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muchamusedaboutnothing · 2 years ago

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Heart of a Hunter Act VII - Ch. 2

Characters: Dean x doctor!Reader, Sam Winchester

This story is Act 7 of a saga.

New to the story? Get caught up on the Heart of a Hunter Saga here.

All your favorite Winchesters are alive, in spite of the curse that nearly took them from you. After coming so close to losing the only family you have left in this world, you’re taking matters into your own hands. There’s a witch to hunt.

Series Warnings:

Character injuries/sickness - Take note that no one is excluded from this.

Canon-typical violence and language.

Lots of whump.

Lots of caring for hurt characters.

Smut (18 Only. NSFW. You were warned.)

Angst.

Fluff.

Medical talk. Is that even a warning

Image Credit: bing image search, google image search, @destielsstuff , @deanwcaps ,

Wordcount: 1530

Chapter 2

Addie and Sam were playing cards in the bunker’s library. The two of them hadn’t had very much alone time since she’d arrived yesterday and needed to catch up. You checked on dinner in the oven, deciding it would be at least another half hour before the food was finished. Then you went searching for Dean and Jonah.

Dean was sitting on the floor in the room you shared and leaning against the bed with Jonah wiggling happily on a baby blanket next to him. Dean had a little leatherbound book on his lap and was writing in it with one hand and gently rubbing Jonah's tummy with the other.

"There's my guys," you said as you walked into the room and knelt next to them.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean said in greeting, tearing his eyes away from the page he was writing on long enough to greet you with a quick kiss when you leaned in.

You recognized the leatherbound book Dean was holding, but only because you'd occasionally seen him carrying it around. "Whatcha got there?" you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

"Oh, I don't know … just a journal of sorts."

"Yeah?" You smoothed Jonah's hair with your fingers.

Dean was scrawling a line toward the bottom of the page and finished it before he took a deep breath and looked up at you. "Having my dad's journal has meant a lot to me over the years," he said, looking down fondly at your son who chose that moment to let out a happy little gurgle. "I just thought it would be a good way to tell my own stories and share the things that should be passed down from father to son, whether he chooses to lead a Hunter's life or no."

You smiled at him. "That makes a lot of sense."

"Yeah?" he said, almost sheepishly.

"I think keeping a journal is great for a lot of reasons," you assured him. "It's cathartic, for one. And I'm sure Jonah will enjoy having something that you wrote by hand later on. Besides, your dad's journal meant a lot to me, too. I even got to know you and Sam in new ways when I read it the first time. And you know how much my mom's novels have meant to me."

His smile stretched a little further until it reached his eyes.

"How long have you been writing in it?"

"Oh, since you told me you were pregnant." He closed the book and picked it up with one hand, offering it to you to take.

You accepted it almost reverently, a little surprised that he wanted to share it with you right then. "May I?"

"Yeah, of course. Go ahead. And it's not all about hunting."

You flipped it open and began casually perusing the pages.

There were dates at the top of all the pages that had entries, but rather than looking like a typical diary or journal he'd taken a slightly different approach. This journal didn't exactly resemble John Winchester's, but rather was a culmination of lots of things Dean felt were important in all different aspects of life.

Hunting information occupied some of the pages further back including ammo loads and reloading tips, but toward the front, he had included several of his favorite recipes. There were quite a few pages about John and Mary and the story of how they’d met along with some early memories Dean had of their little family when it had been intact.

There was an entire section devoted to caring for Baby with details about what oil to use in the engine, what wax to use on the paint job, and how often she specifically needed maintenance for certain things. You knew he’d included those because she’d belong to Jonah one day. You couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at your lips as you browsed the pages.

Still another section was titled Shotgun Picks the Music and held lyrics to some of Dean’s favorite songs. The one with today's date had handwritten lyrics for Led Zeppelin's 'Ramble On' along with some of Dean's thoughts about the song and what it meant to him.

Leaves are falling all around

It's time I was on my way

Thanks to you I'm much obliged

For such a pleasant stay

But now it's time for me to go

The autumn moon lights my way

For now I smell the rain

And with it pain

And it's headed my way

Ah, sometimes I grow so tired

But I know I've got one thing I got to do

Ramble on

And now's the time, the time is now

To sing my song

I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl

On my way

I've been this way ten years to the day

Ramble on

Gotta find the queen of all my dreams

Got no time for spreadin' roots

The time has come to be gone

And though our health we drank a thousand times

It's time to ramble on

Ramble on

And now's the time, the time is now

To sing my song

I'm going 'round the world, I got to find my girl

On my way

I've been this way ten years to the day

I gotta ramble on

I gotta find the queen of all my dreams

I ain't tellin' no lie

Mine's a tale that can't be told

My freedom I hold dear

How years ago in days of old

When magic filled the air

'T was in the darkest depths of Mordor

I met a girl so fair

But Gollum, and the evil one

Crept up and slipped away with her

Her, her, yeah

Ain't nothing I can do, no

I guess I keep on rambling

I'm gonna, yeah, yeah, yeah

Sing my song (I gotta find my baby)

I gotta ramble on, sing my song

Gotta work my way around the world baby, baby

Ramble on, yeah

I gotta keep searching for my baby

I gotta keep-a-searchin' for my baby

I can't find my bluebird

I listen to my bluebird sing

I can't find my bluebird

I keep rambling, baby

It's not always about leaving, Dean had written. It's about moving forward, changing and growing, and not getting stuck in your ways. Even when it's hard. No, especially when it's hard.

It's about persevering when it feels like the world is against you. Even when you're sure no one understands exactly how you're feeling.

It's about finding joy and satisfaction in the little things, and not being ashamed of things you feel passionate about.

It's about knowing that most things are temporary and will pass. But the things that last - the things that really matter like family, being kind and selfless, working smart and not just hard, and being happy with doing your best - those are the things you have to hold onto. That's what gets you through when everything else is fleeting.

It's about balance, and constantly checking yourself ... because getting a little off-kilter is like driving on tires that are wearing unevenly. There are consequences.

It's about forgiving, because you'll make plenty of your own mistakes. It's about loving when your instinct is to put up walls.

And putting down roots and finding a home? Well, that's not always cut and dry like most of the world sees it.

For years Sammy and I had a home in Baby - still feel right at home when I settle in on those leather seats - but you can also find home in a call to an old friend, in a song like this one, or in a home-cooked meal that fills up more than just your belly.

And, for reasons I'll probably never understand, I've been lucky enough to find home in the heart of a loving woman who chooses every day to face the world with me side by side.

You felt moisture in your eyes but blinked it away before looking up at your husband. "I love this," you said with a smile, offering the book back to him. "I think it's wonderful. And, as usual, I have a lot to learn from you, Winchester. How is it you're always finding ways to surprise me?"

"Well, I don't know about any of that," Dean said dismissively as he set the book down next to Jonah's blanket."If anything, I'm learning from you, sweetheart."

And he didn't have to say it, but you knew his recent brush with death had him feeling more than a little sentimental and protective.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss that he returned by putting his whole heart behind the gesture.

"Have I told you how much I love you today?" you said, resting your forehead against his.

"You have now," he replied sweetly. "But there's no doubt I love you more." You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, half-smiling. "That's not up for debate," he added straight-faced, earning another kiss.

“You hungry, big guy?”

“Always.”

“Pot roast is almost ready.”

Dean patted his stomach and said, “I love pot roast. Got that recipe here on page seven, I think….”

Act VII Masterlist.

You can find the Masterlist for the Heart of a Hunter Saga here.

Please consider supporting my writing by buying me a coffee. In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.

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*HOAH Text divider by the brilliant Talesmaniac89

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#Heart of a Hunter #dean x doctor!reader #spn series #dean x reader #spn reader insert

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

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long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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idrellegames · 4 years ago

Text

Wayfarer Public Build 1.0.4 (April 10, 2021) has been released.

THIS IS NOT A CONTENT UPDATE! There are no new major content additions to Chapter 1 from version 1.0.3.

Play the Game

Bug Report

Patreon

This update is purely focused on making tweaks to the UI design and overhauling some of the behind-the-scenes mechanics. Because of the changes to the skill check system, you will need to start a new file (otherwise you will fail all of your skill checks).

Here’s a quick look at some of the major changes:

UI Tweaks and Additions

The Faction and Companion sections of the Journal have been redesigned. They now feature a selection of cards, which you can now click on to view information about that faction or character.

