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take-taker-taken · 9 months

Note

hey there, "first time asker" is back! i'm so glad i that i was able to inspire something last time:).

i recently had another idea: so it would be shawn x taker again (i'm sorry i just love these two so much). this time a little more explicit? so taker is usually very dominant and a big fan of tying shawn up. this time tho, shawn wants to tie him up for a change and taker agrees. but we all know that shawn is the biggest tease known to man(kind sorry i couldn't resist). taker then loses his patience. but we all know that he is somewhat of a supernatural being, so he manages to undo the restraints without shawn noticing. now its time for taker to reverse the roles and have his way with shawn.

again any era you want and if you want to add or remove something go ahead. hope your cold is gone by now :)

Hellooooo, second time asker! Here is your fic - sorry that it took me so long and I hope it hits the spot! Feel free to picture whichever era you most prefer!

Give & Take - Interrupted

Shawn pounces on Taker right after he walks in the door, wrapping his arms around the bigger man’s waist and stretching up for a kiss that very quickly becomes heated.

“Someone’s keen,” he comments when Shawn finally lets him up for air.

“Well, if you will insist on sending me suggestive texts in the middle of the afternoon…” Shawn says with a smile.

“Suggestive? It was a few little pictures, that’s all.” Despite his flippant reply, Taker’s hands slide down to cup Shawn’s pert ass.

“They’re called emojis,” Shawn says, planting a lazy kiss on his lover’s neck. “And it was that special one that you use - as you well know.”

Unseen by the blonde who’s still nuzzling at his throat, Taker smiles. “Yeah, OK - you got me. I’m a bad man.”

Shawn leans back so that he can look Taker in the eye. “Nah. You’re actually very good. But… I don’t suppose…” He trails off and worries at his bottom lip with his teeth.

Even though it’s obvious that Shawn is plotting, the big man takes the bait as he gently lifts his thumb to the blonde’s mouth and frees the lip before it gets hurt. “Don’t suppose that what?” He prompts.

“I was thinking… maybe we could change things up tonight?” He does his best puppy dog eyes when he adds, “And I could be the one to tie you up?”

Taker looks at Shawn for a long minute as though searching for any trace of an attempt at ribbing but all he sees is wide, honest blue eyes. And so he nods.

“Sure, why not?” His cold heart melts a little at the excited smile that appears on Shawn’s face and he can’t help adding, “But I’m not calling you ‘sir’.”

“No. No, that would be weird,” Shawn agrees quickly and then settles into Taker’s arms again happily and makes a soft, contented little sound when Taker leans down and kisses the top of his head.

“Uhh, put your hands up over your head,” Shawn says, eyeing the railings of the headboard and toying with handfuls of rope. Having already had each of his feet bound to the bottom of the bed Taker silently complies, holding loosely on to the rails and Shawn has to take a minute to just drink him in. Sure, he sees his partner naked all the time, but rarely on display like this. Taker is a big guy and the position he’s in right now shows all the definition in his huge arms. Shawn wants to lay down on him with that broad chest as a pillow and sink his teeth into those pecs… and then he realises that he can. Still wearing his jeans, he drapes the length of rope around his neck and crawls on to the bed, straddling Taker’s hips. He leans forward and begins to wind the rope around the bigger man’s wrists - his work isn’t as neat as Taker’s but he’s sure it’ll be just as effective. He wraps and knots it around the railings as best he can and then places his hands on Taker’s chest, splaying his fingers out across the pecs.

“Does it feel OK? Not too tight?” He asks the same thing that Taker always says when their roles are reversed.

The big man raises a dark eyebrow. “It’s fine,” he says. “But then, it’s not like I have regular circulation.”

Shawn gives a small shrug in capitulation and then digs his fingers into Taker’s flesh slightly and wriggles backwards. His gaze leaves the green eyes and roves across the broad chest below him and then he does it - he dips his head and mouths at the big man’s left pec just above the nipple before gently biting down.

Taker lets out a breathy moan the sort of which he’s never heard him make before and Shawn looks up in surprise.

“You like that?” He tries to keep his tone in check and sound more confident than questioning.

“Yeah,” Taker replies, his voice sounding a little strained. “I like it just fine.”

Shawn understands his stoic lover well enough to know that liking something ‘just fine’ actually translates as, ‘give me more of that right now’. He briefly considers making Taker ask him to do it again but decides against it as while that’s exactly the kind of thing the big man would do to him, he has a feeling it would just send his partner retreating into his shell. So instead, he dips back down and bites again - harder this time, to the point of leaving teethmarks. He’s rewarded with another moan and so he begins to devour Taker’s chest like a starving man, licking and biting his way across it.

By the time he sits back up Taker’s eyes are closed, he’s breathing rapidly and his skin is pink and covered with marks. Also, his dick is as hard as a rock, which Shawn notices when his ass bumps against it and he smirks a little.

“Guess you really liked it, huh?”

Taker’s eyes snap open and Shawn startles as he notices that the other man’s pupils are blown so wide, his eyes look nearly black.

“Enough teasing now.” Taker flexes his arms and stares hungrily at the blonde wriggling on his lap. “You got it like that, so now you can take care of it.”

“All in good time,” Shawn replies, with a cheeky wink as he shuffles backwards. He wriggles his jeans and boxers off and then lays down on his stomach between Taker’s legs in order to be properly on a level with ‘it’. He rests his chin on his hands as he takes some time to admire the delectable treat in front of him, while his partner stares impatiently down the line of his body, glaring at the smug blonde.

Shawn reaches out and wraps his hand around the base, guiding the column towards him before sticking his tongue out and licking steadily from root to tip. He presses his tongue hard against the flesh, feeling it track over the thick vein while at the same time feeling Taker’s thighs tense beneath his hand. He’s sure that he hears a creak from the head of the bed.

In a bid to quell any sense of mutiny from above, he takes the spongy head into his mouth and sucks hard which automatically causes the bigger man to thrust upwards, chasing the pressure. Shawn merely moves with him and continues to tease, curling his tongue around to tickle at the frenulum as a muffled growl is heard from above.

“I told you enough teasing,” Taker’s words come from between gritted teeth. “Take it down your throat.”

“I told you all in good time,” Shawn counters, emboldened by the safety of distance. “I wanna play a little first, and then I’ll slide right down on it.”

“I’ll remember this,” Taker grumbles, flexing his fingers.

Shawn dips his head to hide a smile. “I’m counting on that,” he answers and then noses at Taker’s balls before licking and nipping at the sac while he reaches up with his right hand to slowly jack the now weeping erection. This earns a few sharp intakes of breath as his victim struggles to adjust to the new sensation.

“C’mon, baby…” Taker’s voice is soft now, cajoling. “You know you want to take me all the way…”

Shawn’s head pops back up in almost comic fashion but the smirk on his face is predatory. His expression matches his actions as he crawls slowly back up Taker’s body, making sure to let his muscled abs drag against the bigger man’s dick on the way.

Taker closes his eyes against the insanely erotic sight of his lover advancing upon him and presses his lips together to prevent any kind of sound escaping. He knows that he shouldn’t do what he’s currently considering… That is, using his powers in the bedroom, right now… it wouldn’t be in the spirit. On the other hand, Shawn has now reached his chest and has begun to bite and suck on his left nipple while simultaneously pinching his right. Unnggh.

Decision made.

It takes Shawn nearly a full minute to realise that something is… not wrong, exactly - just different. He’s laying atop the big man having transferred his attentions from nipples to neck and he’s happily nuzzling away there when the familiar, huge arms wrap around him and a kiss is pressed to the side of his head. The big hands slide down his back and then cup his ass and squeeze before-

Hang on a second!

He scrambles to an upright position, to find Taker’s hands very much no longer tied and a quick glance behind him confirms that while his legs are still spread, his ankles are also free. Taker at least has the good grace to look a bit sheepish and he shrugs awkwardly.

“I got impatient?” He offers as Shawn folds his arms and pouts down at him. “The worst torture was not being able to touch you…”

Shawn can’t get mad - he’s still feeling a little high from the dose of power that he was given and so he leans down and kisses Taker gently.

“Well, now you can touch all you want.”

Taker raises a hand to hold the back of Shawn’s head as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into the blonde’s mouth as the smaller man whimpers his submission. As soon as he breaks the kiss, he rolls them in one movement so that their positions are reversed and he stares down into bright blue eyes that seem to be begging him to take charge. He pins the slim wrists to the bed and when he feels Shawn push against the hold he tightens his grip and watches with satisfaction as he shudders.

“Wh.. what are you gonna do with me?” Shawn asks, a tremor in his voice that even if it’s only done for effect, goes straight to Taker’s dick.

Taker doesn’t answer at first - just uses his grip on each wrist to push Shawn’s arms out wide and then dares him with a Look to move as he lets go and untangles the rope from the headboard’s rails. He quickly and efficiently completes the ties and then asks Shawn to confirm that nothing is too tight. Comfort established, Taker drifts the tips of his fingers down the blonde’s arms, watching them tense as he reaches that ticklish spot on each armpit before finally replying.

“I’m going to make you beg, boy toy.”

Shawn can’t prevent the low whine that’s a combination of lust and trepidation. Taker smirks at the noise, leans down and proceeds to visit upon Shawn exactly what was done to him. He flicks his tongue over the heaving chest and then sinks his teeth slowly into one perfect pec. He takes time to appreciate how the flesh feels under his bite, increasing the pressure until he’s sure that imprints will be left behind. Shawn’s head thrashes from side to side as the torrent of pain-pleasure is inflicted upon him.

He teases the blonde’s nipples, the very tip of his tongue dancing insistently over the hard little peaks and then turns his attention to Shawn’s neck. He takes a good handful of his lover’s hair and uses it to hold his head back as he kisses and bites his throat. Shawn mewls quietly as he’s devoured, straining at the ropes just to feel the restraint more fully.

“Please,” He gasps out when Taker finally kneels back up, watching him writhe impatiently.

“Please, what?”

Shawn’s dick twitches at the prompt and he swallows before replying, “Please, sir…”

Taker smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Please, sir… what?”

Shawn bunches his hands into fists, knowing that it will make his biceps flex a little. “I want… Can I come, sir?”

Taker laughs quietly and merely shakes his head ‘no’, before shifting forwards and offering his dick up to Shawn’s lips. “Open up, boy toy; let’s put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Shawn’s eyes close as he takes his lover’s erection into his mouth and caresses the underside with his tongue. Taker thrusts gently, letting out a quiet grunt of his own as Shawn’s teeth softly scrape over his flesh. “Look at me,” he commands and his heart swells just a little when the blue eyes flutter open and meet his own. Taker holds on to the top rail of the headboard and slowly fucks Shawn’s mouth for a while - never pushing too far, just enjoying as much as the position allows.

Eventually he withdraws and stands up, making his way to the foot of the bed, trailing his fingertips along Shawn’s torso and down his leg as he goes. He stands and contemplates the gorgeous creature on the bed, all mussed-up hair and whimpers.

“That looks uncomfortable,” Taker says, with a nod towards Shawn’s straining dick. As if performing on cue, a bead of pre-come leaks out of the dark red slit and dribbles down over the head. “Want me to do something with it?”

Shawn nods rapidly. “Yes, sir - please. God, yes!”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Taker drops forward, catching himself on his hands and then leans over to lick up the drip running down the side of Shawn’s dick. The blonde shouts in surprise and Taker has to clamp his hands down on the smaller man’s legs to prevent him from moving too much. Far from backing off at the extreme reaction, Taker instead captures the weeping head in his mouth and swirls his long tongue around it a couple of times before sucking hard, drawing back off it with a pop.

Shawn’s hips thrust up pathetically despite Taker’s hold and he looks confused that all the bigger man has done is make matters worse. “Wha..?”

“Said I’d do something with it. Not get rid of it.” Shawn looks bereft which just makes Taker smile. “Didn’t I say that I’d remember what you did to me just now?” Somewhat defeated, Shawn nods as he grasps the bars of the headboard. He looks so pitiful that Taker decides to progress things and crosses to the bedside cabinet to retrieve the lube. He very deliberately holds Shawn’s gaze as he squeezes some out on to his hand to warm and then steps up close, tapping the nearest thigh as a signal to bend his knees.

He gently pushes a well-lubed finger into Shawn, working it in and out while the blonde lets out the most adorable breathy little moans.

“Like this part, don’t you?”

“L - like all of it, si-ahh!” Shawn’s response is cut off to a gasp as Taker chooses that moment to add a second finger. “God, that feels so good…” He writhes and pulls against the ropes as Taker seeks out that little bundle of nerves and presses insistently. The pleasurable burn as he’s carefully stretched is all-consuming and he begins to feel as though he’ll come from Taker’s fingers alone.

“You look good all spread out like that,” Taker comments. He twists his hand around and gently scissors his fingers inside Shawn’s grasping heat and the smaller man mewls.

“Please… Fuck me sir, please!”

“You sure you’re ready?”

Shawn nods rapidly in response. “Please!” He says again, thrusting his hips up.

Taker has half a mind to make him wait, but truth be told he’s more than ready himself and so he withdraws his fingers and then slathers more lube on to his dick. As a final tease he bites his way along one of Shawn’s thighs and then kneels on the bed, hooking his hands behind the blonde’s knees. He lines up and then pushes slowly in, gritting his teeth against the squeeze and intense heat until he bottoms out. He takes a few moments to adjust and then draws back, the beginning of a torturously slow fuck.

Shawn stares up at the man above him, relishing the feeling of being completely owned as he’s held in position. Sure, the idea of topping had been fun but nothing can beat this, he’s sure of it.

“Faster…” The words slip out unbidden and result in Taker ceasing to move altogether.

“You giving orders now?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and serious expression.

“N - no, sir. I just… so good…” Shawn bites his bottom lip and does his best to look contrite.

“That’s what I thought,” Taker says and starts to move again. He moves his left hand from behind Shawn’s knee and places it loosely about the smaller man’s throat. “Your job is to lay there and take it. What are you?”

The question takes Shawn by surprise and at first he’s not sure what Taker’s looking for so he blinks, swallows and hopes for the best before replying,

“I’m your boy toy, sir.”

A mildly satisfied smirk turns up the corner of Taker’s mouth and he rewards Shawn with a few rapid thrusts to stab against his prostate before returning to the previous slow pace.

“What else?”

Shawn swallows again, his stomach flip-flopping before he closes his eyes with faux-shame and quietly answers, “A slut, sir.”

Taker gives Shawn’s throat a gentle squeeze. “Whose slut?”

Shawn’s eyes fly open, expression mildly panicked as though he’s desperate not to be misunderstood. “Yours - your slut.”

“Damn right,” Taker mutters and again rewards the admission with more rapid thrusts. “What else?”

Shawn lets out a small whimper as the pace backs off again and then looks Taker right in the eyes as with more intensity he says, “Your whore, sir.”

This time the increased speed is maintained and Taker shifts his hand from the slim throat to Shawn’s chest, plucking hard at his nipples.

“One of these days I’m gonna label you up with those names,” he says darkly. “Get a Sharpie out and spend a while marking ‘em out on you.” Shawn’s chest heaves and Taker knows he’s imagining that act taking place and so he goes on. “We’ll go out for dinner, real civilised, but you and me will both know that under your shirt you’re branded with all those dirty names that you love.”

“Fuck… please, sir. Please let me come?”

“You’ll wait ‘til you’re told, boy toy.” Taker puts his hand back behind Shawn’s knee, using it to anchor him in place for more vigorous treatment. He’s close himself but there’s no way he’s going to admit that so soon.

Beneath him Shawn looks down the line of his body at his dripping cock, the head weeping and red and wonders whether he’s capable of obeying.

Returning vaguely to the evening’s apparent theme Taker adds, “Bet you’d let me fuck you in front of the whole locker room, huh? You’d let everyone know that you’re all mine, to do whatever I want with, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes! God, yes, sir - want everyone to know - know that I’m yours!”

“Good boy.” Taker slows the pace but gives several deep thrusts, aiming them to hit Shawn’s prostate and grunts with satisfaction when his moans of pleasure become shouts. “Might even put a collar on you - nice one with a pretty tag that tells everyone who you belong to.”

Shawn squeezes his eyes shut, a thought fleeting through his brain about whether Taker might let him choose the colour. “Please, sir… please… I don’t know if I can… fuck, please!”

Without missing a beat Taker grabs the lube and gets a dose on to his hand before grasping Shawn’s cock and sliding it up and down. Shawn sobs and clings to the bed rail for dear life as he cries out desperately and Taker can’t help but feel some pity.

“Go ahead, boy toy - come for me.”

With a shout of relief Shawn lets go, his release shooting out in an arc as Taker milks him expertly even when the fluttering of his channel triggers the bigger man’s climax, making his hips stutter and shove hard against the blonde. The two of them are falling together in a bubble of perfect pleasure and as they eventually come down from the peak a silence settles over the room. Breaths slowly return to normal and having slipped out of Shawn, Taker crawls up over him once more and undoes the ties. As soon as his arms are free Shawn wraps them around the broad back and plants a kiss on to Taker’s shoulder.

“Can I choose the colour?”

Taker lifts his head in order to look down at smiling blonde. “Huh?”

“The collar. Can I choose the colour?”

Taker huffs out a laugh and kisses the tip of Shawn’s nose. “Nope - it’ll be black leather. But I’ll let you choose the tag, OK?”

