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television-overload · 1 year ago

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'sh-boom' (an X-Files fanfic)

Like usual, I caved and instead of leaving my "someone should write this" post be, I wrote it myself. I'll tag some people that expressed interest in this prompt below the fic! Shout out to @baronessblixen who already wrote the perfect Scully-accidentally-kisses-Mulder fic. You can read that here!

Now, for Mulder accidentally kissing Scully cause he dreams about her all the time.... takes place February 1998, mid-Season 5.

Read on Ao3

There’s a trick to fighting insomnia, Mulder had discovered. Not a cure, by any means, but an improvement, nonetheless. All you need is a super off-limits best friend you’ve fallen stupidly in love with, spend practically every waking hour of the day with her, and then spend the rest of your time thinking about her until your exhausted and delusional mind has mercy on you and blesses you with her presence in your unconscious state.

A foolproof plan, really. Scully had even noticed he seemed more well-rested and happier in the last few weeks, so something had to be working.

Although, there were—he had to admit—a few rather notable side effects.

Despite what others might tell you, Fox Mulder was not one to have trouble distinguishing between fiction and reality. Usually. But in his defense, his dreams were very, very vivid, and there had been a time or two that he’d referred to something Scully had said, only to realize at her blank stare that it was the figment of her in his imagination who’d said it.

“Must have been someone else I was talking to,” he’d awkwardly say, thankful that she kept her mouth shut about the fact that there was no one else he’d have such conversations with, and they both knew it.

He’d also been on the receiving end of more than a few raised eyebrows and patented “what is wrong with you?” looks, which were well-deserved for catching him staring even more than typical. Sure, he was sleeping better at night, but his brain was now trained to find restfulness when thinking about Scully, which was pretty much an all-day thing too. Sitting across from her in their isolated little office for extended periods of time made his eyes glaze over and eyelids droop halfway shut. Oh, the horror… he probably looked like a drunk idiot. He hoped he at least looked somewhat normal, not like a drooling dope with a dumb smile on his face who was clearly not having a productive day at work.

What would old doctor Pavlov have to say about this sorry scenario?

His consolation was that Scully already knew he was weird, and stuck around anyway, so he had no qualms against going home night after night and picking up where he’d left off in Scullyland the night before. Let’s see, he was just about to their son’s first little league baseball game, of which Mulder was the coach, of course. “Scully, don’t forget, we signed up to bring snacks for the team after the game.”

Behind closed eyes he saw her raise her arm to show him the already packed bag she was holding, an exasperated but loving look in her eye. “Always one step ahead of me,” he said fondly. With practiced ease, they danced around each other in the kitchen of a fairly unremarkable house, grabbing sunscreen, sunglasses, water bottles, keys… “Alright, sport, get in the car! Bus is leaving!” he called out, smiling as the sounds of little footfalls preceded the sight of his freckle-faced son, clad in shiny new baseball cleats.

“Got your glove?”

“Yep.”

“Your bat?”

“Yep.”

“Spitting tobacco?”

“Daaaad…”

“Mulder!”

“I’m just kidding, get in the car, will you? Coach Fox can’t be late, it’s unprofessional.”

“Wait I forgot my seeds!”

A minivan. Perfectly unremarkable. Admittedly, very comfortable, and spacious.

“Fox…” Scully mused with a shake of her head as she buckled her seatbelt.

“What? All the great baseball legends have weird nicknames. I just happen to have been born with mine.”

“The Great Bambino!” a little voice piped up from the back, glancing out the window as they ventured forth into the miles and miles of farmland.

“That’s my boy. ‘Oil Can’ Boyd. ‘Cool Papa’ James Bell. ‘Shoeless’ Joe Jackson. Did you know Lou Gehrig’s teammates called him ‘Biscuit Pants?’”

A giggle from the back seat.

“Alright you’ve made your point.” He loved it when she used that voice, the one that meant she was tired of his antics, but not really. Of course she loved his senseless rambling. She did it too sometimes, albeit with a few more hyper-specific medical terms thrown in there, leaving him unable to do anything other than smile and nod.

When they arrived, they piled out of the van, the messy brown hair of his son—already sweaty somehow, by the way—disappearing into the dugout with a gaggle of other overexcited little boys. “Good luck,” Scully spoke as she planted a kiss on Mulder’s cheek and made her way to the stands, setting up a cushion and portable fan that were sure to be the envy of all the other parents.

The field smelled like grass and dirt and the leather of brand-new baseball gloves just waiting to be broken in. It was a smell straight out of his childhood, of those summer nights on the Vineyard getting eaten up by bugs under the bright lights of the baseball fields. The crack of a ball against a wooden bat. Coming home covered in sweat and dirt and with a kid sister in tow who insisted on playing with the boys.

It was in this dream state where he found peace. Not in the past, but in some amorphous future. A future where he had a family again, a loving home. Where he wasn’t a coward and had a beautiful wife and partner who somehow made everything work. They fought monsters. They went grocery shopping. They filed paperwork with Skinner. He coached little league. They drove to work together. They picked up their son from school.

Baseballs went flying. Teams celebrated their first win. Little boys were tucked into bed, and he kissed his wife goodnight. That’s just how it was.

It was freedom. A freedom he didn’t think he’d felt since his life changed with a flash of light.

In the morning, he’d wake in a haze. With his brain on autopilot, he’d amble about his apartment, brushing his teeth, making coffee, tying on a tie… Caught somewhere in between these worlds of make-believe and reality. It was a benefit of his eidetic memory, he supposed, to be able to remember his dreams and stay in them even after coming to consciousness. Didn’t work out so great when he had constant nightmares, but hey, now that’s been solved too.

Somewhere along his drive to work was usually when reality really set in. He tried to not let it bring him down too much—it was his own fault, after all, that his life bore little resemblance to that which revealed itself in dreams. But he couldn’t help the slight pangs of disappointment he felt when he thought of the lonely couch he slept on every night and the sad state of his fridge.

“Good morning, Mulder,” Scully called out her usual greeting as she breezed into the office.

Mulder’s head lifted off the desk where it had been laying. “Mm—morning.”

Scully chuckled, setting down her bag in her chair and working to remove her heavy coat which she hung on the coat rack. His dream may have taken place in the heat of summer, but it was unmistakably the dead of winter in Washington, D.C.

“Not get enough sleep?” she asked, her amused tone not entirely disguising the genuine concern she felt for him underneath.

“I slept fine,” Mulder answered, “just… still waking up.”

Scully shook her head and let out another low chuckle, taking her seat across from him. She pulled out a file from her bag and began scanning through it, the lamp next to her providing most of the light, as the cloud-covered sky through the skylight threatened to dump a heap of snow on the city.

The day went on like that. Mulder managed to actually get some work done, finalizing some paperwork he’d been putting off (to Scully’s exaggerated shock and disbelief). She, on the other hand, was working on going over some medical reports a field office had sent over for her expert opinion, something that flattered her and made Mulder bloom with pride.

He didn’t even mind that much that they didn’t have a case to work on at the moment. That was another thing that had changed since he’d started indulging in these dreams: he could sit still for five minutes without vibrating out of his skin.

Of course, he’d never stop yearning for the truth, wondering what was out there waiting for him to discover it. But lately, he also found he enjoyed these quiet days where barely a word was spoken between them. It was comfortable. Everything unspoken didn’t need to be said aloud because it was a given—they both knew without saying everything that could possibly be said.

Lunch?

Yes.

Can you hand me a pen?

Sure.

The winter sun set early, and night was well on its way by the time Mulder looked up from his work to check the clock. Sure enough: quitting time. He stood from his desk just as Scully did, making his way over to the coat rack to grab both his and Scully’s coats. She snapped her bag shut with a click as he handed it to her before slipping his arms into his own coat sleeves.

Scully fluffed her hair out from under the collar of her coat. Mulder flicked off the lamp. She draped her bag over her shoulder. He grabbed his own briefcase and circled around his desk toward the door.

“Night, Scully,” he spoke like he did every evening, dipping down to place a quick kiss goodbye on her lips.

He froze.

Lips still touching, he swore he felt his heart stop and his fingers go numb. Somehow amid all the blaring alarm bells and internal screaming, his brain was able to send the signal back away, you idiot! to the rest of his body, and he obeyed, straightening up to look at her with what he knew she recognized as his ‘panic face.’

The only light now was coming from the streetlamps in the parking lot and the gentle snowfall reflecting it down into the office, the dim yellowish light making it difficult to tell what she was thinking. A wiser man would say something, apologize, explain it away, even leave, dang it! Get out of there! But Mulder was frozen. And apparently mute. Just perfect.

The seconds ticked by. Was that clock always so loud? That was it, he’d really gone and done it now, hadn’t he?

A smile formed across Scully’s lips, barely visible in the darkness. She blinked up at him with an oddly relaxed look in her eyes, sparkling in the faint light.

“Night, Mulder,” she replied before patting him twice on the chest above his heart and turning to leave.

It must have been a combination of her words and her touch that eventually broke him from his stupor, because he finally blinked and managed to stumble back to his office chair only to collapse into it, covering his face with his hands and letting out a muffled scream.

What an idiot. What. An. Idiot.

This was the price he had to pay for his risky little endeavor to sleep through the night. Dreaming of Scully had a cost, he should have known it was only a matter of time. He was messing with the delicate balance of things. Mulder and insomnia, insomnia and Mulder. They went hand-in-hand. Trading it in for the much more pleasant musings he had for his partner was too good to be true.

He sat there in horrified, humiliated silence for what felt like hours before finally heading home to what would inevitably be an appallingly horrible night’s sleep.

-.-.-

Mulder hadn’t slept. At all.

He laid awake most of the night staring at the ceiling and mentally berating himself over and over for blurring the lines so much that he’d briefly forgotten he and Scully weren’t actually together. He had every intent to call out of work the next day, and maybe the day after that, every day until he could come up with something to say to make things less awkward between them the next time they’d see each other, but then Skinner called.

His stomach dropped to the floor when the words “I need to ask you something,” crackled through the phone, the gruff voice of his boss sending a chill down his spine. It turned out all Skinner wanted was for Mulder and Scully to check out some reported aquatic dinosaur sightings in a lake in central Kansas, but Mulder still felt dizzy from the adrenaline the initial words had sent coursing through his system.

Against his wishes, he was dressed and in a taxi to the airport before noon, realizing too late that he hadn’t eaten anything either.

As he entered the bustling terminal, he saw Scully standing near the check-in point, dressed in her sensible heels and no-nonsense suit, her suitcase resting on the ground near her tapping foot. She checked her watch and glanced up to the departures sign before scanning the crowd. He winced as her sight settled on him, and picked up the pace.

“Jeez, Mulder, you look awful,” she said by way of greeting.

“Sorry I’m late,” he spoke, hoping to divert any conversation away from what had happened the night prior.

She wasn’t so easily dissuaded, however. “What happened to you? Are you sick?”

It seemed he would have to say something after all. He settled for, “Haven’t had anything to eat.” There. That would throw her off his scent.

Scully’s eyebrows furrowed and she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, beginning to pull it in the direction of their gate. “Well, you can have the other half of my muffin, it’s in my purse.”

He said nothing after that, choosing to follow after her like a lost puppy. They made their way through the metal detectors and had just enough time to get to their gate before they were boarding.

True to her word, just as soon as they’d reached cruising altitude, Scully extracted half a blueberry muffin from her purse and placed it on the tray table in front of Mulder, who was leaning heavily on the wall of the plane, staring blankly out the window. He mumbled his thanks and ate it in 3 clean bites, feeling only slightly guilty for inhaling his food like that in front of her.