The Codex page and Codex entries have been tweaked. The Codex page now features boxes that change colour when you hover over a selected entry. The Codex entries themselves have been given a new background.

I have added a toggle button to turn the handwritten font for letters on and off.

Skill Check Overhaul

The most significant part of this update is in regards to skill checks. The player now starts with a base skill level of 5. The Prologue / Quick Character Creator still gives the player 9 skill points across all choices (2 from your origin, 4 from your Wayfarer master, and 3 individual choices) to increase their skills from the base level.

Dice rolls and the number required for a successful pass have been reworked. It is now impossible to 100% fail OR 100% succeed a normal skill check (there are still some skill checks that are purposefully easy or difficult than average). There is a level of risk across all regular choices.

For regular skill checks in Act 1:

Level 5 – 40% chance to pass

Level 6 - 45% chance to pass

Level 7 - 50% chance to pass

Level 8 – 55% chance to pass

Level 9 - 60% chance to pass

Level 10 – 65% chance to pass

Level 11 – 70% chance to pass

This new system allows for more flexibility as the player grows their stats. I found the system before encouraged players to continue to grow the stats they were already good at, which would eventually lock them out of choosing certain options entirely because their skill level would be too low. If I am committing to the idea that every choice is a risk, then there cannot be 100% chance of success or 100% chance of failure for regular checks (there will still be times when the story demands higher or lower chances of success and failure).

The player will not be able to see their chance of success before they select an option; however, I am planning on including that as an unlockable trait down the line.

For a full list of changes in this update, please see the changelog below.

Change Log

Content Additions & Changes

Re-wrote the letter the MC receives from their master (it is now a letter specifically from Brissa Varyn)

Added letter titled “A summons from the Grandmaster” to the Codex

Edited some lore in the Rona codex (look for the word greendrift! It’s important!)

Edited some timeline references (the MC and Aeran have been in Rona for six months, Luthais is specifically referred to as a greendrift in place of a street urchin)

Bug Fixes

General typo fixes and small continuity fixes

Fixed a bug where the MC receives +1 Random Stat in the Prologue and proceeded to not receive any stats. They will now receive +1 random stat.

Fixed a bug after the fight with the Count, where if the player executed Rhodarth, the text treated it as if he was still alive and left at the villa

UI Updates

Added a setting that turns off the handwritten font for codex letters

Fixed some issues with the font size settings

Improved font and passage re-sizing on mobile

Attempted to place a “Return to Game” button in the sidebar, but ran into an unfixable issue where the Inventory duplicates when the player clicks “return to game”.

Moved the chapter header to the sidebar. The chapter number and title will now appear above the sidebar menu, rather than in the top right-hand corner of the passage

Removed the Font-Awesome icons next to Saves and Restart, as well as the icons next to Save to Disk, Load from Disk and Delete in the Saves dialogue (these are part of the base SugarCube stylesheet)

Added a new toggle icon for the sidebar

Changed the Save notification icon

Added box shadows to all passages to add more dimension against the background

Added a header box on the Journal pages

Moved the Guide to be accessible from the sidebar right away, rather than from the Journal

Adjusted the sidebar for Combat screens (new combat icon and new background)

Updated the header image on dialogue boxes (Saves, Restart, etc)

Made significant progress on mobile optimization. It’s not 100%, but fonts and headers should resize for smaller viewports. The UI bar cannot be resized without destroying its functionality (not sure why), so it must be collapsed if you’re playing on mobile.

The Settings popup now launches on one of the opening pages after you click “New Game”. This is to ensure players don’t skip over elements that may be helpful for their particular playstyle

Game Mechanics Updates

Skill Gain and Action Key now default to being “on” rather than “off”

Added a tutorial popup in the Prologue that explains skills and skill checks

Lockpicks are now no longer consumables. They are a reusable item, like the grappling hook, and can be used as long as they are in the MC’s inventory.

Added a “Pact Forged” icon to the MC’s dialogue options when they accept their contract from Zenaida (this will also be tracked in their records in the Journal)

Reworked the skill check system for more flexibility (see above for a full explanation). It is now impossible to 100% pass or 100% fail regular skill checks.

Known Issues on Mobile / Smaller Viewports

Scrollbars on dialogue pop ups that contain a lot of text are broken on mobile and can’t scroll all the way to the bottom of the dialogue box (you close the popup, but there is text that gets cut off

Formatting of stat bars doesn’t resize properly on mobile

Hover box on character cards in Companions and Factions section of the journal do not re-size correctly on mobile

The Settings dialogue box changes the text layout on smaller viewports

Dropdown boxes in the Settings do not trigger on mobile

#wayfarer #announcements #twine game #interactive fiction #if game #dev log

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mygalfriday · 3 years ago

Text

pity the man that stands in my way (River/11)

Prompt #2: You. Me. Handcuffs.

The old earth saying about doctors making the worst patients must have originated with her husband. River can cope with his stubborn refusal to take any medication that isn’t grape-flavored or eat anything that isn’t covered in custard. Even the constant whinging is bearable. If those were her only problems, she’d consider herself fortunate. But the Doctor can’t even admit to being sick at all. No matter how many times River orders him to bed – unfortunately not in the fun way – he always ends up sneaking off to the control room the minute she isn’t looking to try convincing the TARDIS to take him somewhere. He can barely stand up but is absolutely confident in his ability to calm a rebellion on Drahva.

In the middle of making him a cup of chamomile tea that she secretly hopes might make him drowsy enough to get some rest – if nothing else, the sedative she plans to mix in should do the trick – River glances up when the TARDIS lights flicker. The Old Girl always finds a way to let her know when the Doctor has escaped again. She sighs, mutters a thank you to the ship, and abandons the kettle on the hob. Marching out of the kitchen, she doesn’t bother checking their bedroom first. She heads right for the control room and sure enough, the Doctor stands at the console, clinging to it for balance as he plots new coordinates.

“Going somewhere?”

He jumps guiltily at the sound of her voice, whirling to face her and pasting on a wide grin. “Ah, there you are. I was just looking for you.” At her baleful stare, he wilts. “Alright, so I was very much not looking for you. I was actively avoiding you, as it happens. Come on, dear. Aren’t you bored?”

“No, my love. I’m not bored.” River crosses her arms over her chest and glares. “As a matter of fact, just this once, I would love to be bored. I would quite literally kill for it. Instead, I’ve spent the last two days chasing my husband around with a syringe.”

His brows lift and he mutters to himself, “Ah, so it wasn’t a dream.” He frowns, attention returning to her. “I’ve got to say, not one of our better honeymoons.”

“It’s not a honeymoon, Doctor,” she sighs, dropping her arms and crossing to his side. “You’re ill.”

He scowls, lips parting and brow furrowing in offense. “I am not! I’m perfectly fine.” Eyes fever-bright and cheeks worryingly flush, he insists, “I’ve never been better.”

River presses the back of her hand to his forehead, ignoring him when he tries to swat her weakly away. “Just as I thought.” She strokes her fingers along his cheekbone, gratified when he sighs and leans briefly into her touch. “You’re burning up. Get back into bed.”

“You always say that,” he mutters, petulant.

She smirks, patting his cheek. “Well, it is my favorite place to see you.”

He sighs. “River, I don’t want to sleep. There’s too much to see and do and-”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” She raises a brow meaningfully, watching understanding dawn in his clouded eyes.

He brightens, that adorably nervous smile curving his lips. “Really?”

“Mmm.” She sways into him, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as she meets his gaze. “You said you feel fine. Care to prove it, Time Lord?”

The Doctor lifts his chin and puffs out his chest, tugging at his bowtie. He looks down at her and despite her certainty that he must feel terrible, the desire in his expression is almost enough to make her forget herself. “Prepare to be impressed, Dr. Song.”

She takes his hand in hers and tugs him out of the control room, risking another remark about her fussing over him by wrapping an arm around his waist. Troublingly, he doesn’t say a word. He leans his weight into her as though she might not notice and even with her guiding him, he stumbles more than once. She wonders briefly how he’d made it from their bedroom to the control room in the first place. What had he done – crawled there? Even his breathing is a bit off, a slight rasp after every inhale that worries her. She doesn’t dare let on.

The moment they cross the threshold into their bedroom, River turns and takes his face in her hands, kissing him deeply. The Doctor makes a soft, startled noise against her lips before his mouth opens and his tongue brushes hers. His hands grip her hips as they stumble toward the bed and he feels hot against her, his body temperature higher than usual. His touch is almost searing even over her clothes.