Shawn lets out an honest to goodness giggle and nods happily. “Deal.”

#the undertaker #undertaker #this character lives in my head rent free #wwe #wwf #shawn michaels #hbtaker #taker smut #Shawn Michaels smut #hbtaker smut #fanfic #anon asks #dom!taker #sub!shawn #TTT Tumblr Asks

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howlingday · 11 months

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Hey Howling, thanks for the advice before! I know asking questions isn't how most people expect advice, but it does work since it forces us to sit down and think a little bigger.

So thanks for that.

I guess that brings another question/advice/opinion I've been meaning to ask you.

When it comes to creating content to share, whether fanfic or original, what motivates you?

Cuz' the more serious I tend to get about an idea, the more I freak out about how much of my own personal time I inevitably start devoting to it.

Which is great in one sense... cuz I get lost into my wondrous world of writing headspace...

... and short little drabbles, and silly prompts are great fun! I really do enjoy them!

But when it comes to fanfics, swimming super deep in the depths of my untethered imagination honestly scares me...

Because who knows if all my effort will be shrugged at and forgotten by the fans or other creators, when I could have been doing something original...?

Or if... when I finally do stick my head up out of the depths of any fandom...

...I'll find that back in the real world, above the surface, the tide of my life will have changed, and I'll realize how much the shore has shifted and moved on...

... alongside my loved ones who will have made new memories without me, every time I insisted on spending just a little more time diving deep, as they never had the urge to go exploring with me...

... all because I was so focused diving into the fandom of someone else's waters.

Sorry, if it got a little heavy, (and I get it if this doesn't get posted), but as someone who gets lost spending months at a time thinking up of new ideas, I wanted your insight on what makes fanfic writing worth it.

Small prompts are fun and a great way to use time, but lengthy-novels and time-consuming art?

What do you think?

Oof... Really aimed right at a very tender and sensitive weak point of mine, to be honest.

But first of all, I'm glad my advice helped you out with your thought process for building your world.

Now, I'mma be really real with you about the whole "time" thing. One of, if not the most absolute worst thought I could ever think of is "how much of my time was this really worth?" Because one thing I find myself often being during my "slumps" is a nihilist. I'll be in my groove, popping out funny ideas and neat little plot points when BAM! I ask myself "What is this all amounting to? Is this something that's going to matter in ten years? Or five years? Next year? What am I going to do in the real world?"

THIS IS THE POTENTIALLY WORST MINDSET YOU COULD POSSIBLY EXPERIENCE.

What helps me out of it is to, well, keep doing it. Get my idea out there and see how much people love it. Keep going at it, build yourself and your style, and learn from your prior mistakes and the mistakes of others.

As for the OTHER aspects in my life, it boils down to numerous factors, because on top of the multiple dozen drafts of asks I have saved for later, I also have my job, my stack of video games to beat and or give up on, my 3000+ YouTube Watch Later list, my MMA classes, and whatever I've got planned with my friends. I remember in college, there was a critical thinking class that said,

"YOU DON'T MAKE TIME, YOU BORROW IT FROM SOMETHING ELSE."

I see the small prompts, incorrect quotes, and spitposts as just fun little writing exercises to just get out there. Definitely play around with them if and when you can.

I hope the advice I gave helps and didn't just sound like me whining. Honestly, the best way to get good at all aspects of writing, including planning, dreaming, and actually writing is to keep doing it. And kinda let it all blend together in your life. If I see or hear something funny or inspiring or just plain awesome, I'll pop it into an incorrect quote and send it out! People love it? Great! No? Oh, well...

But always, always, always...

KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!

#my thoughts #my advice #my answers #writing #me #my life

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sinistersinister · 9 months

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floorshow thots (pre-elimination so no spoilers)

first of all, i found the challenge prompt a bit unclear. maybe my experiences aren't universal but i've never seen a haunted house of the sort the boulets are talking about. cool to watch while high though.

-throb: i finally see him as a winner in this episode, however, this look was small. it was good for small, but small. the paint for the black light version could have been better. i'm glad he did a TRANSFORMATION. nobody else seemed to tell a story with theirs. why do his gags keep failing?

-fantasia: in the abstract, a TERRIFYING idea. i was gooped and gagged when she slithered out, and i thought i finally 'got' fantasia as 'a monster.' then she stood up. and the black light went on. and the way the costume split at the feet. sloppy. i think it would have been cool if she used slightly transparent fabric and painted herself in glow paint and when the lights went off you could see her body trapped in the snake (but no other time).

-blackberri: after last week's good performance, mediocre look this week. the detail on the costume was great, but it was still the same thing when the lights went off. looked like homestuck (not a bad thing just an observation).

-ork: what happens when frieza fails no nut november. or the kkk in space. there was a transformation but it was very disconnected from the first part of the costume, i think. no throughline. also it didn't look very 80s, but none of these, excepting blackberri's, did. cool lasers though. my cats would love this costume.

-cynthia: raver girl into... aah real monsters? forgettable. cool corset tho. and the day-glo orange barf was neat.

-NIO!!!!!!!!!! I SCREAMED WITH LAUGHTER WHEN SHE CAME OUT OMG. THIS LOOKS LIKE IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A 4CHAN MEME IN 2007! WHAT DO THE CHARACTERS ON HER BACK SAY? NIO!!!!!! NIO WHY ARE. WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT!

...IN FRONT OF MY HELL-O KITTY MASK?

unquestioned winner: nio. bottoms: blackberri, ork, cynthia.

#dragula #that mask has seen so many things

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thealmightyemprex · 1 year

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Sci Fi Classics Revisited Westworld

As part of Sci Fi Month as well as checking out Sci Fi stuff I havent seen ,I shall check out sci fi classics I have seen ,starting with the 1973 film Westworld

Plot :Two friends Peter(Richard Benjamin ) and John (James Brolin) go to the Delos amusement park ,spending time in Westworld,where one can live out their fantasies about being a cowboy ,populated by lifelike robots....Who arent behaving as they should

Westworld is a film I like but do not love .My main problem with the film is it is GREAT idea that feels undercooked.The big thing I got out of the film is it is about people living out their fantasies ,both violent and sexual ,and using these robots to fufill these fantasies till the robots turn on them,but maybe cause of the time or the fact the film is PG ,they just touch on this stuff and dont explore it (From what I have heard the recent TV Show explores these themes better ).Another focus of the film is corporate greed (A theme director Michael Crighton said he got frustrated audiences didnt get ) and even that feels undercooked .I'm gonna be honest folks not a lot happens till the third act ,when the robots wreck havoc ,though its mostly focused on a cat and mouse game between one tourist and one robot .Before that the movie is a lot of bumbling about and there are some side plots that dont go anywhere

That said ,I still like the movie.I like the two friends ,with James Brolin as the macho guy who has been here before and Richard Benjamin as a divorcee who likes westerns but is unsure about this and is being dragged here by his friend to cheer him up .Alan Oppenheimer (Who is more famous for voice over work like being the voice of Skelator in He Man and Falkor in the Neverending Story )is good as the head scientist .Probabbly the performance every one rememebers is legendary actor Yul Brynner as The Gunslinger ,a robot programed to behave like your standard bullying "Black hat" cowboy to prompt guests into killing him (He cant attack back.... initially ),so he starts just as a nuisance ......But by the end of the film he becomes a rather iconic movie monster a relentless machine who has a grudge against our protagonist for killing him twice .Yul Brynner brings a sense of intimidation as he silently stalks our hero(Inspiring later relentless movie villains like the Terminator and Michael Myers ).I like the simple effect of the robots ocasionally having shining silver eyes (MAkes the Gunslinger especially look intimidating ) and the practical effects for showing the mechnisims of the robots are really cool(Famous shot where the remove Yul Brynners face to reveal mechnisms is especially neat ).ALso I believe this is one of the first uses of CG in a film for the pixilated way the robots see things and its neat

OVerall its a good movie, that I am glad got remade as a TV show ,because it has a great premise that it didnt take full advantage of .What makes it worth a watch is the world ,the performances,pretty good effects and especially Yul Brynner as an iconic sci fi villain

@ariel-seagull-wings @goodanswerfoxmonster @themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @princesssarisa @filmcityworld1 @amalthea9 @angelixgutz

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sirenascales · 2 years

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Hi! Can I request #1 of the smut prompt list with Kyo and reader? 🥺🥺🥺

Coming right up :) also this is one of those moments where i have no idea where any of this came from because im sleepy 😭 but i hope you like it!

kyojuro rengoku x f!reader

cw: smut, modern au i guess, light???? choking LMAO idk

"My dear, please help me with this."

"You are so helpless, Kyojuro," you teased your fiance as you stepped up to him, ignoring his small pout as you went to work on fixing his tie for him. He wore a very simple yet classic black suit, towering over you in all his glory as you gently pat his now done tie against his chest. "There you go."

"Thank you. We should be going soon," he replied as he watched you walk back to your vanity, looking into the mirror to check yourself. You wore a beautiful evening dress, hair done up and makeup set perfect on your face. You were an absolute vision and Kyojuro was starting to drool.

God, he couldn't wait for this stupid work party to be over.

"Well, I'm ready," you said, your heels clacking on the wooden floor as you went to gather your small clutch bag. You felt pretty damn good in your attire, and had never looked so damn sexy. And seeing just how handsome Kyojuro looked in his suit, his bright colored hair pulled back in a neat, low ponytail... you bit your lip, all before cursing at yourself. You just ruined your lipstick!

Kyojuro laughed as you rushed to fix your makeup and it was your turn to pout at him, flipping him the bird which just made him laugh louder.

"Oh, shut up!"

"I'm sorry, my dear. You are just so damn cute," he said sweetly, grabbing his phone when he got a text. "Ah, that was Sanemi... looks like Mitsuri and Obanai managed to drag him to the party as well."

At the mention of Sanemi's name, your face soured considerably and you grunted, setting down your lipstick. "That is absolutely unfortunate."

Kyojuro chuckled. He knew just much you disliked his coworker. "I understand how you feel, love. But please... try not to cause a scene." It wouldn't be your first, especially when it came to Sanemi. "You remember what happened last time...?"

"It's his fault we got banned from the theater!" you exclaimed, crossing your arms over your chest. "But fine! I will try to contain myself. I promise I'll be a good girl."

Kyojuro just smiled and nodded at you, his lips twitching just a bit as your words swam through his pretty head. Did you have any idea how much your words drove him crazy sometimes? Still, he took your hand and led you out of your shared bedroom and then your home.

The party went on through the night without a hitch, and Kyojuro rather enjoyed chatting with some of his coworkers and their spouses. The food was tasty, the music was immaculate, and even the very obvious disdain between you and Sanemi didn't damper a thing.

Kyojuro watched you like a hawk, always keeping you in his line of sight as you mingled with a glass of champagne in your hand. You talked mostly with Tengen's wives, laughing and just having a great time. That was great, he was glad, even though he was dying.

Kyojuro wanted you. So damn bad, it was almost distracting. It was bad enough you were parading around in that dress that made you look so damn delectable, with your hips swaying with each step you took, necklace decorating your neck nicely. When all he wanted to do was to replace that necklace with his own hand, and ruin all that makeup on your face. You did say you'd be a good girl for him, and with the pleasant smile that grew on his face, he decided he would reward you for that.

And that is how you got to where you were now, hours later, in bed with your fiance. As he promised himself, your makeup was ruined, your eye makeup smudged with mascara running down your cheeks as you cried from pleasure. The bedroom was full of nothing but your wanton cries and the wet sound of skin smacking against skin.

"Kyo- Kyojuro!" you cried out as your fiance drove his hips against yours, his hard cock hitting you in all the best places to make you see stars. Your legs were throw over Kyojuro's shoulders, the large man looking like a god above you. He was ravenous, absolutely set on making you go insane with how good he was making you feel. He smiled as he watched you come undone again, feeling your hot walls squeeze around him and his brain going fuzzy.

"Please.. I can't..." you gasped out after another intense orgasm. Kyojuro was a beast, he's made you cum a number of times tonight, and it didn't seem like he was done, oh no. "Kyojuro..."

"You can give me one more, right my dear?" Kyojuro purred at you, his large hands running up and down your body, until one wrapped lightly around your throat, making you gasp, your hands immediately wrapping around his wrist. Though you didn't try to pull him away, not when he gave a light squeeze, or when he started to fuck you again. He smiled at you again, the face of the ever so friendly Kyojuro, even as he brought you to rapture. Because that's what good girls get.

:^)

#feeling a lil delirious if im being honest lmfao #rengoku x reader #rengoku smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #kyojuro rengoku x reader #yeah boi

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thethreebroomsticksficfest · 3 years

Text

Mistletoe in the Library

Today we have another mod submission, this time from @floreatcastellumposts, read it on AO3 here

Title: Mistletoe in the Library

Author: FloreatCastellum

Pairing: Cho/Cedric

Warnings: None

Prompt: Mistletoe & Yule Ball

‘I heard a little rumour about you,’ he said, grinning and dumping his bag on the floor. The library was strung with Christmas decorations, baubles floating lazily through the towering shelves, coloured lights twinkling in any gaps between the spines of books, the mantlepieces over the fireplaces adorned with garlands of holly. Madam Pince was thankfully not on duty, though Cedric had heard rumours that she had sourly stormed around and taken down all the mistletoe she could find.

From her seat at a study table, Cho looked up, apparently genuinely surprised. ‘Did you?’

He sat beside her, leaned in, and, in a low voice, said, ‘I heard you got asked to the Yule Ball… by another champion.’

‘Oh, shush,’ she said, elbowing him playfully. ‘Who told you that? I didn’t want people gossiping-’

‘I have my ways.’

‘Was it Fliss? I knew she wouldn’t keep it quiet-’

‘So it’s true? Harry Potter asked you?’

‘Yes, it is - but please don’t be mean, he was so sweet about-’

‘I wouldn’t be mean!’ he exclaimed, slightly offended. ‘I’m just surprised, I had no idea - I thought he was head over heels for that Hermione Granger girl.’

‘Well, that’s what they say, but didn’t you see the paper? He’s been a bit broken hearted, lately, I think.’

‘And thought he’d seek comfort in your arms.’

‘I suppose so,’ she said, smiling. ‘I have noticed he has a little bit of a thing for me, but I was surprised too.’

‘What happened? How did he ask you?’

‘He just pulled me aside and blurted it out - I think he was a bit nervous.’

‘And you rejected him?’ he said, placing a sympathetic hand to his chest. ‘Poor lad.’

‘Oh, stop-’

‘Well, I’m glad I got in there first, not sure I could compete with The Boy Who Lived.’

‘You’re not jealous?’ she asked, laughing slightly. An attractive, rosy blush was spreading over her cheeks.

‘Nah, I’m just teasing - bless him, can’t blame a boy for trying.’

She smiled again, and turned to look at the festive red poinsettia in the middle of the table. ‘You’re very kind,’ she told him, and his heart glowed. He pulled out his work, though he had no intention of looking at any of it, and glanced over at her own. Her essay was long, and perfectly neat, elegant, flowing cursive in the flickering candlelight.

‘Do you think he did it?’ she asked, and she suddenly had that sharp, considering expression he loved so much, the one that revealed the depth of her intelligence. ‘Put his name in the cup?’

He paused for a moment. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘Dad thinks so, but… He doesn’t strike me as someone who needs to win at all costs, you know? If he put his name in the goblet, he’s sabotaging himself by doing the decent thing and letting me know about the dragons, isn’t he? That was a really fair thing to do. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying any of it either. You?’

‘I don’t think so either,’ she said calmly. ‘Though not for such a decent, well-thought out reason as you. He just looked so shocked when his name was announced - you weren’t there, you didn’t see, and I know everyone thinks he was acting, but I don’t think any actor can make the blood drain from their face, do you?’

He grinned. ‘No. Poor kid.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘And you turned him down…’

‘Oh, want me to go with him, do you?’ she teased. ‘Plenty of time to find yourself a new date, if you think I should take pity on him.’

He chuckled. ‘You’re so kind hearted, but I think I would prefer you took pity on me.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Please. I’m very hard done by.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Yes - my girlfriend is being wooed by another man. A famous one at that.’

She tutted at him, and gave him a playful shove as he sniggered, and started leafing through his transfiguration textbook. The memory of his labrador to distract the dragon still made one side of his face prickle eerily; a knot of anxiety twisted somewhere in his chest.

‘How’s solving the egg coming along?’ she asked, as though reading his mind.

‘I was thinking…’ he said slowly, frowning out at the dark window; he could not see the snow flurrying outside, but he could tell it must be for it was collecting in the corners of the window sill, dark shapes pressing against the glass. ‘The more I listen to it, the more I notice a pattern, and then I was thinking about how it could be a language… of course, I’m not allowed to ask for help,’ he added hastily.

‘Of course,’ she said, smiling.

‘If I were to ask for help though…’ he said slowly, ‘I suppose I would be asking people if they knew of any languages that sounded like shrieking and wailing.’

She pondered, and he admired the way the candlelight fell softly on her skin, highlighting the faint freckles across her nose. ‘I suppose,’ she said eventually, ‘perhaps banshees? They shriek and wail to herald death… I suppose were you to ask me for help, I would start there.’

‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘Amazing what happens when you don’t ask for help.’

‘Isn’t it?’ She looked at him in a glowing sort of way. ‘I can’t wait for the ball,’ she said at a whisper, as though admitting something scandalous. ‘I keep daydreaming about it.’