Sensing that he wasn’t in a talkative mood, Scully posed a one-word question. “Insomnia?”

Mulder leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“I thought it was getting better?”

“It was,” he answered, hoping she wouldn’t read into it.

Mulder sat up again, reaching for a book in his bag, but Scully’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. Gently, she pushed him back until he was resting again, forcing his head to the head rest with the soft touch of her hand over his brow.

“Sleep,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

-.-.-

After the rocky start to the day and the awkwardness on his end throughout the flight, Mulder came to the conclusion that Scully was acting perfectly normal, so he might as well do the same. Well, she had kissed him on the cheek, but that wasn’t unheard of, was it? They’d done that before. Sure, it was rare, but she was worried about him. Aside from that, it was as if nothing had even happened, and if Mulder had been just a little more crazy, he might have believed it had all been a dream after all. It wasn’t though, and the touch of her lips on his still burned when he thought about it.

Against his better judgement, on the first night in the motel in central Kansas, he decided to employ his, now patently risky, sleep technique. It didn’t help that his subconscious supplied him with dreams of a family road trip and motels just like the one he was staying in. It took everything in his power not to say, “Wake up, buddy, time to hit the road,” to an invisible—and sadly, impossible—son in the morning. Even harder was it to suppress the words “Morning, beautiful,” from escaping his lips when he first ran into Scully in the lobby.

She seemed appeased that he had actually gotten some rest, at least, when she saw him at breakfast. The day went on without issue. Things between them were… normal. Conditions: good. Weather: frigid. Why they were investigating a potentially cold-blooded creature in the middle of February was beyond him.

He suspected this case would turn out to be yet another wild goose chase. Nothing was living in that water except maybe a very cold and very large escaped alligator from a nearby run-down zoo. Unfortunately, his recent contentment with boring, unexciting cases didn’t seem to apply here. Or at least right now.

To his relief, the local law enforcement decided to handle it themselves and even had the presence of mind to sheepishly apologize for having them come all the way out there. Flights were booked for the next day, following an almost four-hour drive back to Kansas City.

When they arrived back at the motel, Mulder fished out his room key from his pocket and inserted it into the door to unlock it. At the next door over, Scully set her briefcase on the ground before crossing the distance to him right as he turned the handle, stalling him briefly in the doorway. She stood there just long enough to reach up for a quick peck on the lips, the kiss as brief as he had done two nights before.

“Wha—” he mouthed silently, interrupted by Scully’s easy, “Goodnight, Mulder,” leaving him gaping at her in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob, as she went off to bed.

-.-.-

It was getting harder to tell fiction from reality, and that was tough for Mulder to admit. Scully smiled at him in the morning when she climbed in the passenger seat of their rental car, and for a moment Mulder felt the gnawing feeling that they’d forgotten to put their son in the backseat despite knowing he wasn’t real. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but that could only help so much.

Her humming half the ride home was straight out of his dreams too, a happy sound that he hadn’t heard much in the months since Christmas and Emily. She even held his hand during takeoff on the plane, not that that was uncommon, but still.

When they finally touched down in the snow blanketed capitol city, she offered to drive him home rather than have him wait for a taxi out in the cold. He gratefully accepted, unable to come up with a valid excuse not to. That was when it happened again.

Once was a mistake. Twice was a fluke. Three times on the lips, and Mulder had some questions. Namely, was he going completely crazy, or did he miss something?

As she pulled up to his building, she put the car in park and stretched across the center console to give him yet another kiss, finishing it with a smile and a, “See you tomorrow, Mulder.”

Unable to tear his eyes away from her lest she fade away like his dreams, Mulder fumbled for the door handle and pushed open the car door, stumbling his way to his feet.

“See you tomorrow,” he managed to respond, in a voice that he felt wasn’t his own.

He started his way toward the entrance to his building in a daze, screeching to a halt when he heard her call out, “Mulder!” through the opened passenger window.

He turned back, croaking out a very eloquent, “Huh?” as he searched for her face in the dark car interior.

“You forgot your bags.”

Oh.

Scully chuckled and popped the trunk for him. He rubbed his hand awkwardly over the back of his neck and trudged his way back to the car to retrieve his possessions, slamming the trunk shut when he was finished. Scully gave a wave out the window and took off into the night, and for a second night in a row, all he could do was stand there and blink in the direction she had disappeared.

-.-.-

Calling out of work would be useless, it wouldn’t help the issue at all. He was more confused than ever, but Scully seemed to be perfectly fine, so it must be his own problem. What if he’d somehow manifested his dream life into his waking one, that by some mystical force, certain elements of it were slipping through into reality? He could open an X-File. Test out his powers of manifestation—if he didn’t completely lose his grip on reality in the process.

In his dream last night, they’d celebrated her birthday, and now he couldn’t remember if they’d already done so, or if he ought to get started on planning something in real life. What day is it again? It was driving him crazy. Crazier than usual.

He would just have to talk to her. Ask her what was up with all the kissing, not that he minded. But was that actually happening? Was he imagining things? If he brought it up, would they go back to what it was like before? Would it get worse? What if he kissed her again? This time on purpose?

Every time he went to say something, his mouth opened and no sound came out. He was sure she’d notice at some point. How embarrassing. Hours ticked by, and before he knew it, it was the end of the day. An epic fail, as far as his attempt to talk to her went.

He stood from his desk with a sigh, resigned to another day of confusion tomorrow, and started toward the door with his bag and coat in tow.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” her voice called from behind him, and there she was, standing by his desk, arms crossed expectantly over her chest. That eyebrow. That darn eyebrow was doing its thing too, what does she mean by that?

“Scully?” he asked, brain tired and worn out from a tumultuous week.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked again, uncrossing her arms and shifting in that way that exposed her well-masked nervousness. It was the first sign he’d seen that he wasn’t losing his mind, this really was unusual. And she knew it too.

Eyebrows furrowed, he walked toward her until he was standing right in front of her, desperately trying to read her expression as he looked down at her. Her eyes met his with determination, deliberately holding eye contact when every cell in his body screamed Danger! Run away! There was hope there, too, but Mulder didn’t want to guess what that hope might be for. This was not the moment for guessing.

She was still looking at him expectantly, though, and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away or shoot him if he’d read the situation wrong, he bent toward her, placing one hand over her elbow and the other brushing lightly over the hair covering her ear. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing hitched, and there! She was leaning forward too! Not quite standing on tiptoes, but stretching to meet him, nonetheless.

Taking this as a good sign, he closed the rest of the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers, holding them there for one, two, three, four, five seconds before pulling back and letting his arms drop to his sides. His eyes remained tightly shut, afraid to open them and see the disgust or annoyance that would surely greet him.

He swallowed past a lump in his throat, his face pinched in concern, but he dared not move. After a moment, he felt two hands cup his cheeks on either side, the thumbs brushing out the lines of tension around his eyes. Something about the motion coaxed his eyes open, and what he saw wasn’t disgust or annoyance, but a content and relieved smile on the face of his partner.

He was entranced.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she spoke softly, the same words from the other nights, but with a considerable amount of weight that hadn’t been there before. After a moment more, she began to pull away, and Mulder felt his heart stutter. Without thinking, he stopped her, grabbing her by the upper arms and pulling her to him. His eyes fell shut again as he dove toward her lips, stopping short by a few inches and pressing his forehead to hers instead.

“What is this?” he whispered, desperate to know, needing to put a name to it.

She let out a breathless laugh. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

“Am I dreaming?”

She laughed again, and man, what he would do to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life.

“I just thought you’d decided to institute a new goodbye ritual, and went with it.”

It was Mulder’s turn to smile in amusement. He hummed.

“No, I’ve dreamt of this,” he murmured, nuzzling her forehead with his. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“If you are, then what does that make me?”

“I don’t know. If not crazy, then what other option is there?”

Reaching to cup the back of his neck, she pulled him ever closer, her next words brushing against his cheek. “I can think of something.”

His eyes opened to see her staring back at him, a flood of emotions he wasn’t sure he could name dancing there, reflecting identical ones in his own. Uncertainty gave way to resolve, and he hoped she would lend him some of hers, because he would surely need it.

He knew it was coming, and still it blew him away.

This time, her kiss was slow… purposeful. He melted into her, pulling her closer with an arm clutching to her waist and the other hand splayed across her shoulder blade.

The fog in his brain prevented him from determining how much time passed, but eventually they had to come up for air, identical smiles gracing their faces.

“I think I know what this is, Mulder, and I think you feel the same way. But if I’m wrong, this is going to be really awkward.” Her words were spoken with laughter, but there was an underlying sense of doubt. Doubt that by no means had any place there.

“No, I think you’re right,” he answered, cupping her cheek with his hand. “I think you’ve got it figured out.”

Her eyebrow went up again and a teasing smile played on her lips. “Can I get that in writing, or…”

He grinned and pulled her to him once more. “Oh, shut up.” And he kissed her.

---

Tagging @agent-troi @welsharcher @hippocampouts @invidiosa @whovianelle @captainsolocide @randomfoggytiger @today-in-fic

#the x files brainrot has evolved #x files #txf #msr #msr fanfic #txf fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #mulder x scully #well i hope this turned out good #first foray into writing x files #been a hot sec since i wrote anything lol #thanks for people showing interest in this #would have done nothing with my day otherwise haha #my fanfic

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wideeyedloner · 3 months ago

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[fic] [firefly | kaylee & mal; kaylee & jayne] grub of the first water

Summary:

The doctor told Kaylee–in his fine, fancy way–that all’d be shiny, so long as she rested. So she became the ocean, much as she was able, and allowed sleep to pull her under when it needed to.

ao3

Jayne deposited Kaylee back onto the infirmary bed without so much as a grunt or complaint. Her very first Crazy Ivan! How ‘bout that. The memory still had her smile cranked as bright and dizzy as her parasol. And she was sure glad to have the shepherd with them; he was a kind man and handy with an engine, to boot.

The pain from the bullet made her shiver and sweat something fierce, even with the med shot from the shuài new doctor. He was so pretty it was hard to look at him straight on, and Jayne’s talk didn’t help, but he was awful gentle when he tended her. She was glad to have him onboard, too.

The doctor told Kaylee–in his fine, fancy way–that all’d be shiny, so long as she rested. So she became the ocean, much as she was able, and allowed sleep to pull her under when it needed to.

When she woke, it’d be to Serenity’s calm-like clankin’ as she sailed along, or to the shepherd’s gentle voice readin’ from his book, or to Inara, workin’ one of her pretty Companion crafts at her bedside. Or even to the sound of recedin’ boots in the hall and a bowl of congee steamin’ on the table next to her. And it was good, with a heap of pork floss on top!

The Cap’n came to walk Kaylee ‘round a couple’a times a day as she got better. When she got back, there’d be another bowl waitin’ for her.

“What’s that?” She asked the second or third time it happened. Hard to say, what with how starry the pain made her now she was well enough to go longer without dopin’ up.

“What’s what,” he said, holdin’ his arm up so she could haul up to the infirmary bed. Aiya, but that movement hurt! She had to take a breath before answerin’.

“Someone’s been fetchin’ me chow, and I thought it was you.” The Cap’n’s eyes cast about ‘til he found the bowl, and he made a li’l face of surprise.

“It wasn’t me. I burn rice like a shǎguā.”

“I wonder who it was, then.” She held a spoonful of congee in her mouth, imaginin’ whose hands could’ve conjured up this splendiferous meal.

“I haven’t a clue, but some of us have work to do.” He patted her head with his big mitt and marched out.