Divesting him quickly of his tweed and bowtie, River nips sharply at his bottom lip before nudging him onto the bed. She watches him fall back onto the pillows, looking weak and tired. His mouth is red and swollen from her kisses and his hair is rumpled from her fingers. For a moment, she considers climbing on top of him and giving him exactly what he wants – he’d still be resting if she’s on top, wouldn’t he?

But no. No matter how tempting he looks right now, he’s very ill. He needs to sit still and drink his tea and take his medicine and bloody well sleep. There will be plenty of time to ravish him when he’s feeling better. River likes him best when he’s a full participant anyway.

His eyes are dark and interested as he watches her strip out of her clothes; he licks his lips at every piece of clothing that drops to the floor. When she has nothing but her knickers left to remove, River joins him on the bed. She crawls up the length of his body and straddles his narrow waist, leaning in to capture his mouth in a kiss. The Doctor melts under her, his limbs going loose and deliciously pliable. It takes no effort at all to pin his arms above his head and secure them to the bedpost.

The Doctor goes still at the sound of the lock clicking into place, his mouth slipping from hers as he mutters, “Why do you always have handcuffs?”

River smirks, dropping the seduction act as she sits up and slides out of bed. Reaching for her clothes piled neatly on the floor, she tugs on her shirt and says, “Maybe now you’ll actually get some rest.”

He growls under his breath, watching her slip back into her trousers. “River, uncuff me right now.”

“Sorry, my love,” she says, shrugging unapologetically. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll release you when you can be trusted to stay put.” She tilts her head, nose scrunching as she admits, “Well, I suppose I should say when you’re well enough that I won’t care you can’t be trusted.”

“Oi!” He pouts, tugging at the cuffs. “I’m very trustworthy. Ish. I know loads of secrets I’ve never told you.”

“I’m sure that’s true, sweetie.” She pats his knee. “I’m going to fetch your tea. Would you like something to read while you wait?”

The Doctor twitches irritably. “How would I turn the pages?”

“Good point.” She taps her chin thoughtfully, listening to the sound of the cuffs clanking against the bedpost as he tries unsuccessfully to free himself. “Then might I suggest you lie there and think about how lucky you are to have me?”

He stops struggling long enough to offer her a doe-eyed glance. “But I do that all the time.”

“Nice try.” River pinches his thigh, smirking when he yelps. “I’m still not letting you out.”

He huffs. “River-”

She levels him with her sternest look – the one that wins wars and terrifies her prison guards; the one that says I’ve killed a man before and I’m happy to do it again. “The more you complain, the longer I’ll leave you here.”

Properly cowed, the Doctor snaps his mouth shut and settles for a silent glare.

“Good boy.” River leans in and presses a kiss to his fever-warm cheek. “Back soon, sweetie. What is it you always say to your companions?” She tips her head to the side, grinning down at him in victory. “Oh yes. Don’t wander off.”

#drfic #river song #eleventh doctor #river x eleven #riverdoctorpromptweek #my fic

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lesvegas · 3 years ago

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My Mod List for Fallout: New Vegas

Some months ago, I answered an ask regarding FNV mods I’d recommend. Over the past few months, I’ve tried many more mods since, and have even removed several mods from the original list. I decided to remake the list, both in this post and also in this doc for the sake of documentation.

These are both for my own reference and for anyone who’s looking for mod recommendations. Keep in mind my preferences for mods tend to be smaller-scale, quality of life and immersive mods, and I’m not super into big story mods.

This is a long one, so I’m putting it under a readmore.

You’re gonna wanna start with this mod configuration menu, which helps to manage mods in-game.

Fixes & Script Extenders

Most of these are necessary for a stable game and for the rest of the mods listed here.

New Vegas Script Extender (NVSE) - You’ll need this for most of these to work at all.

Yukichigai Unofficial Patch (YUP) - A compilation of vital bug fixes with no further additions. Just bug fixes.

Unofficial Patch Plus - A collection of supplementary bug fixes to be used alongside YUP. Includes improved versions of popular NVSE bug fixes.

New Vegas Anti Crash (NVAC) - Says it right there in the name.

JIP LN NVSE Plugin - An extension of NVSE that restores broken features and supplies bug fixes; read through this one before toggling anything.

JohnnyGuitar NVSE - Another NVSE extender.

FNV 4GB Patch - Simple patcher to make Fallout New Vegas 4GB Aware.

Throwable Weapon Fixes - A collection of fixes for throwable weapons and projectiles.

Overhauls

New Vegas Character Expansions (NVCE) - Probably the only character overhaul that just makes everyone look a little less potato without making them look hollow inside. (NOTE: This may make some characters have white faces. If this happens, the fix that worked for me is at the bottom of this post)

Water Overhaul - Overhauls various aspects of water, making radiation-free water more scarce and allowing you to refill bottles anywhere with a water source.

Starting Gear Overhaul - Adjusts the gear you start with to be more sensible and catered to your tagged skills. Recommended using along with JSawyer Ultimate.

Mojave Raiders - Adds more raiders to fight and balances their loot.

Mojave Wildlife - Adds hundreds more levelled, vanilla-friendly creature spawn points throughout the whole Mojave, based off unused vanilla levelled lists.

Mojave Arsenal - Adds ammo variants, reloading parts, and weapon mods as loot; fixes item naming conventions; improves recipes; and adds options for configuring GRA.

The Living Desert - Adds hundreds of NPCs and several scripted events; people patrolling the roads, travelling between towns, occupying locations.

Faction Map Icon Overhaul - Changes faction-related icons on the Pip-Boy map, for example Camp McCarran and the Mojave Outpost’s icons are the two-headed bear, the Fort and Cottonwood Cove are the bull, etc.

Immersion

New Vegas Enhanced Camera - Enables visible body and player shadow in first person, will let you remain in first person when you would otherwise be forced into third person (death/knocked down/etc).

Barton Thorn Acts Normally - Barton Thorn seeks out the player himself to ask for help with the geckos.

Clarity - Removes orange/blue tints.

Harvestable Cave Fungus - Self-explanatory.

Better Pickup Prompt - Makes several improvements to the HUD pickup prompt that appears when you look at an item. (NOTE: This mod has been discontinued, but seems to still work).

Realistic Safehouse Upgrades - Gives every safehouse a workbench, reloading bench, camp fire and more containers to make them feel like home.

Eddie Hears And Explosion - Fixes one of the clunkier moments in the game, near the end of the Powder Ganger questline.

Neck Seam Concealer Necklaces - A wide variety of necklaces that perfectly conceal the seam connecting characters’ heads and torsos.

Vanilla Hair, No Shine - Makes the default hairstyles have less obnoxious white shine.

Light Step ED-E - This mod gives ED-E the Light Step perk, preventing him from setting off mines and floor traps.

Hi-Res Vanilla Posters and Graffiti - Posters and graffiti have x2 upscaled resolution, with no ugly blurring or sharpening.

Mojave Nights - Mojave Nights combines my Enhanced Night Sky mod with a brand-new, highly detailed moon replacement for complete night-time realism.

Functional Post-Game Ending (FPGE) - Adds a fully functional post-game world to the game, where you will realise the consequences of your choices.

Just Vanilla Sprint (JVS) - A simple vanilla sprint mod. Requires JIP LN Plugin (scroll up to Fixes & Script Extenders).

Animated Maize Fields, Park Equipment, Poseidon Energy Signs (personal fave), Sunset Sarsaparilla Rotary Entrance, Rotating Brahmin Rotisserie, and Foliage. This mod maker has tons of immersive little animation mods; I recommend looking through all of them.

JSawyer Ultimate Edition

JSawyer Ultimate Edition - JSawyer's popular mod, fully re-implemented from the ground up. A ‘meant-to-be’ mod which changes elements of the game to how they should have been from the start.

JSawyer Ultimate Edition Patches - Patches for using several popular mods alongside JSawyer Ultimate Edition.

JSawyer Mod Vanilla Number Of Perks - Changes the final total number of perks acquired by level 34 from the JSawyer default of 17 to the vanilla default of 25.

Perk Every Level, Cap at 100 - JSawyer Ultimate Edition caps the player at level 35. Once I reached level 35, THEN I installed this mod, which was the only increased level cap mod that worked for me. It doesn’t add perks after that, though; I have to add perks manually.

Restored Cut Content

Uncut Wasteland - Restores a huge amount of scenery and little random things which were patched out of the game post-release.