‘Me too,’ he admitted, and he reached for her hand. ‘I thought I’d be sad about not going home for Christmas, I’ve never had Christmas Day apart from Mum and Dad. But I’m not - I’m just excited about it - about going with you.’ Their fingers played elegantly with one another, linking and caressing and softly, lazily, gently stroking over their palms. ‘I hear the Great Hall is going to look magnificent.’

‘If Madam Pince hasn’t gone round and taken it all down, old scrooge,’ she said bitterly. ‘When she was in earlier, she came and took down all the fairy lights by me because she said that they were too distracting when people were trying to study. She hates Christmas, she’s going round stripping everything of decorations.’

‘She didn’t get this, though,’ he said smoothly, and from his pocket he pulled out the sprig of mistletoe he had borrowed from the Great Hall when he had heard about the library being cleared out, and held it over her head.

She spluttered with laughter, and looked down in embarrassment, but then looked back up at his grinning face with a beam of her own, just as wide. He leaned forward, and kissed her, her lips soft, her delicate hands reaching up to cup his face.

He let the mistletoe drop; it fell to the shadowy floor. The reflection of their slow kiss shimmered slightly in the dark window, illuminated by the dying candlelight. Behind the glass, a blizzard raged.

#submission #ttb yule bash #hp fanfic #cho x cedric #cho chang #cedric diggory #missing moment

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Note

Pregnancy scare with the Batboys?

These all happen at different times in their lives. Dick at 24, Jason 26, and Tim 20 because I feel like that’s the ages they’d like have this.

Warning: it’s gotta little bit of everything. Fluff, smut, convenience story robbery, blood, one little crude sex joke.

Dick

“I stopped at the store and got everything we need before the store comes in. Even got those pad tampon things you use,” Dick said waving the box proudly. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the box.

“And what prompted that?” You asked, eyes narrowed.

“A coupon deal on them,” Dick answered and you laughed.

“That makes more sense. Let me put these up and I’ll cook dinner,” you said, walking to the bathroom.

“Nope! I’m cooking,” Dick said happily.

“Okay,” you said planning to help him anyways.

You walked in the bathroom to put the box in your usual drawer only to find it full. When was the last time you needed one? You did the math and realized that it’s been almost 2 months. With your university schedule being crazy and Dick got hurt a few weeks ago, you’d forgotten all about your period.

You skin chilled at the thought. What if you were- what if you were pregnant? You were too young. You were 24 but it felt too young. You were only dating. You hadn’t gotten to the kids talk yet.

“Hey babe, where is the- what’s wrong?” Dick asked from the doorway. He looked at the package in your hand and the matching one in the drawer with confusion.

“Uh, I missed my period last month,” you said and his eyes widened. “I completely forgot.”

“Oh.”

He looked at you frozen. “Wait- are you saying you might be...”

“Maybe,” you answered. “We gotta get tests and everything. And stress can mess it up. And we’ve been using protection every time.”

“Yeah. I’ll run to the store, okay?” He said before hurrying out the door. You sat on the toilet with the box still in hand. What if you were pregnant? Dick was a good guy but he didn’t exactly have a ton of money. He was a part time gymnastics teacher. You were in college.

“Okay I got 4,” Dick said, back in record time. He gave you the bag and watched you.

“Dick?”

“Hu?”

“Get out of the bathroom.”

“Oh right,” he said, leaving and shutting the door. You could hear him pacing as you took the tests. You unlocked the door as you waited for the tests to finish. A neat little row of absolute terror on the side of the bathtub.

“Are they done?” Dick asked anxiously.

“No. We wait two minutes,” you said almost hollowly with stress and he nodded roughly.

“If you are... I’ll be here. I’ll be here for whatever you decide. No matter your choice,” Dick said holding your hands. You gulped.

“Yeah. Thanks. I can’t believe I forgot,” you said with a little laugh. He hugged your shoulders.

“Things have been crazy,” Dick said with a shrug. Your phone alarm went off and you quickly looked at all of the tests. Negative. You both relaxed. You sighed in relief.

“That would have been crazy,” you said with a laugh. Dick laughed a little too. “I am not ready to be a mom.”

“Yeah. Same. I’d need a better job and a better place. Not that there’s anything wrong with our apartment but it’s too small for a baby,” Dick rambled on. He stopped when he noticed your little grin. “You know, I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you.”

You didn’t answer but pulled him in for a kiss that Dick eagerly returned before finally pulling away because you were in the bathroom surrounded by used pregnancy tests and boxes of menstrual products.

“I’ll clean up while you get dinner started. Yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dick said with a kiss to your cheek.

Jason

You’d been thinking about it for a few days with a sense of denial. Your period was late. And you were mentally freaking out. You were too young. I mean, you were 26 but it felt too young! Your relationship was too new! You had been dating for 2 years but it felt too fast!

You hurried down to a corner store that you didn’t normally visit near your apartment to grab some tests. You jumped a little when the bell on the door rang as another customer entered the store. You had been too worried and stressed about picking from the 7 different types of pregnancy tests. Were they all the same or totally different? You just wanted to know ‘baby or naw.’ You grabbed three and put them in a hand basket.

“PUT your hands up where we can see them,” a man yelled and you froze before looking up, your hands above your head, basket on your wrist. “Take off any jewelry and pull out your wallets. We’ll be taking those,” a man in a ski mask said. There were a total of 12 customers and 2 shop clerks.

You carefully pulled your crossbody bag off your shoulder and held it out. A man grabbed it roughly from you and you made a tiny noise that made him smile. He looked you over and you wanted to shrink away.

There was a loud crashing noise as the side glass was broken and a man with a pair of guns blazing stood in the middle. The bright red helmet let you know that it was Jason and you almost sagged in relief. Almost. He pointed the gun at both criminals and shot at their knees. The rubber bullets hit them both in the knees and they fell before you could even move. He quickly punched them both in the head and they lost consciousness. Jason roughly tied them up by the register and everyone started to leave the building quickly while grabbing their things.

Jason grabbed you and pulled you from the building and up to the roof, basket still on your wrist. He rolled his helmet off and looked you over.

“Are you alright?” He asked holding your face in his hands. You grasped his wrists.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” you reassured him. He looked you over before his eyes fell to the basket. Jason froze as he looked at the contents. A candy bar and 3 pregnancy tests.

“Are you? Why do you have these?” He asked, looking at your face quickly. You sat the basket down.

“Maybe,” you answered quietly. His mouth opened a little as if you speak but he didn’t. “I mean, I’m late.”

“Okay. Alright,” he said nodding. “We just need to test first. God, you were almost shot and you might be pregnant.”

He pulled you tightly in his arms until the armor pressed against you. Jason’s lips pressed against the side of your head. For one of the first times, he looked scared.

Back at your apartment, you could hear Jason pacing as you took the test. You unlocked the door and he came in, staring at them. Neither one of you spoke before the results came in. Negative. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“I would have been there for you. No matter what. But I’m glad that it’s negative. We should plan this stuff, you know? My job... it’s too dangerous,” Jason said carefully.

“I know. We can’t,” you said with a dry smile.

“I’d quit. If you were. So that you and the baby would be safe,” he said and you quickly looked at him.

“You shouldn’t have to,” you said.

“But I would.”

Tim

Tim’s hands were tight on your hips as he thrust in your from behind and you couldn’t stop making little noises. God, were you always this tight? He could barely control himself and the second you clamped around him in pleasure, Tim came as well. Both of you panted as he roughly and slowly thrust through your highs. Tim pushed in deeply before stopping to catch his breath and then pulling out.

“Fuck,” he said in a terrified voice. You turned to look at him confused. “The condom came off.”

Your eyes widened at the implication. “Did you- did you finish inside?” You asked as cold panic flooded your body. You were only using condoms at this point in time.

“Yeah. Definitely,” he said, looking down and in literally any other situation he would have loved the sight before him. His cum leaked out of you and Tim winced.

After a few minutes of trying to finally get the useless condom out, you were almost in full freak out. You were only 20. You couldn’t get pregnant!

“I’ll get plan B. Unless you don’t want it,” Tim said looking at you.

“Good idea. We definitely need that,” you said nodding. “But you can’t go to the store and buy plan B. Timothy Drake-Wayne buys plan B. Playboy like his father Bruce Wayne? I could just see the headline. I’ll go.”

“Smart,” he said. You quickly took a shower and threw on clothes before running down to a pharmacy. Your heart pounded as you asked the pharmacist for a plan B but she simply gave you a box that you paid for. You took the pill before even leaving the store and threw away the evidence as if someone cared what you did.

That night you had some nausea and cramping but were fine otherwise. Tim was extra nice in the next few weeks as you both waited to see if your period would ever come. He put in effort to see you more often and stay off his phone when you were together. Finally you woke up one morning with cramps where actually pleasantly happy to see that you had finally started to bleed. That didn’t happen often.

You told Tim who sagged in relief. He didn’t even know how much tension he held in his body before releasing it. He kissed your cheek and you laughed a little.

“Never buying that brand of condoms again,” he swore.

“I’m making an appointment to get birth control,” you said and he quickly turned to you.

“Really? No more condoms?” Tim said hopefully.

“It’ll take a little while to start working but yeah,” you said with a little smile. “Then I can be your Twinkie instead of your toaster strudel,” you laughed.

“Wow. I wish I could time travel to unhear that,” Tim said covering his face with a hand while laughing.

“You know that’s a good joke,” you laughed pushing his shoulder.

“...yeah,” he said with a grin.

#dick Grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #Jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #Tim drake x reader #Red Robin x reader

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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

Note

Howdy! I got an ask/react for the Fo4 companions! How would a romanced companion react to Sole (preferably female) doing things to make them feel 'stronger' or 'protective' over her? Some random examples: Sole "can't" open something and has to ask for help/Sole conveniently forgets her overcoat when she knows it's going to be cold out, etc. the little things :) (Extra thing: you don't have to but if you could go into a bit more depth for Deacon and Hancock's response that'd be great :D )

Okay, this was so. much. fun. I took a few... creative liberties with the prompt, but I hope it’s still in the realm of what you were looking for! And, of course, thank you so much for the ask! I hope you like it!

Cait:

Sole pressed a cold cloth to Cait's cheekbone, and she hissed at the pressure of the contact on her swollen cheek.

"Shit, sorry, Cait."

"Eh, I've had worse licks than this."

"I know, but still… this one is definitely my fault."

"It's hardly yer fault, luv, I'm the one who got meself inte this."

"How? I'm the one who started the fight." Sole protested, pulling her hand back so she could look her companion in the eye.

"Maybe, but I'm the one who gave you yer drinkin’ problem, and that's what got us inte the fight in the first place." Sole chuckled at that, shaking her head. The two had had this discussion what seemed like a hundred times, both trying to take the blame for the constant slew of bar fights that they found themselves getting into.

Tonight, it had been four intoxicated men who had decided it was a neat idea to discuss the details of what they’d do to Cait if they could get her drunk enough. While the redhead hadn’t seemed to hear, Sole had briskly made her way over to the group to give her two cents on these ideas of theirs. So, Cait had a point, maybe if Sole hadn’t had quite so much whiskey, she could’ve tried to solve the problem more... verbally. But alas, her confrontation had officially started with her fist landing at the temple of the man nearest to her, effectively knocking him out. And it had ended with Cait hauling Sole to her feet after disposing of the man’s companions.

Cait picked absent-mindedly at the scabs forming on her knuckles as Sole brought the wet rag up to her face once more, dabbing at the blood next to Cait's lip.

"God, how is it that you always end up with the injuries? All I got was a bruise to the cheek, and yet, here you are, looking like a human punching bag."

"I can tell ya that. It's cus it's always me rushin' in te save your arse. Why do you always take on more than ye can handle?" Sole snickered, not knowing if Cait found her own words as amusing as she had.

"Because, I know no matter how many assholes I take on, you'll always be there to save me." Cait made a disgusted sound, rolling her eyes at that, much like Sole thought she would, before letting her emerald gaze meet Sole's eyes.

"I wish you weren't, but yer damn right." Cait said, and Sole felt a little jump in her chest at the sentiment. Cait wasn’t the most tender person in the wasteland, but somehow, she always seemed to know what to say; to Sole, anyway.

The pair sat silently for a bit as Sole finished cleaning up her defender. Wiping down her bloodied hands, and the remainder of the crusted crimson on her face.

"Are ya done fussin yet? I'm tellin’ you, I'm fine. Can we just go te sleep already?"

"One more spot left." She told her, bringing the rag up to her bruised face once more. Sole's eyes fell to Cait's swollen lips as she drew the cool fabric over them, before leaning in to press her mouth softly to Cait's. Sole pulled away, but stayed close enough for Cait to feel her warm, whiskey-tinged breath fan over her as she whispered,

"Thank you for saving me tonight. I really was way in over my head." Sole looked down, embarrassed at her admission, as Cait smiled at her.

"It was my pleasure, luv. As you said, I'll always be there te save yer arse."

Curie:

"You know, you don't have to come to me for something as small as zhis." Curie said as she examined the minor cut on Sole’s arm. “You could patch zhis up yourself easily!”

“Well…” Sole felt heat rise to her cheeks as she searched for an explanation. She knew that every time she came to Curie for something like this, she was taking up the doctor’s precious time, but she couldn’t help herself. What was she supposed to do when Curie insisted on working all day when they were at a settlement? They usually came to settlements to relax, to help make repairs and look into any problems the settlers might be having, but Curie always insisted on doing check-ups for everyone in their vicinity. Sole loved her selflessness and dedication to her work, but… When were they supposed to spend time together? This is what I get for having a workaholic for a girlfriend.

“You know, infection is a big problem out here. I just thought it would be best to seek the help of a professional.”

“Oh, of course, of course. How responsible of you.” Sole bit at her lip as Curie laughed at her. Well, she really has caught onto the whole ‘sarcasm’ thing.

“Fortunately, you do not need to worry about infection in zhis, it iz not deep. But come here, with me.” Curie urged Sole off of the cot she was seated on and brought her to a table at the back of the clinic.

“Wait here, se vous plait.” With that, Curie disappeared around the corner, and Sole stood around, twiddling her thumbs, as she tried to think of an excuse to get Curie off of work early.

“I was going to clean my supplies with zhis, but we can do your arm first.” Curie said as she came around the corner, a bucket of soapy water in-hand.

“Here.” Curie set the bucket onto the table and had Sole hold out her arm as she produced a clean rag from the pocket of her lab coat, and dunked it into the warm water. Sole watched as Curie wrung out the cloth, and brought it to the miniscule wound on her arm.

It was comical, really, the care that Curie took in cleaning the cut that couldn’t have been more than an inch long, and was almost too thin to see. Another rush of heat made its way to Sole’s cheeks as she realized how ridiculous she must seem to the doctor, but Curie made no complaints as she used the other side of the rag to dry off her arm.

“Zhere! It should be all better. I can wrap it for you too, if you’d like.”

“Thanks Curie, you’re a lifesaver. But I don’t think you really need to wrap it.” The synth laughed at her as she threw the rag into a basket and picked up the bucket again.

“Oh, mon dieu, I don’t know about zhat.” She shook her head, a pink tint coming to her pale cheeks at Sole’s flattery as she turned to go into the back of the clinic again.

“Wait!” Sole said, reaching out her “good” arm to stop Curie before she could vanish around the corner once more. Curie looked at her, a questioning expression on her face. Sole stood, her hand still wrapped around Curie’s forearm, utterly at a loss of what to say. I just don’t want you to go. It’ll be another four hours until you get off.

I think you should take a break?

Maybe you should have a half day?

Do you need some help here at the clinic? God, when did I become so damn clingy?

“Hmm.” Curie’s eyes pierced into Sole’s as a knowing look washed over her face. “I zhink I know what it is you want.” Sole just stared ahead, wondering silently if that were true. The doctor set down the bucket yet again, delicately taking a hold of Sole’s “injured” arm once more. Slowly, she brought it upwards, then lowered her head to place her lips gently over the cut. “Iz zhat better?”

Sole giggled, still embarrassed, but definitely glad she had come to interrupt Curie’s work. I guess I can wait a little longer. Maybe make us a nice dinner for tonight...

“Much. Thanks again, Curie.”

“Of course! Anytime, mon amour.”

Danse:

Sole sat at the kitchen table, draining the last of her coffee as her gaze fell to Danse, where he was seated on the steps outside the front door of her Sanctuary home. He stared ahead blankly, brows knitted together above his lusterless eyes as his hands worked to remove a spot of rust from a piece of power armor he had taken off his suit temporarily. Lately, the ex-paladin had been adept in putting on a show for Sole, making her think that he was okay, even after everything that had changed in his life over the course of a few hours. It had been over a week since he had found out about his true identity, and in that time, Sole could tell that he had tried to remain strong. For whom, she wasn’t sure. She thought she had made it clear to him that she didn’t care about his “strength” in these times, she just wanted him to get through them, whatever the means. Yet, he only seemed to don this look of despair and hopelessness whenever he thought she wasn’t looking, and if she tried to bring it up, he would always attempt to change the subject, or he would tell her not to worry and simply say that he was still working on “adjusting.”

She hated when he didn’t talk to her. The seemingly insensitive man was always happy to listen to Sole’s problems and offer what advice he could, often suggesting that she discuss her own issues as a form of therapy. But God forbid she tries to get him to do the same. Sole sighed as she mulled over what to do, and noticed Danse’s head twitch to the side, listening, before his gaze dropped down to focus on his task.

