOLO] ☘

┌── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

characters: diavolo warnings: some references to bullying, witchcraft rating: sfw a/n: these first meeting one-shots are so short, hope you guys don't mind too much. i'll hopefully make longer ones in the future, or i might at some point switch how i make them.

~🎕

└── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

you open the ragged door to the shack you and your mother call home, finding diavolo standing behind it with a cheerful smile. you frown, slamming the door in his face.

"mom! the devil's at the door!" you shout to your mother, who's brewing something in the kitchen.

"stop calling the mayor that, little dove!" she calls back, to which you scoff. that damn mayor is worse than the devil.

"that's not what i meant!" you shout back before opening the door again. diavolo's still there, waiting patiently. "mom's making love potions, you're gonna have to wait if you wanna talk to her."

diavolo tilts his head, being far too adorable for a literal demon. you don't trust it a bit. "i'm here for you, not your mother, [name]."

"..." you stare at diavolo, squinting a bit. "why?"

"i find you interesting!" diavolo answers. you scoff, but let him in anyways. diavolo happily follows behind you to the dangerous looking stairs standing in the middle of the living room.

"mom, i'm taking the devil to my bedroom!" you shout, and immediately hear something crash in the kitchen. you ignore it and lead diavolo upstairs to your room. diavolo curiously looks around, amazed by how cleanly white everything is. a few black details jump out at him, probably on purpose as they seem to be your personal defects.

"a curious room for a witch's child." diavolo comments, lifting up a small protection bottle sitting on the window pane.

"mom thinks that keeping my room white will make people think that i'm less weird. it doesn't really work, nobody's ever seen it before." you explain, sitting onto your bed. diavolo nods, setting down whatever he's fiddling with now.

you watch him look around, wondering what he's doing here. your initial meeting had been... awkward to say the least. you can't quite comprehend what he's want with you after that disaster.

"soo... want to help me make hex bags to throw at the old women in town?"

diavolo looks far too interested in your words for his own good.

"so, like, she's a total bitch! she keeps finding all my notebooks and writing false spells in them. they're not even convincing! if she wants to bully me she should do it better." you rant to diavolo while stringing up one of the hex bags. diavolo's been listening to your ranting about the people in town for the past two hours, nodding along like he understands anything that's going on. you don't think he does.

"so why are you throwing these at old women instead of this girl?" he asks.

"cause they insult mom, and that's something i won't allow. not on my watch." you point a finger at him for emphasis. "anyways, so last week brittany hid some sage in my locker, like that would get me expelled or something. she's absolutely the worst, so i've decided to trick her into thinking that i've cursed her, i just haven't decided how yet..."

you say goodbye to diavolo at your door, this time closing the door much softer and with a smile on your face. your mother comes out of her room, looking extremely confused.

"who was that?"

"the devil." you answer, not thinking much of it. your mother on the other hand suddenly looks extremely alarmed. "did you know he hates pickles? never would've thought the devil is a picky eater."

"...the mayor dislikes pickles?"

[immoralimmortals]

Things I've written about the Akatsuki that i think are funny out of context, because I think I'm funny and love microdosing on stroking my own ego

(this is a third person reader x akatsuki fic I swear to god, please believe me it's ROMANTIC, I don't just make them look stupid, I PROMISE I SWEAR ON MY LIFE--)

☆ Hidan wrote a book by ripping pages out of an already existing one, putting in his own that he wrote in blood (origin unknown) and not even attempting to glue them to the blinding.

☆ Kakuzu being forced to say the word "duckling" with such great disdain he may throw up.

☆ Literally just anything about the fact that Kakuzu became a talent agent on his own free will

☆ Hidan thinking that Kakuzu being your talent agent is-- in a very literal sense-- a fate worse than death

☆ “Doesn’t matter. Physical agony fortifies the soul. Whatever.” (about accidentally letting the performer starve)

☆ "She’d be lying if in some way this wasn’t her dreams come true. ...Minus the serial killers, or whatever they are. They won’t really tell her. But she can make that work!"

☆ 1) You’re a failure of society.

2) You’re a kidnapping victim.

3) You’re in a cult.

4) You’re a one-man band with a manager AND you’re in a cult.

☆ Zetsu scaring people on purpose, then Zetsu being flabbergasted and insulted as he scares people by accident!

☆ The performer thinking Kisame is Itachi and Itachi is Kisame. Because of course the big scary shark man is the evilest here, right? (Holding Itachi's hand like la dee da! Boy sure am glad I'm not with the scary clan killer!)

☆ The above being ZETSU'S FAULT on PURPOSE

☆ "Were Hidan and Kakuzu really that mean to other people…? Grumpy, yeah— also yeah okay they were killers or whatever— but they didn’t start any fights! Yet!"

☆ Kisame thinking YouTube is shit from description alone

☆ "The raven shakes his head, despite how helpfully Hidan gestures in a shoving motion, demonstrating the direction in which he should move his ass."

☆ Tobi jumpscare (ALSO ZETSU'S FAULT)

☆ Directly taking inspiration of how Tobi gets punched by Hidan from this Smiling Friends clip

☆ Hidan being allergic to cleanliness

☆ Hidan spending his entire month-long stipend on useless animal figurines he did not want that may or may not be cursed

☆ “Did Takara-chan get the kitty statue?”

A thud sounds beside her chair, a sack cloth with the weight of a whole baby hitting the floor. “Yup. You could say that.”

☆ Kakuzu's type is people that surprise him even after being alive for so long. Therefore, apparently, he's attracted to fucking idiots.