The Moon Comes Over The Tower - Restores the rest of the quest given by Emily Ortal, which requires you to go H&H Tools Factory, Camp Golf, and North Vegas Steel.

Vanilla Intro Plus - Restores the bit of the intro where Victor pulls the courier out of their own grave.

Classic Fallout Floaters - Adds Floaters into New Vegas based on information and cut content found within the files. Can be found where Centaurs lurk.

The Strip Open - Removes the gates and excess loading screens within the Strip.

Legion Quests Expanded - Provides more Legion content by adding or expanding several Legion quests. Needs compatibility patches.

Karma and Reputation

Karma Changes - Changes the karma alignment of some NPCs, like making Caesar Very Evil instead of Neutral.

Lonesome Road True Faction Allegiance - The parameters for your allegiance has been altered to reflect on your quest status, rather than reputation. This is reflected in Ulysses’ dialogue and the courier duster.

Powder Ganger Rep Fix (Ghost Town Gunfight) - A quick and easy fix that removes the Goodsprings Powder Gangers from the PG Faction.

Negative Karma for Gravedigging - Gives the player bad karma every time they dig up a grave.

Quests

Autumn Leaves - A DLC-sized quest mod in a centuries-old library inhabited by sentient machines with a mystery to solve.

Boom to the Moon - A short but sweet quest investigating a moon base featuring some of the best interiors I’ve ever seen in a video game. Walkthrough required, though, and be sure to install the failsafes.

Snow Globe Quest - Adds quest markers to all the snow globes you find for Mr. House.

Benny

Benny Returns - Returns Benny to the game as a companion. Be sure to read through the mod description carefully before saving him from the Fort.

Bi Benny: The Re-Bennying - Edits Benny's Black Widow dialog to work with Confirmed Bachelor couriers, with altered working voiced + lip sync dialog. It’s a little rough but it works.

Save Benny Without Angering The Legion - This mod makes you able to save Benny at The Fort without angering the Legion or breaking their questline.

Less Serious Mods

Benny’s Aid - Funny Simpsons reference.

Mr. House Portrait Fix - Gives the portraits of Mr. House the Platinum Drip.

I Got Spurs - Adds a set of lucky spurs to Doc Mitchell's house that can be worn with any clothing. They can be found on top of the Vigor-Tester.

Legate Caravan Showdown - Allows you to duel Legate Lanius in a game of Caravan rather than combat.

NVCE Pale Face Fix

Literally copied from some forum, the usual .ini fix didn’t work for me but this one did:

Another .ini fix, but this time the file is FALLOUT.INI, found under "C:\Users<your Windows username>\Documents\My Games\FalloutNV". Open it up in your text editor of choice, and search for the line:

bLoadFaceGenHeadEGTFiles=0

and change the 0 to 1, so it looks like:

bLoadFaceGenHeadEGTFiles=1

In the page on the Nexus it actually says to change that value in both a Fallout.ini file AND a FalloutPrefs.ini file, both in the My Games\FalloutNV folder.

#fnv #fonv #fallout #fallout new vegas #mods #mod list #fnv mods #fallout mods #mod

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aewhore · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could maybe write a threesome smut between penelope ford, kip sabian, and a female reader?

Three’s a Party ~ Kip Sabian & Penelope Ford x fem! reader (NSFW)

Request by @unusem13 (I hope you like it!!)

Walking around the backstage area of AEW Dynamite was always a weird time, there was always loads of people around and the energy was intoxicating. You were preparing for your match tonight against Penelope Ford, You had been feuding for the last 2 weeks after Kip had begun to feud with your tag team partner and overall best friend Hangman Adam Page, you had joined Page to assist at ringside when Penelope attacked you leading to your intergender tag match tonight. This was going to be a tough match for you. You hadn’t told anyone, not even Adam but you had a history with Penelope. You had dated back when you both were in the indies and you had to end it when you went to Japan but Penelope stayed in the states.

You both hadn’t been in the same company let alone the same ring in at least 4 years. So now as you stand in the ring with Adam waiting for Penelope to make her entrance you can feel your nerves eating you alive. Her music plays and the crowd starts to boo herself, Kip and Miro, as they strut out of the heels entrance onto the ramp and towards the ring. “Let’s go Y/N! Put her away fast and drinks are on me tonight!” You’re snapped back to reality by Adam slapping you on the back and yelling encouragement over Penelope’s music. You smiled at Adam before looking back at Penelope on the other side of the ring to see she’s already staring at you. Something flashes in her eyes but she turns away towards her fiance before you can truly understand what she was thinking. The ref enters the ring and you and Adam decide that you should begin the match.

The bell rings and you cautiously approach Ford to lock up to begin the match but she catches you off guard with a swift punch to the jaw knocking you backwards. You stand back up to square up to Ford. You had hoped to have a fair fight but Penelope had other plans when she slapped you starting a striking exchange between the two of you. Emotions were getting the better of you as you ignored Adam’s attempts to tag in, instead of focusing on causing Ford the most pain possible. The numbers advantage overwhelmed you when you and Ford spilt to the outside and Kip got in a few cheap shots. When you’re rolled back into the ring you get a burst of adrenaline and sprint towards Adam for the hot tag. You collapse on the ring apron as you watch your favourite cowboy clean house wiping out kip and Miro but leaving Chuckie standing (cos he ain’t do nothing wrong)

You gather yourself on the apron as you watch your best friend do what he does best and beat Kip all around the ring. Miro gets involved and Adam loses the upper hand and you start a chant with the crowd to motivate Hangman to get back to your corner to tag you in. You’re so invested in getting Adam to get back to your corner, back to safety that you don’t notice Penelope had run around from her corner to yours to pull your legs out from under you, causing you to crash down, hitting you face on the apron on your way down. Agonizing pain rang through your skull as you curled up on the floor holding your head. You try to stand but your vision is blurred and you sway when you try to stand. You rely on the apron to hold yourself as your eyes focus. You see Kip hitting Adam with his finisher and you try to get into the ring to break up the pin but you’re too slow. Your heart sinks, you and Adam lost the match, had you paid attention, you would have won.

You and Adam lean on each other as you make your way to the medics room. “I’m sorry Adam, I’m not a good tag team partner” you confess as you sit upon the medics bench. “Don’t worry about it darling, I ain’t the best teammate either” you both let out a pained chuckle as the doc comes over to check on you. There was a gentle knock on the door before a stagehand entered to call Adam to an important booking meeting. “I’m sorry darling I need to go, you’ll be okay. Call me when you get back to your hotel room ok?” you were saddened to see Adam go as you hate being in the medics room alone but he’s needed elsewhere. “Ok cowboy, I’ll call you later.” he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before exiting the room. The medic begins running tests on you after hangman leaves. “Alright Y/N, I’ll be back in a few moments with your diagnosis.” You hear the door open but you don’t hear it close so you turn your head to see the door open and Penelope and Kip standing in the doorway.

“I thought you hated being in medic rooms alone,” Penelope asks as she enters the room to lean on the medics bench opposite you. “I do hate it, Adam had to leave and your little stunt may have given me a concussion so I didn’t exactly have a choice now did I?” You could stay angry at Ford so your eyes stayed glued to your shoes as you ranted at her. “Oh Y/N, don’t act like you want an apology, if the shoe was on the other foot you would have done the exact same thing.” Your eyes snap up to Ford as you try to think of a retort. “Oh would you two just kiss and make up already, all this tension is making me sick.” You and Penelope break eye contact when Kip groans from the other side of the medics room. You both stutter and try to come up with some sort of response when the doc comes through the door. Kip moves towards Penelope and puts his arm around her midsection before turning towards you. “Listen Y/N, I think I know exactly what will put an end to this tension between the two of you. After the show, room 254. I’ll explain if you show up” and with that, he leads Penelope out of the room. You follow the two of them with your eyes before the doc interrupts you. “Ok Y/N, I ran tests and it doesn’t look too bad, so you won’t have to go to the hospital but I would still recommend that you take the week off just to rest up.” you’re relieved that you won’t have to go to the hospital so you thank the doc and excuse yourself as fast as possible to go to the locker room to grab your things and get out of daily’s place as fast as possible.