He’s been working on that same spot for almost an hour. If it’s not out yet, I don’t think it ever will be. Sole looked around the room, trying to find something that could possibly serve as a proper distraction for Danse, and her eyes fell to the wooden stereo below the window in the living room. She had left it there because she simply didn’t have the heart to scrap the old thing. Too many good memories surrounded it. Memories of her and Nate, dancing the night away as the records spun on and on playing soft love songs until the sun rose; of her rocking Shaun in her arms as she mosied around the living room, listening to the nursery rhyme vinyls that she had received as gifts at her baby shower... But those memories, they were from another life.

Sole shook her head. This is about him, she thought, not me. I can deal with my shit later. Right now, I need to focus on Danse.

She huffed another sigh, this time a bit louder, and watched as Danse ceased his hand movements and tilted his ear towards her again.

“Is everything alright?” He turned to look at where she sat, and Sole tried to look melancholic.

“It’s just… You know… nevermind, it’s not important.” Just as she assumed he would, Danse stood up and walked inside the house, setting the piece of armor and the rag on the table, and pulled out a chair so he could sit beside her. He looked down at her hands, which rested on top of the table near her empty coffee mug. She could practically see the sweat beading on his forehead as he hesitantly brought one of his large hands to rest over the top of her own. Ever since he found out what he was, he’s been afraid to touch me. So... this is a good sign, at least.

“If something’s wrong, I want to know.” He said as he looked up to meet her gaze, his worried expression matching the concern she was feeling towards him. Sole took a breath to appear as though she was steadying herself.

“It’s just… being in this house. It’s great, I mean, it’s still my home and everything, and I don’t want to go anywhere else, but…” she trailed off, her troubled expression only half-feigned at this point, given the truth behind her words. His eyes never wavered, silently encouraging her to continue.

“Some things are harder to look at than others. And that damn stereo over there just has to be staring straight at me every time I sit down at the table, it’s the hardest one for me to see. It's just, it was a house-warming present from my parents. They gave it to me and Nate after the wedding, and now… well, there are no more records to play on it. They were all ruined, and even if they weren't, I don’t think the thing would work anyway. But every time I see it, it reminds me of the people I’ve lost. My parents… Nate… even Shaun.” Sole didn’t have to fake the tears that came unbidden to her eyes as she recalled the memories of her loved ones, and she knew Danse hadn’t missed a thing when he started rubbing her hand softly with his. They sat there in silence for a moment, as Danse tried to reassure her with his gentle touch.

Then, still remaining silent, Danse stood, reaching his hand forward to brush his thumb over Sole’s cheek, wiping away the tear that had fallen. He then turned towards the living room, but instead of going straight to the stereo, as Sole thought he might, Danse opened the side door that led to the covered driveway. She watched as he doubled back, now approaching the stereo. Sole wasn’t sure what she had expected him to do when she mentioned her problem to him; maybe offer to help her take the thing apart, or try and see if it still worked, or simply give her another perspective on how she should view the piece of 200-year-old furniture. Whatever she expected, it certainly hadn’t been this.

Danse squatted down in front of the large wooden beast of a stereo, wrapped his broad arms almost all the way around it, and stood, lifting the whole damn thing up until he was standing completely upright with the stereo held firmly to his chest. Sole’s mouth hung open as she remained seated at the table, seemingly paralyzed by the shock of what she was witnessing, as Danse sauntered awkwardly towards the exit. A thick vein protruded from his neck as he twisted the piece of furniture to fit through the door, and made his way out into the driveway.

Sole heard a groan from outside, accompanied by the sound of something hard hitting concrete. She stood up, prepared to head outside and see what exactly he’d done with her “problem,” but before she reached the doorway, she heard him call from outside,

“You can’t still see it, can you?”

“Um… no. But Danse, is it-- I mean, are you okay? It took like, four people to bring that thing in when we first moved it to the house.” The brawny ex-soldier appeared in the doorway, his chest still heaving from the effort of wrestling the wooden monster outside. He nodded to her,

“I'm fine." He huffed, "You don’t need to go out there. I’ll take it apart later, if you’d like. Or we can store it somewhere for the time being.” She shook her head at him, a little smile touching her lips. Even after everything he’s been through, he's still always looking out for me. Even with something as small and insignificant as this.

“You know,” she said quietly, “you didn’t have to do that.” Danse looked down at his feet, seemingly searching for something to say in response.

“But thank you.” Sole finished, and his eyes came back up to meet hers. For a moment, she saw a spark return to Danse’s amber eyes as the smallest hint of a smile softened his expression, and Sole felt hope. Hope for him overcoming his grief in this time of crisis, and hope for herself in being able to move on from the memories that had kept her chained to her past for so long. Together, she felt like the two of them could overcome anything.

Deacon:

“Yes. Two please.” Sole said as Takahashi voiced the only question he ever seemed to ask. The robot placed two bowls of scrumptious smelling power noodles in front of her, and she reached for the bag of caps hanging from her belt. As she looked down to count her money, she heard a clatter of bottlecaps hitting the counter beside her.

“Got it covered. Come on, let’s dig in.” Deacon grabbed a bowl in each hand and headed over to a couple of empty seats at the bar.

“I thought you were still trying to stay undercover?" Sole gestured to the Diamond City guard outfit that the spy donned. "Doesn’t it kinda ruin the illusion if you’re seen in public with me?” She said as she followed him over, sealing up her cap purse once again.

“What? You’ve never seen one of these guys at the noodle stand? Cuz I sure have. Just don’t talk to me, and I’ll be good.” Sole shook her head as she took a seat beside him, instantly deciding to ignore his request.

“Hey officer, I’ve got a question.” Sole swirled her chopsticks around the steaming bowl in front of her, before taking a bite.

“Yes, citizen?”

“Hold on--” she said through a mouthful of noodles.

Deacon laughed as he looked at her full mouth,

“Why--” He tried to talk through his bout of chuckling, “Why would you say you’re going to ask me a question and then take a big bite of food? What did you think would happen?”

Deacon thought he heard her tell him to ‘shut up,’ but it was hard to tell, given the noodles that filled her mouth, and the fact that she was nearly choking in her own fit of laughter.

Eventually, she managed to swallow her food successfully, and was finally able to get some words out.

"No, okay, serious question--" Deacon interrupted her with a snap of his fingers,

"Serious answer." Her genuine curiosity forced Sole to ignore him, and continue with her question.

"Tell me, why do you always pay for everything?" She asked.

"Ma'am, I am a law-abiding security officer. I always pay for the products that I intend to consume."

"I said serious, Deacon."

"Hey, shush!" He brought a hand up to Sole's mouth at the mention of his name, "What part of undercover did you not get?" She cocked a brow at his faked panic expression, noting the grin that he was trying to hide, as he lowered his head and turned back to his noodles.

"Like, okay," she continued, expanding on her inquiry, "whenever we go anywhere, you always pay for everything, and it's really odd. I've never met anyone in the wasteland who's done that, everyone's too busy trying to keep themselves alive to worry about paying for others. So, what? Are you, like, rich or something? I mean, c'mon, what's the deal? I have caps on me all the time, you know that, right?"

"Oh?" Sole saw his eyebrows rise above the tops of his sunglasses as he turned to look at her, "you don't think I'm doing this out of the goodness of my cold, black, heart, do you? No, I'm running a tab over here, honey. You owe me, big time." Sole narrowed her eyes at him, her uncertainty keeping her lips sealed.

"You mean, you didn’t know? Look, I don't know what to tell you," Deacon continued, "I thought you knew! Man, I'm glad you found out this way. Now it won't be such a rude awakening when the invoice comes."

Deacon turned back to his noodles, shaking his head at the thought. Sole's gaze bore into him, trying to figure out his level of seriousness. I really wish I was better at this. This is why I believed he was a synth for a month and a half.

"And if I don't have the money… you're not gonna call out a hit on me or anything, are you?"

“Hmm," he brought a hand to his chin, stroking his finger over it animatedly, "surely there must be some way you could pay me back…” He turned to look at her, wiggling his eyebrows as he did so, and she rolled her eyes, looking back to her noodles as she scoffed.

"Hey! What's with the face! I was talking about community service. Y'know, helping the children, and the elderly, all that good stuff. Get your mind out of the gutter, perv. And to think, I was going to have you volunteering at the children's hospital next week."

Sole instantly regretted taking another bite, as she tried desperately to fend off a fit of giggling in an effort to keep from choking again.

"I can't keep up with you Deacon," she said as she swallowed her food. "You're gonna kill me one of these days."

"Eh, don't worry, I can pay for the funeral." Sole raised a hand and shoved him in the shoulder playfully as he grinned at her.

"Okay, really, though. You do know I can pay occasionally, right?"

"Yeah, I know, I'm your partner, remember? I'm pretty much right next to you whenever you get paid.”

"So… then, why do you do it?"

"Do what?" Sole's nostrils flared at his obnoxious question.

"No? Joke didn’t land? Okay. Serious time," he flung his hands in the air as if surrendering, "I read about something… wasn't it, like, customary before the war to pay for stuff for your… friends?" Sole scrunched her eyebrows in thought,

"Friends? Not really. Significant other? Yeah, a little more common." She looked to where Deacon stared down at his noodles.

Is that, is he... blushing?

"But hey, I don't mind if you don't." She finished, tilting her head forward, in an attempt to catch Deacon's eye. She spotted a flushed little grin spread on his face, before he leaned his head back, restoring his cool composure.

"Oopsies, sorry about that, then. But I did warn you, I'm pretty new to this whole friend thing. So… you know, that's on you."

Hancock:

The ghoul lounged comfortably on the couch in the Old State House, idly playing with his combat knife as he waited for Sole to finish readying herself for their outing.

“Ahhh!”

Hancock leapt from his place on the couch at the sound of Sole’s shriek, his combat knife instinctively falling into a position poised for violence.

He ran across the hall, crashing through the door and into the bedroom. Teeth bared and eyes wide, his head lashed from side to side in search of Sole’s assailant. He spotted her, cowering in the corner as she raised a shaky hand to point at the opposite side of the room.

Hancock’s glare followed Sole’s fear-stricken gaze, and he started towards the desk in the corner she had pointed to, but ultimately failed to see what it was causing her distress.

He turned back to her, an eyebrow cocked, as he raised the silent question of what had been the cause of her terror.

“On the desk!” She said, pointing towards it again, this time with greater intensity. Hancock slowly approached the corner of the room, knife still at the ready, as his eyes continued to search for any sign of… well, anything, really. An exasperated smile spread across his lips as his eyes fell to your attacker. A small, brown, spider picked its way through the objects littering the top of the desk, and Hancock had to hold back a laugh.

“This is what had you all riled up? Oh, sweetheart, he’s just a little spider. C’mon now, he won’t hurt ya.”

“You don't know that.” She said firmly, her round eyes still trained on the desk. It had sounded like a joke, but her expression remained serious.

“Alright, you want me to get rid of him for you?” She nodded her head vigorously, and he chuckled as he turned his attention to the unsuspecting arachnid. He watched as it delicately stepped over a series of writing utensils, and Hancock frowned. Bringing his knife up to the top of the desk, he rested the flat of his blade directly in the spider’s path,

“That’s it, up you go, little guy.” He said quietly, as it stepped onto his steel vessel. Hancock twisted the knife around in his grip as the spider crawled around it, and made his way to the balcony. Once outside, he tipped his knife to the railing, encouraging the spider to crawl off the tip of the blade. Once the spider was safely making its way along the top of the railing, Hancock turned back towards the doorway.

“There,” he said, stepping back inside, “Now he can’t hurt ya, he’s all the way out there.”

“You… you didn’t kill it?” She asked, tentatively standing up.

“Nah, we only hurt the ones who hurt somebody else first, remember?”

“You don’t know that he didn’t hurt anybody.” She mumbled as Hancock sauntered over to her.

“Aw, give him a chance, maybe he can change, y’know? He doesn't really seem like the troublemaking type to me, anyhow.” He brought his hands to your waist, a smug expression playing on his face.

“Oh yeah, just like the way you always tell people you’ve changed?” She said, sliding her hands up his chest to rest them on his shoulders. “Way I see it, you’re still just as bad an influence on me as when I met you.” She said, a playful glint dancing in her eyes.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right, sunshine. Maybe I can't change any more. Maybe it's just my nature to be a bad influence on you.” He said quietly, a wolfish grin spreading across his face as he leaned into her.

“Huh, maybe so. But bad influence or not," she pulled away from him slightly, to look up into his smoky eyes, "you really did save me back there. And, I know it seems silly... but I am grateful." His eyes softened at her little confession and, though he knew this too was silly, he couldn’t help but feel a swell in his chest at the thought of "saving" her.

“And I’ll always be here to save you... from any spiders we happen to come across.” He pecked her lips tenderly, their close proximity practically forcing his mouth to hers. He should’ve known better, once he had a taste, he couldn’t get enough of her.

“Even though,” He continued, as he pressed a kiss to her nose, “I’ve seen you,” then to her right cheek, “take down,” now her left, “deathclaws,” another to her jaw, “single handedly,” and now down to her neck, “I’ll be sure to handle all the unruly arachnids.” He whispered into the crook of her neck, before moving upwards again and pressing one more kiss to her forehead. He watched, grinning like an idiot in love, as a crimson flush crept up her cheeks. He wasn’t sure if it was from the embarrassment she felt regarding her phobia, or from the heat of his lips on her skin, but he decided it didn’t matter. Either way, he found it irresistibly adorable, and with that, he set his sights on her lips once more.

MacCready:

MacCready sat on the floor, legs crossed, as he counted his ammunition cartridges. There were four of the .308, six of the .50, ten of the 10mm, and a few of the .38. There certainly wasn’t as much as he’d hoped there’d be, but he wasn't worried. Sole always seemed to have ammo to spare, and she wasn't stingy with it like he was. It was yet another perk to being with her.

He gathered his full magazines together near the ammo bag resting beside him, so he could begin placing them inside in preparation for their next outing.

"How are you doing over there, babe?" He asked as he stored the outlying bullets in little bags.

"I think... you know what, nevermind. I'm good." MacCready ceased his action, turning to look at where Sole knelt on the carpet of her Diamond City home. A pile of bullets and empty magazines surrounded her, the stack of seemingly full cartridges was pitifully small compared to his own.

"You, ah, need some help?"

"... No.”

"Mmhm, okay.” he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, but she wouldn’t look up at him.

“Well,” he continued, “I'm going to put my full mags in the ammo bag, why don't I grab yours too." The sniper stood up, and made his way over to her, bending down to grab the cartridges that looked full.

"Wait! No, these, um, these ones aren't done yet." MacCready's eyebrows furrowed, but the shadow of a smile began to spread to his lips as he realized what was going on.

"So," he said, kneeling down so he could see her pretty little embarrassed face. "You haven't finished loading any of them?"

“No." She said quietly, refusing to meet his gaze. MacCready lowered his head so that he was looking up at her as her eyes stayed fixed on the floor. A lock of hair was draped over her forehead, obstructing his view. He reached a hand up and gently pushed it behind her ear, leaning in to give her nose a small peck with his lips.

"You want some help?" He said as Sole raised her gaze to meet his, a small blush forming on her cheeks. She didn't say anything, only nodded yes.

"Alright, you know, you could’ve just asked. I might have said ‘no’ the first time, but you know me, I eventually would’ve come around." MacCready said as he set to work with the magazines that had appeared full, but in reality, only housed half of the amount of ammunition that they could fit within them. He snickered in understanding, it really was the second half of bullets that was hard to load.

"Thank you, sweetie. You’re just so much better at it than I am." She said as she watched his practiced fingers make quick work of what probably would've taken her another hour.

"Of course... but, you are paying me for this, right?"

"Ohh, I think we might be able to work something out." She said, a sly grin playing at her lips.

He just chuckled at her words, but she could've sworn his fingers starting moving a whole lot faster at her suggestive phrasing.

Nick:

“Tell me, why is this now a regular part of my job duties?" Ellie asked as she finished sewing up yet another tear in Nick's trench coat. "You know you're just going to end up with more holes in this coat every time you leave the office, and I don't seem to recall you ever caring about this old thing's appearance before…" she trailed off.

Nick knew that Ellie was fishing for answers. One specific one in particular, but he liked the ambiguity of the situation. It was this little game he and his secretary would play. He would leave clues here and there that pointed to the nature of his and Sole's relationship and wait to see if Ellie would say anything. All while she continued to try and force the truth from him verbally. He wasn't going to lose this round.

"What? A private detective can't keep up appearances for his clients? I think it's just good for business."

"I think it's a load of bologna. You know we gave Sole her own trench coat after she saved you, right? She could just wear her own, rather than steal yours every time you two go out on a case."

"What kinda fun would that be? I don't mind it, it's not like I get cold anyway. And the poor little lady never knows how long we're going to be gone, so I don't think it's her fault when we're out after dark and she wants to wear it."

Ellie rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh as she poked the needle back through the worn, beige fabric once again.

"She's got you so tightly wound around her finger, it's a wonder she doesn't call you 'Jared'."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, it’s something I’ve read about, I guess it was a ring shop, or a jewelry company, or something before the war. I thought it sounded clever. Just humor me, won't you?"