Inara might call it serendipitous that she caught Jayne settin’ the bowl down; she’d been sleepin’ on her side, facin’ the other way, after all. But the tide of wakefulness, capricious as it was, pushed her ashore so as to ensure she’d roll over and open her eyes at just the right moment.

“Jayne?”

He went stiff like a seized piston, lookin’ at her with somethin’ like fear. Good thing Kaylee’s always understood machines. She felt a wide smile tuggin’ at her lips, like the pull of genuine gravity at take-off. “Thank you.”

The a-feared look steeled as he straightened up. “Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for. You’re mopped on dope, girl.”

“Try again, buster.” It wasn’t much to ignore the spark of pain to punch his big arm, gentle-like. “You were worried about me.”

Jayne scowled like she cheated him at cards. “Crew grub wasn’t fit for no gut patient,” he grumbled. “Rice and ginger’ll sit better.”

“It’s shiny.” Kaylee tilted her head some to catch Jayne’s eye, but he wouldn’t look to her.

“Don’t go gettin’ no ideas, dǒng ma? I ain’t sweet on you or nothin’.”

“That’s not what I was gettin’ at. I thought…we were friends?”

“I ain’t got no friends.” Kaylee looked hard at Jayne then. Most everyone had friends. Even on Serenity, most of the time, the crew got on well enough with him. If he didn’t think the others friends, that was his business, but after this, Jayne was her friend.

“You got me, like it or not.” Those words, like a good penetratin’ oil, seemed to unstick somethin’ in him, and though Jayne kept on frownin’, he nodded a bit.

“Fine, fine. You gonna eat now or sleep more?”

“I’m starved. Help me up.” He did, real careful, and watched her eat. The congee tasted so shiny and healthful, and she told him so. Jayne rolled his eyes, but kept watchin’ until the doctor came in to check her wound. He kept right on bringin’ her congee at chow time, too, ‘til she was cleared for full duty.

#i’ve made a huge mistake #firefly #kaylee frye #malcolm reynolds #jayne cobb #firefly fanfiction #firefly fanfic #firefly fic

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ohmygillygoshoppler · 10 months ago

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I gotta see some Secret Saturdays content from you because I haven't even though about that show until I read your bio there. I used to looooove that show, I was obsessed with cryptids and paranormal pseudoscience and all that fun stuff, and when the Secret Saturdays first aired I was so pumped! Please tell me you have something to say about that showw? Do you miss it? Did you make and killer OCs for it like you do everything?!

I loved this show sooooooooooo much, it made me look stupid. I think it was like 2008 when the show started and I had never heard of a cryptid until I watched that show. The whole Science Family protecting monster creature dudes and even adopting them screams found family, you know I'm drawn to that like a moth to a flame. Plus, I loved how Zak and Fisk we just sweet little dudes that were brothers and got into trouble, like I loved them, They're my fave character out of the whole cast. Komodo and Zon are cool, don't get me wrong, but my boys are my boys, I'm sorry, I don't make the rule. (I totally make the rules)

But I will not let y'all catch me slippin on Doc and Drew, the were couples goals. They're still couples goals. I love how they have their little disagreements and their banter and witty flirting and still be badass like crimefighters??? Because shiiiit, they're like canonically badass, like black belts and ray guns and hand-to-hand combat, hello??? I loved that. AND THEY SPAR TOGETHER?!?! BABE, SAY LESS. (also Doc is so fine, I know, Gilly has a type, boo boo booooo-)

I realy liked when they interduce Doyle, too. Like woah, wtf okay, Zak's Mom Trauma Hour, she lost her parents in the Himalayas and then was separated from her baby brother in a blizzard- wooooooah, didn't expect that but it made me feel so hard for Drew. He ultimately became such a cool and sweet Uncle to Zak through, so everything worked out in the end.

And Argost. My man V.V. Argost was such a campy villian, I adored him. His theatrical vibes, his hamminess, his autistic ass stance. And his gay little spiderman henchman, too. Yeah he might have tried to groom a child (yeeesh) but he was funny as shit about it, and he ended up being a yeti???!?! Okay, jumpscare, but that was dope! I loved it!

I don't know why they had to kill off Van Rook though, but his voice was super annoying, so I'm glad he died. :)

I would love to see a reeboot or spinoff or something, like I wanna write a fic about Zak growing out of his old friend group and slowly wedging himself into a new one over Visit of the Week fics. Maybe go into some stuff regarding Zak's relationship with his family, how the family copes with him not being around as often, new school, new life, no cryptid powers, maybe new differnet powers. Fuck it, I'll throw in a warewolf if it makes things interesting. I just really like these characters and this universe, and It'd be cool to see it expand and change.

Also Ben 10 and the Secret Saturdays canonically share the same universe, and I never even knew there was a crossover episode.

#woah #I've been gone for a while but now I wanna draw some Secret Saturdays stuff ome #not me starting to fixate on a property not seen since 08 #oh well here I go #Secret Saturdays #A bit of a rant but not really #sorry for typos im using text to speech #The Secret Saturdays

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allthingsmustfall · 10 months ago

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I read your Charles smith/Arthur Morgan fic and i thought the Cooper family was REALLY a quality touch to the narrative. It kinda inspired me actually. So thank you.

I have a sneaking suspicion I know this asker IRL and he is giving me a sneaky compliment, BUT I will take it. I am going to be better about taking compliments!

I've been thinking about OCs in fanfic bc I get a lot of positive feedback about mine, and generally people aren't jazzed about OCs so one or two people have asked me how I go about it. Here's some thoughts.

Readers get salty about OCs bc they're anticipating a mary sue self-insert. Mary Sue's are fine, we've all got some purple-eyed mysteriously alluring archers/sorcerers/rogues hiding in our closets, best not cast stones in that glass house of yours, etc etc. So calm down, fanfic is primarily about what we as writers get out of it and it sure as hell isn't monetary gain. Without writers, there is no fanfiction, so if people wanna lovingly write about their OCs, LET THEM. Writers owe you literally nothing. AND AND, also, i know my OCs aren't 100% believable and they have annoying Sueish elements. Caroline is a bit too cool and tragic. Anri is too funny and unflappable. But the thing is, it's FICTION. if you go too hard overcorrecting for what could be perceived as Sue, you're going to end up with characters with the personality of oatmeal. So do a little flexing, let your characters be dope as hell. Flaws make characters relatable, but it's also fun to read about people being funny and sexy and interesting while being relatable. Caroline is not as good as she thinks she is, she got herself in trouble, and she winds up with a quiet little schoolgirl crush on Charles. Anri is TOO hard around the edges - she comes down on other people so she doesn't have to look too hard at herself. They're fuckups, but they're allowed to be fun too. You are allowed to like your OCs.

I usually approach OCs from a narrative need. "I need this to happen and I don't know/there isn't a canon character that will fill this need." So for ask, but gently, the thought process went like this:

There needs to be another hurdle to make the story come together. The hurdle should be Micah catching up with them. How does Micah catch up with them?

Arthur needs to get the fuck over himself and 'forgive' Charles. He needs to be reminded of Charles selflessness

The hurdle should tie into their identities, maybe racism, homophobia, etc

3. So I basically flipped all those concepts around in my head until i came up with a missing, mixed race girl and her family. Boom. Hits all the marks. Micah gets extra villain points for not only being a thorn in Charles and Arthur's sides, but also threatens this family. Boom boom boom

4. So now we have what the OC is going to be. You can just use them like that, little bricks to build the story, and that's fine. But i think it's more helpful to then zoom out from what I need from them for plot and think about them as characters. Aside from getting tangled up in my story, what are they like, what do they love/hate, how do they gel with the world. It's not all vital, but it makes writing them interacting in the plot easier and more natural.

So, TL;DR:

Identify a narrative need

Come up with a character in a situation that fills that narrative need

Forget about the purpose they're going to solve in the plot and focus on what put them there, who they are, what makes them a full human outside the bounds of your story

#writing #my fic #i also can't let OCs go and write long meandering stories about them after the original fic is over #annnd i've got some same-face syndrome about capable funny women who DONT NEED NO MAN #I am working on this in therapy #This is fucking self indulgent #DON'T LOOK AT ME

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soupandtissues · 1 year ago

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A Cold for Three

Fluffy fic for Loki, Mobius, and Sylvie with some 12 days of Sickmas prompts thrown in for good measure.

A Cold for Three

Sylvie slipped behind the Roxxcart and through a time door into the soft warmth on the other side. She could have gone to a store that wasn’t in the middle of a hurricane, but nostalgia got the better of her, and she blamed Mobius for letting her go soft. Still she took out the medicine she’d bought, in flavours she knew they liked just in case, along with at least four boxes of tissues; spreading everything out on the living room table.

“Sylvie, you’re home early,” Loki said, coming out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, Jack let me go early I…ihh’ISSHhiew!”

“Bless you, and you’re wet.”

There was a flash of green as he dried her clothes.

“I stopped off for some supplies and-ahh-and-ahh’AHISShew!”

“You too hmm?”

She looked at him property then, taking in his watery eyes and red nose and sighed. She had really hoped she’d be the only one.

“You said we were gods, Loki, why do we still have to deal with this?”

He shrugged. “I don’t make the rules of the universe I just keep them running.”

He rubbed at his nose, smiling at the glowing green branches growing in pots and spreading out around the room.

She rolled her eyes and headed to their bedroom. “I’m getting changed.”

Loki went back to the kitchen and checked the pot he had simmering on the stove. Deeming it ready he ladled the soup into three bowls and set them out on the table as well. The steam set his nose running though and he quickly opened one of the boxes of tissues and pressed them to his nostrils as they had begun to flare.

“huhh’ESHHHh! IESHUHhh! Ehh..hehh’HEASSUHuhh!”

As he blew his nose Sylvie returned in her pajamas and smiled at the soup.

“Thanks for doing this, but I still can’t believe you took up cooking, Loki.”

“I have to keep my skills sharp,” he answered, spinning a small blade in his palm before vanishing his daggers once more.

“And make terrible puns.”

“A bad influence of the folksy dope I’m afraid.”

“I heard that.”

They turned as Mobius came in and the familiar orange door faded behind him.

“Uhh’URSSHhuh! MMPSHHShuh!”

Mobius stumbled with the force of the sneezes, barely catching them against his sleeve. Loki held him by the elbow and Sylvie took the tray he had been carrying.

“Ugh, who do we get to blame for this?” he asked, his voice thick with congestion.

“I’m blaming Brad.” Sylvie declared.

“Works for me,” Mobius said, as Sylvie set down the tray of take-out cups among the other items. “I brought tea for you two too.”

“Thank you.”

With all the necessary comforts accounted for the three of them settled in on the couch under a soft green blanket. Sylvie began flipping through channels, everything was available after all. Meanwhile Mobius began talking about his day and a file to check later for a possible Kang variant.

Loki sniffled, letting the moment wash over him. He put an arm around each of them and held them close and knew that even ill as they were he could want for nothing more.

#l/oki #snz fic #we're giving season 2 happy endings dammit!

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jobey-wan-kenobi · 2 years ago

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tell us about the good place/cheers crossover! that sounds fun!

--Good Place spoilers below cut--

OH IT IS tho it's fallen to the back burner because I'm not sure I'm the best writer for this.

But the concept is SO GOOD, okay. See, whenever I catch a Cheers re-run, I can't help but notice that Sam Malone is basically a hot, well-coiffed Wile E. Coyote.

In other words, so much of the shit he tries to pull reminds me of Eleanor Shellstrop.

So he would be a perfect Fake Good Place stooge!

And, of course, the 7.5 minutes I got to watch Eleanor pretend to be a demon? Not enough to suit me.