You get back to your hotel and have a long, hot shower to relax your muscles. When you get out you check your phone to see that Dynamite will end in a few minutes. Your mind mulls over Kip’s proposal, you wanted to know what the English man had in mind but what if you and Penelope couldn’t get past your tension. You dry your hair and get dressed before sitting on the bed, lost in your thoughts you grab your phone and text Adam that your Ok. you lock your phone and see you still have time. “Fuck it, what do I have to lose?” you mutter before grabbing your room key and making your way to the elevator. You exit on the second floor and your anxiety grows in your stomach. You stand at the door, the numbers 254 in a worn gold nailed to the door. You had to psych yourself up but your hand still raises to knock twice on the wooden door. You hear movement on the other side of the door before it unlocks and it opens to reveal Kip in his signature crop top and low sitting tracksuit bottoms revealing the top band of his designer boxers.

“I had a feeling I’d be seeing you doll” Kip’s arrogance rolls off him as he moves slightly to allow you to walk into the room. “It’s good to see you too Sabian” You walk into the room to see Penelope sitting on the bed on her phone before she looks up at you and a small smile graces her face, you smile back before you hear Kip walk up behind you. “I’m guessing you're wondering why I asked you to come here.” you turn to see Kip smiling at you. You nod at him, signaling for Kip to continue. “Well Y/N, I have noticed that you and my fiancee have a lot of tension, so myself and Penelope have spoken about what we can do to settle this.” Your eyes dart between Ford and Sabian as you try to understand what Kip is saying. “I still love you Y/N” you gasp at Penelope’s confession, she stands and begins to walk towards you. “Wrestling you tonight tore me up, and seeing Adam have to help you to the back broke my heart, I’m sorry and I’d like to make it up to you tonight.” You smile at Penelope but frown when you realize that you still haven’t been told what you all are doing tonight. Your thoughts are interrupted when Penelope smashes her lips against yours, Your shock melts into lust as you melt into Penelope’s touch. Her lips were as soft as you remembered and her hands moved up to hold your jaw. You both break apart and gasp to catch your breath.

You felt someone press against you back and you identify it as Kip. You smile at the supposedly cocky English man’s need for attention. “See! I told you, you guys could kiss and make up” he grumbles before laying gentle kisses on your neck. You and Penelope make eye contact before you say. “Aw kip, was someone feeling a bit left out?” you giggle slightly. “I think we can make room for him, couldn’t we Y/N?” Penelope plays along with you in teasing Kip. You turn your head to face Kip before placing your hand under his chin and bringing him in to kiss you. His stubble is a rough contrast to his soft lips and strong hands gripping your hips. You grind your hips back against Kip’s growing erection. You feel Penelope trailing kisses along your neck and trails down your chest. You moan as Penelope’s hands move to massage your breasts, your back arches towards her. You and Kip break apart and Penelope leans back away from you, all three of you are breathing deeply when an idea pops into your head. “We’re all wearing too many clothes.” Before you can fully finish your sentence Penelope’s hands reach for the rim of your shirt and Kip’s hand hook onto your leggings. You’re left in your bra and panties as you reach to unzip Penelope’s jeans and tug them down. You see Kip’s shirt fall to the floor followed by his pants. When you are all left in your undergarments, You reach your hands under Penelope’s thighs to pick her up so she wraps her thighs around your waist. You carry her towards the bed and lay her down on her back in the center of the bed.

You settle yourself between her legs as you trail kisses from her throat down her sternum down her stomach until you reach the rim of her panties and you pull her lacy thong down her thighs and out of your way. You make eye contact with her before you begin to kiss and suck along her thigh before you begin to kitten lick her soaked slit. Her moans begin to flow out of her as you lick at her pussy, moving your mouth from her opening to her clit and back again. You were on all fours with one of your hands wrapped around one of Penelope’s thighs and another on her pelvis to keep her from bucking too much. You feel Kip settle behind you and run two fingers over your clothed wet pussy, before he hooks his finger in the crotch of your panties and pulls them down your thighs before completely ripping them off of you. Kip massaged your clit with 2 of his fingers before he slips those two fingers into you and you loudly moan against Penelope causing a domino effect creating a loud moan from her as well. You can feel Kip thrust his fingers into you and scissors them inside you giving you this euphoric feeling of being gently stretched out.

Kip takes his fingers out of you and you whine at the feeling of loss but before you can complain he rubs the head of his cock along your folds and you go to move your head to moan but Penelope grabs your hair to keep your focus between her thighs. Kip slowly pushes his cock into you, you can feel Kip’s cock fill you perfectly as he pushes inside you before he nudges against your G spot which makes your eye roll into the back of your head at the sensory overload. Kip thrusts into you at a toe-curling pace and you can’t help but fuck your hips back onto him. You take a break from sucking Penelope’s clit to wet your middle and ring fingers so you can plunge them into her needy hole causing her to arch her back completely off the bed and grind against your fingers and mouth. You match Kip’s thrusting pace with your fingers as you feel your orgasm get nearer and nearer. You latch your mouth back onto Penelope’s clit and her hand in your hair tightens as she screams out your name. You feel her pussy tighten around your fingers as a blast of wetness hits your face, you continue thrusting your fingers into her, fucking her through her orgasm. The coil in your pelvis gets tighter and tighter before Kip reaches one of his hands around to rub tight circles on your clit and the coil snaps as you cum all over Kip’s cock. Your pussy tightening and the added moisture causes Kip’s thrusts to stutter as he thrusts deeply into you one last time before painting your walls with his cum.

You all collapse into a tangle of limbs as you lay in the center with Kip’s arm wrapped around your chest with Penelope’s leg thrown over your hip. Penelope’s hand came up to caress your jaw and you can’t help but melt into her hand. “So is it safe to say that the tension between the two of you is gone?” Kip jokes as he nuzzles into your neck. “Hm, I don’t know, I think we’ll have to do this again sometime to really get all the tension out” Penelope jokes before she kisses your cheek. You giggle as you think, oh you’ll definitely be doing this again sometime.

#kip sabian #penelope ford #AEW #kip sabian imagine #penelope ford imagine #aew imagine #aew smut #aew fanfic #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut

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drariellevalentine · 4 years ago

Note

A prompt where mc is unconscious in Ethan's arms.

Oof. This one really broke my heart.

This Is Me Trying

Pairing:- Ethan Ramsey x Arielle Valentine

Warnings:- angst. Major heart wrenching angst.

Takes place during the events of OHSY’s Chapter 5.

Song inspiration:- Folklore by Taylor Swift (I was listening to it on repeat the whole time)

Arielle’s PoV:-

Just when you’re about to take a break, you get paged by Eth- Dr. Ramsey. With a sigh, you turn around and walk towards the diagnostics office.

You step inside the diagnostics office as the glass doors open with a hiss to see Dr. Ramsey pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes?”

He looks up, anger and irritation clear in his face. “I thought you had at least a bit of maturity but I can see that I was wrong.” You stifle the urge to roll your eyes.

“What did I do?”, you ask trying to keep your voice as level as possible noticing that June and Baz are in the room.

As soon as he hears your words, he gets up and slams a stack of papers in front of you. You pick them up to see the name “Gwyneth Monroe” on the top. You wince slightly.

“I thought I had specifically told you that the diagnostics team does not seek patients and that they come to us! I come in and receive the news that Gwyneth Monroe had been approached by a ‘Dr. Valentine’. The same person I said no to as for reaching out.”

“Well excuse me for trying to keep this team afloat! I was only doing what’s best for the team! And besides, by doing this we’ll still be able to treat patients who can’t afford treatment!”

“That’s what you think! The board is thrilled about this and Naveen has told me that the board wants us to ‘move our focus towards high-profile patients’.” His eyes are filled with fury.

“Well I’m sorry but you can’t expect me to just stand there doing absolutely nothing while this team sinks to the bottom.”, you shrug.

“Guys, you should calm down for a moment. The patient’s probably waiting for us and we don’t want to keep them waiting.”, Baz says tentatively.

“Oh yes, from now on just like Dr. Valentine wanted we need to provide all our special patients with VIP treatment!” Your anger flares as he pokes accusations at you.

“I never said that! I’m sorry but the only way that we can still keep running this team just like Naveen wanted is by changing and adjusting a little!”

“And what do you know about Naveen’s vision? Just because you are his goddaughter doesn’t give you more authority then the rest of us, nor does it to make decisions without my approval.” Your mouth drops open as you gape at him. Baz’s eyes widen as June speaks up. “Ethan, that’s extremely low.” Ethan scoffs.

“Seriously?! I thought you knew how hard I worked for this position! Turns out you think that I got into this fellowship because of Naveen and not because of my own damn effort.”

“Stop twisting my words, Arielle.”, he says giving you a death stare.

“I never twisted your damn words.”, you clap back.