The synth just shook his head, uttering a low chuckle as he watched Ellie tighten the thread, forcing the last hole closed.

"There." She said, tying up the last bit of string left over, before cutting off the excess. "It's done."

"Perfect, thanks a million, doll. I'll see you soon, I've just gotta head out for a--"

"Date?" She finished the sentence for him suggestively, raising her eyebrows in question.

"A case. We're going to head out on a case, Ellie."

"Uh huh, sure. Well, here," she handed him back the coat, "now she doesn't need to worry about the cold air seeping in through all those holes. Let me know if you want me to insulate the damn thing when winter rolls around."

Valentine smiled, an uncharacteristically goofy smile, at Ellie's words. He was so obvious, why didn't he just come clean already?

"Will do, I’m sure she’ll enjoy that. Thanks again, Ellie. You're the best."

"And don't you forget it." She said, turning back to the mound of paperwork still on her desk beside her sewing supplies.

“Ah well, I’ll get him to admit to it one of these days.” Ellie mumbled as she began sorting through the files in front of her.

Piper:

Piper looked up at Scarlet from the table in the corner of the Dugout Inn,

"Yes, so I think we'll both have a nuka cola to start off. Then I'll do the crispy squirrel bits, and she'll have the Salisbury steak." Piper pointed her finger to Sole, who was busy looking down at the table, before making a last-minute decision, "Aaand you'd better bring some of those snack cakes at the end, too."

"Hm, as usual." Scarlet chuckled at that as her pen scribbled across the notepad in her hand.

"But that sounds good, you two. I'll have that out in just a minute." The waitress grabbed their menus, Sole reaching up to hand it to her with a smile on her face before turning to peer at her partner from across the table. She waited for Scarlet to disappear around the corner to the kitchen before speaking.

"You really don't find it annoying?" She asked.

"What?" Piper loosened the scarf around her neck as she looked questioningly at Sole.

"I know that I ask you to order for me whenever we go out to eat, or drink, and it's gotta be getting a little old at this point, right?"

"No, not at all, Blue!" Piper said as she took her hat off and placed it on the table, mussing her hair a bit with one hand. "This reporter actually finds it to be pret-ty endearing. It's like, the one thing you can't do. You’re good at, like, everything else, but this I get to help you with. It's a welcome change." Piper's hands dropped to the top of the table as she began absent-mindedly fiddling with her silverware. But her eyes stayed on the woman across the table as Sole smiled at her, still appearing a little embarrassed.

"I don't know why I can't do it," Sole tried to explain, "I've just never been able to order for myself, even before the war. Just one of those bizarre anxiety things, I guess."

"Well, like I said, I don’t mind at all. In fact, I think it's cute."

Preston:

Sole approached her Lieutenant, shaking her head at him, and she saw him sigh.

“No, the river just keeps going until it reaches a ravine." She told him, "And it’s too steep to climb down. Any luck on your end?”

“Hmm, not really. It's a little more shallow upstream, but it’s still about ten feet wide.”

“Damn.” She said, “We need to get across.” A settlement had sent a distress call across radio freedom almost an hour ago, if Sole and Preston took any longer, they might be too late.

“I guess we’ll just have to go for it.” She said, her face painting a picture of clear disgust at the thought of wading through the murky water.

“Well, let’s at least head upstream a bit. To the shallow part.”

“Okay.” Sole said begrudgingly, her footsteps unconsciously heavy as she followed her companion to the shallow part. Not shallow enough, I bet.

And she was right. As the pair arrived, Preston turned to Sole to gauge her reaction, noticing the way her nose wrinkled at the sight of the brown, swirling water.

Preston heaved a sigh, and started forward. Before he reached the waterline, he turned to see Sole still standing back, feet seemingly glued to the muddy ground. He couldn’t help but smile sympathetically at her, eyebrows creasing upwards as he watched her eyes look longingly at the far shore.

“Come here.” He said.

“I know, I know. Just start going, I’ll follow.” Preston chuckled at the exasperation in her voice. Instead of repeating his command, he simply walked over to her as her eyes remained locked on the other side of the river, when he reached her, he slowly pressed his hand to the small of her back.

“Hey, what are you--?” Before Sole could finish her question, Preston had scooped her up into his arms, bridal style. She let out a squeak of surprise, and he couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

“Is this okay? He asked, the brim of his hat pressing against Sole’s forehead as he looked at her.

“A warning would’ve been nice.” Preston laughed, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip on her, ensuring she was secure before making his way towards the river.

“Hold onto me.” He said, and Sole wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders.

“Ready?” Sole nodded to him, and Preston took a step forward, frigid water seeping in through his boots as he waded in.

“Wait, are you sure you want to do this?” She said, her eyes trained on the river as it raised up to Preston’s knees.

“I might be wrong, General, but I think I already am.” He said, the amusement in his voice faint as he gritted his teeth against the cold.

She felt his body shutter as he continued forward, the water reaching up almost to his waist, as he held Sole up higher to ensure it wouldn’t reach her. She let out a small sigh of relief as they reached the end of the channel. The water became more shallow, and Preston quickened his pace with each step that brought him closer to their destination.

Once completely out of the water, and past the muddy shoreline, Preston finally set Sole down gently. As her feet touched the ground, Sole kept her arms wound about Preston’s neck.

“Thank you, love.” She said, her voice soft as she addressed him as her partner rather than her Lieutenant.

“It was my pleasure, m’lady.” He said, briefly removing his hat from his head as he did so. Sole smiled at him warmly, but detected the faint chattering of his teeth, and when she looked down, she couldn’t help but notice the goosebumps littering his skin.

“Oh, Preston…” Sole said as she pressed herself to him, rubbing her hands against his back and arms quickly, in an attempt to warm him with her friction. She felt hot air wash over her neck as he released a shaky breath of relief, leaning into her touch. The pair stood there for a moment, Preston syphoning off Sole’s warmth as she tried to repay him for his earlier act of kindness. Her hands slowed from her vigorous rubbing to a more tender sort of touch, before Preston’s head shot up.

“Shit, Sole, the settlement! We’ve got to move!”

X6-88:

This had become a common routine of theirs, and X6 wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Every time they were in Sole’s Diamond City home, she would insist on making dinner for the two of them. That, X6 didn’t mind too much; although, after consuming nothing but food supplements in the Institute for so long, it did take some getting used to. But eating the food wasn’t the issue, it was the making of it that had him perplexed.

As far as he knew, Sole had been the one to install the shelves in her kitchen; and yet, every time she was in need of a spice of some sort, or a condiment, or one of her dishes, she would ask X6 for assistance, given that the shelves were apparently too high for her to reach. Why Sole continued to store her items on the too-tall shelves, he couldn’t begin to guess. But here she went again, asking him to reach for the box of blamco mac n’ cheese on the top shelf, the highest one, one that he could barely even reach. X6 decided it was time to voice his confusion.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?” She asked distractedly as she focused on the strength of the flame burning on her stove.

“Why do you use these shelves?”

“What else would I use, silly?” X6 scrunched up his face at that, trying to hold back a verbal scoff at her wording.

“Would you rather I just store everything on the floor?”

“Well, no. That would… hardly be sanitary.” He wasn’t sure if she was joking with him or not. Did she think he was joking with her?

“Why do you ask, X?” She grabbed the box from his hand as he extended it towards her, and began tearing at the top of it with her finger.

“Well, it seems nonsensical to me, for you to continue placing all of your items out of your reach. What happens if I’m not here?” Sole placed a saucepan filled with water over the stove and turned to look at him.

“But you are here.” she said, shrugging, “What? Don’t you like helping me out in the kitchen?”

X6 blinked. What the hell did this have to do with what he liked?

“Well… I don’t dislike it. I’m just having trouble with-- I don’t-- I just... do you want me to fix the shelves so they are the right height for you?”

“No, I like them the way they are.”

X6 felt his eye twitch from beneath his shades. Confusion built up inside him, making the courser feel as though he might explode.

“Ma’am--” His voice faltered as he realized he didn’t know what else to say.

“I know they’re not practical, X. But you can reach them, and I like that about them. Even when I’m here alone, the fact that I can’t make dinner without you makes me smile.” X6 furrowed his eyebrows. That explanation didn’t help at all.

“Don’t you get hungry?”

“I'm not completely helpless, you know, I can usually figure something out.” She attempted to look annoyed at his question, but her grin gave her away. X6 narrowed his eyes at her, still not completely satisfied with the way the conversation had gone. He was still just as confused as he was before.

“Huh.” He said, mulling over all she had said on the subject. “Perhaps... in that case, we should ensure that I am by your side for any missions near Diamond City. That way, I can be sure the future director of the Institute doesn’t go hungry.”

“Well, if you think that’s necessary, who am I to argue?” The left side of X6’s lip tilted upwards in an expression of amusement, and Sole openly smiled at him, laughing a little to herself as she turned her attention back to the boiling water on the stove.

“Can you hand me the pepper mill? Second shelf.”

“I know which shelf. But yes, I can.” He said, turning around to grab it, as Sole continued grinning to herself.

Now I just have to make sure he never looks under my bed. Sole thought. If X6 ever found the step stool she had hidden there, what would happen to her kitchen helper?

354 notes · View notes

infernalrevenge · 3 years

Note

Okay, so this is a spur of the moment sort of idea, but is it possible to have a headcanon of the four lords with a s/o who has terrible memory loss. And I don't mean forgetful, think more along the lines of Fifty first dates, like she greets one of the lords and they get talking, lords end up coming back cuz they liked their positive attitude, but when they come to visit again, s/o greets them like they've never met. Does that make sense?

Yeah I think I get what you're saying, though I never really watched the full movie HAHAHA I've only seen half of it but I know how it goes down. Hopefully, whatever I've come up with satisfies your idea :P

To stay true to the idea, reader here has anterograde amnesia -- characterized by not being able to retain short-term memories. They're aware of their own condition.

----------

Alcina Dimitrescu

Understandably, she'd be confused, caught off guard that you didn't remember the time you spent with her.

Honestly she might be so confused that she'll forget to be offended -- not that it would have ever occurred to her that she was bad company in the first place. You were so pleasant to be with too, so... what went wrong?

When you explain it all to her, you might actually be surprised at how quickly she gets it. Definitely isn't the strangest thing she's ever heard of. She knows too what it's like to be around someone with terrible memory -- her patience with Moreau is astounding and one she doesn't extend to just anyone.

(But you aren't "just anyone" to her. You were a warm presence, a ray of sunshine in that time you spent together, however short. She wanted to get to know you better, and if that meant putting much more effort into maintaining that connection with you, then it's nothing she can't do.)

She'll creep her way into your mind (and heart) through song. She'll invite you to the castle and teach you serenades and classical pieces, you sing while she plays the piano. It doesn't matter to her if you sing off-key or add your own silly lyrics -- if she's being honest, sometimes she even prefers your versions.

Every now and then, you do forget the notes and the words, but Alcina doesn't have a problem with going over them again if you hear a "new tune" you found interesting. It's a good thing too that she loves music so much.

One day, she might even catch you humming them while you sit with her in a comfortable silence. You may not be sure exactly how you know the song, but you're glad you're able to make the Lady smile by doing so. Maybe you'll try to learn the words next time.

Donna Beneviento

...was she really so unpleasant that you already forgot about her and the day you spent together?

She'll be so embarrassed if you don't remember who she is, thinking that the other day was a mistake and that she was just imagining the connection you two had. Not to be dramatic but she'll definitely run away in tears.

The best way to remedy the situation is to go after her right away and try to explain the situation. She might not even believe you at first, her anxiety initially convincing her that you made all this up as a way of rejecting her, or that this was all a mean prank. But if you're patient enough, she might come to understand it.

In the process of becoming part of your life, she'll definitely make something that will eventually remind you of her, or someone like her. She just wants something that would stick with you, ideally something tangible.

One day she'd gift you with a doll in your likeness, complete with its own clothes and accessories. She might even include a very small doll in Angie's likeness to go with it, to serve as that reminder.

Once you do get close enough, she says that she would rather have you call her "Donna" than by her formal title. Though this frequently slips your mind, it's no trouble at all for her to remind you. Besides, it's quite cute to see you say her name like you're trying it out for the first time, even if it may have been the eleventh. She loves the way you say her name.

And when it finally sticks to you after enough repetition and you greet her like that without prompting? Her heart just flutters.

Salvatore Moreau

Moreau has always known that he has terrible memory, but after meeting you? He's starting to doubt exactly how bad he could really have it.

As a former doctor, he might recognize the diagnosis you give him after explaining it and he goes "Oh.... Oh!"

He'll be so relieved it's not because you wanted to let him down gently by feigning forgetting the memory of what was literally yesterday (but also he'd understand if you did, he almost threw up on you in excitement. Come to think of it, maybe it was best you didn't remember that part.)

Still, he'd be determined to spend a lot of time with you and become a part of your working memory somehow. Though he knows there's no cure for such an affliction, he'll want to make an effort to include some aspect of himself into your routine.

He'll write you little notes and letters, about how wonderful you are and how you make him feel whenever you two are together. He'll give you a journal so you can write about all the cool things you want to remember later on (and part of him hopes you write about him too.)

(And of course you write about him, who would ever want to forget about the sweet doctor fish man who just wants to be loved and a part of your world.)

One day, he catches a glimpse of one such diary entry -- and he only knew that because he saw the cute little doodle you made of him, along with a small heart next to it. He swears he never meant to pry, but he thinks about it for days and days. He's never been happier.

Karl Heisenberg

Oh he'll be mad at first, for sure. He's likely the type to express first and ask questions later when it comes to these matters, but the anger is more out of confusion than genuine offense.

If you try to explain it, he may just think you're lying at first. "If you wanted me to leave you alone, you could just say so," he'd say. But at the same time, there'd be such a sincerity in your voice that it would be hard for him to keep denying it. Fine... maybe you're not pulling his leg then.

You can't tell me that this man doesn't make trinkets in his spare time. He can be a big mean metal worker all he wants but I can also picture him having made a keychain or two in his life. Maybe even a necklace. They're not perfect or polished by any means, but he just likes making little things with scraps left over from bigger projects.

That said, he'll give you some without much of a second thought. He probably ask you first if you want to keep any the first time you stumble upon his messy workstation at the factory. They looked pretty neat, so you took some of them home.

You might find yourself fidgeting with the moving parts of it, trying to rack your head and remember exactly where you got them and how. Was it on a trip? Did you get these as souvenirs? Why did one of them look like an electric fan with legs?

Sometimes you'll show him all this stuff and talk about how cool they looked. Your favorite might be the one that looks like a hammer, but the fan with legs was a close second. You tell him to be careful of the sharper parts though (wouldn't want him to get tetanus.)

He may or may not get a little embarrassed as you gush about your "new" trinkets. You might offer to give some to him that he likes but he insists you keep them, especially since you like them so much.

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insomniumstella · 4 years

Note

An angsty prompt of roommate!bucky? Like just imagine you’re two idiots who are mutual pinning after each other, but obviously y’all don’t know that you’re in love. I might need some angst there....🥺👉👈

bucky x reader

warnings: some adult themes, a bit of angst, can’t think of any others

word count: 3,279

Monday

Their usually empty apartment is scattered with people tonight, soft sounds of music and chatter in the background.

“You didn’t tell me Barnes’s new girlfriend would be here.” Wanda and y/n are preparing drinks in the kitchen, because who wants to only drink straight vodka or beer. Other duties, such as setting up food in the living room were left to the remaining Avengers, and y/n sincerely hopes they can handle it because last time Sam tried opening a bag of chips he spilled them everywhere.

“She’s not his girlfriend.” She raises an eyebrow, finishing each Mojito with a sprig of mint “Besides, he forgot to tell me.” I do not have feelings for Bucky Barnes, she thinks after noticing Wanda’s apologetic look.

“Of course you don’t” She replies sarcastically, almost singing ‘of course’ for emphasis. Surprisingly the living room looks neat and peaceful when they come back, people sitting on every free space they were able to find, floor including.

“Might have to get you and Barnes a bigger apartment because this shoebox isn’t cutting it.” y/n dismisses Tony’s comment because this apartment is often empty anyways due to frequent missions. Still, it’s cozy; when Bucky suggested they live together, because it’s totally normal for two friends to do so, even if they can get separate places, y/n took up the decorating. While it was not necessarily fancy, multiple fairy lights, and about a million photos made the place feel inviting and safe. Bucky would agree too, having spent hours on the worn out couches, whether it was drinking with the boys or reading, something he recently took up. Steve removes his hand from the couch’s arm rest and nods his head as if saying come sit here, which y/n does, cozying up half on the arm rest, half against Steve’s body. He’s nursing a beer, and smiles at her when she finally settles.

“Truth or drink?” Natasha suggests, taking a shot of vodka straight from the bottle, using her Mojito as a chaser. Y/n turns her head to look at Bucky, whose eyes are burning holes in the side of her head, snickering when she turns her gaze to his new girl and notices her disgusted expression. Yeah, it’ll take her a while to get used to us. Sam’s up first to ask questions. He snatches the bottle out of Natasha’s hands, passing it to Tony, and thinks for a minute before asking “Have you ever been in an orgy?”

“That’s one way to start the game.” Tony laughs before taking a shot. He doesn’t have to answer for others to know. “My sweet Natasha, who here do you think is packing the most?”