☆ Kakuzu getting told someone tried to kill themselves over being in debt and his first reaction is "wow that's a LOT of money" instead of anything about the killing yourself or whatever

☆ Zetsu LYING BY OMISSION AGAIN BECAUSE THAT'S HIS FAVORITE HOBBY

☆ “Guess it’s a good thing you don’t wanna hurt yourself or whatever.” said in disappointment

☆ “Tell the chemicals to stop.”

☆ Deidara giving a powerpoint on why he's the best and Pain being like *nodding, nodding* (has no faith in him whatsoever)

☆ Long suffering Sasori having a point proven to him that does not need proving (that Deidara is the best)

☆ Getting attached to a clay mouse Deidara made only for it to commit suicide (all according to plan! Isn't he dreamy ;) )

...And more to come!

[honey-beann]

Ruiner, Ruination (RK900 X Reader)

Chapter 8: An Uneasy Aftermath - Constellations and Well-Paired Colors

Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis:

Part 1 of a multiple part special in which Reader and Nines struggle to manage their concern for one another now that their respective injuries have forced them both to realize how destructible the other truly is.

This chapter includes a realization, a promise, a shower, some sharing, a minor wardrobe malfunction, and a great deal of longing and overthinking from both our beloved reader and everyone's favorite android.

AKA - Reader and Nines each contemplate how the other makes them feel, and struggle to reach the necessary conclusions afterward.

Word Count: 5,863

"Detective, I can assure you that while I appreciate your concern, there is really no reason for you to supervise me. My systems are entirely operational, including those involving the temporary parts installed earlier today."

You rolled your eyes at your partner while he attempted to persuade you to go home for the fifth time in three minutes as you stood in his kitchen, inspecting the pristine surface of the counter there with what was almost awe.

Of course, you hadn't expected your android partner's apartment to be dirty by any means, there was almost no reason for it to be given the fact that he didn't eat, drink, or sleep, but even so, this was just absurd.

There wasn't even a speck of dust anywhere, the cabinets were stocked with easy to grab nutritional food sources (likely so he could ensure you always had breakfast should you forget to eat it in the mornings before work), and the fridge was sparkling clean despite the thirium drinks found within, which you were almost certain Nines must have been gifted. He didn't strike you as a man who chose to consume literally anything, android beverages or media alike, for pleasure.

Still, even despite your fairly apparent surprise, you willed yourself to turn around and cross your arms at your partner before replying to his previous persuasions.

"Nines, you put me down as your emergency contact, let them call me, watched as I embarrassed myself after thinking that something terrible had happened to you, and then you revealed that you had weaseled your way into my personal health files weeks ago like it was a totally normal thing to do. No matter what you say to me, I'm not going anywhere, because I'll be damned if you don't learn some kind of lesson by being forced to have me babysit you for the night."

Nines gave a hum in response, a slight smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as he shrugged and turned to make his way toward the living room,

"Whatever you say, Detective, but I don't think I loathe your presence quite enough to view it as punishment. You are getting there, though."

You scoffed at that and followed him into the next room, fighting the urge to gape at the cleanliness of this one as well as you watched your partner move to take a seat in an armchair nearby, one long leg crossing over the other as a hand moved to rest upon his knee in a way that had you staring at his fingers for what you imagined was far too long before you finally caught yourself and looked away, cheeks dusted a light pink as you cleared your throat.

"Well even if I wanted to, we both know I can’t just leave. You heard the technician, Nines, someone needs to stay with you for at least the next six hours to observe you and make sure there are no negative reactions to the temporary parts she had to install while you wait for the new ones to be manufactured and shipped out. That temporary circulatory pump is a huge concern, and you need to be careful not to overwhelm it so you don't risk damaging your thirium pump. She already told you how serious it could be if you aren't careful, especially in these first few hours as your systems get used to the less functional temporary parts." 

Nines all but rolled his eyes at your words as he leaned further back against the chair, watching you intently as he did so,

"The chances of me becoming overwhelmed, be it physically or emotionally, are incredibly slim, Detective. I was not built to experience such things."

"You also weren't built with temporary parts meant for an entirely different and non-military model of android, Nines."

You countered easily, choosing that moment to start looking around the living room rather than just stand in its doorway.

Carefully, as if afraid you might create a mess in the area simply by virtue of being there, you made your way over to a wall fitted with a large fireplace, and opened your mouth to comment on how dramatic it looked all decked out in black wrought iron, when you suddenly caught sight of the mirror that rested on the mantle and halted before you could say a single word.

In all your eagerness to bring Nines home and get him to let up on his insistence that your presence was unwarranted, you had completely forgotten about all the blue blood that decorated you and your clothing.

It stained your white button up, made dark marks on your brown pants, and was sprayed in disorganized spatters across your neck, cheeks, forehead, and hair.

But the most notable stain of all was the nearly perfect handprint, devoid of any fingerprints, that was wrapped around your right wrist.

You stared at that handprint, hands shaking slightly at your sides as you swallowed thickly, trying to keep the sound of a bullet hitting strong plastic out of your mind as you fought off the tears that sprang to your eyes at the memory.

Just this morning you had celebrated the fresh absence of your sling,

And only three hours afterward you had been hovering above your partner’s body, struggling to stop the blue blood from seeping out of the open bullet wound just below where his ribs would have been located if he’d had any.

And now you were standing in that same partner's apartment at 4:00pm, staring at the way that his blood covered your clothing and bare skin.

Everything had happened so fast, and you felt your mind reel as you tried your best to keep up with the events that had occurred throughout the day thus far.

Your vision grew cloudy as you stood there, swaying slightly in front of the fireplace, staring deep into your own reflection unblinkingly.

That is, until you felt a familiar hand graze the sleeve along your right wrist, instantly bringing you back to Earth.

There, standing at your side, was Nines, perfectly healthy and glancing down at you with what almost appeared to be worry.