“Well, maybe you’re still not ready for a position like this. Seeming that you can’t follow a simple set of instructions.”

“How many times do I have to say it?! I was doing what we needed to do in order to keep our team afloat!!”

“And I told you not to do something which is exactly what you’ve done! I thought you had learned your lesson from last year, but clearly I’ve misjudged you.”

“Don’t you dare bring last year’s events into this! That has nothing to do with this!”, you shout.

“It has the utmost important and impact. Clearly representing your lack of being able to follow a set of instructions!”

“I can’t believe you!”

“We’ll get used to it then. If you pull one more stunt like this, I won’t hesitate to terminate your fellowship.” That sentence triggers something inside of you, a last straw.

“Well in that case, consider my whole damn job ’terminated’!” You slam your ID badge on his desk and rush out of that office as fast as your heels can take you, ignoring Baz and June’s shouts.

Ethan’s PoV:-

You slump back into your chair, and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Ethan, I know you’re our boss and all that but what in the world did you do that for?! That poor girl just quit her job!” You turn to Baz.

“And she won’t be the only one if this conversation continues.”, you say. They both exit the room.

“Lord, one day she’ll be the death of me!” You decide to go to the ER to help with any patients. After attending to a few casualties, you go back to your office when you see Harper standing at the entrance, arms crossed. You raise your eyebrows.

“Was that Dr. Valentine I saw rushing out of here?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell were you thinking, Ethan?! You can’t just shout at her like that.”

“Well, I can if I need to.”

“Well maybe when she deserves it. You damn very well know that what she did didn’t make you angry. You’re angry that what she says is right, and worried that Naveen’s vision will be compromised.”

You sigh. “...maybe I was a bit too hard on her.”

“A bit?”, she looks at you incredulously.

“Fine! I was hard on her, so what?! It’s not like she’s actually going to resign her job, it was a hot-headed decision.”

“Oh really? Then what’s this?” She waves a minute stack of papers. You take it from her and read it. It’s a resignation letter, signed. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

“She came to me, with a resignation letter and said that she wanted me to sign these papers. She’s very clear-headed and informed me that it isn’t a rash decision, but one that she’s been mulling over for sometime. She’s gotten an offer to transfer her residency back to New York, offering her a part in researching preeclampsia treatments.”

“She wouldn’t…”, your mind says.

“Naveen’s signed them too.”

“What?!” You scan the papers and notice your mentor’s signature at the bottom. “Damn it… I should go talk to her.”

“You should, And do it now. She’s leaving in a few hours to New York. The young doctor’s got quite a few connections.”

“Just tell me where she is!”

She shrugs. “She’s handing over all her patients to other residents so she could be anywhere. Dr. Hirata, Dr. Delarosa and both Dr. Mirani’s have tried talking her out of it but she wouldn’t budge. So did her friends and Dr. Lahela. Naveen tried his best but couldn’t either.”

“Well why didn’t you?!”, you ask.

“You really thought I didn’t? She’s quite the woman, didn’t waver a second. And you know how intimidating I can be.”

“Well, of course she is.”, your mind reminds you as you rush out of the office.

Arielle’s PoV:-

You’re walking through the halls of Edenbrook, handing out your charts to everyone just like you did when you were suspended. Except this time, it’ll be the last. You try to ignore your friends’ voices as you hand out the last of your charts. You quickly change into a white cropped top and a pair of jeans and gather all your things from the locker, slowly loading everything into your locker. You would have asked your friends, but you don’t have the heart to face them.

You quickly check everything off, ignoring the multiple pages you receive from your friends and him. You turn off your pager and take off your white coat, Edenbrook’s logo etched on it and hand it over to Zaid.

“I thought I’d never say this but, I’m going to miss you Valentine.”

“You know what Zaid? Me too, after all who else is going to annoy me in the mornings!”

“God, I’m going to miss you so much!”, Ines wraps you up in a hug. “Have you told your friends anything?”

You shake your head. “I can’t right now. I might fly back and visit in a week or two Probably with lots of presents cause they’ll all hate me.”

She gives you a knowing look. “You know that he didn’t really mean it.”

“I know. But I can’t go on like this.” She nods. You wave one last time before you head out back to your car. You put on your sunglasses as you unlock your car. You’re about to start the engine when you realise your backpack’s still in the office.

“Crap!” You know you’ll have to get it yourself. You head back in, and take the back way to the elevator. Luckily, it’s empty. You get in and press the button for the 9th floor. The elevator slowly descends up, 3rd…...4th…...5th..”-

The elevator dings, it’s doors opening to reveal…

“Dr. Valentine.” You can see the relief in his eyes, his chest lightly heaving.

“He’s been looking for you.” The realisation dawns on you as he enters the elevator.

Suddenly, the elevator jerks slightly. You lightly stumble as there’s no bar to hold for support. You spot the bar near him and decide to stay as far as possible.

Suddenly he presses the emergency button, the elevator stops in its tracks.

“What did you do that for?!” He ignores you. You ask again.

“One argument. One argument and you quit.”

“It wasn’t one argument! You literally blamed everything on me when I was trying to help!”

“So you sign these?!” He waves your resignation papers in front of you.

“You can’t expect me to keep doing this!”

“Doing what?! I never asked you to do anything!” You take a deep breath.

“I can’t do this anymore. Seeing you every day, us acting like nothing more than colleagues, maybe friends. Acting like absolutely nothing happened between us, it hurts, Ethan. It hurts every day, every hour every minute of my damn life!.”, you blurt out. His eyes soften as he hears your words.

“Arielle, I know and I’ve told”-

“Screw my job, screw your damn ethics and morals, screw everything damn it! I’m head over heels in love with you, Ethan Jonah Ramsey, and you can’t expect me to keep quiet!” His eyes widen as he realise the extent of your words. Tears start to roll down your cheeks.

“Do you know how hard it was for me, when you left? I found out from one of the nurses, for God’s sake!”

“I couldn’t bring myself to tell you”-

“And when you came back, after two whole months you address us as something that was in the past, something that already was finished. Was it all that meant to you?”

“I- you know that’s not true”-

“I just can’t do it anymore, Ethan. I don’t know what you’ve heard but I’m leaving Boston in a few hours. I only came back for my bag, nothing else.”

“Wait, we can”-

“I can’t, Ethan, I can’t. I feel like I’m a rope in a game of tug-of-war. You acting hot then cold.You being there right beside me, but not being able to kiss you...I can’t stand it.” You can see his eyes slowly tearing up.

Not being able to look at him, you turn around and press the emergency button, the elevator descends up again. He slams the button again, the elevator stops in its tracks. “Well you can’t expect me to let you leave just like that!”

“I don’t. Which is why I’ve told everyone I’m going to New York.”, you respond as you punch the button again, the lift slowly going up.

“I don’t care where you go, Arielle Cerise Valentine. I will find you, even if it means travelling to the ends of the damn earth.”, he responds as he presses the button again, the lift halts to a stop. His sentence tugs right at your heartstrings, breaking your heart even more.

“Ethan, please don’t. I’m begging you, it hurts. Let me go, you have to let me go.”

“I can’t. How could I?”

“...then I’ll do it for you.” You press the button for the last time, the elevator finally arriving at the ninth floor. You slowly take a step towards the office.

Ethan pulls you back to his arms, his lips meeting yours in a heady kiss. You don’t have the strength to pull away, but you know you have to. You break the kiss as the elevator door starts to open.

“I’m sorry…”

Ethan’s PoV:-

You don’t know what to do, your heart beating irrationally. “Arielle, wait!” She doesn’t look back. In a last attempt, you press the button to close the doors. They close as you sigh in relief. She looks at you, this time really looks at you. Her beautiful violet irises meeting yours. You press the emergency button one last time, never taking your eyes off of her.

“You can’t leave me, I know I’m being selfish but please don’t.” She takes one last look at you, then turns away.

In crushing defeat, you take your hand off the button, the doors start to open as she slowly walks to them. You try to memorise every inch of her, who knows when he’ll see her again. She’s about to step out when suddenly the elevator jerks quite violently.

She’s thrown back into the right wall as your shoulder forcefully collides with another wall. You’re about to help her when a second later, the elevator drops. You hold on to the metal bar for dear life as the elevator rapidly descends down several feet.

Remembering you’re not alone in the midst of the chaos as you hear screams, you see Arielle’s petite body hit the top of the elevator and drop down with a terrifying thud. You watch in horror, cursing as you’re not able to do anything.