So, uh, yeah. Demon-pretending-to-be-an-architecture Eleanor, like Michael, is too inventive to be happy manning the ol' penis-flattener for all eternity. She also wants to get away from Shawn. Let's be honest, she also wants to know what it's like to boink humans.

So she brings in our plucky protagonist Sam, pairs him with Tahani, Chidi is there too... my fourth resident varies somewhat, it's not locked down. Carla is a very funny option, though. (Btw no one remembers anyone else from their life on earth.)

Sam and Tahani are probably not endgame, but they have significant Sam/Rebecca+Sam/Diane+Sam/Janet Eldrige energy so it feels like a very interesting and productive relationship to me. They torture each other for sure, but they also make each other better.

Harry the Hat is the judge.

Janet is now Lilith. There are good, bad, and neutral Liliths, etc. At some point Lilith makes herself a rebound boyfriend that everyone despises for the rest of the fic... it's a very forked-up but recognizable version of Frasier Crane.

Either Robin Colcorde or Kelly Gaines is the inhabitant of the Medium Place, still working on that one.

Carla is a great addition to the dynamic coz she's one who always figures out they're in the Bad Place. She immediately uses this knowledge to blackmail the other residents. On one notable occasion, she blackmails Eleanor.

Yes, she knows Eleanor is a demon but she tries to blackmail her anyway.

Eleanor is incredulous, but she has to respect Them Balls.

carla: i want in. $50 to torture chidi for the rest of the afternoon.

eleanor: bench, I don’t need you on my side. you torture chidi literally by existing.

carla: yeah, but if you don’t pay up I’ll be nice to him.

eleanor: sure, ‘cause you can definitely pull that off.

carla: if you don’t give me a hundred bucks I’ll prove it to you. price went up for being a dope, dope.

eleanor: you realize this is the afterlife??!?! money is absolutely meaningless now??!??!!!!

But she pays up.

When Carla doesn't go straight to Eleanor, the humans are able to keep Eleanor in the dark for a while, mainly because of Sam. Sam is so dumb that Eleanor really can’t tell when he’s trying to hide something or when he’s being Sam.

Either Robin Colcorde or Kelly Gaines is the inhabitant of the Medium Place, still working on that one.

Harry the Hat is the judge. This is non-negotiable.

When they go to hell, they discover Diane is there. She is convinced that she is in the Good Place. She is certainly torturing her demons... none of them can stand her.

#feedback welcome lol #thanks for the ask #cheers #the good place #the good place spoilers #crossover #wip #jobeywrites #more asks will be answered later #trying to pace myself #updated:#now with new and improved editing!

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littlebosslady7 · 2 years ago

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Mighty Nein Reunited Finale

My and my sister's dog finally crossed the rainbow bridge yesterday afternoon, and Critical Role has been a fun few hours to nerd out out with my husband. But it was also just really comforting to laugh and explore this journey with our favorite nerdy ass voice actors. We got about 2 and a half ish hour in before calling it a night.

Here are some live tweets from me. Twitter is the same name as my Tumblr

Not the same without mah girl on my lap, but I repeat my statement from last week. Can Kingsley be captain now?

Laura: Are you wearing suspenders Me: Dapper. My hubby: ofc

I sense dope monk shit incoming, and Veth with the spells. Go our favorite halfling.

My husband had a goth phase in high school. So on the 666 roll. He said “That sucks for Matt. But one of us.” LOL

Everyone’s busting out that new shit. Love. Earthquake chaos!

Kingsley’s a badass. I’m jealous that Sam has a candy bin on his flask

Screencap credit: @bixbiboom (x)

All the fictional snakes! Oh hell no!

Maybe it’s in the giant’s ass. Travis Hampton Willingham. LOL

Math is tricky for me too Travis. Hubby’s nerding out over the classic pop pop/dope monk shit.

What’chu talking about Samuel Brent Oscar? Veth had cool wizard stuffs and action with Yeza before the reunion.

Yasha’s HYWDT [insert star eyed emoji here]

Kingsley volunteering as tribune so tracks. Fjord stepping up makes more sense story wise

And I forgot to send this one, but King asking Beau and Yasha about Molly was lovely.

ICMI: I've been writing a few Perc'ahlia fics here. Hope y'all like 'em. Will catch up with the VOD on Monday.

#cr liveblog #critical role spoilers #mighty nein reunited

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urslasherbaby · 5 years ago

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Sorry...

I AM SO SO SORRY I have been completely awol! I recently traveled states away back home and then immediately got sick (no not that kind of sick, thank god) and feel so bad for the people who requested stuff in my absence.

I will be working double-time to get my inbox cleared so thank you all for being so patient!

#i really do feel bad #especially since i missed dope fanart #new fics #i got some major catching up to do...

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bullet-prooflove · 2 years ago

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Chasing Fires - Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek: Chapter Two

Brian Zvonecek has spent most of his adult life fighting fires, now it's time to chase one.

Follows on from Million Reasons but is a stand alone fic.

Tagging @orileyfiction for all her help and support! Also @me-ladie for being the wonderful person she is and betaing.

Brian had never broken a promise. It was one of the things he prided himself on. However, picking up that phone and booking the appointment with Doctor Charles had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

Being a firefighter was in his veins. It was as integral to his being as breathing air, but he had to admit you saw some pretty horrible shit. The kind of stuff that etched itself into your head, that wiggled around inside your brain and invaded your dreams. When he closed his eyes, he heard the screams of the ones he’d failed, the ones that hadn’t made it out. They scratched through the thin cloak of sleep, tearing it away so that he was left staring at the ceiling, heart pounding against his chest. It was the silence that got him. That oppressive absence suffocating him, pressing down until he felt like screaming just to hear a sound.

On nights like that he wrapped the duvet around his shoulders, sitting up against the headboard as he watched reruns of Battlestar Galactica on his phone. If he went into the living room, the likelihood was that he’d wake up Cruz and then the other man would know that something was up, he’d wanna talk about it. So, he kept himself isolated, withdrew from the people around him because he knew at some point, they would see it.

Kat noticed of course; he had never been able to hide anything from her. The two of them were so in sync that he found it unsettling at times. Whenever he tried to hide something, she had this way of catching the tail end of the thread and pulling it until he unravelled completely.

It was the way it always been ever since that first smoke break outside of Molly’s.

He’d been surprised to find another person out there that day. He was the only one that smoked and even then, he kept that on the downlow. It was frowned upon, but he needed a way to vent, and nicotine did that for him. When things got too much this is where he came, to clear his head, to put things in perspective. Upon laying eyes on Kat, he’d been prepared to back away, give her some space. Instead, she’d held out her pack of Marlboroughs.

“Want one?”

He’d drawn the cigarette slowly, the rustle of paper and cardboard in his ears as he pinched it between his lips. His hand cupped the end of it as she flicked open the gold Zippo, the bright flame burning as he leaned in close. Their eyes met through the haze of smoke, and he knew in that moment he was hooked.

They’d met before, months earlier when she and Antonio had turned up at the Firehouse when all that bad dope had been floating around. Ambo had been getting callouts that resulted in more DOAs than live ones. The two of them had looked like shit, working God knows how many hours chasing down the dealers.

Pouch the dog had been squirming around in his arms, trying to lick his face. He’d seen Kat smile; despite the fact she looked like she’d been through hell. Pouch had a way of doing that, of making even the ugliest day just a little bit brighter.

When the bell had gone off, he’d shoved the dog into her arms and climbed into the engine. He’d slammed the door shut behind him. Glancing out of the window, he saw Pouch lick up the side of her face. He saw her laugh, her head thrown back as Pouch nuzzled her cheek.

By the time he’d caught up with her again Antonio had transferred to Intelligence and Kat had taken a sledgehammer to Narcotics and brought the whole department down around her head. That night outside of Molly’s she’d been in the aftermath.

“I’m a rat.” She told him, blowing smoke out of her mouth. “There isn’t really a way back for me after this.”

“Do you care?” he asked her.

She laughed; it was a dry bitter sound like twigs snapping underfoot.

“No.”

It was the most honest anyone had ever been with him, and he found it refreshing. They’d shared a couple of drinks after that. He couldn’t tell if they were drowning their sorrows or toasting to their successes. In the end it didn’t matter because they were both the same him and her, beaten down, battered but never broken.

The department didn’t know what to do with her, she was unmoored, untethered and the other cops…

They were vicious.

He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like, to cut off your livelihood, to have inflicted the damage yourself. He would rather sever his own arm than be without Truck 81.

Things had gotten better when Voight had recruited her for Intelligence. She’d repaired her reputation bit by bit, built herself back up. He hadn’t realised how she’d been on the cusp that night, how all it would have taken was one little shove and she would have hurtled over that ledge.

She’d been strong enough to seek help, Brian guessed it was time he did too.

He rapped his knuckles on the mahogany door, the sound felt like an echo in his ears and for a second he thought about just turning around and walking away. Pretending like everything was fine, like he didn’t have a care in the world. But something kept him glued to the spot, the knowledge that if he continued down this path he would die. More than likely sooner rather than later.

Doctor Charles opened the door, his kindly face splitting into a smile.

“Brian,” he greeted. “It’s good to see you.”

#brian otis zvonecek #brian zvonecek imagine #brian zvonecek #brian otis zvonecek imagine #brian otis zvonecek fic #one chicago #chasing fires #Otis Chicago fire #onechicago #Chicago Fire #chicago

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robinofgothamcity · 3 years ago

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♡ "the next time i see you, it'll be in hell" / "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me"

♡ pairing: connor kent (superboy/RotS) x fem! reader

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / i was listening to 'esa hembra es mala' by gloria trevi so if you do speak spanish, that's a song rec while you read this fic. if you don't, listen to 'hermit the frog' by marina instead!

"connor please, you're giving ME a headache and it's only seven in the morning," his friend, jake, spoke as his hands covered his face, "wait, shut up, who is that?" connor asked, seeing you with a few friends.

jake sighed, "that's ( your name )," he spoke softly, "she's friends with everyone here. some like her, some can't stand her. it all depends on how she feels with you." you were schools resident 'popular' girl and had a bit of a following among your class.

"i'm gonna go talk to her," connor said. his friends eyes widened, "connor no!" jake screamed, grabbing his friend and pulling him back, "she's a complete bitch, don't do it!" jake exclaimed as he could tell that everything he was saying was going over connor's head.

you fixed the newspaper that had superboy's face plastered on the cover, "i just think that superboy could beat robin if i'm being honest. PLUS he's attractive because you can actually see his face," the day old conversation between you and your friends about who was the better sidekick struck up again and anyone who knew you knew how much you adored superboy.

"hey ladies," you turned to look at the boy, confused on who he was as you had never seen him around school. you gave him a small smile, "uh, hi?" you asked, "do i know you?"

the boy who approached you was wearing sunglasses which threw you off considering your school didn't allow anyone to wear them inside the building. you looked to his other friend, recognizing him as someone you had in your Calc class.

"just wanted to introduce myself, i'm connor," he said, giving you a sly smirk. you shook his hand, half awkwardly, "please i'm ( your name )," you replied as you saw the way connor gave jake a wink, "is there something you wanted or?" you asked again, not knowing why he was still here.

"no, just wanted to say hi to my future girlfriend," you let out a laugh, catching everyone off guard, "please, as if," you replied as you grabbed your friends and walked away, kind of taken back by the new boy.

"he was kinda cute," one of your friends said as you rolled your eyes, "uh, not really? kinda weird if you ask me," you replied, looking down at the newspaper, "well, i'm going to class, see ya," you said, walked towards your AP Lit class.

you sat down in the front, immediately talking to the friends you had in the class. it wasn't even five minutes later when connor entered the class, immediately smirking when he saw you. you growled, instantly annoyed at his expression.