"There is a shower in the bathroom down the hall, the second door on your right. You're welcome to use it."

You took a brief moment to consider how the hell your partner had figured out your inner thoughts so easily before brushing off the confusion and turning to face him better, offering him a small and slightly fragile smile,

"That would be great, but I don't really know how much good it would do me. When I checked earlier the only spare clothing in my trunk was a pair of jeans, which means I won't have a shirt to replace this one..."

You trailed off as you looked down towards that handprint once more, though you snapped back to attention immediately when Nines spoke up,

"If it is any consolation, Detective, I do not believe the blue blood present on your shirt will be visible for much longer."

You sighed in response, trying not to look too uncomfortable at his attempt to provide some semblance of comfort as you spoke,

"I know but... there's just something about it being there, even if I can't see it, that just doesn't sit right with me."

Nines was silent for a moment before he gave a sudden and rather sharp nod at your words.

"I will see what I can do. In the meantime, though, I really must insist that you take a shower. The longer thirium remains on the skin, the harder it becomes to scrub off."

You shuddered slightly at the thought of not being able to get your partner's blood off of you, and gave an almost immediate nod of agreement,

"Okay, yeah, then I should definitely shower, but you've gotta promise me you won't just leave while I'm in there."

Nines' lips curled upward ever so slightly at your words, amused by your persistent concern for his well-being but plenty willing to give in to your foolish requests if it meant you becoming more relaxed.

He hummed,

"I promise, Detective. Is that all?"

You considered his question for a few seconds before giving a slow and thoughtful nod in response, 

"Yeah, I think so. Anything I should know about the bathroom?"

Nines replied immediately, without requiring even a single moment of contemplation,

"The lock is on the door handle, the fan is to the left of the light switch, and you can lower the blinds to the window by pressing the button beside them, though I'm sure you aren't nearly tall enough for anyone to see anything indecent from the parking lot. In addition to this, you can find shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and most other common hygiene products beneath the sink. Feel free to utilize anything you find there. When you exit the shower, you should find two towels hung up to your right. Both are clean, though I do utilize the black one for myself when necessary, so be aware of that if the idea of using a towel I have used in the past causes you any discomfort."

Surprised by the sudden influx information, you spent a moment blinking rapidly before remembering that you were probably supposed to give some form of response to that,

"Oh okay, uh, thanks for letting me know. I'll see you after?"

Nines gave a hum of what you assumed was agreement before he began to walk toward the hallway he had mentioned you could find the bathroom in previously.

He pushed open the door to said bathroom and flicked on the light in two extremely fluid motions before continuing down the hall until he reached a closed door at the very end.

Said door opened to reveal a quick glance at a bed donning a soft looking black comforter and many plush looking gray silk covered pillows before Nines stepped in, his large form obscuring your view of the space as he made his way over to what you assumed was his closet towards a wall that you could not see from the angle you were standing at.

You watched for a few more moments after Nines walked out of view before you snapped yourself out of it and stepped onto the cool white tile of the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind you as you took in the space.

Shining white tiles with dark green accents covered the floor, and a similarly green backsplash was present in the area between the gold faucet sink and the gold trimmed mirror, both of which shone brilliantly as they caught the light, clearly very rarely used, and kept pristine despite that.

God, you were beginning to wonder if Nines might be even more of an eerily neat guy than you'd previously thought.

Deeming that consideration far too unimportant to dwell on further, you squatted down to better reach the cabinet beneath the sink, opening it to find a rather large number of toiletries stashed beneath.

Multiple rolls of toilet paper stacked neatly, a few bottles of shaving cream, a metal razor handle with disposable single blades, two bamboo hair brushes, a few packaged toothbrushes with different bottles of toothpaste standing beside them, some dental floss, a large bottle of mouthwash, dry shampoo, deodorant, and a container with different sorted sections containing things like hair ties, tweezers, scrunchies, barrettes, bobby pins, a sewing kit, and even menstrual products within its designated cubbies.

But what caught your attention above all else was the actual showering supplies, which consisted of your favorite bar of body wash, a biodegradable mesh soap bar bag, your favorite shampoo and conditioner, the exact scent of shaving cream from the very same brand that you always used at home, and the body scrub that went along with it.

You stared at these products for a while, taken aback at the idea that Nines had somehow figured out what you liked and purchased these things for you to have at his home should you ever need them, only to brush the idea off immediately, your cheeks burning at the thought.

Of course he hadn't done all this just for you, at best he had figured out what you used and assumed it was typical for all other humans as well, leading him to buy these things in case someone ever needed to take a shower at his place (excluding himself, of course).

You stood, shower supplies in hand, and placed them on the counter of the sink for a few moments as you moved to turn the water on, taking note of the two towels, one black and one green, that hung from the rungs. 

'Both are clean, though I do utilize the black one for myself when necessary, so be aware of that if the idea of using a towel I have used before causes you any discomfort.'

Is what Nines had told you earlier on, and you swallowed thickly at the idea of sharing a towel with your partner before shaking your head in embarrassment, desperate to rid yourself of the thought as you picked up your supplies once more, placing them down carefully where they belonged in the shower before beginning the process of stripping down, trying not to pay attention to the blue blood all over your clothes and body as you did so.

And then, after giving the temperature of the water one final check, you stepped in, giving an unintentional and almost surprising sigh of relief as you did so.

The water was hot and soothing against your tense muscles, and for just a few moments, you allowed yourself time to bask in that comfort despite the stressors awaiting you back out in the real world.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, as you began the process of scrubbing semi-dried blue blood off of your skin, Nines was exiting the master suite, having laid a white button up across his neat black comforter to await your need for it.

The shirt would likely be rather large on you, given that it was one of his, but since you claimed to have a pair of your own jeans in the car, he was confident that your outfit wouldn't be so excessively unfitted that it would look unkempt.