“No!!!”

The elevator finally stops after what seems like an eternity. We rush towards Arielle, trying not to focus on the bright blood stains on her white top and hair.

“Arielle? Arielle?! Can you hear me?! Please, wake up damn it!”

Her eyelashes lightly flutter. You quickly take her in your arms.

“Mmm… i-it hu-hurts E-Ethan.” Your eyes well up once again as she struggles to speak, pain completely unbearable, for you mentally and for her physically.

“Shhhh….I know. Can you tell me where it hurts?” She tries to speak but winces in pain.

“Okay, I’m going to examine you slowly and I want you to blink once if it hurts.” She nods very slowly. Suddenly, you hear a tune. You realise it’s your phone.

“Just one second, Rookie. It’s probably Naveen or Harper.” You slowly prop her up against the wall and answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank god, Ethan! We were so worried. How many people are inside? Is anyone hurt?”, Harper asks.

“No, it was just me and Ari”- You’re interrupted by a soft thud. You whip around to see Arielle lying unconscious on the floor. You drop to your knees.

“Rookie!”

“Ethan?! What happened?!” You can hear Harper yelling but you ignore it, all your attention on her.

“Rookie! Arielle, wake up!!”

This time her eyes stayed shut.

************************************************

Author’s Note:- Okay, first of all I commend you if there isn’t even a single tear rolling across your face. I know I cried while writing this which is why if you see any mistakes, ignore them cause this wasn’t even edited once. But on a bit of a more of a happier note, I’m writing/brainstorming a part 2 to this so...

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

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OkCryptid: Pevik Pikecarver (Goblin) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Goblin/Female Human Additional Tags: Exophilia, OkCryptid, Dating App, Goblin Content Warning: Adoption, Sex Words: 3159

A sweet commission for @mxnsterbabe! A woman uses the "Blind Date" function on the OkCryptid app, and is surprised by who she's matched up with. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

OkCryptid was becoming the most popular dating app on the market. It was free, easy to use, and had rave reviews from it’s users. There were no end to the happy couples, or poly relationships, that sang it’s praises. You’d never used an app to date before, but your recent disastrous attempts at dating had caused you to consider it.

You weren’t even sure what you wanted, honestly. You scrolled through the profiles with no real interest. You must have swiped through a hundred profiles before a graphic popped that said: “Can decide? Try the Blind Date Option! Click Here to Try!”

Why not, you thought? You clicked it, and it took you to a form page to put in days and times you’d be available for a date. After filling it out and clicking “Next”, it took you to another page that asked which locations you were willing to go to for this date. You picked out a couple of cafes and restaurants you liked, and clicked “Match Me.”

There was a loading wheel, then a message that said, “At the moment, there are no matches that have selected any of the times and locations you provided. We will send you a message with a date and time as soon as a match is available!”

Well, that figured. You closed the app and put your phone in your pocket, turning your attentions to other things.

It wasn’t until three days later that you got a notification, which you ignored at first since you were at work. It wasn’t until you got into your car and took a moment to check your email that you saw it.

“A date has been made for the 23rd, 6 PM, at the Rosemary Gardens restaurant. To accept, click ‘Date’. To decline, click ‘Pass’.”

There was no other information. After a moment of deliberating, you clicked “Date.” It was followed by a message that said, “Congratulations! Pevik will meet you at the Rosemary Gardens Restaurant on the 23rd at 6 PM!”

Pevik? That was an unusual name. You had no idea what to expect. You had to resist an overwhelming urge to Google the name and see what came up, or at least search OkCryptid for people with that name. The whole point of a blind date was to go in blind. Peeking was against the rules.

The 23rd was only four days away. You could wait. Maybe.

The day of your date with Pevik arrived and you had to admit you were a bit nervous. The not-knowing aspect of a blind date was always a little nerve-wracking. Should you be casual? Dressy? What if they were allergic to your cat and they had a reaction to the fur on your clothes? What if they went into anaphylaxis and died? Could you forgive yourself or your cat for killing someone?!

Okay, that probably wouldn’t happen…

But it could…Where was your epipen…?

Rosemary Gardens was a trendy place that required more presentation than jeans and a t-shirt, so you wore a simple sundress and cardigan, easy and cute. Light makeup, a bobby-pin or two, just to keep fly-aways out of your eyes. Nothing flashy or fancy, since you’d gone on disastrous dates before dressed to the nines and it had been a mistake, to the say the least. Red wine is virtually impossible to get out of silk chiffon.

You got there a little early, but when you told the hostess that you were going to be waiting for someone, she said, “Oh, are you here for Pevik?”

“Yes,” You said, surprised.

“He’s already here,” She said brightly. “Right this way.”

You followed the woman to a table across from the bar, and sitting there was a goblin. He had short black hair and long ears. His eyes were the typical yellow with slotted pupils and he had a cute little button nose. He had on black slacks and a blue button-up shirt on with shiny black shoes.

You managed to hide the fact that you were a little disappointed. You typically preferred men who were taller than you, and this guy was only slightly taller than your waist, at your best guess.

He was clasping and unclasping his hands over and over, but stopped and perked up as you approached, a smile spreading across his face. You could see small bottom and top tusks just poking out from his lips.

“Are you my date today?” He asked.

“I am,” You said, sticking your hand out and introducing yourself.

“Pevik,” He said. “Pevik Pikecarver.”

“That’s a unique last name,” You said as you sat.

“It’s Orcish, actually,” He said shyly. “I was adopted as a baby by orc dads.”

“Oh!” You said. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He looked up at you through his surprisingly long lashes. “I’m not exactly what you were expecting, huh?”

You shrugged a little guiltily. “I guess not.”

“I know. You were expecting me to have blue eyes, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Poor guy. You imagined he got a lot of rejection but still had a good sense of humor.

“I get it if you’d like to end this early--” He started, but you interrupted him.

“No, no! I’ll admit, I had different… expectations, but you seem really cool. Let’s keep it going, if that’s okay?”

His smile widened and he nodded.

He was a social worker who insured elder care workers were qualified to do their jobs, in both retirement facilities and home care. He enjoyed his job because it reminded him of his dads, who had adopted him very late in their lives. You were sad to learn they had both died recently, making him feel very lonely. Usually he spent most of his time at work and with his two cats, Jenga and Fifi, who he inherited from his dads.

He asked you about yourself, eager to learn about your life and hobbies. The two of you had a lot of things in common, including tastes in music and movies, although he thought the depictions of goblins in fantasy films was super racist. You had to agree.

By the end of the date, the two of you had been talking for hours and the restaurant was about to close.

“I didn’t realize how much time had passed,” He said, staring at his watch. “I should go, I’ve got a lot of paperwork at home that needs doing, but I had a great time.” He seemed to want to say more, but was hesitant.

“Me too,” You said. “Do you want to do this again sometime?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” He said, brightening. “Anytime you want! Just let me know when you’re free.”

You laughed again. “”Don’t sound so eager! Let me give you my number.” You held out your hand and he handed you his phone. You put your number in it and texted yourself. “There. I’ll text you soon, okay?”

“I look forward to it,” He said, walking you to your car. “Take care, okay?”

“I will,” You said, wishing him a goodnight.

You texted him when you got home, letting him know you’d made it safe. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to do so, but it felt nice. He responded he had gotten home as well and wished you a good night’s sleep. You went to bed feeling a little giddy.

You woke up to a good morning text from him the next day and smiled all through your morning routine for work. You didn’t expect this…reaction…from one date. Pevik was admittedly not your usual type, but there was just something about him that made you… feel good. There wasn’t an initial spark, sure, but after spending all that time talking with him had completely changed your perception. Maybe it was his unwavering attention or his sweet disposition or sense of humor. Whatever it was, you were looking forward to seeing him again.

Your next day off was Tuesday, and even though he was working ten hour days for the whole week, he still wanted to have dinner with you.

>Won’t you be tired? You asked him through text.

>Not if I’m with you, He texted back. >How could I be tired when I have you there to invigorate me?

>You’re so silly, You said, grinning at your phone.

>Hopefully in a good way, He replied. >My lunch break is over. I’ll see you tonight at seven. I can’t wait!

>Neither can I. Have a good day at work!

>I will.

He met you at a cafe that Tuesday still wearing his work badge on his button-up shirt.

“Sorry,” He said, taking it off and stuffing it in his pocket. “I came straight from work.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” You said. “We could have made the date a little later.”