Somehow she has managed to find and open a bottle of tequila; it’s been a rough week for her. Taking a shot “Steve.” She answers. “Steve, when was the last time you had sex?”

“Do all of these have to be sexual?” He’s blushing hard; talking about things of this nature is still weird and uncomfortable for him, but so’s drinking hard liquor. “Two days ago.” There’s oohs and ahh’s filling the room, and y/n takes notice of how Steve leans into her, almost as if to escape people’s eyes on him.

“C’mon guys, Steve’s right, at least let’s ease into the sexual questions. Hey Bucky, who do you think is the sexiest person here?” That’s a good way for him to include his new girl more, y/n thinks, but to her surprise, Bucky’s taking the bottle of vodka from Tony and taking a shot. The teasing stares from Wanda, y/n tries ignoring for the rest of the game.

Tuesday

“Who do you think is it?” Natasha is still wandering about last night when Bucky decided to take a shot instead of answering who’s the sexiest. For a spy, she’s surprisingly unaware. It’s just the girls at the apartment, because y/n invited them over after James announced he’s going a date. It worked out kind of perfectly; girls nights are very important, yet neither of them can remember when was the last time it happened. Thanking the delivery guy and coming back into the living room with a pizza, y/n turns to Natasha.

“I think the real question is what made you think Steve’s packing the most, when our team has a literal God?” A deep crimson colour paints Natasha’s cheeks. She’s hangover from last night, so it’s one of the rare times anyone ever sees her blushing. y/n knows she’s got her; two days ago, after a mission gone wrong, she decided to sleep at the compound, and guess who was sneaking out of Steve’s room in the middle of the night? As the sun sets, the conversations get more open, and wine bottles, one by one, disappear from the fridge. It’s about 1am when Bucky comes home to find a messy apartment and his girl sleeping on the couch; Natasha and Wanda somehow managed to drunkenly call a taxi back to the compound. Not my girl, he corrects himself after the thought accidentally crosses his mind, I have a different girl, he thinks.

“You’re home.” y/n slurs, reaching her arms out to hug him.

“I’m home.” He chuckles, leaning down to pick her up, bridal style.

“Did you have fun?”

“Not as much as you, apparently.” He answers, walking up to her bedroom door, opening it, and gently places her on the bed. “You’ll have a lot to clean up tomorrow.” This is not true. Bucky Barnes will clean it up himself, the way y/n does after he has one too many. “Goodnight sleeping beauty.” And with a kiss on her forehead she’s out. Not my girl.

Wednesday

Winding down after a long day is one of life’s most simple pleasures, and with Halloween right around the corner, a spooky movie marathon was bound to happen.

“Beetlejuice or Hocus Pocus?”

“Neither of these names mean something to me?” Bucky’s answer sounds more like a question. Of course he wouldn’t know the names of the two classics, yes, life really has been rough on him, y/n thinks. She’s sitting on the couch with a bag of popcorn, legs comfortably placed on the coffee table, when Bucky comes out of the kitchen and puts their drinks down. “Also, you drink too much.” He points out her wine obsession.

Leaning her head on his shoulder after he sits down “You talk too much.” She answers. It feels weird to sit so close when he’s seeing someone, but hey, this is Bucky, the guy, she’s been living with and crushing on for months, she might as well enjoy this while she can. Besides he’s acting casual about it. Not, he’s not casual about it. From the inside at least, because yes, Bucky looks completely calm, reaching down to her lap to grab some popcorn from time to time, but his heart is skipping beats a little too much for his liking.

Maybe next time Steve’s staring at her with those love-filled eyes, I should just tell them to get a room? Bucky considers, this is too hard and at least that way, I won’t see her as much. He’s so still she wonders if he fell asleep, but the turning of his head assures he didn’t. His lips form a smile and she smiles back. I wish Bucky liked me back, like how Steve likes Natasha, y/n thinks to herself, they’re so cute together.

“I don’t like this Beetlejuice guy or whatever he is.”

“I think he’s charming in a way.” y/n lifts her legs from the table and places them over Bucky’s, so she’s sideways and looks up at him.

“You’re charming in a way.”

“Oh sergeant, thank you.”

“Said no one, ever.” Y/n laughs and playfully hits him with one of the many decorative pillows they have placed on the couch.

“You love me, Bucky Barnes.”

Oh you have no idea. That he doesn’t say.

Thursday

8am

Knife, gun, extra ammo; yes, pretty much everything she’d need she has on her.

“Don’t die out there, pretty lady.”

“Okay, Birdman, shut it.” y/n teases as they both walk up to where Bucky’s standing. “This mission is like a piece of cake, right Buck?” But he doesn’t answer, lost somewhere in his own thoughts, face painted in worry. “You alright?” She asks when Sam goes to check on Cap, placing her hand on his shoulder. “This is an easy task.”

“It’s not the mission I’m thinking about.” He shrugs, but there’s no time for her to answer, because Steve is already opening the quinjet door, shouting at them to prepare for jumping.

8pm

“You’ve been quiet all day. If there’s anything, no matter how small, you know you can talk to me.” They’ve been hiding in some random bushes, the apparently quick and easy mission turning into something no one expected.

“Do you like Steve?” Bucky’s face is completely serious, no teasing eyes, no toothy grin he usually has when talking about guys with her.

“Of course I like Steve.” Like a brother or a friend. “This is what’s been bothering you?” y/n laughs, because it’s funny, surely he must know she likes Steve, otherwise why would they spend so much time together.

Yes, that’s what’s been bothering me. “No, just something that I thought of right now.” He manages to smile, but it’s the fakest smile y/n has seen on him yet. “Did you ask him?”

“Yeah.” y/n scrambles to get her phone out of her suit pocket. Of course she texted Steve, asking if they can pack up and go home already as the suspect they were after has not shown up all day.

“Cool.” It’s cool she asked him if he liked her back, James thinks, it’s for the better, “What’d he say?”

Unlocking it, y/n opens up the text messages app “He said yes, we should head back to the jet.”

Looks like they might be going on a first date tonight, Bucky takes a deep breath, that’s good, right?

Friday

Whatever has been bothering Bucky all day yesterday, y/n’s glad is gone. He walks into the meeting holding two trays of coffee, passing them out to those attending.

“Good morning.” He smiles at her, after sitting down and turns his head to look at Steve, who’s standing at the end of the table, ready to start the meeting. His hair is messy and he looks peaceful, a little too peaceful, considering last night’s failed mission. y/n laughs.

“Something you can say to all of us?” She shakes her head and they both share a look which makes Steve’s cheeks turn pink.

“Nothing, Captain.” They both know y/n is mocking him and Natasha, after overhearing her scream the word over and over in the gym’s locker room; the screams clearly cause by pleasure of them going at it.

Bucky shifts in his seat uncomfortably and speaks up “I think we should start, as me and Sam don’t have all day, right Sam?” Whatever Sam’s caught in the middle of, he’s not a fan.

“Actually, I’m not that busy to-“ He’s cut off by James.

“Well, I have a date so start talking lover boy.” He says casually, his words filling the room with an awkward silence, before Steve goes over the plan for their next mission.

Saturday

“Are you sure you don’t mind if a couple of my old college friend come over today?”

Every free Saturday they like to go grocery shopping together. Bucky’s attitude is much better than it was in the meeting yesterday, which is good, except y/n keeps sourly wondering if the reason for that is the date he had.

He picks up a carton of eggs “I’m eggcited!” And places them in the cart. “Butter than ever.” Bucky says putting butter in there too. They’re at a different aisle when y/n notices him reaching for a jar of jelly.

“Don’t you dare-“

“Just don’t be jelly if they’ll give me more attention than they’ll give you.” He laughs.

“I should have never used a single pun in the grocery store around you. Hey, mango annoy someone else.” y/n laughs back, pointing at the fruit. She drags him away before he can grab the olives and say you know olive you.

There’s not much time left to set everything up when they get back, but as Bucky once called them, they’re a super duo. Y/n’s reaching for the wine glasses when the doorbell rings, and before she can make her way to the door, Bucky’s already answering. If he wasn’t into y/n so much, and if he didn’t have a girlfriend, he’d definitely go for her friends, he thinks and scolds himself right after.

“So you must the boyfriend y/n has been telling us so much about?” Wait, this is confusing.

“I’m n-“ Y/n quickly interrupts him.

“Yes! Guys, meet James, a man who is very much real, and very much my boyfriend, right?” Her hand wraps around his waist and she’s looking up at him with the act along or I’ll kill you kind of eyes. This is going to be fun.

“Yes ladies, please come in, it’s nice to meet you.” He gives them his signature smile, and as they pile into the living room, y/n pulls him aside to whisper “They can’t know I’m single.” Maybe if he wasn’t so excited about pretending to be her boyfriend, he would have heard the fact, y/n is not dating Steve.

The evening is hard to describe, because yes, the girls somewhat miss each other, however y/n can’t help, but notice the jabs they take at her for being an Avenger, and their wondering eyes at Bucky. He, on the other hand, is doing a great, too great, of a job at being her boyfriend. Anything she needs, he get up to get her, his arm tightly wrapped around her waist, before he’s pulling her onto his lap completely and to top it all, the language he’s been using is driving y/n crazy. She knows he’s enjoying this very much, but the phrases like would you like some more wine, darling? or is my baby comfortable on my lap? are affecting her more than she’d admit.

“So tell us, y/n, how did you score a man like this? I mean the constant fighting you’re doing can’t be good for that body. Does it look like a cutting board underneath the clothes?” Okay, maybe Natasha was right about them being bitches the first and the only time she met them.

“Believe me, everything is smooth and tight there.” Bucky winks, hands resting on top of her thighs; that evening he tries to say the most provocative words to keep her busy from noticing the thick bulge forming in his pants. She’s so busy at enjoying their jealous faces, it works.

Sunday

It was the most beautiful morning October in New York had to offer yet. Last night was a lot; maybe it’s time y/n reconsiders finding new friends, because to say that was exhausting is underestimating. It’s almost like y/n is on autopilot, letting her feet take her wherever they want. For better or worse, she ends up at Bucky’s favourite breakfast spot, noticing him and his girlfriend through the window. She’s mad, stuffing her things into her purse, and storming out of here, yet James is weirdly unbothered, slowly sipping his coffee; he waves his hand at her to join him when he notices y/n outside. A big plate of waffles is bound to make anyone’s morning better; they don’t talk while they eat. It’s only when the waitress refills both of their coffee mugs that y/n speaks up. “So what happened?”

“Told her this was never going to work out.”

“I’m sorry.” She’s really not. This is one of the best thing to happen all week, and besides Bucky doesn’t look sad, so it’s not bad to feel happy about it, right? He doesn’t answer her. When the waitress comes up with their check, he quickly snatches it, so y/n doesn’t have an opportunity to pay, and they both put on their jackets before leaving.

“Would you mind if we go to the Central Park for a bit? I know we have to get to the compound by 12pm, but-“

“Yes, why not, I’m sure Steve won’t get mad.” Bucky forces a smile, he won’t because you’re dating? He thinks. This is y/n he’s thinking about, so why is it so hard to just straight up ask if she’s dating Steve or not. Could it be the fact, he’s too scared to heard the words, I am? Bucky doesn’t recognise where they’re going; y/n moves through many parts of Central Park before arriving at an area he’s never seen or been in before. It’s very secluded, but how has he never been there before still blows his mind. “I love the view here.”

“Me too.” Bucky isn’t talking about the park.

“Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night, I should have told you, that they thought you were my boyfriend. I shouldn’t have been so scared to admit, that yes, I’m single, so what?” Wait what?

“What do you mean single?”

“Single, as in no boyfriend? Bucky, do you not know what single means?” y/n laughed. Oh, Bucky knew very well what that meant.

“So you’re not dating Steve?” He wanted to punch himself so hard at this very moment. What other parts of this has he missed, in fact, it totally wouldn’t of made sense for her to pretend Bucky was her boyfriend if she was dating Steve.

“No, I mean he is very attractive, but I don’t li-“ y/n turned her head to look at Bucky “why would you think I was dating Steve?” This was very confusing, however she couldn’t get excited just yet, so what that he thought she was dating Steve? It does not mean that’s the reason he never made a move on her; perhaps he didn’t even like her.

“The way you’re always touching, the looks you exchange. He’s practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“James, Steve is dating Natasha. Why else would she say she thought he was packing the most? Surely, she’s seen it.” They sat down on the only bench near by, y/n bringing her knee up to her chest out of nervousness. “Who do you think was the sexiest person in the room that night?” Bucky was avoiding her eyes.

“You.” Be a man James Barnes. “You’ve been the sexiest person in the room ever since we met.” He thought for a moment “That sounded better in my head, but you know what I mean.” Standing up, y/n pulls Bucky up with her; nerves always make her fidgety.

“Bucky, I like you.” He looks like he’s about to say something but y/n continues “I liked you being my fake boyfriend more than I should have.”

“To be honest, I was doing more than a fake boyfriend should have.” He chuckles. Taking his phone out of his jean pocket, Bucky dismisses Steve’s call, because whatever it is, can wait. “I like you too.” A comfortable silence falls between them, Bucky’s hands resting on y/n’s waist. In truth, the whole moment lasts about a couple seconds, but it feels like a lifetime to them both. Brushing the hair behind her ear, Bucky leans down and connects their lips together. It’s something worth waiting for; passionate, intense, and y/n cannot wait to run her hands through Bucky’s hair to bring him closer. “Perhaps next time they come visit, I’ll be your real boyfriend?” She does; lightly grabbing his hair she brings him closer.

“Perhaps you will.”

#bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky angst #bucky x reader fluff #bucky fluff

489 notes · View notes

emeren · 4 years

Text

unorthodox - armin arlert (1)

pairing: armin arlert x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: none <3

chapter notes: the first chapter is a little boring, but bear with me! it just gets better from here ;)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: reader does a favor for her shy roommate, causing her to meet a cute and familiar florist who’s words have a bigger impact than intended.

“shit!” you breathed, squinting up at the sky. the feeling of warm, sticky droplets of water began to pepper your skin, dark clouds looming above. you were in an absolutely foul mood, bringing your free hand up to shield your face.

“what’s the matter?” your roommate’s voice rang out through the phone, oblivious to the plight you were enduring on her behalf. you glanced around, the unfamiliar street and buildings only adding to your annoyance.

“it’s fucking raining,” you cursed, looking for an awning to stand under as the rain grew harder. it was trickling down your face, seeping through your shirt. “okay, where is this place?”

“like i said, it should be on the corner of 53rd,” her voice was muffled, indicating that she was nervously chewing on her finger nails. you rolled your eyes, trying to read the street sign through the rain droplets flying towards the ground. “thank you so much for doing this.”

you sighed, thinking about how desperately she’d begged you to pick up and drop off the bouquet of flowers. “right, it’s no problem. corner of 53rd you said?”

“erm, yeah? i think so,” she responded softly. you had no idea where you were, hopping off the subway at an unfamiliar stop. by the looks of it, there was no 53rd in sight. there was, however, a promising looking building on the corner.

“sash, what’s the place called?” you prompted, trying to blink away the water dripping down your face. your roommate was utterly incapable when it came to boys, especially the one she’d quote on quote ‘fallen head over heels’ for. he’d rendered her a social mess, hardly able to form a sentence let alone drop off a bouquet of anonymous flowers. that left the job up to you, the ever dependable friend.

sasha shuffled around on the other line, your legs carrying you towards the green building. “i think it’s like ackerman flowers or something along those lines.”

low and behold, the building had a large beige sign that promptly read out ackerman flowers in pretty writing. you thanked your lucky stars that you wouldn’t have to wander around in the pouring rain much longer, attempting to wipe your face dry before stepping inside.

“alright, i’m here sash,” you sighed, getting ready to hang up.

“wait!” she cried out, voice seemingly hesitant. you rolled your eyes, wanting nothing more than to be out of the rain. “could you, um - could you put a note in it?”

“a note?” you asked, dumbfounded. you stepped to the side as an older man left the shop, umbrella in hand.

“yeah,” sasha muttered, voice growing quiet. “like a love note or something. but don’t sign my name!”

you involuntarily laughed, phone nearly slipping from your wet hand. “sorry, um, yeah. i can do that.”

“thank you so much,” with that, you ended the call, slipping your phone into your pocket.

the rain lightened as you eyed the outside of the building. it was painted a deep forest green, a small metal table sitting out front. there was one large window, filled with all sorts of differently colored flowers and plants. the building looked homey, or maybe that was because you were desperate to get out of the rain.

a bell dinged as you pushed the door open, greeted by a gush of warm, humid air. the small shop smelled like greenery and jasmine tea, filled to the brim with flowers. it looked like a scene from a movie, the window allowing the grey toned light to wash over the plants. you breathed out in awe, eyes scanning the dark brown desk for an employee, but were met with a fat, fluffy cat.

it was a light yellow color, lounging comfortably on the desk as if it were a bed. you slowly made your way over to it, the creature blinking up at you bemusedly with a pair of large, glassy eyes. you smiled at it, scratching behind its ear as you waited for an employee to show up.

“oh, i’m sorry,” you were startled from the cat by a surprised voice, eyes snapping up to land on a boy about your age wearing a dark green apron. there was something oddly familiar about him; blonde fluffy hair and light blue eyes. his features were rounded yet pronounced, an apologetic look on his face. “i didn’t hear you come in, i was in the back.”