He sighed and looked toward his wrist to check his watch, a rather human habit he’d developed despite his constant ability to know the time at a moment’s notice without the use of a device that attached to his body.

It was 4:35 now, and you had only been in the shower for around five minutes.

He glanced towards the bathroom door, the dull slap of water hitting tile the only sound emanating from your general vicinity.

He then looked at the door to his apartment, considering his options.

He had made a promise not to leave, and intended to keep it, but even so, he knew it made almost no sense to wait for you to exit the shower just for him to go down and get you your jeans anyway, and it wasn't as if you could do so yourself without new pants to wear down to the parking lot below.

Plus, he had only promised not to leave, and you had neglected to define exactly what "leaving" entailed.

Nines gave a subtle smirk at that, deciding that with that logic, you had no ground to stand on as long as he didn't actually leave the property, which he had absolutely no intention of doing in the process of collecting your spare pair of jeans.

So, with that, the android made a beeline for the front door, grabbing both his house keys as well as your car keys before he stepped out into the hallway and locked his front door behind him.

He took the steps slowly and at his leisure, though he notably went two at a time the entire way down until he reached the entrance to his apartment complex, which allowed him access to the gated parking area.

Once outside, it was easy to unlock your car and locate your pants within the trunk before shutting and locking everything all over again, your jeans slung over his forearm the same way that his shirt had been previously as he leaned against your car and looked up toward his apartment, where he was shocked to see that you hadn't bothered with closing the blinds at the window that looked into the shower.

Thankfully, he had been right about the pane being too high up on the wall to reveal anything one might consider intimate, but even still, Nines found himself staring as you ran adept fingers through your hair, rinsing the shampoo from it with your eyes peacefully shut against the consistent barrage of water raining down from the shower head above.

He continued to watch in an almost curious manner for a few more moments before realizing you were likely close to finishing, a fact which caused him to move a bit faster up the stairs during his return to the apartment, unlocking the door with ease before stepping back inside and closing the door swiftly and silently behind him.

Nines listened closely, hearing the familiar sound of water on tile as he made his way down the hall and over to his bed to set your jeans down alongside his button up.

There.

You would likely be done any minute now, and when you were, you could -

Nines’ inner thoughts were cut off by the sound of your phone ringing from somewhere across the apartment, and as he focused more on the noise emanating from the device in order to find it, he felt his brow wrinkle in curiosity.

Where could you have left that?

As Nines began what would be a very short and simple search for your cell phone, you were finishing up in the shower, fighting back a shiver as you lightly ran the soap bag containing your favorite bar soap across your torso, the unfamiliar texture tickling your skin in an unexpected manner.

The perception of yet another foreign sensation had you thinking back to all of the other unfamiliar feelings you’d experienced lately, though one in particular seemed stuck at the front of your mind.

Without even realizing what you were doing, you allowed your thoughts to wander aimlessly to the way that Nines' hands had gently cradled your hips as he’d lifted you up to the ladder earlier that morning, and how similar the memory of those hands felt to the water that was now caressing your skin, causing light blue liquid to spill down the drain as it washed away the blue blood that had stubbornly remained despite your persistent scrubbing.

Suddenly, broken out of your reverie by a slight temperature shift in the water, you startled, cheeks hot with embarrassment when you realized what you’d been thinking of. 

God, what was up with you lately?

You had been thinking about Nines almost nonstop, particularly when it came to your more physical interactions, like when he had helped you in and out of your dress for the gala a few weeks back, or when you had grazed his neck at the same aforementioned event and received a rather surprising reaction from him in response.

But even still, despite the memories of the other physical moments that had occurred between the two of you, the recollected feeling of his strong hands gripping powerfully onto your hips as he’d lifted you up with an almost practiced ease had your mind reeling and your heart racing for reasons you were fairly certain you didn't want to consider further.

And even though you tried to convince yourself that these reactions were completely normal, you still found that guilt was getting the better of you.

This was Nines you were thinking about, the cold, stubborn, and calculating military model android that you called your partner, who, despite others’ perceptions of him, felt a great deal of responsibility and worry for your well-being, as well as the well-beings of many more on top of that.

You thought back to when he had been shot earlier that morning, how he had comforted you even while he was so seriously injured and in pain, and the fact that he had done so as if it were the only possible option.

In Nine's mind, ensuring your safety, be it emotional or physical, was of the utmost importance, even when his personal safety was at risk, and as much as he would likely deny that verbally, his actions spoke volumes.

Nines had been willing to endure what most would consider to be an immense agony with a straight face just to make you feel less worried for him,

And here you were, in his bathroom, unable to stop yourself from thinking of the way his hands had felt as they’d wrapped easily around your hips, his torso just inches behind your back while he’d lifted you mere moments later, that usual air of confidence somehow both annoying and reassuring all at once as he’d done so.

Fuck, you really needed to get a grip.

Grabbing the shower valve dial in a manner that could only be described as aggressive, you held back a squeak as you forced the temperature down further, dousing yourself in much colder water in an effort to end your unwelcome thoughts.

Just moments later though, you failed to hold back a second squeak at the sound of knuckles rapping thrice against the wooden door, before Nines' voice followed shortly thereafter,

"Detective, please come out at your earliest convenience. There is something that requires your immediate attention."

At those words, you found yourself cursing under your breath before reaching to turn the water off entirely, grabbing for a towel and wrapping it around yourself all the while.

Hurriedly, and with an almost impressive level of speed considering how slippery your environment was, you stepped out of the shower and onto the mat below before allowing your feet to press against the cool tile as you made your way over to the door, previously worn clothing forgotten in a heap below the towel rack as you reached to unlock and open it, allowing a gust of steam to exit the bathroom and pour out into the hallway instead.