"ah, so you've met the resident new boy?" you nodded as your friend giggled, "he's really nice. made more than a friends already," she said as you shrugged, "okay and? he had a lot of nerve coming up to me and telling me i'd be his future girlfriend," you replied.

she let out a belting laugh, "yeah, he told meghan from fifth period the same thing," you saw connor walking up to your desk and before he could make himself comfortable next to you, you instantly put your leg on the chair, "don't even think about it," you said, not even looking at him, "the desk in the back is available though," you smirked as you watched your teacher roll her eyes at your attitude.

connor bent down to your level, "don't gotta be so hostile, sweetheart, i know you like me," he whispered before getting up and leaving.

your friend, looked at you, laughing at disbelief at both of your attitudes. you rolled your eyes, trying to pay attention to the discussion as you could feel connor's eyes on you almost the entire time.

throughout the weeks and going into months, your relationship with connor didn't change. he arguably became the biggest pain your ass from the beginning of the day until the final bell rang. he managed to befriend a few of your friends which meant that you were around him at times.

you sipped your coffee as you were reading the newest article on superboy, "ah, ah, ah, what do we have here?" connor asked, taking the magazine from your hand, "superboy fan, huh?" he scanned the cover, a smug smirk coming onto his face as you snatched the magazine back.

"yeah, someone who's actually useful in life," you replied as he walked with you to your locker. he had never saw the inside of it and taken back by the amount of photos you had....of him, "aww, don't be that way, sweetheart! maybe one day superboy will actually give you a chance," he joked.

your annoyance instantly shot up as you slammed your locker and walking away, "see ya later sweetie!" he screamed. you stopped in the middle of the hall and flicked him off, "the next time i'll see you, it'll be in hell!" you yelled, storming off to class.

you walked into class, sitting down as your friend, henry, walked up to you, "hey babe," he said, a warm feeling crossing your face at the term of endearment, "hey henry, what're you up to?" you asked, seeing him looking at you, a bit nervously now.

"i was wondering if you were free-," before henry could say anything else, connor walked up behind him and tapping him on the shoulder. he had heard the conversation between the two of you and knew exactly where it was heading, "uh, she's not interested, better luck next time," connor stated, surprising henry with his sudden angry attitude.

henry knowing he didn't want to risk the chance of getting his ass kicked walked away from the conversation as you stared at connor with rage in your eyes, "what do you want?" you seethed as you saw connor's smirk playing on his face, "you weren't actually entertaining him, were you?" he asked in disbelief, "i literally hate you with every ounce of my being," you blurted, finally sick of connor's attitude.

his mouth hung open as you got up from the desk, "do me a favor and PLEASE leave me alone, that's all i ask," you stated as you walked out of class and deciding to ditch for the rest of the day.

"told you she was gonna blow up," jake informed as he sat down in his seat, connor still standing in place, taking in everything you had said. he knew he was being a bit of an ass but he didn't know you were that angry with him.

connor knew he had to make this up. he genuinely did like you and he didn't want to ruin his chances with you because of his shitty attitude. throughout the class period, he picked his brain for ideas until sirens went off in his head.

SUPERBOY.

he knew you were practically in love with his alter ego and he knew he could use superboy as a way to persuade you into giving him another chance. that is if he played his cards right.

you reluctantly showed up the next day, trying to avoid connor as best as you could. you were talking with a few friends, gossiping about the fight that superboy and robin had against a few low level villains in metropolis last night.

"hey, look at connor," jake whispered, seeing his friend practically beat up. you were taken back by his appearance as he had a few bruises on his arms and legs, "are you okay?" jake asked connor.

connor shook his head slowly, his body still recovering from the night before, "what were yall talking about?" he asked, trying to redirect the conversation. everyone looked to you, "someone was gushing about superboy, so please, if you'd continue," meghan said playfully.

"oh shut up, like you don't have robin posters all over your room," you retorted as you watched connor struggling to stay upright, "all i'm saying is that superboy remains the best sidekick there is. did you see the way he walked out of that fight scratchless and look at robin, he nearly died," you continued.

meghan instantly retorted as you noticed how eerily silent connor had became. you turned over to him, about to say something sarcastic towards him until he flopped on top of you, passing out completely. you looked down at him, "connor?" you whispered, "hey connor, wake up," you whispered, shaking him a bit.

"take him to the nurse!" jake yelled at you as you grabbed connor by the arm and pulling him against you, "fuck off, he's heavy as hell," you breathed, trying to steady his weight against you before walking slowly towards the nurse.

you made the walk to the nurse but by the time you made it, connor had woken up, "don't take me to the nurse, please," he whispered, "what are you talking about?" you exclaimed, "you clearly aren't okay and you don't look okay either," you added on.

he steered the two of you to the family bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit, "clean me up here, i really don't want to be questioned right now," he said, nothing cocky or playful in his voice. you sat him on the toilet, bending down to clean his face first, "hey, is everything okay....you know at home?" you asked.

he laughed, shaking his head, "these injuries aren't from my guardians if that's what you're wondering. i kinda got into a fight last night," you stared at him confused, "did you lose or something? these injuries look horrible," you replied.

"course i did, just took a nasty beating before i won," he said as he flinched at the rubbing alcohol hitting his arm. you muttered a sorry as you put a band-aid on a few of his cuts, "listen, i wanted to say sorry for acting like a prick," connor muttered a few minutes later.

you were taken back by his apology, "i knew i was being an ass but please don't take this as me joking but you're actually the best thing that's happened to me since i transferred," you remained silent, not knowing to respond as you put the last band-aid on his knee.

"and if i could have a second chance, that would be super dope, ya know?" he tried to say without sounding nervous, "you better not be joking, kent," you threatened, putting your finger on his chest and shoving him a bit.

connor flinched back in pain as you muttered a sorry, "i'm not joking, i'd really like to take you out for coffee sometime," he asked as he grabbed your hand and gave it a kiss. you agreed as you responded with a kiss on his cheek, "also, i had this lying around my room and figured you'd like it more than i would," he dug into his backpack and gave you a magazine.

your eyes widen seeing what it was. it was the magazine that superboy first appeared in and you had analyzed a few signatures of his to know that it was his signature on the front, "did superboy sign this?" you practically tried to contain your excitement as you ran your finger over the sharpie.

connor nodded, "i met him one time after he saved a few people in metropolis last year and got him to sign the magazine. i figured since you like hm a lot more than i do, you'd take care of it better than i would," overwhelmed with excitement, you grabbed connor by the neck and kissed him.

connor was taken back by the sudden kiss but awkwardly responded with another kiss as you held the magazine close to your chest, "i can't thank you enough for this connor," you whispered, your lips still on his a bit. he chuckled, "just meet me at the coffee shop near the school and that'll suffice," he replied, giving you another kiss before slowly getting up.

"now lets get to our second period before we get marked truant again," he grabbed your hand and held it as softly as possible, "you know how much shit our friends are gonna give us, right?" you said, laughing a bit. connor nodded, "nothing we can't handle," he replied as he squeezed your hand in reassurance.

#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc #superboy x y/n #superboy x reader #superboy imagine #connor kent #connor kent imagine #connor kent x reader #connor kent x you #comics

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amimimi · 4 years ago

Text

dreams; kyan reki

synposis: in which you tend to reki’s wounds after his second beef with adam; second part to this fic but it can be read on it’s own! takes place after episode 11

pairings: gn! reader x reki

genre: fluff. just fluff. and caretaking.

warnings: mentions of injuries. swearing. brief nudity (?) sap, so sappy.

word count: 3.5k

notes: i loved the series so much! reki has suffered enough, so i decided to show his some love. i was so so proud of him during episode 11. again, i apologize in advance for grammatical/spelling errors. i'm pretty busy with school so i'm just churning fics out at this point.

“i’m not letting you lift a finger for a month” you moan as you help seat reki on his bed. you’re both mostly dried from the rain, save for your hair and clothes. he only giggles in response and you can’t help it when you lean down to gingerly place your hands up to his face, kissing the bridge of his nose. “a month”

“ahh, i don’t think that’s gonna work” reki gives you an easy grin, before placing a kiss on the side of you mouth. “i got a shift tomorrow”

“i’ll cover your shift” you say, stone-faced. disbelief momentarily flashes across reki’s face before he breaks out into uncontrollable giggles—the kind that erupts straight from your stomach. your hands drop from his face. “shh! i’m serious!”

he hangs his head forward and brings a hand up to his mouth, attempting to quell his giggles. “you don’t even work there, y/n!” he manages to say before delving into yet another fit of giggles. reki must’ve curled in too far because his laughter is cut off by strangled cry. immediately, you surge forward, gingerly placing your hands on his shoulders.

it wasn’t unusual for reki to be banged up from skateboarding—everything from scrapes to fractures were all pretty common for him. in the beginning of your relationship with reki, it worried you to no end, and you even begged him to wear a helmet (he said no, of course). eventually you came to accept that injuries were going to be a normal occurrence for reki. but his injuries this time were slightly different.

reki had his second beef with adam earlier that night. technically reki had lost, but it felt more like a victory instead. he came so close, and he did so well. and he was happy. seeing him like that in his element, gleaming with joy, eyes lit a flame with passion—you felt like ten years was added to your lifespan. of course, reki took quite the beating but no where near the damage of last time.

“m’fine!” he wheezes, placing a hand over his stomach. “it’s just a bruise.”

you’re not convinced and it shows on your face because reki gently places his hand on the back of your head, pulling your forehead up against his. “i’m fine, baby”

you let yourself stay there, forehead pressed against reki’s and staring right into each other’s eyes. for the first time in weeks, you felt the tightness in your chest completely dissipate. because here you were gazing into his eyes—reki’s eyes, in his darkened room, knowing he was safe and okay.

“okay,” you whisper. reki gazes at you with half-lidded eyes and attempts to press his forehead closer (if that was even possible), brushing his nose against yours. “but i gotta patch you up”.

you wiggle out of reki’s grasp, who whimpers at the loss of contact, to grab the first aid kit he’d kept in his drawer. stumbling in the dark, you feel around for his desk, flicking on the lamp. reki watches you sift through the contents of his drawer, overtaken by a sudden wave of fondness. he loves you, always has. but suddenly, in this moment, he feels the love he has for you in a new way. it pools in his stomach, warm and fuzzy, and he feels so full, so content, like he ate a whole meal.

“i love you from my stomach” reki blurts out before he’s aware of what he’s saying. from over your shoulder, you glance at him quizzically and he feels a new sensation—mortification, burn all over his face. later, he’s going to blame his misspeaking on the fact that it was so late into the night and that every inch of his body was practically throbbing in pain. but right now, he can’t form any thoughts, let alone excuses.

“huh?” you’re facing him now, first aid kit in hand and your face twitching with the urge to smile. feeling his ears burn up, reki presses his lips and shakes his head, refusing to repeat what he said. “reki~! what did you say?”

he turns his head to the side as you make your way over to the bed. “i forgot”

“no you didn’t!” you whine, throwing the first aid kit on the bed and placing your hands over his cheeks. “say it again, please?”

“ahh, i meant it like—”reki pauses, thinking about how to put his feelings into words. “i-i don’t know! i love you, but sometimes i feel it in my stomach”

“oh”, you plop down right next to him on the bed, pulling your legs up to sit crisscross. reki follows your movement, pulling his legs up on the bed and crossing them. he’s looking at expectantly. “like butterflies, yeah?”