“that’s alright,” you smiled, trying to pinpoint exactly where you’d seen him before. his gaze followed your hand to the cat, a small grin on his face.

“i see you’ve met erwin,” he said softly, wiping his dirt covered hands on his apron. you quirked a brow, silently asking him to elaborate. who names a cat erwin? “he’s the owner’s. i think he was named after an old friend of sorts.”

“oh, that’s such a weird name for a cat,” you scrunched your nose, looking back down to the fluffy beast. the boy nodded, leaning on the front desk.

“levi’s not very personal, so i never got a backstory,” his long fingers reached up to glide down the cat’s back, scratching right at the base of his tail. he sighed before standing again, folding his hands on the counter. you gave the cat one last pet, noticing the boy’s confused stare. “is it raining outside?”

“huh?” you frowned, realization dawning on you as your hand came up to pat your wet head. “oh, yeah. it started pouring right when i got here.”

the boy’s mouth formed an ‘o’, the light glinting off of his name tag. you squinted slightly, making out the name armin. odd, you thought. never heard that one before.

“well, cat and rain aside, what can i help you with?” he asked. you couldn’t help the slight embarrassment you felt when you considered how you were dripping water onto the ground, a small puddle forming by your feet. armin didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it.

you let out a breath, giving him a smile. “right. i’m looking for a flower arrangement that is simple yet, uh, romantic?” you quoted sasha, watching as armin took in the information.

he nodded his head, a contemplative look in his eyes. “i think i might have a good idea.”

your eyes followed him as he slipped past the counter, walking up to one of the bundles of baby’s breath. you took a moment to glance him up and down, a light blue crew neck and dark jeans underneath his green apron. you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive; a slim, muscular physique and broad shoulders.

armin flitted around the small space, grabbing some of this and some of that, absentmindedly muttering to himself. you leaned against the counter as he came up, a beautiful selection of flowers in his hands.

“how about this?” he beamed, walking behind the counter to grab wrapping for the stems. you had to give it to him, the arrangement was gorgeous: flowers of various lavender and baby blue tones. it was soft and sweet, just what sasha wanted. “or, if you’d rather, i can go for the more romantic rose approach.”

he was leaning forward on the desk, looking up at you through his brows. something about his stare made your face burn. “no, these are perfect!”

armin chuckled lightly, his own cheeks a light shade of red. “i’m glad you think so. do you want ‘em wrapped up?”

“yes, please,” you replied, watching as his long fingers placed the bouquet in a light brown paper wrapping. he carefully folded it, tying it off with a piece of twine. something about the situation was sweet, armin giving you a small smile as he handed you the wrapped flowers.

it felt cliche, his hand grazing yours as you grabbed it from him. you looked down, trying to avoid eye contact as you fished through your pocket for the fifty dollar bill sasha had given you.

suddenly you remembered her odd request, eyeing armin as he got your change. you certainly didn’t know how to write a love note, and knew that sasha would be no help. swallowing the small amount of embarrassment you felt, you decided to ask anyway.

“hey, armin?” he looked up from the cash register, face slightly surprised.

“how do you... oh,” he blushed, looking down briefly. “name tag. what is it?”

you glanced at erwin the cat, swallowing your pride. “this is kinda weird, but would you be willing to write a love note? anonymous of course.”

armin’s brows raised in shock, mouth forming a little ‘o’. you quickly tried to fix the odd question.

“it’s just - i don’t know how to write one and i’m a little stumped,” you explained. armin gave you a small smile, grabbing a pen from the cup beside the card reader.

“well, lucky for you, i’m majoring in literature,” he gave you a lopsided grin, quickly scribbling something down on the paper. once he was done, he leaned forward, placing it amongst the petals. “there you go. oh, and here’s your change.”

“thanks,” you beamed, pulling the bouquet close to your chest. armin nodded, happy to be praised. “have a good day.”

you turned to leave, giving erwin one last pet before making your way towards the door. armin gave you a small wave as you left the shop, disappearing from view.

the rain had let up, sun peaking through the clouds. you smiled, quickly making your way towards the subway station, excited to get home.

you’d decided not to pry when sasha’d asked you to pick up the bouquet and drop it off at niccolo’s dorm room. she’d been embarrassed, clearly way too shy to do it herself. you hadn’t asked questions; just decided to get the flowers and drop them off without further discussion.

as you sat on the hard, plastic subway chair, you could feel that utter indifference starting to melt away. maybe it was because of the sweet florist, or maybe it was because of the way that the love note bounced tauntingly among the flowers. your fingers itched to read it, silently cursing yourself as you lifted it with your pointer and thumb.

armin’s handwriting was neat; a soft mix of cursive and regular lettering. you glanced around the train car, making sure there was no one else there. it was paranoid, but something about it felt embarrassing nonetheless.

after making sure there was no one else there, you looked back to the small note. your heart stopped as you read over his words.

there’s something simple about feelings like these - they remind me of an early morning sunrise; fresh and familiar. warms my heart and soul just thinking of you.

something about his corny words made your stomach flip, the sight of his soft face flashing in your mind. yup, you thought. i’m definitely embarrassed.

why am i feeling this way?

<3 <3 <3

#armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert fanfic #armin arlet x reader #armin arlet #armin arlet fanfic #armin #armin arlert fluff #armin arlet fluff #emmy writes #🦧#unorthodox

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scoobysnack1107 · 4 years

Photo

So grateful I was able to commission the incredible @rainbow-taishi again for another gorgeous RokuNami piece! As always, Jin did an absolutely amazing job! The colors and atmosphere are warm, the expressions soft, and the detailing exquisite 🥺💞 Thank you again Jin for making making my day and bringing a huge smile to my face 💖

For anyone interested, I wrote an accompanying story!

You can read it below or on ao3: Un Rendez-vous Romantique

(special thank you to @jysumrae for using her French skills to help me with the title 💖 )

Un Rendez-vous Romantique

Naminé checked the time on her gummi phone again. Five minutes before seven o’clock. Five minutes before Roxas was supposed to arrive at the bistro for their date. Their first date she reminded herself.

All around her, tables were filled with laughing couples sharing colorful concoctions that were placed onto tables by waiters dressed in well-tailored suits. Naminé, dressed in her signature white dress and blue sandals, was the only one sitting alone.

She couldn’t help but wonder how seriously he had taken the idea. He had been the one that asked her out with that boyish grin she was powerless to resist. But this was the first time they would be together like this. Unencumbered by heartless, the Organization, Diz. Tonight, it was just the two of them in the most romantic place in town.

Unless…he stood her up.

Naminé’s heart sunk, and as the people milling by the bistro cast her curious looks, she started feeling more and more self-conscious. Did they think he wasn’t coming?

“Don’t worry, Naminé. Trust me, he’ll come.”

Startled, Naminé looked up and found Sora offering her a comforting grin. He was dressed in a white chef’s uniform and tall toque that somehow managed to stay atop his spiky head of hair. In his hands, he was carrying a large, unopened box decorated with golden fleur de lis and something scribbled on top in black marker.

“Sora? Why are you—” she trailed off, suddenly remembering that her friend had become an occasional helping hand at the restaurant during his travels. Though, admittedly, it was strange to think of Sora as a chef in a high-end bistro like this. “Thank you. I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

In the distance, the bell of the clock tower tolled, signaling the passing of another hour. Seven o’clock.

Sora had to be right.

“Excuse me! Coming through!”

Outside the bistro, some kind of commotion had started. The tram stopping in its track as a boy riding a black and white skateboard came racing through. A flock of pigeons wandering the bistro’s checkered plaza dispersed in a flurry of feathers, and one of the waiters nearly dropped a plate of ratatouille before said boy arrived in front of Naminé’s table with an apologetic smile.

“I am so sorry, Naminé,” Roxas said, finally catching his breath, “I promise I didn’t forget. Really. I got caught up delivering letters again because Lea ‘sprained’ his ankle and couldn’t finish his half.” Roxas shook his head. Of all the days Lea felt it necessary to fake an injury.

Naminé couldn’t help herself. She laughed, and the anxiety that had been chipping away at her nerves dissipated with the sound. “It’s fine, Roxas. I’m glad you were able to make it. I can’t say I expected that kind of entrance though.” Another laugh slipped past her lips when she noticed a stray feather in his hair.

Roxas scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I can’t say I really planned it that way.”

Plucking the feather from the skater’s head unceremoniously, Sora handed his friend the box he was holding. “Well, now that you’re finally here, I’d say it’s time for you two love birds to enjoy your date with a little Tarte aux Fruits, courtesy of Little Chef and I!” Sora patted his toque affectionately, prompting a tiny gray mouse to peek out from beneath the hat before scurrying back inside with a squeak. “He’s a little shy,” Sora whispered.

“He’s cute,” Naminé cooed.

Roxas flipped open the lid of the box to examine the dessert. Inside the box was a round and colorful tart decorated with fresh strawberries, blueberries, kiwis, and peaches. “Sora, you know it’s just the two of us, right?” Usually, the bistro only served the desserts by slices. Not entire tartlets like this.

Sora pushed the lid back down and pointed to the writing on top.

Enjoy your date!

- Sora and Little Chef

“Yep! But you’re my friends and Little Chef insisted. It’s not like you can’t take the leftovers home. I’m sure Lea and Xion would eat a few slices for you.”

Curious, Naminé stood up to peer inside the box too. Sora really was too sweet. Everything about the dessert was handled with care, with each fruit arranged so precisely, Naminé could only imagine how long her friend had spent perfecting the delectable concoction. “Thank you, Sora. This is perfect, but you know, we’ll be saving you and Little Chef a slice too. It wouldn’t feel right for our chefs not to taste their own creation.”

“Heh, guess not,” Sora agreed, scratching his cheek.

“You can drop by the Old Mansion after work if you’d like,” Naminé suggested, “No one goes to bed early anyway, since it’s summer vacation.”

“Yeah, and plus, you still owe me a rematch on Classic Kingdom Melee,” Roxas said with a competitive glint in his blue eyes.

Sora chuckled and laced his hands behind his head. “So eager to get your butt handed to you again?”

“I have Naminé’s good luck charm this time,” Roxas said confidently, “So, there’s no way I’m gonna lose again.”

“We’ll see,” Sora said in a sing-song voice. The two boys jibed one another for another minute until Sora was called back into the kitchen by a short, portly chef with a silver whisk and a toque taller than him.

Roxas set the box with the tart on the table and moved to pull Naminé’s chair out for her with a flourish. “Madame.”

“How gentlemanly,” Naminé giggled as she took her seat.

Taking the chair across from her, Roxas signaled over one of the waiters who promptly brought them two plates and utensils to slice their dessert. Naminé, her hands small and adept, cut them each a generous piece.

The window behind them cast a warm golden glow and was embossed with the bistro’s name, Le Grand Bistrot, in neat gold lettering. Inside, the restaurant’s staff busied themselves, the sound of clattering dishes and whirring kitchen appliances blending with the soft instrumental tune floating from the speakers outside.

Naminé spoke again first. “So, you and Hayner are entering the Struggle Tournament this year?”

“We’re gonna win this year” Roxas boasted with a grin. He picked up his dessert but didn’t take a bite as sparks of excitement began to dance in his eyes. “We’ve been training every day since sign ups.”

�� “Confident I see,” Naminé teased.

“Always,” Roxas returned, his grin turning sly, “And besides, I’ve won the digital version once already. The real thing can’t be any harder.”

Naminé conceded with a smile. “That is true.”

As Roxas explained his new strategy for this year’s tournament, Naminé listened attentively, offering nods and questions at different intervals as she nibbled at her dessert. She liked seeing him so excited. After everything they had been through, happiness like this was well-deserved.

“Promise to cheer me on?” Roxas asked. His gaze was intense now, making Naminé’s heart skip a beat.

Naminé averted his eyes, playing with her hair as she answered shyly. “I’ll be in the front row the entire time.”

“U-Uh, thanks” Roxas blushed at her words and drew his own gaze away. “But um…anyway,” Roxas coughed, “How about you? You mentioned buying some new paints the other day. Have you been able to try them out yet?”

This time, it was Naminé’s face that lit up. She pressed her fingers together and tilted her head happily. “I have! I’ve been painting lots of landscapes with them, and I want to try portraits too.”

“Is this your subtle way of asking me to be your model?” Roxas joked.

“Mmm, maybe. Though, I’m not entirely sure you’d be able to stay still the entire time.”

Roxas raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“You really think you can sit still for more than an hour?” Naminé asked dubiously.

“With the right kind of incentive.”

Without hesitating, Naminé replied. “Sea salt ice cream?”

“Bingo,” Roxas said and bit into his slice of the tart.

Naminé didn’t try to conceal her laughter. Roxas really was predictable. And adorable. “I think I can arrange that.”

“Then, we have ourselves a deal!” Roxas held out a hand across the table, and Naminé shook it as if it was actually some kind of serious, contractual agreement.

The two continued to talk, reminiscing over the new memories they had made in the real Twilight Town. Like the first time they had all gone to Sunset Hill for a meteor shower or when they took that impromptu trip to Radiant Garden because somehow Twilight Town had run out of sea salt ice cream. Granted, it had been a particularly hot day. But still…

“I feel like summer vacation is too short,” Roxas complained, “and who thought it was a good idea to assign homework? We’re supposed to be on a break.”

Naminé’s lips twitched knowingly. “You still haven’t started, have you?”

“I tried, but the computer keeps crashing on me, so I can’t do any kind of research,” Roxas explained, pouting as he crossed his arms.

“You and computers,” Naminé sighed, shaking her head, “What are you writing your report on?”

“Not sure yet. Hayner, Pence, and Olette want to do something about the seven wonders, but that’s a little too déjà vu for me, you know?”

Naminé tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, maybe you can do a report about the beach?”

“The beach?” Roxas cocked his head curiously.

“Yeah, like what kind of fish are in the ocean here or ways to keep our beaches clean,” Naminé continued. Roxas loved the beach. The first time they went, Roxas nearly tripped over himself running across the sand to get to the water, and he didn’t come out until it was time to leave.

“Looks like we’re going to the beach this week then, huh?” Roxas asked with a coy grin.

Naminé returned the smile. “Looks like it.”

By the time they were ready to leave, with their leftovers secured in a to-go bag, the last embers of the twilight sky above had faded, blanketing the sunset hues beneath a veil of stars. The night air was still, the bustle of the usually busy town subdued as most citizens retired to their homes to sleep.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Naminé said, staring down at her feet bashfully.

“Me too.” There was a brief silence that hung between them before Roxas added in a hesitant but hopeful voice. “Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

“I would love that,” Naminé answered softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Y-You know, there’s gonna be that new movie playing down at the theater this Friday. We could grab dinner here and then go see that?”

“It’s a date!” Naminé agreed happily, and her heart soared.

Roxas took her hand and intertwined their fingers. “It’s a date.”

#rokunami #roxas #namine #kingdom hearts #namixas #finally had a chance to finish this story #I loved writing the dialogue #and the tarte aux fruits was one of the prettiest desserts in kh3 #perfect for a first date <3

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fluffypeachwriting · 3 years

Note

idk if you're still accepting mystery prompts but I have one in mind. (sorry for sending if you stopped accepting and feel free delete this)

Poof! Something happened and all of a sudden Saburo is the same age as Jiro for the three days (or week if you like). How will Saburo react? How do you think his /usual/ arguing with Jiro would go?

-same anon who req. the Hitoya + music sheets. (Ty Tysm for it. Don't forget to take breaks and stay safe! (｡’▽’｡)♡)

Yes, I am still taking mystery prompts, and I’m glad you enjoyed that Hitoya request! (´ ∀ ` *)

This was a lot of fun to write, since it’s interesting to think about how Saburo will grow up. I personally think he’ll get a burst of character development at some point, and his whole holier-than-thou persona will crumble or get tested. I also think that he’ll turn out to be a delinquent just like the other two, maybe not to the same extent though. I think he’ll prefer to do things the way he sees fit, and be less inclined to follow someone else’s rules.

Saburo is very fun to write for, and so I hope you like what I did with this idea!

Saburo woke up, like any other free day, in the afternoon. He yawned at stretched his limbs out, noticing that he had a few more clicks and creaks in his joints than usual. A few twists and turns later took out most of them.

He gave out one last stretch – and winced in pain as he whacked his ankle against the end of the bed. Wincing in pain would be the normal thing to do, but Saburo shrugged it off without thinking, as if this happened every day. Expecting to have slid down the bed in his sleep or something, he craned his head up to look at the headstand, but it was right there.

Like a baby deer struggling to stand for the first time, Saburo wobbled and stood up on lanky legs and stretched his arms up, touching the ceiling. For the first time, he could press his palms flat on the ceiling, whereas usually only his fingers could reach that high. Saburo smiled, pleased that he was actually growing. Perhaps he would grow to be as tall as Ichiro, he thought. It took smaller steps to get over to his door too. He then missed the light switch a few times, though he had been able to do that in the dark easily for years. After slapping the wall a few times, Saburo eventually turned on the light. He didn’t want to think that his body had traded memory for height.

One his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed that his body wasn’t the only different thing there. His room was largely the same. But largely wasn’t exactly. It wasn’t as if he kept track of all the loose trash in his room, but he didn’t remember having two bento boxes, three ramune sodas, and countless snacks the night before. He knew that his stomach would give him the repercussions.