There, standing against the wall opposite the bathroom, stood Nines, and you watched as his eyes scanned the length of your body before halting suddenly, as if he realized too late how that may have looked.

You chose to ignore it.

"What's going on?"

You all but panted out, tightening your towel dress around your chest and ensuring it was secure even as you spoke, suddenly far more aware of your lack of clothing now that Nines was watching you.

"You received a phone call regarding a case nearby. Our presence has been requested at the scene due to the state of the victim and the proximity of the crime in comparison to our current location."

Your eyes widened as Nines spoke, and you struggled to form a response as you realized what he was saying,

"Wait, but we were supposed to be taken off of the page list for the night after what happened earlier today. Was this some kind of mistake?"

Nines shrugged his shoulders,

"I am unable to discern the level of intent that was had by dispatch when they requested our support at the scene. I simply stated we would arrive as soon as is feasible."

You gawked at your partner's words, crossing your arms over the exposed skin of your chest as you gave him a look that could only be described as pure exasperation,

"Your technician said you needed to take at least the rest of the night off, why wouldn’t you just say that we're unavailable?"

Nines gave a dismissive hum, his hand moving in a manner that suggested the dilemma you had brought up was of very little importance.

"I saw no reason to turn down the case, as all that would do is delay the inevitable."

You scoffed, adjusting your towel again to ensure it was firmly tucked into itself before you placed a hand on your hip,

"And what exactly is the inevitable in this situation? That you blow a fuse trying to interrogate a suspect because you refuse to just take it easy until your new parts come in?"

Nines shook his head, replying as if your question had been far more sincere than it actually was,

"No Detective, the inevitable is that the department sends in someone else in our stead, they neglect to solve the case, and we are left to deal with the mess that they made in the process of their failure."

You rolled your eyes, but gave a relenting sigh that your partner knew meant you no longer had any hope of not joining him at the scene,

"There are literally three other people in the android crimes division, Nines, how much mess could they possibly make?"

The android in question gave you a rather pointed look and took a step back before gesturing toward his room,

"I am confident that I don't need to answer that question for you, Detective. Now, if you're finished in the bathroom, you're more than welcome to use the bedroom at the end of the hall to change. I took it upon myself to collect your jeans and find you a shirt while you freshened up."

You glared at your partner before begrudgingly agreeing, briefly heading back into the bathroom to grab the clothing you had abandoned on the floor previously to ensure that you would have undergarments to wear, since you severely doubted Nines' ability to procure those for you.

With that, you started making your way down the hall, taking note of the way that the android was quick to follow. 

"You broke your promise about leaving you know."

You stated matter of factly as you passed the threshold to the master bedroom, trying not to look as in awe of the large space as you actually were when you turned to face your partner, who tilted his head slightly in response to your words,

"On the contrary, Detective, I was actually very careful to keep it. I neglected to leave the property, and therefore did not leave in any meaningful sense of the word."

You rolled your eyes and placed a hand on the door, preparing to shut it in order to give yourself some privacy,

"Whatever you say, Nines. Is there anything else you need, or can I get changed now?"

Nines shook his head,

“No, there is nothing else that I require, Detective. I’ll wait here in the hallway in case there’s anything you may need.”

You gave a slight nod and muttered a soft "Thanks", before you closed the door, sighing gently while stepping back to sit at the edge of the large California King sized bed, the black comforter that covered it feeling slightly cool against your skin as you began to dry your hair to the best of your ability.

After finishing up with that, you stood and prepared to get dressed, even though the shirt Nines had provided would clearly be big on you.

You started with your undergarments before moving on to your pants, stepping into the familiar clothing with ease before you tugged the large white button up Nines had given you over your head, immediately noting just how soft the fabric felt against your skin, and how despite it clearly being clean, it still had that faint smell that reminded you so thoroughly of your partner.

Turning, you looked in the mirror, letting out a quiet chuckle at the sight of yourself in Nines' shirt, the sleeves hanging well past your hands in a way that made you look like a child playing dress up again.

You shook your head at the situation you’d found yourself in, tucking the front of the shirt into your jeans before threading your belt through the loops, doing your best to look as professional as possible despite your lackluster clothing options.

You were just about to glance toward the mirror and look at your reflection one final time when a set of three firm knocks on the door brought your attention elsewhere.

"You can come in!"

You shouted back, hearing the gentle click of the door opening just a few moments later as Nines slowly stepped into the bedroom, his gaze falling to your new clothing immediately.

Laughing a bit, you held your arms out and gave a slow spin,

"How do I look? Do android tailored shirts suit me?"

You asked sarcastically, watching as Nines cocked a brow and stepped forward, his gaze flitting across your form as he fully took in the sight of you, before finally, he opened his mouth to speak,

"The clothing is plenty suitable as long as you feel comfortable wearing it."

You rolled your eyes a bit at that, shrugging as you pushed the sleeves up towards your elbows messily, crinkling the fabric in disorganized patterns that had both sleeves falling back down towards your wrists unevenly as a result.

Nines all but scoffed at your actions,

"And how do you intend to inspect a crime scene with your sleeves getting in the way, Detective?"

You shrugged dismissively as you began to search for some sort of hair tie in the pocket of your jeans

"Eh, I'll roll them up on the drive over."

You grinned to yourself as you found an elastic in your back pocket, preparing to turn toward your partner to finish your conversation when you felt a light tug at the fabric of your sleeve, which had begun to dangle off your hand once more.

Surprised, you looked toward your left arm, where the sensation was coming from, only to find that Nines was holding it between two sets of fingertips, seemingly contemplating the fabric before he looked up at you expectantly,

"May I, Little Mouse?"