“no, not that. this feels warm—and kinda heavy”

“oh”, you tilt your head to one side and smile coyly. “so, desire then?”

reki rolls his eyes at you, his ears still red. “you’re so—”

“desperately in love with you?” you offer with a grin before leaning and catching his lips in a noisy kiss. you pull back, but not before kissing the tip of his nose just to see his reaction. reki fights back a smile, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he shakes his head.

“j-just patch me up, please”, he sighs as his lips finally quirk into a smile.

“can I change first?” you ask. wet jeans felt like murder and your shirt was starting to stick in uncomfortable places on your torso. reki nods and points to his closet.

“i have clean shirts and sweatpants folded in there” he informs you, watching as you sit up and make your way over to his closet. reki’s not surprised when you grab his pink dope sketch shirt, shooting him a cheeky grin.

you start tugging off your jeans and reki looks away to give your privacy. “you’re so precious, reki” you coo at him. reki only smiles at the opposite wall and shakes his head. when you’re done, you drop your wet clothes in his laundry and walk over to him. “i’m decent!”

reki looks back at you and his heart twists at the sight of you, clad in his work shirt, hanging just above your knees and slightly hugging your waist. he prays he isn’t blushing and gulps.

“i have sweatpants if you want some, sweetheart”, he reminds you weakly, trying to stop staring.

you blink at him, lost and then you gasp. “oh, sorry! I didn’t meant to make you uncomfortable!” you rush. “i’ll put some pants on—”

“no!” he practically shouts, before squeezing his lips shut. you both hold your breaths when you hear his little sister in the next room, groan and shift in her sleep. waiting, until he’s sure it’s safe, he continues much quietly. “i’m not uncomfortable. you look really good, i love you like this. i just want you to feel comfortable”

adoration surges in your chest as you watch your boyfriend clumsily and earnestly explain himself, a blush adorned on his face. “i feel the most comfortable when i’m with you” you admit with a shy smile, your face growing warm.

reki blinks up at you for a second, looking momentarily stunned before his face morphs into a soft grin. his eyes twinkle as he holds his hands out for you, sure and steady. placing your hands in his calloused ones, you sit down beside on the bed and sit criss crossed.

the both of you sit like that for a while, staring lovingly at one another and taking turn squeezing each other’s hands. finally, you bring reki’s hands up to your lips, littering his knuckles with kisses before giving them a quick squeeze.

“where do you hurt the most?” you question, sliding your hands out of his to open the first aid kit. you skim over his injuries, not even knowing where to start. there’s a line of dried blood and a bruise forming on the right side of his face, must be a small laceration under his headband. you know his back is cut up pretty badly and you hope it’s nothing too deep.

“my whole body is sore, if i’m going to be honest” he replies sheepishly. frowning, you gently tug off his headband to assess the damage. just as you suspected, a small cut right under his hairline. the area is beginning to bruise too. you remember adam repeatedly punching him at one point, as reki had locked his arms around him... maybe reki should go to a hospital?

“I promise you i’m fine”, reki assures you, having picked up on the mounting worry on your face. he takes your hand in his, rubbing the roughened pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “trust me! i’ve had worse. i was jumped and hit with a car all in one day and i didn’t even get a concussion”.

despite reki’s face beaming with pride, you frown deeper and fidget at the thought of reki getting hurt like that. “please don’t remind me...” you sigh, sitting up off the bed to grab a face towel from his closet. “i’m gonna run this under water, okay?”

“alright”, reki answered, watching you step out of his room to make your way to the bathroom. you hurry back, the wet towel dripping water down your forearm, and gently seat yourself on the bed.

you arrange yourself so that you are sitting criss cross in front of reki. “I’m going to clean it, alright?” you say, before leaning into give him a peck.

“okay” he murmurs, placing his hand on your knee. reki squeezes hard when you gently press the wet towel against his wound. you do this repeatedly until you make sure there’s no visible dirt around the wound before placing the towel on reki’s bedside table. you’re quick to patch up his forehead before placing a gentle kiss over the bandage. he snickers through his nose at this, squeezing your knee once more.

“now for your back...” you purse your lips. “take your shirt off.”

you’ve seen reki shirtless a thousand times before and he knows this. still, he can’t help but squirm under your gaze as he works at removing the layers of clothing he’s wearing. he takes his jacket off fine but he struggles a bit with his hoodie, still damp from the rain, wincing as he tugs upward on the fabric.

“here, lemme help you”, you murmur, sitting forward on your knees to tug his hoodie upwards and over his head. you work at the white t-shirt he had on under his hoodie next. gently as you could, you peeled the shirt off reki’s torso trying not to disturb his wounds. but he still flinches, sucking a quick breath in. “sorry! i’m sorry!”

“no, no! you’re fine, it just stung a little” reki promises you, giving your thigh a squeeze. you tug the t-shirt over his head, grimacing. his torso is littered with bruises and a few scrapes, but nothing too worrisome.

“okay, lemme see your back”, you tell him, bracing yourself as you crawl around him get a full glimpse. just as you thought, his back is scraped up and still bleeding lightly—nothing too deep. you grab the wet towel on his bedside table and hop off the bed to go run it under the bathroom facet.

when you return, reki is sitting on his bed exactly like you left, watching you tip toe over to him. “do you wanna take off your pants?” you ask, folding the wet towel. “maybe change into something dry?”

“um, yeah actually...” reki mutters, fumbling with his belt. “c-could you grab me some sweatpants? please?”

with the wet towel in one hand, you grab a pair of gray sweatpants from reki’s closet with your other hand. you can hear reki shuffling out of his pants as you walk over to the bed, with your face turned away.

you hold the sweatpants out for him, your face turned to the side. “you don’t have to look away if you don’t want to”, reki tells you and you can hear the smile in his voice. he takes the sweatpants from your hands.

“you gave me privacy, so i’m returning to the favor—give me your wet clothes, i’ll put them in the hamper”

you trade off the wet towel for reki’s clothes, wheeling around to place them in his hamper. when you turn back, reki is sitting with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, wearing just his sweatpants and holding the wet towel in one hand.

“whenever you’re ready, nurse y/n”, he smiles at you, showing his teeth. you squint your eyes at him playfully and shuffle over to his bed. accepting the wet towel from reki, you crawl behind him so that you have full access to his back.

“okay, i’m going to clean your wounds, let me know if i’m hurting you”, you warn him, folding your legs underneath you. he grunts in response. taking a breath to steel yourself, you gently press the towel against the abrasions. suddenly, reki gasps loudly. you squeak and pull back almost immediately, your heart in your throat. “what?”

reki’s back is shaking and to your relief (and horror), you realize reki is laughing. he turns his head around to catch a glimpse at your expression and laughs so hard, he snorts and it almost makes you laugh—almost.

“i’m sorry, i couldn’t help it”, he gasps between laughs.

you suck your teeth. “well, now that it’s out of your system, can you hold still? i seriously don’t want to hurt you” you reposition yourself, heart still hammering in your chest.

“sorry, angel, go ahead”, he stifles a giggle, holding still. hesitantly, you press the wet towel to abrasions on his back.

“that okay?” you question and he nods. taking another breath, you dab his entire span of his back with the towel, stopping every now and then to check in on him. once you’ve cleaned his wounds up, you dig around in the first aid kit for some gauze sponges to pat his back dry. “i’m gonna wrap you up for tonight but you should let it dry tomorrow, okay?”

“you got it, nurse” reki chimes back and you bite back a smile, reaching for the gauze dressing in the first aid kit. once you’ve placed the dressing over the worst of his wounds, you grab the gauze roll and begin to wrap it around reki’s torso.

at one point, your fingers brush up against his side and his breath slightly hitches. you freeze, giving him a concerned hum.

“i’m ticklish” he whispers sheepishly and you smirk, continuing to wrap the gauze around his torso.

“storing this information for later, thank you!” you tease causing reki groans. “i didn’t wrap it too tight, did i? can you breathe?”

“i can breathe fine, don’t worry” reki sighs, as you loosely tie the gauze. “you did great, thank you”

once you’re done tying the gauze, you place your hands on top of reki’s shoulders. “good?” you ask.

“good”, reki nods. you take in reki’s bandaged back, his slightly toned shoulders, his red hair pressed against nape of his neck, even the back of his head. he look’s so good with his hair down.

before you even know what you’re doing, you gently press your lips against the nape of his neck. reki freezes, his shoulder tensing before you press another kiss along the back of his neck. he shivers and his whole body melts. you kiss again, this time further up the nape of his neck and into his hair and he lets his head hang forward, sighing slightly. another kiss is placed where his neck meets his shoulder, and he has to bite back a whimper.

“i’m so proud of you”, you whisper into the back of his neck. he reaches around to squeeze your hand. “you did so great tonight—you’re always so great, you never fail to amaze me.”

upon hearing your words, reki feels a lump form in his throat. you always told him that, how proud you were of him for doing things he thought were exceedingly mundane. he remembers that night he was panicking in your bathroom, shaking on his legs like a newborn deer and barely managing to control his breathing. how even then, you were proud of him, for what exactly? he couldn’t answer.

but now, when you tell him that with your lips soft against his nape, in the darkness of his room, he believes you. he’s banged up and unbelievably sore, but he believes you. and further more, he’s feeling proud of himself too, for not disappointing himself, for doing what he had come to do at that beef.

reki shifts around, so that he’s facing you to see that you're smiling at him in a way that he could only describe as pure adoration.

“and...” you start, pushing his bangs back from his forehead. “you looked so fucking hot”.

reki eyes widened slightly before he blows air out of his mouth and rolls his eyes. you grab his face, forcing him to look at you.

“no, no! but you actually looked really good?” you giggled, squeezing his cheeks between your hands. “like, when you nailed that landing off that cliff? and when you dodged him like that? like, i knew you could move, but you were really moving, you know—?”

“y/n—”reki starts, grinning pretty hard as he tries to advert his gaze from yours.

“and you were smiling so hard, like you were actually glowing—beaming! i don’t know, something about the way you looked under those lights they have at S...i actually wanted to bark, like wow—”

“y/n, shut up!” reki is giggling now, flushed right down to his chest. he tries to wrestle your hands from off his face, but you kept your grip.

“don’t act all shy now, mister! you knew exactly what you were doing! when you were like ‘and you’d better remember it’, i was this close to dropping to my knees—”

“y/n—”

“and every one was screaming your name and i was just like ‘yea, that’s my boyfriend! my man! my prince—!’”

suddenly, reki flips you over pinning you arms right beside your head, the both of you giggling.

“oh my god, why are you still going” reki half groans between giggles as you continue to cackle.

“my sweetheart, my baby, my sweat pea, my darling, the future of father of my children, my honey bunch, my sugar pie, the apple of my eye, the light of my life—” you list off, delirious with laughter, not even fighting against reki’s grip on your forearms. he hovers over you, laughing too, his eyes shining and his face beaming

“you need to stop” reki shakes his head slightly, his bangs falling onto your forehead as he leans in for a kiss. he pulls back and you're silent for a moment...until you start rattling off corny pet names again, but this time less giggly.

“my sun, my moon, my stars, my whole world—” you murmur before reki presses his lips against yours. he pulls away and kisses the tip of your nose, the skin slightly under your right eye, and onto your left eyelid.

“you’re so annoying”, reki whispers, letting go of your forearms to hold your face instead.

“you kinda are too”, you whisper back, placing your hands over his, rubbing your thumbs along the back of his hand.

“mmm, i guess we’re destined for one another then” he murmurs and you nod, fervently. reki kisses you sweetly and you hum against his lips. “i love you so much”.