There was the possibility that this litter had accumulated over a few days, which was the most logical conclusion. However, there was the issue of: what was so important the Saburo had neglected to take care of his bedroom? Being messy was Jiro’s usual crime, and if Saburo was used to doing anything, it was competing with him. Had he given up on being neat and tidy?

Saburo was still too tired to think about it. First, he needed to check himself, on the possibility that he was ill, then get ready to clean up this mess. With tired steps, Saburo made his way to a full-length mirror.

Or, it was supposed to be full length, but for some reason the top of his head was cut off. Assuming that it was just wonky, Saburo got closer and tried to fix it.

However, now that he’d woken up some more and was close enough to see his face, he forgot about the mirror and almost leaped back in shock. It was like there was a different person looking back at him. Saburo was no stranger to all-nighters and sleeping at ridiculous hours, but on this particular afternoon there were dark circles under his eyes which he’d never noticed before.

No, it couldn’t be anyone else. His eyes were the same and he had the same three moles. But his face was slightly longer, and his cheeks slightly less round – the thought of his brothers no longer pinching them crossed his mind, and despite him putting on a displeased face to them, the thought scared him. He didn’t want that to change. He wanted to be the same Saburo that had his hair ruffled when he’d done a good job. But this person had shoulder length hair, with his bangs almost going past his nose.

Contemplatively, he put one hand on his cheek. There was something wrong there too. Until now he was too occupied with his hair to realise that there were patches of stubble on his face. No, that couldn’t be right. There was no hair on his face yesterday, so how could it be this much now? Saburo squinted at his reflection, wondering if he needed to get his vision checked out.

A knock on the door startled him out of this confused haze. Saburo heard from the other side:

“Oi, get up before Aniki gets back unless you wanna get dragged out of bed. It’s almost 3 y’know.”

He was pretty sure that that was Jiro.

Saburo cleared his throat and replied: “Yeah, I’m up.”

Those three words sounded a lot different than he was expecting. Different, in the way that it was significantly deeper than the voice he was used to. He clutched his throat – was he ill?

“You are? Sweet. I’m off to work now so don’t go back to sleep. I won’t be here to wake you.”

He didn’t want to get up and ready for the day. He didn’t want to deal with whatever strange new things were in store for him. There was a lot of things he didn’t want to do, and one of them, surprisingly, was to argue with Jiro. On any other day he’d argue that he wasn’t really asleep for that long, and that Jiro was exaggerating to make him look bad.

��Just five more minutes.” He mumbled, crawling back under the sheets, pulling them over his head.

“Suit yourself, man.” Jiro replied, as Saburo heard him walk away. There was no arguing, no bursting down his door, there was nothing of the sort. Jiro sounded almost… responsible.

The weirdest part was that Saburo still didn’t feel the urge to throw any biting words at him. Was this a new normal? It was calming, in a way. Everything was more stable, and their daily routine had calmed down somewhat.

Wait… Since when did Jiro go to work? Was he talking about a job for Yorozuya Yamada? He must have been, Saburo thought.

His head rested back on the pillow. He knew that he wouldn’t actually be dragged out of bed, the few times where it did happen, Ichiro picked them up out of bed and carried them to the kitchen as the only way to ensure that he would eat breakfast. Thoughts of warm food drowned out everything else, and before he knew it, he fell back asleep.

He woke up and checked his phone. It was midday… but he was sure that Jiro said it was getting close to 3pm. His first instinct was to run his hands through his hair, and he felt an immense weight off his shoulders now that it was back to its short length. His face was as smooth as usual too. He sighed, not even caring if it was a school day or not; he could lie in bed all day bathing in the relief that he as back to his normal self. Saburo didn’t know if it had been a glimpse into the future or a nonsense dream. He hoped it was the latter.

A creak came from his door. Saburo craned his neck up to meet Ichiro’s face.

“Hey, we warned you. Am I gonna have to come in there and drag you out? If you get up within the hour we can go to that new Italian food place you wanted to check out. Okay?” Ichiro acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary – whatever happened must have only happened to Saburo.

“Okay, Ichi-nii.” Saburo rubbed his eyes and threw the covers off. His pyjamas fit normally again.

Though, he was looking forward to growing out of them.

#i may have forgotten about it being for a few days as i was writing this #oopsie!#hypmic #hypnosis mic #saburo yamada #buster bros #mystery prompts

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writtenonreceipts · 4 years

Note

If you're taking prompts, maybe for feysand - Person A catches a bus home everyday, but today, they're so exhausted that they fall asleep, suddely they feel a light tap on their shoulder and open their eyes to see person B smiling at them. "Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop, i hope you slept well"

<33

Oh my darling anon, I am always eager for prompts! Thank-you for sending this in! I altered just a few minor things, ie trains and not not busses and the diologue is just worded diff... and then over indulged in my own whims and fancies, just a touch.

2.7K words of fluff and awkwardness...all i know is awkwardness so ya know...

Strangers and Favors

Exhausted. Tired. Sleepy. There were far too many ways to describe what Feyre was feeling. Not even the coffee in her hands was doing anything to give her the boost she needed.

Amid the chill of morning and the slowly growing light of dawn, Feyre found herself hurrying from her car in the park-and-ride lot. She practically flung herself up the small steps that led to the train platform and into the first train car she was near.

She’d been running late that morning and nearly missed her alarm. Alis had been a dear and poured her coffee in a thermos, but Feyre hated the feeling of being rushed. Especially after a poor night's sleep. And when it was five thirty in the morning.

Feyre slipped into a seat before she could finally tell herself to breathe. She’d made it onto her train with only a few minutes to spare. Thankfully there were other straggling passengers filtered into the train car and made their way to their various seats.

Feyre took a long sip of her coffee and tried to convince herself that she wasn’t really tired. Even though it was far too early to be awake and she had an hour and a half train ride to sit through.

Dawn had barely begun to rise over the horizon with not even the promise of pink and blue streaks through the sky. She sighed and drew out her sketch pad.

She was barely into starting the picture--of what she had no idea--when the train started moving and a form fell into the seat across from her.

Feyre blinked and glanced up.

There were plenty of other open seats lining the train. Granted the place she’d found herself was the only one with a small table set up, but still.

Sitting across from her was a man far too attractive for his own good. He wore a black suit with a deep navy-blue button up beneath. No tie, only the top few buttons of his shirt undone giving a peak at a series of tattoos on his chest. His black hair was styled in a neat wave revealing a chiseled jaw and glorious eyes.

Feyre tore her gaze away before she could be accused of staring. But honestly, who could blame her?

Over the course of the train ride, Feyre finished her coffee and scribbled out at least four pages worth of drawings. Unfortunately, inspiration didn’t strike. Not that it was surprising. She’d not drawn anything new in months. Oh, she’d tried. She could sit for hours on this train, on her balcony, or out in the middle of the forest with a pencil in one hand and paper in the other--and nothing. Nothing would come.

Alis always told her that she couldn’t force herself to draw. She couldn’t force herself to be inspired if she didn’t make the conscious choice. But Alis didn’t understand that sometimes, it was too damned hard.

The train ride passed without excitement. Not even the man across from her did anything interesting. Figured. He was so attractive his life had to be mundane. At least, that was what Feyre told herself while she was not covertly looking at him

She was glad to get off the train when it reached the city. After making sure she had her things, she slipped out and onto the platform without trouble.

Chaos was not something she enjoyed.

Especially not lately. As long as everything was in its place of simplicity, life could continue on as normal.

Honestly, if Feyre could have chosen a simple life involving nothing more than eating donuts she would have chosen it. Because living in a state of missed calls and impatient clients and looming deadlines was far from her state of happiness.

With a bag of donuts from Rita’s bakery in one hand, Feyre collapsed in her seat at the end of the day. She’d managed to leave work five minutes early giving her enough time to swing into Rita’s and grab a few treats. And she would not apologize for it.

“Long day?”

Feyre glanced up to see the man from that morning taking a seat across from her. He had an amused sort of expression on his face which made it even harder to look away. Feyre snatched a frosted chocolate donut from her bag and glared at him.

“No.” She took a giant bite leaving sugar to lace around her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him.

He grinned and shook his head.

Feyre was able to finish her donut in peace and managed not to stare at the man the rest of the train ride home.

Life continued. And much to Feyre’s dismay, nothing changed.

Her sketch book remained empty. Her coffee remained dull. Work did not improve.

Something needed to change. But honestly, she couldn’t figure out what it was. She’d left her ex months ago. She’d gotten a new wardrobe, a new phone, moved in with her friend. She’d started getting out more too. Somewhat. When Nesta called, which wasn’t often but at least her sister was trying.

It was five-thirty in the morning and she was seated on the train, again. And the man who seemed to only own clothing that was black was seated across from her, again. Since that first day of seeing him, he hadn’t tried talking to her again, which Feyre was semi grateful for. She was certain she would just make herself look like a bigger idiot than before.

Had she really stuffed her face with that giant donut?

Not that she cared. She could do whatever she wanted.

Except draw.

Feyre stared out the window of the train. It was slowly starting to get lighter sooner and Feyre now had more scenery to watch instead of the reality of the empty sketchpad.

Inevitably, however, Feyre found her attention drawn to the man across from her.

There was something about him. Feyre couldn’t place it, exactly, perhaps an energy of some kind. Or it was his confidence. Arrogance. Something. She found him mesmerizing. How stupid was that? A man she had said one word to and ignored for an entire month and she could help but watch him.

He did a cross word every morning. Texting someone throughout--or else cheating and looking up the answers. Other times she caught him reading a book about astrology or NASA’s recent magazine release. She wanted to ask him about the astrology, it was such a fascinating topic, one that she liked learning about. But she never knew how to strike up a conversation, so she remained silent.

She’d always been good at staying silent. At least that was what she’d been told.

The thought came so suddenly that Feyre had to physically shake herself to make it disappear. She sat up in her seat, hands clenching in her lap.

She snapped her attention away from the train window and forcibly removed her sketchpad from her bag. In a fury, Feyre moved her pencil across the page. It wasn’t the bed utensil to use, but it was better than bringing her entire art supply on the commute to work. The pencil would suffice.

It wasn’t as though she liked being quiet. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have anything to say. Sometimes it was just easier. Sometimes it was just better. Sometimes the silence was how she communicated. Sometimes people just didn’t understand that.

The scene came alive beneath her fingers.

Mountains and stars. Storms and shadows. All convalescing on a shape. A person. A…

Feyre frowned at the scene. Someone was kneeling on a throne of night and she couldn’t see their face.

“Do you always glare at your art like that?” The midnight voice broke Feyre out of her revere.

Glance up, Feyre locked gazes with the violet eyes of the man across from her. The crossword in his lap was complete. Feyre realized for the first time that he was younger than she’d originally thought. Maybe about five years older than she was. And even though he oozed arrogance, there was almost a genuine sort of smile dancing across his lips.

“Only when it’s being difficult,” Feyre answered. She offered a brief shrug and gestured to the crossword on his lap. “Do you always cheat at the crossword?”

He made an affronted sort of gasp. “I don’t cheat.”

“You’re always on your phone when you scribble answers in,” Feyre pointed out. She smirked, unable to help it.

“I’m texting with a friend,” he said, “she’s always trying to finish the damned thing before me in the mornings. All I do is offer a bit of...encouragement.”

“Right,” Feyre said doubtfully. She shook her head, still smiling.

The man watched her, almost confused, before he leaned forward. “And the art? It’s the first time in over a month I’ve seen you actually draw something.”

“I was searching for the right inspiration,” she said. And then as she found herself nearly drowning in the heat of his gaze--Feyre had what she’d been hunting for. “Sometimes it just takes a while to find.”

The train pulled to a stop where they usually got off. Feyre collected her things and half expected the man to be right at her side when his phone went off.

He muttered something under his breath before answering it.

Feyre almost had half a mind to wait for him. To linger on the platform and dredge up some excuse so that she could talk to him. If only for a moment longer. She still hadn’t asked him about the astrology book.

Instead she was swept up in the crowd of commuters.

For the next two weeks, Feyre was out of her mind with anxiety.

There really was no other way to describe it. Because every morning and every evening when she would board the train there would be no sign of her mysterious companion. Not even the sight of him running to try and catch a ride before the train completely left the station. Not even a hint of him getting on a different compartment one day by accident. Nothing.

So, naturally, her mind told her that it had something she’d done. Something she’d said. Hell. She hadn’t even done anything that stupid. Aside from stuffing a whole ass donut in her mouth.

She was an idiot.

Eventually she was able to push thoughts of her mysterious companion aside. Not only was she drawing again, but her workload had increased. And now she was getting up earlier and staying later and her schedule was entirely too chaotic.

She really missed the simpler days of dashing into Rita’s or relaxing on the train bench not staring at the man across from her.

After two weeks of commuting alone and another two weeks of being run ragged at work, Feyre finally found herself being able to return to a normal timeline. Somewhat. At least she was going to be able catch her usual train home and get home before ten o’clock.

Feyre fell into her seat and leaned up against the window of the train. She didn’t mean to fall asleep. Not really. But as soon as she was seated and relaxed her eyes drifted shut and she was gone.

The next thing Feyre knew there was a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop,” said an all too familiar voice.

Feyre’s eyes snapped open and she nearly flung out a fist to the shape in front of her.

“I take it you slept well?” Her mysterious companion snatched out a hand and caught hers before it made contact. He gave her a cheeky grin. “You didn’t even twitch between all the other stops.”

Feyre blinked up at him. Sleep still addled her brain and he was making no sense whatsoever.

“What?” she finally managed to spit out.

“Your stop?” he said, jutting a thumb to the train doors.

Feyre cursed, loudly, and jumped up. “I barely even closed my eyes,” she grumbled.

“Here, let me,” her companion grabbed her bag for her and helped her off the train before it took them all the way south to Hybern.

“Thanks,” Feyre said as they stepped out onto the platform. She accepted her bag from him and gave him a smile. “It’s been a long couple of weeks I guess.”

In the still fading evening light, Feyre was able to see his easy smile and the way his eyes crinkled softly. His black hair was tousled easily as if he’d been running his hands through it recently.

“It’s not a problem,” he said, “in fact I was surprised to even see you. It’d been a few weeks.”

Feyre blinked. He’d noticed she wasn’t on at her usual time?

“You were gone for a while too,” she said without thinking. You idiot.

Her words seemed to catch him by surprise, but not for long. A gleam flashed in his eyes.

“You noticed, did you?”

“You noticed me,” she shot back quickly.

They stood in silence as the train moved on with a loud whistle and the last few men and women passed them by hurrying to catch their connecting busses or get to their cars.

His smile stretched into a full grin. “I’m Rhysand.”

“Feyre,” she said, returning the smile. She then noticed the small paper bag he held in one hand. Immediately, Feyre recognized the logo on the outside. “Rita’s? That’s my favorite place to stop at after work.”

“Yeah, uh,” Rhysand said as he ran a hand through his hair, “I noticed and decided to give it a try.”

“And?” Feyre pressed.

“I have you to blame for my new addiction,” he said.

Feyre laughed, shaking her head. “I take full responsibility, though I will not apologize.”

Rhysand paused only for a moment before he glanced at her and an almost sheepish smile crossed his features. “Have you been to Dreamer’s? It’s a late-night coffee shop on Main.”

“I haven’t, but I’ve been meaning to,” Feyre admitted.

“My treat,” he said almost immediately. “I mean, if you want. You can tell me about what helped you find the inspiration to start drawing again.”

Feyre blinked at him remembering that train ride over a month ago now where she’d finally been able to draw more than a few measly lines. And she realized now as she watched a halo of light glimmer from the setting sun around his head that all this time she’d been trying to draw him in the outline of mountains and stars.

“Deal,” Feyre said. “But you should know, I don’t give up my secrets lightly.”

Rhysand quirked a brow. “Noted.”

They spent hours sharing secrets. The small kinds, the simple kinds.

Feyre learned that Rhysand’s brother had broken his leg playing football and needed surgery which was why he’d disappeared for a few weeks. She learned that it was his mother who taught him about astrology before she died not that long ago. And now he spent most of his time trying to avoid his father.

She’d told him about her love of painting, of art, of creating. Anything that made her feel alive. She’d told him about walking out on her old life and how here she was six months later and still desperate for change.

They were both trying, it turned out, to become something different.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--after sunset when the inky black sky gave way to the millions of stars overhead--that Feyre found herself home. Rhysand, of course, made sure she’d arrived safe and she’d rewarded him with a brush of her lips to his cheek and a small smile over her shoulder.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--amid the cool mid-spring air that promised a new dawn--that Feyre would pull out her sketch pad. She would draw sharp lines and angular features and a man kneeling amid the night. She would draw power and beauty in something, someone, she didn’t know perfectly. But one day. One day, maybe she would.

thanks for reading my dears! i am always eager and open from prompts so thanks for sendin gthem! I really do enjoy them!

tags:

let me know if I put you on the wrong tag list/want to be removed. it’s generally going to be easier for me to just have basic acotar/tog lists and not go into too much worry about that, so just and fyi...anywho

tottenhamboys20 @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @chieflemming @julemmaes @lysandra-ghost-leopard @harrymoncheri @firestarsandseneschals @rapunzel1523 @emikadreams

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #feysand fanfiction #feysand au #modern au #fanfiction #sjm #acotar #acomaf #just me writing #writing is better than self misery #thanks anon!#anon #anon answered

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