You blanched at the now familiar nickname before regaining your composure and nodding slowly, barely resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation,

"If you really think you have to, then sure, but I can do it myself, you know."

You clarified quietly, your voice sounding more than just a little breathless as you spoke.

"I believe you're perfectly capable, if that's what you're worried about, Detective. I simply believe my assistance might speed up the process for us both."

Not sure how to reply, you just nodded silently, ignoring the quickening pace of your heart as your partner stepped forward, now much closer as he lifted your hand up to his shoulder so he could roll the fabric of your borrowed shirt sleeve up your arm in tight and even folds. He continued with this until finally, he reached the area just above your elbow and stopped, using the button tab to hold the sleeve in place before he gestured for your right arm, placing your hand similarly upon his shoulder before he began the process once more.

You watched closely all the while, feeling almost in awe of Nines as you studied the way his face looked up close, counting the constellations of freckles that dotted his artificial flesh, and taking note of the way that his jaw shifted as he concentrated heavily on the task at hand, completely unaware of your watchful gaze as he worked.

However, what you were entirely unaware of yourself, was just how focused on you the android truly was.

Despite his consistent perfection when it came to the task at hand, his mind was much more occupied with the way you looked in his clothing.

His shirt, that had been tailored explicitly for him and no one else.

He had never considered before that something made solely for him could look so right on someone else, much less his smaller human partner, but even so, he found himself enamored by the way your fingers had wrapped around the sleeves as they had dangled below your hands, and the way the shirt seemed to flutter about your body even after you had tucked the front of it into your jeans.

But above all else, his mind was stuck on how well the color of the fabric looked against your skin despite its neutral tones, as if you had been the person made to wear it all along.

He broke himself out of his internal reverie just as he began buttoning the second sleeve in place, his artificial breaths that he hadn't consciously chosen to pause starting up once more as he rooted himself firmly in reality again.

Despite him clearly being finished, the two of you remained in that position for just a little while longer, him with his fingers brushing gently against the skin of your arm, and you with your hand holding loosely to his shoulder, your faces suddenly seeming much closer than just seconds before as he lowered his gaze from your sleeve in order to meet your eyes, the intensity of his piercing gray/blues shocking you for a moment before you managed to regain your composure, clearing your throat lightly as you lowered your hand from his shoulder hesitantly, your gaze slowly dropping away from his and instead moving to the mirror to the right of you, where you found your reflections staring back, unyielding in their persistent attention.

Suddenly though, you watched as Nines' LED briefly circled yellow just seconds before your phone gave it's familiar notifying chirp of a work page, causing you to groan and look around for it, only to have Nines give a subtle smirk and roll of his eyes before pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to you with only a silent quirk of his brow that nearly made you want to punch that slightly smug look off his face.

He always found amusement in how easily you lost things or sometimes even outright forgot them, leaving him to remember their importance and carry them on his person in order to ensure the two of you remained at "peak efficiency".

You, on the other hand, were not nearly as big a fan of how often he'd been right regarding your persistent forgetfulness, even when you were actively trying to remember everything that you needed.

Sighing, you reached over to take your phone from your partner, mumbling out an annoyed “Thanks.” before you checked your most recent work notification and frowned, glancing up at the android standing before you,

"Are you sure you want to do this? We can just call out."

Nines didn't even seem to give your question any thought before he simply nodded and pulled your car keys from his pocket, spinning them around on his index finger casually,

"I'm sure, Detective. Is there anything else you need before we go?"

Letting out yet another sigh of pure exasperation, you shook your head, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you replied,

"Nope, nothing else. Let's get this night over with."

AO3 Link

Series Masterlist

[willsimpforanyone]

I just thought this would be fun, but could you Will solace X any reader, where the reader basically has semi invincibility (?) For example where the reader's head gets cut off and they can just reattach it to themselves, how do you think he will react to to

this is hilarious i can absolutely do that

obv this has some body horror in it, i actually want to be a horror writer so this is good practice

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

I groaned as my ribs popped back into place.

No matter how many times I did it, there was still that twinge of pain that came with adjusting my skeleton. Breathing deeply a couple times, I took a moment in the fight to check in with everything.

Ribs fixed, done. Head thumping slightly from being clocked in the head, not a big deal. Other bones mostly in place and not shattered, so I'm doing okay.

I glanced over to where Will was. Gorgeous blonde hair an absolute mess, skin dusted grey with dead monster from the first manticore we dispatched. I shook my head slightly, and lunged back into the fray.

My sword swung wildly but it hit it's mark, making slashes and spraying blood everywhere. I stabbed and slashed and used my advantage to get in close to the monster to attack it's weak spots.

A sharp pain flashed through my wrist, and instinctively I jerked back, clutching my limb to my body. Momentarily distracted by my sudden movements, the monster turned fully away from Will and allowed him to land a solid blow into the manticore's centre. The beast exploded in a shower of dust and before the ash even settled, Will was by my side.

"Hey, hey, what happened?" His hands hovered over mine, eyes wide but focused. In the back of my mind, I fluttered at the sudden change into medic Will from battle Will all because of little ol' me.

I looked down, one hand clutching my wrist to my chest, blood soaking the front of my t-shirt. I felt bone and muscles and tendon under my fingers and groaned in both pain and realisation.

"Um, honey, I need you to not freak out, okay?" I hissed through my teeth, adrenaline wearing off and the agony of my hand being detached from my arm kicking in hard. "I'm gonna need your help, and you're gonna have to wait to freak out."

Will nodded. "Whatever, how do I help, what do I help with?"

I slumped to the floor against a wall, slightly dizzy from blood loss. "Okay, don't throw up, but I need to rip off my hand."