“i love you too, baby” you sigh, putty in reki’s hands. he looks so pretty above you, the lamplight reflecting his eyes and his cheeks still flushed. he looks like the human embodiment of honey.

you turn your head over to glimpse at the alarm clock on his bed side table. 3:37 AM

“our sleeping schedules are so messed up” you groan turning your head back to look up at reki. he blinks, following your gaze towards the alarm clock.

“oh, i usually sleep around his time anyway” he shrugs.

“okay, but you have injuries...so you need to rest to heal” you reason while sitting up slightly, forcing reki to sit up with you. “are you still in pain? i can get you a tylenol”

“i’ll need one in the morning, but i’m fine for now”, he assures you with a grin.

you both climb under his blankets, but he wants for you to sit back against his pillows. already knowing, you hold your arms out for him and he lays between your legs, wrapping his arms around your torso. reki presses his ear to chest, taking in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, as you smooth his hair back.

“goodnight, sweetheart” you whisper, leaving your hand in his hair.

“goodnight, baby” he murmurs into you chest, pressing a kiss there. “i love you, i can’t wait to wake up and see you tomorrow”

you chuckle tiredly. “i love you too, i’ll see you in the morning”.

notes: this was also, long as hell. i apologize! this is honestly the sappiest sh*t i’ve ever written, idk if it can get any sappier than this (it probably can, and will >:3) .

#sk8 the infinty #reki #reki kyan #reki x reader #sk8 the infinity x reader #reki x y/n #sk8 the infinity x y/n #reki kyan x reader

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limenysnocket · 3 years ago

Text

Expensive Thrifting

Taika Waititi x Reader

Summary: Like a lot of girlfriends, you steal your boyfriend's clothes. But, what happens when roles switch, and your boyfriend steals your clothes?

Request: @honorarytenenbaum (FROM A LONG TIME AGO I'M SORRY)

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 1.7k another shorty for you

A/N: Okay. So. To get back into the spunk of things, I've decided to challenge myself to write a fluffy fic this time. I didn’t edit it much, so be prepared for mistakes.

@honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl

•○●•○●•○●•

"Hey Taik," your voice echoed through the large house, from your room, down the stairs and into the living room. "Have you seen my DBZ hoodie anywhere?"

You don't receive an immediate answer, so you go to look for yourself. After a quiet walk down the stairs, peering around every corner for him, you find him sitting in the living room, sitting on the couch, in a very... awkward position.

"Are you okay?" you were concerned. You've never seen his leg bend like that before.

Taika's head snaps right to you, and he looks speechless. He's trying to come up with something. "I'm great. Just chilling. Watching..." he looks to the television screen. The television wasn't even turned on.

"Go on," you encourage, now leaning on the guardrail to the steps and tilting your head. He's still quiet.

After another long, insane moment of hesitation, he finally picks up a bowl from the ground. "Grapes?" He offered them out to you, and all you did was just stare at them.

"No, I'm good," you hummed, eyebrows furrowed while Taika still tried hard to play it cool. "While you were having a stroke, I'm assuming, I think I lost my Dragon Ball Z hoodie. Have you seen it at all, or did it get mixed in with your laundry?"

"Uh, no. Nope. I don't even like that show. Sorry," he looked away and up at the ceiling like a purposely oblivious little boy. You were starting to catch on. Suspicious, but you didn't have enough evidence.

"It's hard to miss, Taika. You seriously didn't notice it going into the wash with your clothes? At all?" you held your hands up, and he began to twiddle with his thumbs.

"Nuh-uh," his answer was stout. He was still avoiding eye contact with you. You gave up.

"Fine," you huff, then drop down from the final step. "I'm just gonna go have a look for myself. You know, just in case." You walked right by him. His position didn't waver, except for his eyes that were bouncing all over the place in order to still avoid you.

Instead of actually digging through laundry, you hid behind a corner, and lurked there to casually stalk your boyfriend. He was still acting weird when you left. He would check over his shoulder from time to time, and after a minute or so, you finally saw him get up and start digging through the couch cushions. He didn't make much of a sound, but he certainly found something that he liked, because he picked something up, and he had the biggest smile you had ever seen on his face.

All it took was a little glimpse of red-orange fabric and you knew. He had your hoodie.

You burst from your hiding place instantly. "Taika David Cohen, I know what you're hiding!" You shout at him and instantly he's a deer in headlights, but not for long. His eyes never moved from yours and there was a brief moment of silence. He juked the couch corner once, at first thinking he should run to the kitchen, but ultimately made a break for the stairs, hoping to make it to the bedroom with the only lock. You, like a dope, ran right after him.

His long legs helped carry him, but you had unwithering speed and determination. At the end, he almost had you. His hand was on the doorknob and he was just about to slam the door shut to lock, but you pushed through like a tank and plowed into him. The force you had knocked him back onto the bed, but the hoodie was still in his hands. You reached for it, but he scrambled to the other side of it. He didn't notice where the bed ended, and fell to the ground as a result. He picked himself up, thankfully unhurt and unphased by the whole chase, and the thing you wanted was still in his grasp.

"Taika," you were panting on the other side of the bed, and you outstretched a frustrated hand. "Give me the hoodie."

"Absolutely not," he wasn't breathing as hard, and he hugged the hoodie close to his chest.

"This is the third time this week! Give me the damn hoodie! I just washed it!" You shake your hand to add emphasis, but all he does is just look at it with a disgruntled attitude.

"It's your fault for being gullible and not watching your things better," he stuck his tongue out at you, childishly. The longer this went on, the more huffy you became. All you wanted to do was relax in your favorite hoodie and maybe cuddle a little bit! That's all!

"Okay, that was a low blow from the biggest procrastinator on earth. And, like you said, you don't even like Dragon Ball! Why the fuck do you want it so bad!?" It was a petty argument, sure, but you were a bit hardheaded, so why not drag this out a little longer?

"I could like it!" He shouted and spluttered, trying to come up with excuses. "And it's comfortable. It's a massive size!" He held it out in his hands, just looking at it, and his eyes lit up. "We could share!"

"No."

His idea was stomped out quickly, and he went back to pouting. He wouldn't give it up yet.

You sighed, getting tired of trying to find a solution. Your eyes started to trail, looking for something, anything, to call it even. Just to your luck, you landed on the closet.

"Give me your One Piece sweater," you said, and folded your arms.

Taika, still admiring the piece of clothing in his arms, became suddenly baffled and looked right at you. The look he gave you said it all. "No!" That word was popular with him today.

"Why not?" You said, eyes lingering over to the closet again. "What's stopping me?"

His whole body tensed and his jaw shifted. It was a sudden standoff, just waiting for the other to make a move. At first, he tried to make up more excuses, but you taunted him like Chris Tucker in Rush Hour. With every stumble and fumble he made with his words, you played the shadow game with him.

When he was at his lowest, you bolted to the closet. He dropped your hoodie and ran right after you, just as the closet door swung open. Your hand was centimeters away from the hanger you needed, but Taika came crashing right into first, bumping you right out of the way with his hip. With plan b failed, you ran right to where he dropped your hoodie and managed to snag it in seconds just by the sleeve.

In your moment of glory, you were cocky enough to try and run out the door. Taika had been anticipating that move, ever since he got his One Piece sweater and saw you dive for your hoodie, he was waiting in front of the door. So, when you turned on your heel and made a mad dash, you ran right into Taika and his hand had grabbed onto the collar of the shirt.

Taika tried to yank it from your hands, and you gasped, holding on tight. He tried again and again and again, but you kept holding. Neither of you were noticed that the fabric was slowly starting to rip.

"Taika! It's not yours!" you yell, pulling back.

"I know, but I like it! It fits me!" he yelled back, and yanked it.

Childish taunts went back and forth, and both of you were both talking at the same time for a point in time. The room started to swirl, and eventually the strings keeping the hoodie together grew tired of the fabric and it just...

Snapped.

There was a piercing rip, and both you and Taika stumbled back. He left with the entire collar in his hands, soft string still dwindling from it and hanging from under his nails. You broke away with the rest of the hoodie. Once you realized what happened, it fell from your hands. You kind of just... looked at it. Your hand came up to cup over your mouth and your other arm cradled just beneath your chest.

Taika was talking to you, but you just tuned it out. When you finally looked back up at Taika, you had a look on your face that he only saw during actual, serious fights. He had royally pissed you off this time.

At least he had enough sense to move out of the way when you walked out of the room. He still had the collar in his hands, and he watched you go downstairs.

You needed to cool off for a little bit. You went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and sat down on the couch. You curled your legs up to your knees and turned the television on. You weren't really in the mood to watch anything, so you endlessly flipped through the stations, reading the descriptions and quietly wondering how some of these shows even made it at all.

You hadn't noticed it, but Taika had summoned up enough courage to come downstairs. He brought a peace offering with him. He slowly crept to the living room, staying out of your peripheral vision for the time being until he was behind you and the couch. He cautiously came to wrap his arms around you, making you pause from your channel flipping and he buried his nose into the crook of your neck. He let the thing he brought slide onto your knees. It was his One Piece sweater.

He murmured a soft, "I'm sorry," into your tender skin and kissed at it.

You couldn't stay mad at him, no matter how hard you tried. Your hand went up into his hair and you massaged his scalp the best you could with one hand. "It's fine... but there's one thing you can do to make it up to me." You pulled away from him and folded your arms. He sighed, giving you a soft frown, but he only knew it was right.

"I'll buy you a new one..."

#taika waititi #fanfiction #taika waititi x reader #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi imagines #taika waititi x you #taika waititi/you #fluffy #gosh I missed writing fluff this is nice #should I write something dirty again???#thoughts

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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years ago

Text

Tropetember Day 12 - Getting together / Love confession / First kiss / Break-up/Make-up / Fix-it

Limp away with me

Pairing: Armitage Hux x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Rating: Teen and up

TW: Injuries, implications of rough childhood

AN: Day 12 of @tropetember. So, this is quite rough and holds a lot of potential for fleshing out into a proper story, whether that's just a longer one or a multi-chapter. Is that something anyone would be interested in? Fix-it fic cos they did General Hugs dirty

Allegiant General Pryde has shot General Hux. Lucky you're the Surgeon General really.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.6k

“Allegiant General Pryde just shot General Hux.”

Your breath catches and you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes. Next moment, you’ve grabbed your bag and are focused back on task.

“Collect the body,” you direct them, “and bring it to the medbay autopsy lab. Carefully.”

You and Armitage had prepared for this eventuality. One of the advantages of having a partner in the medical core was that the chances of surviving treason were much higher.

Whilst neither of you had entered First Order service willingly (no matter what Hux said, you had both been forced into it), Armitage had quickly excelled and embraced his duties in an effort to outshine his father. To try and prove himself as worthy. You, on the other hand, had enacted the only act of rebellion against your family that you would be able to survive. You had chosen to enrol in the medical core rather than aiming for command. If you had to be a part of this monstrous cause, you would try to save as many as you could.

You’d worked your way quickly up to the rank of Surgeon General and had been stationed on the Supremacy for a number of years. Thankfully, you’d survived the reign of Snoke and, so far, had survived Ren’s reign of terror. It had been a blessing that Hux had been reassigned to the vessel from the Finaliser. You enjoyed each other’s company and it was helpful to be able to train on your self-defence with someone who wasn’t trying to beat the stuffing out of you to make a point. He was a good outlet for a lot of energy in other ways too.

You glance up from checking you have all your equipment when you realise the orderlies haven’t moved. You turn your most piercing stare on them.

“Did I stutter?”

They look at each other until one of them pulls up their big boy panties and says “he was shot for being a spy.”