Will shrieked something incomprehensible. I inhaled sharply through my nose and he knelt down. "What the fuck, what the fuck."

"If you can't deal, look away, because to get it to heal cleanly I need to have a clean break, not hanging on like this, okay?" I learned this the hard way, a couple fingers will forever be slightly wonky. Will physically steeled himself, placing one hand on my leg and the other on my shoulder.

"Do it."

I gritted my teeth, and tore my hand off. The sickening sound of skin splitting and muscle tearing had Will retching but he stayed where he was, hand solid and supportive on my shoulder.

Breathing deeply, I gave him a shaky smile. "Okay, you did good, now help me hold this steady, I need it still as I reattach it, yeah?"

Will exhaled, but nodded. "Y-yeah, okay." He sat down properly, and took a hold of the hand-less arm. "I'll hold this still, you put the... the hand where it needs to go, right?"

I nodded. "It takes a couple minutes, but then I'll be fine."

Gently, and with no small amount of pain, I touched my hand to my wrist. I concentrated with all my power, feeling the bones fuse, the muscle knit together, skin sewing itself over everything. Tears pricked at my eyes, stinging and a lump lodged in my throat.

True to my word, in a few minutes, all that was left was a jagged red-pink scar looping around my arm like a brand. Will tore his eyes away from the spectacle to look at me. "W-we good?"

I nodded, leaning my head back against the wall. Will nodded, stood up, walked a few paces away, and promptly threw up. I could hear his breathing, heavy and deep. He swallowed, took a sip of his water from his backpack and returned.

"You okay?" I gave him a weak smile.

He slid down next to me, a breathy laugh punched out of him. "No, that was horrifying." He leaned his head on my shoulder. "I've been working as a medic in camp for years, and that is one of the worst things I've ever seen. Since when can you do that?"

I nudged him with my elbow. "Sorry, I meant to tell you, it was just never a good time." Tentatively, I stretched my fingers, slowly regaining feeling and movement. "I'm indestructible, even without ambrosia or nectar, always have been."

Will nodded. still looking pale. "Well, we should get back to camp." He stood, and reached out a hand. With my ordinary hand, I pulled myself up and immediately sat back down. My vision clouded over with static, a ringing piercing my ears.

"Yeah, maybe in a minute."

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

this was fun! i hope you enjoyed, thank you for requesting!

[theycallmebecca]

Drabble: The Chores

Happy first drabble of 2023! This one is for the Warm Up: One-Word Prompt challenge @the-slumberparty I got my word yesterday and it was "enhance" but I didn't even think to screen cap it. 🤦‍♀️

The obvious choice would have been to go with Steve Rogers... cause he is enhanced... but then I got this idea for cowboy!Ari Levinson...and y'all know I love cowboy!Ari.

Title: The Chores

Pairing: cowboy!Ari Levinson x reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: suggestive

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context. 

Finished with work early, you escape the ranch house and settle into your hammock with a good book to enjoy the nice weather.

You are getting to a juicy part of the book the first time you notice Ari walk past you. He catches your eye and gives a small wave before he carries on with whatever chore he is working on.

The second time he comes by, he is on one of the ranch atv’s, noisily riding past you, pulling your attention from the book.

It isn't until he wanders into the area a third time, pushing a wheelbarrow full of logs, that you begin to suspect he is intentionally disturbing your peace. After all, the hammock is in a partially secluded private yard, separated from the working ranch by a row of hedges on one side.

You narrow your eyes as you watch him from over the edge of your book as he dumps the logs onto the ground by the stump he used as a chopping block. Then he disappears with the wheelbarrow.

He all but confirms your suspicions when he returns with his ax to chop the logs; logs that you both know don't have to be chopped right now and likely won’t even fit in the wood stockpile.

As you watch, he digs through the pile of logs and puts one on the stump and then positions himself so his back is towards you.

Unconsciously, you bite down on your lower lip as he swings the ax, splitting the log cleanly into two pieces. He repeats the process a couple times, allowing you to appreciate the way his body looks from behind. The way his blue jeans enhance his best, uh, ass-et. Not to mention the way his back and arm muscles flex with each swing.

After finishing a few logs, he pauses and sets the ax down. Then he turns suddenly and catches you watching him. He gives you a wink before he lifts the front of his shirt up and pulls it off. He makes a show of drying his sweaty face with the shirt before he tosses it aside.

“How’s the book?” He asks as if he isn't fully aware that you had lost interest in your book thanks to him.

Well two could play that game, you decide. “Trying to cool down,” you say, casually. “Just read a super sexy scene.”

"Sounds like a good book," he replies all the while giving you a smirk that says he doesn’t believe you. Turning, he takes his time setting up the next log, giving you plenty of time to take in the tan, bare skin of his back.

Damn him.

Once he is happy with the placement, he lines up the ax, taking a couple unnecessary practice swings for your benefit, before he slices the log into two.

With a huff, you get up from the hammock, getting his attention.

“Going somewhere?” he asks.

“You’re making me feel lazy,” you say, lying through your teeth. “Figured I go inside and do some chores.”

“Need a hand? Or two?” He asks, the glimmer in his eyes telling you that if you both go in the house no chores will be done.

“I’m sure you have stuff to do still,” you reply, testing him.

“Nothing the guys can’t handle,” he assures you. “I’ll just clean this up and meet you inside?” He gestures to the split logs.

"If you're sure they can spare you, I'd love the help," you say. "With the chores."

"The chores," he repeats. "I love doing the chores."