You laugh. Mostly at the fact that one looks like he wants to cry and the other like he’s about to collapse. They don’t need to know that though.

“Yes, by Allegient General Pryde who is well known for being a thorough and competent leader. Oh wait. No, he’s not. He’s had a grudge against Hux since he reappeared from whatever hell hole he had been hiding in. I said go fetch me the body! Now!”

They scarper out and you take another deep breath to centre yourself before busying yourself again with grabbing supplies and the emergency make-a-break-for-it kit you stored in your office. You then straighten your uniform, brace yourself and head out into the chaos of the medical bay.

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

Armitage is deathly pale when he finally is brought down to you but you swiftly move into action, infusing blood and bacta and checking the depth of the wound. You’d both known that, were he to be discovered, the weapon he was likely to be shot with would pierce the thin body armour he wore beneath his uniform. Unfortunately, it was the maximum thickness he could get away with before it became noticeable but you had both agreed that some bleeding would sell the ruse. You just didn’t like it.

Checking out the wound, you sigh out a quick breath of relief when you realise it is not too deep and hasn’t damaged any of the major blood vessels or organs. Though gruesome to witness, it was mostly superficial.

You lose yourself in your efforts, remaining undisturbed in the autopsy room, until you’re happy that he’s stable for travel. It’s at that point that you revive him, despite the fact he’s going to be in a world of pain.

He slowly blinks into reality with a scowl and a hiss of pain. You try to soothe him as best you can but there isn’t much you can do right now. You need him mobile to get to the shuttle and someone would notice you carrying him.

Gently running your hand through his hair you tell him “come on sweetheart. I know it hurts but we’ve got to move.”

Despite the pain, he seems alert and nods, letting out a grunt of agreement as he allows you to help him sit up and then stand. You gather the spare stormtrooper armour you’d pilfered a few months ago and quickly get him dressed up in it before leading the way swiftly to the small landing bay where Armitage’s private shuttle was stored.

You whisper a thanks to whatever Gods there are that the chaos on board the vessel means that there is noone around and you manage to get the pair of you on board with little drama. In fact, the whole escape into hyperspace is amazingly smooth and once you’re away with your course set, you sag a little in relief.

Or at least, you do until you see Armitage’s slumped frame and quickly grab him and get him moved to the small bedroom to continue his care and knock him back out while he heals.

You’re just about to inject the sedative when he grabs your hand, making you look at him.

“You know you are my world, don’t you?” he asks quietly.

You smile softly and lean forward to press a gentle kiss on his lips. You smile again as you feel him smile against you.

“I do, I wouldn’t have committed treason for anything less.”

He rolls his eyes before pressing another gentle peck to your lips and releasing you to get back your work. You take the opportunity to knock him out for now. It’s how he’ll be most comfortable.

And if you’re grinning so hard your face hurts, noone in deep space can see it. They can’t see you internally debating whether it’s ethical to dope someone up to get soppy confessions from them in the future either.

---------

It wasn’t often that General Dameron of the Resistance found himself in the Outer Rim.

Even 3 years after the end of the war, he was still mostly stuck to the core planets and mid-rim in efforts to support the Senate and help guard the peace which had settled upon the galaxy.

He’d been on a training mission with a few new recruits for Green Squadron when they’d been ambushed and they’d all received some pretty injuries despite eventually winning the battle. Injuries that required attention sooner than they would be able to if they headed back to base.

After a quick argument with Finn via the comms, the squad set course for a local med facility that was gaining a reputation for it’s high quality care.

Poe made sure all his squad were checked out before himself and he was happy that they were all being looked after so well. It was strange. The lead Doctor seemed familiar.

It wasn’t until you met his eyes that he realised.

You calmly continued his consultation, gently palpitating the wounds and collecting dressings, something you appeared to be doing more quickly than he was able to collect his thoughts.

“You!”

You snort. You can’t help it.

“Yes, me General Dameron.” You gently dab some bacta on some of the smaller cuts. “Did that break heal up correctly?”

He nods a bit dumbly. You’d been responsible for his care after Ren and a couple of the Stormtroopers had tortured him. You��d been a welcome relief, if he were honest. In fact, apart from the fact you’d worked for the First Order, he wasn’t aware of any accusations against you.

“I’m glad.” You finish wrapping his wrist and nod. “All done. Your pilots should be ready to go in around 2hrs, just to allow any drowsiness to wear off. I have some spare rooms if you need to stay on planet tonight?”

He thanks you profusely but explains that they are expected back tonight as you head back into the main waiting area. You shake his hand before leaving him and approaching a tall red-head across the room who instantly wraps his arm around your waist and drops a quick kiss on your head. You whisper to him for a few seconds and blue-green eyes suddenly lock with Poe’s before his face breaks out in a smile.

“General Dameron” Armitage says, approaching slowly and holding out a hand to a shell-shocked looking Dameron. “I’m glad you won. You and your squadrons are welcome to drop in here for treatment if you ever require it and are close by. Free of charge”

Poe, for his part, has a LOT of thoughts at this moment. Part of him wants to jump up and arrest him immediately whilst another screams that he was a spy and was seriously harmed because of it. It’s neither of these things that eventually seals his reaction though. It’s the loving glance Armitage throws your way as you offer them both coffee, the expression rendering him almost unrecognisable when juxtaposed against the version he used to know.

“Thank you.” He finally chokes out. “I’m assuming you’re not known by your old names?” Given the whole living in peace and not being turned into the authorities and all that?”

Hux just laughs.

“You would be correct. We’re both going by Y/N’s mother’s maiden name.”

“Oh?”

“Yes” Armitage says, looking far too amused. “We’re Armitage and Y/N Organa.”

Poe’s jaw drops to the flood. How on EARTH was he going to explain any of this?

Turns out, after it became the top recommended med centre by all members of the Resistance, he didn’t have to. He just had to keep pretending he didn’t know Hux had survived and not let Finn anywhere near. Poe was good at keeping his mouth shut.

Strange galaxy you live in really. And you couldn’t be happier

#tropetember #fix it fic #star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x reader #tw: injury #may get reworked #rough

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00gangfriend00 · 3 years ago

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heyyy bitch you should write a little drivey fic pls 🚙 vroom vroom vibes only

hi babe. vroom vroom! I am at work Not Working so here is your drivey fic.

It's not that he is having trouble sleeping. He can't sleep. Don't matter how many times he tosses and turns, it won't come.

It's been goin on for a week or so now, and he can't pinpoint any real reason why. Rosa tellin' him it's stress, is always going on about stress. Rhea's tellin' him its old age.

Whatever it is, it's fuckin with his mind.

Surrendering momentarily and sitting upright, he flicks on the bedside lamp. Marcus isn't here tonight, which always makes the nights more insufferable. That little squirrel snore across the hall does wonders in quietin' his mind.

He looks around at the warmly lit room. His stuff. Used to dream of this.

Used to dream of having bullshit modern art on his walls. Of walking into one of those fancy ass, white-ass art stores, not even askin' for the price.

Of taking the elevator all the way to the top. Penthouse. Dope shoes. New whip.

Now he's got it. He's at the top.

Still can't fuckin sleep.

So he grabs his keys, tired of staring at the walls, and does what he always does.

It's just going for a drive. Don't matter that the destination's always the same - it's the drive. That's what mellows him enough to finally shut his eyes.

Never mind that it'll l be the third time this week he's shown up outside her house in the middle of the night. There's just somethin' bout the rhythmic suburban sprinkler systems, the twisting parade of manicured lawns, the quiet sigh of each darkened window.

Yah, he knows it makes him look like a fucking stalker, he knows.

Hates it too, its just that he..

"Can't sleep?"

Her voice startles him, he didn't hear the tap on the window, but there she is - shivering outside the car door.

It's cold out, fuck. She's in her little slippers and some thin cotton thing that he's not not thinkin' about.

The window rolls down between them.

"I was in the area."

She grins like each and every one of the 22 minutes it takes to get out here from downtown is personally amusing to her.

"Get in."

'What?"

"You gonna freeze, Elizabeth."

"I was just checking to see if -" She catches herself mid-excuse. He'd been up thinkin' about her and she'd been up thinkin' about him. They're predictable like that. He's not about to deny it, at least. "Okay."

"You look tired". She whispers into the streetlight-lit interior. The light flashes in alternating beats across her face as they pull off the street and onto the highway.

"Gee, thanks." He lolls his head, taking her in and smiling briefly.

She smiles back, something nostalgic and a little forlorn. Her cheeks are wet, he can see the dampness catching blue dashboard light. She notices him noticing and -

"Take me for a drive." She perks upright. Sniffling and buckling her seatbelt with dramatics.

"You got it, boss."

They pull out onto the empty highway, goin' about 20 over. Her hands out the window, bobbing up and down. All that freezing cold air blastin' through the passenger side but - he ain't about to say anything. It's nice, actually, this.

He slows to pull off the next exit. She turns in silent question.

"You hungry?"

"Now?!"

"Yah, now."

"I guess..."

"Nothin' ever easy with you is it?"

He can hear her silent O of accusation without even takin' his off the road.

"I just don't typically eat at 3 o'clock in the morning."

He's grinning as he pulls into a White Castle.

"No time like the present."

She's sprawled across him, speak-yelling out the window into the drive-thru speaker.

"I will have a double cheeseburger slider special with the, umm, the loaded fries and.... a chocolate shake."

"Damn."

"Go big or go home, right?" Her shark-tooth grin glistens.

It's hard not to smile back, her nose blushed red from the wind, eyes sparkling. So he does. Like an idiot.

Their haul arrives, and they settle up. (He paid, only cause she didn't bring no wallet, and apparently doesn't appreciate bein' called out on it.)

"No eating in this car, though."

Her french-fry pace doesn't slow.

"Elizabeth, I'm serious."

"Are you kidding me? I am not standing outside."

"We'll eat inside then."

"I am in my pajamas."

"Aint nobody in there."

"This was your idea!"

"You're the one ordering cheese-covered shit, not me."

"I can't go in there." Her arms are crossed like a petulant little child.

He sighs.

"My pajamas are see-through."

"Yah mama, I know." His mouth slips into a smirk as he looks her slowly up and down, and she playfully hits him on the arm.

So they end up in yellow-plastic seats across from one another, with their backs to a ball-pit play area.

It's fuckin weird. It's nice.

Fun, even.

Under the harsh flourescent light, she's even more exposed than before. He's no better in his sweatpants and tee-shirt. No one's around, and with the way she's laughing, the way his body feels relaxed like it hasn't in weeks, it makes him think that very little would shake them from this moment. The whole damn city could come through those swinging doors, and he might not even notice.

Ah, damn.

The sky is grey in anticipation of daylight by the time he pulls back up to her door. They'd been quiet on the way back, yawning from time to time. She'd been humming a simple tune.

They sit like that for a beat in the driveway. Peaceful. Content.

"Dean took the kids."

"When?!"

"This evening. Well, yesterday evening I guess. Last night."

He scrubs his hand over his face, unsure how to play this, scared to expose the way he's feelin'. Been feelin'.

Scared something in his eyes might give away how many nights he's spent sittin' on this very street, pretending she ain't the reason why.

"Shit, Elizabeth. I'm -"

"No. It's okay. I had a really good night." She turns to him now. A shy smile hesitating on her lips.

He nods.

"Get some sleep okay?"

"You sound like my -" But the car door shuts.

She's walking up the driveway and into the sunrise.

He knows he'll sleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

Shit.

#vrooom vroom vibes #for meg #hello megan #do u like my drivey fic #brio #prompts #lil baby prompts #beth x rio #goodgirls fanfic #goodgirls fanfiction #briofanfic

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