You go into the house and head straight for the master bathroom, where you plan to make good use of both his hands.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, so I made a post earlier this evening that said Jimmy Carr was in the So You Think You're Funny (Edinburgh-based competition for new comedians) finals in 1999 with Andy Zaltzman (and with Russell Howard and Josie Long, they all lost to the winner David O'Doherty), but there was some confusion because Jimmy Carr wasn't listed on the Wikipedia page. This led to a friend of mine going down a rabbit hole of trying to work out whether there's definite evidence that Jimmy Carr really was there, which led me to dig through old Bugle transcripts and see if I can find any time when Andy Zaltzman may have referenced having once been in some comedy competition finals with Jimmy Carr.

None of that is really important, though. That was just context to explain why I ended up digging up this clip, of Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver on a Bugle episode from 2012, discussing the tax scandals that included Jimmy Carr. It doesn't actually mention the competition I was looking for, but it's a funny enough clip for me to want to share:

First of all, I need to draw attention to that technically perfect pun run at about 1:30. It was an extremely short one, only four points long, but he hit every one nicely. K2 is the name of both a mountain and a tax scam, I assume that's how he started as it was exactly right. Then he hit "Everest" quite successfully, I thought that surely he can't get to "Lhotse" as cleanly, but then he did! Only one more peak to scale, and I thought, how on Earth is he going to get to that fourth mountain that's <8,500 metres? That's too long a word.

"Kangchenjunga" = "Catchin' Jim Carr". Break it down - it works on every syllable. Amazingly perfect.

The other 7 or so minutes of that clip aren't all that important, they don't cover any of what I was originally looking for, but I thought I'd leave in the whole story just because it is a delight to listen to Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver talk to each other. Also, after all those years of contradictory information about whether Jimmy Carr is a dick or a wonderful person whom all he comedians speak highly of (or used to - that doesn't seem as true these days) - nothing has cleared up that confusion for me more than hearing John Oliver, say "Jimmy Carr is a lovely man, I like him very much, and I'm not in the least bit surprised to see that he was involved in something like this". I remember the first time I heard that episode, and went - Ohhhh, I get it now. Jimmy Carr is one of those guys. One of those guys where you're like - "Yeah he's my friend and I like the guy, but he's got a ruthless streak and I bet he's doing lots of terrible things I don't know about." Okay, that makes sense. We all know that guy.

Though on the other hand, in the last few years, the world has had a bit of a reckoning involving trying to be less "he's still my friend, though" about those guys, and more "Actually I don't want to tacitly endorse whatever shitty things this guy is probably doing by being cool with him", which might be why in recent years, other comedians seem less quick to say things like "You know, Jimmy Carr actually is a nice guy, in real life." And more quick to - actually, now that I think about it, I have seen David O'Doherty reference Jimmy Carr in 2024, and it was in the Edinburgh show I saw him do live a few weeks ago, where the crowd erupted in cheers after DO'D took a quick, and relatively mild but still clear and pointed dig at Jimmy Carr. This dig clearly communicated "that guy's kind of a dick", but unfortunately did not clarify whether or not they were definitely in the finals of a comedy competition together in 1999.

[inventors-fair]

Going Up - Elevator Pitch Winners

An uplifting round of applause for our winners this week: @bergdg, @bread-into-toast, and @izzet-always-r-versus-u!

Marchesa, Queen of Paliano - @bergdg

The other mods were quite enamored with this one, and as a fan of venturing into the dungeon, I can definitely see why. Plans, conceptually, are very good as a sort of more linear execution on the aforementioned dungeons. Your sample plan, Maintain Order, I think does things mostly right, namely starting off with a low-board-impact ability, so that your opponent doesn't have to worry quite so much about the exact contents of every scheme you could possibly go on. That said, I do wish it was at least a step longer to complete, if only to tone down Marchesa's last ability, which feels potentially very overwhelming given that the tokens it can make can themselves generate more tokens. I also do kind of wish that abandoning the plan was perhaps more of a discreet step? Just so that switching gears is just a smidge more difficult, and maybe give players some scaling payoff for when they complete or leave whatever plan they were on, so that seeing things through closer to the end is more heavily incentivised, but I think that's more me exploring this cool space you've created than an actual criticism of how you've done things. At the end of the day the plan mechanic is clever and endearing and that's a hard combination to not speak highly of.

Quintorius, Digsite Delver - @bread-into-toast

Planeswalkers are the sorts of things that are generally both difficult to design and difficult to evaluate, so it's a bite rare that they find themselves this high on the podium. That said, we're here, so let's talk about why, starting with the two words that make this card an eligible contestant. Backup planeswalker feels so natural you'd think they'd've already done it, and the particular loyalty abilities you've chosen to grant this card simultaneously feel very appropriate for the character, while still being generally useful on just about anyone else. That said, I am not without concerns. Getting to abruptly generate four loyalty counters and a 3/2 blocker certainly seems safe on the Elephant in the room, but I am a little worried about how well it might play alongside planeswalkers with somewhat more dramatic loyalty abilities. Strixhaven Kasmina certainly never broke anything, and this is two more mana than that, but generating blockers on a positive loyalty ability has historically led to very strong planeswalkers, so I do feel some concern is warranted. All that said, I don't think I'd really change anything about what this guy is doing, aside from maybe dropping the +2's to +1s, just to be safe. Lovely execution regardless.

Awaken from Slumber - @izzet-always-r-versus-u

Straight to the point: Pray is an inspired attempt at fixing conspire. I love how, by removing the payoff inherent to the ability, by adjusting the ceiling, you've made it so that the floor can kind of rise to meet it. Three mana to dredge back two creatures from your graveyard is far from a bad rate, and getting to turn that into an actual full reanimation spell is just delightful. This also just feels like a very clever design to show off this mechanic on, as the off-mode very cleanly gives you precisely enough creatures to allow you to pray for something else. Certainly not flashiest thing submitted this week but I have full faith that this will play quite well and honestly that's worth a lot in my opinion.