“Nah, if I sat still, I’d have fallen asleep. Besides, I was excited to see you again and I didn’t want to wait.”

You could feel yourself blushing and tried to keep the smile off your face.

“I must seem like a weirdo,” He said, kicking his feet a little in embarrassment. “Being so happy to see you all the time, I mean. I know I should be kind of aloof and cool, but I can’t help it. I just feel like a puppy left alone for too long.”

“No, it’s really sweet,” You assured him. “Honestly, no one has ever showered me with so much attention before. It’s kind of nice. I expect guys to act aloof and disinterested at first, so it’s refreshing.”

He laughed self-consciously. “I’m glad. I’m always concerned that my enthusiasm is grating on people.” The two of you sat and ordered your coffee and treat from the waitress.

“I was thinking, actually,” You said slowly. “I hope this doesn’t seem forward, but I have the weekend off and was thinking of cooking for the first time in a while. Like, a full spread. I don’t often cook because it’s just me, but I’m pretty good at it. Would you like to have dinner at my house?”

He gulped but nodded. “Yes, that sounds lovely, thank you.”

“Well, don’t thank me yet. My cooking is either incredible or horrifying nightmares, and there is no in-between. No guarantees which one you’ll get.”

He laughed again. “Well, no one’s perfect.”

After coffee, he was walking you back to your car when you saw a bench.

“Hey, can you stand up on here for a sec?” You asked.

He hopped up effortlessly. “Sure, what for?”

You pinched his chin in your fingers and kissed him. He took your face in his hands and pulled you in closer, and you could feel his small tusks between his teeth. It was exciting.

That Friday, you were in your kitchen, stirring red sauce in a saucepan, when there was a knock on your apartment door. Your heart rose up in your chest and you went to open the door. Pevik stood there with a really beautiful bouquet flowers.

“Not to be cliche, but,” He said, grinning. “For you.”

“Thanks,” You said, taking them and sniffing. “Let me see if I have a vase.”

You did not have a vase, but you did find a liquor bottle with a wide neck and used that to decent effect.

“I was praying you weren’t allergic to any of those. I couldn’t ask without being obvious, so I also got this,” He pulled a bottle of Benadryl out of his pocket. You laughed out loud.

“Very thoughtful,” You said, taking it. “It reminds me of just before our first date and my wondering if you’d have an allergic reaction to my cat’s fur and if I should bring my epipen.”

He laughed with you. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” He hopped up on one of the stools at the bar in your kitchen.

“Stuffed bell peppers with a spring greens salad,” You said.

“That sounds amazing,” He said. “I eat way too much take out, but I never have time to cook.”

“Well, maybe I can cook for you more often. We could even cook together.”

He smiled. “I love that idea.”

You pointed to a stepstool you bought recently. “Want to help me stuff my pepper?”

He snorted and struggled to keep a straight face. “Sure.” He grabbed the stool and stood up next to you, taking one of the knives from the block and cleaning out the peppers. On the stool he was only slightly shorter than you, perfect height to lean in for a sneaky kiss on the cheek, so you did.

He jumped but gave you a startled smile, returning the kiss. The two of you worked together to finish dinner, stealing kisses as you did. When his hands weren’t occupied, he lay one of them on the small of your back, stroking up and down your spine a little. It made you bite your lip and squeeze your legs together.

The tension between the two of you was getting thicker by the minute, and by the time you both had sat down to eat, you were throbbing between your legs and shooting him sultry looks. You ate in relative silence because you didn’t trust yourself to talk, but your unshod foot found it’s way up his leg and between his thighs.

Halfway through dinner, he couldn’t take it anymore and threw down his silverware, standing and coming around the table to kiss you roughly. You pulled him into your lap and began unbuttoning his shirt as his lips made their way to your neck and collarbone, palming your breasts through the fabric of your blouse.

“Bedroom?” You asked breathlessly.

“Oh, gods, please,” He wheezed back, and you lifted him, carrying him to your room. He was heavier than he looked, but he was still light enough to carry a short distance. The both of you fell heavily on the bed with you on top of him. He pulled your blouse off just as you unbuttoned the last button and tugged the hem of his shirt out of his pants. He rolled you, straddling your legs as he undid your pants and helped you get them off.

Undressing each other took no time at all, and you lay back on your pillow as he kissed his way down your stomach. The pressure of his tusks pressed against your skin was like small charges, electrifying your body. His hands massaged your thighs and opened you up as he got lower, his long nails poking you slightly as he went.

“You’re okay with this, right?” He asked softly, his thumbs rubbing circles so very close to your swollen entrance. “I’m not moving to fast, am I?”

“If you’re moving too fast, I am, too,” You said. “It’s okay. Trust me, I’m perfectly happy with how things are going right now.”

He chuckled. “Just checking,” He replied before lowering himself down. His tongue licked one long strip from bottom to top before the pointed tip of it circled your clit, flicking it once or twice to make you whimper. Then he licked his thumb and used it to rub your bud up and down while he pushed his tongue inside you, moaning against the skin, contracting it against that sweet spot. You cried out and gripped his hair, rocking your hips back and forth.

Your breasts shuddered with every quivering breath that escaped your lips as he took his time pleasuring you. He was a little rusty, but he was more than happy to take direction, and your mind blanked as a rush of ecstasy washed through your body. You were completely unable to control the sounds that came out of you.

You lay on your pillow looking down at him as he got up on his knees, pushed your legs back, and lined himself up with your body, slowly pushing his cock inside, groaning and shutting his eyes.

“Oh, gods,” He whispered. “That’s so good. You feel incredible.”

“I could say the same to you,” You replied breathlessly. He wasn’t long, but definitely girthy and stretched you open pretty wide without being uncomfortable.

He opened his eyes and looked right at you, as if confirming that you wanted this. You bit your lip and fluttered your lashes a bit in a way you hoped looked appealing. He smiled and began to thrust, bending to kiss your belly and breasts. He gripped your hips hard and slapped his body against yours pretty hard with each thrust. It was exhilarating and you pressed your ankles into his buttocks to drive him faster.

He definitely took the hint, and your bedframe was smacking the wall with the intensity of his movements. Time completely blurred and it was as if the two of you were in a bubble in which nothing could enter in or leave until you both were sated. You couldn’t remember if any words were said from that moment on, whether by you or him, and fell into the fog of the best sex of your entire life.

You weren’t sure if you fell asleep or passed out, but there was definitely a moment were you simply weren’t conscious anymore. When you came back to the living world, a soft morning light was filtering in through the curtains of your windows. Pevik was asleep against you, his head on your shoulder and an arm around your waist. He looked adorable sleeping. You had thought to extricate yourself to start breakfast, but you woke him.

“Good morning,” You said as he began to blink blearily.

“It is a most excellent morning,” He said, smiling his toothy smile. “Last night was… beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. I think you’ve spoiled me for any other woman.”

“Well, hopefully, you won’t be needing another one,” You said. “In fact…” You grabbed your phone from your bedside table and clicked open the app.

“What are you doing?”

“Uninstalling it,” You said. “I’ve got you now. I don’t need it anymore.”

His grin widened. “You know what? You’re right.” He retrieved his phone from his pants pocket and uninstalled the app as well. “It served it’s purpose. No point in wasting the memory space.”

You lay back down on the bed with him propped up on one arm, looking down at you.

“I’m glad you decided to give me a chance,” He said to you, kissing your shoulder.

“I’m glad I tried that blind date thing,” You replied. “It’s hard to believe that if I had clicked a different button, we may never have met.”

“Life is funny that way,” He said.

You smiled softly at him and gave him a sweet kiss. “Right now, life is telling me we need waffles.”

“It’s important to listen to messages when we receive them,” He said magnanimously, then chased you into the kitchen, tickling you as you went.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #OkCryptid #Goblin #Dating App #Monster Boyfriend #Pevik #Mxnsterbabe

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nerdzzone · 4 years ago

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Two Burning Hearts: Chapter Five

Summary: After meeting during a time when the world was in total lockdown, Brooke Harris and Henry Cavill are facing the next challenge to their relationship: transitioning back to normal life. Will they be able to cope with the changes they’re facing or will they fall apart once they leave the idyllic peace of isolation that they had in Jersey?

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

______________

August. 8. 2020

For the most part, our quarantine was going amazingly well. There was some concern going into it that since we hadn't been together for very long, two weeks of uninterrupted quality time together would be way too much too soon, but for the most part it seemed to be the opposite. It was almost like a little honeymoon for us. We settled into our own little rhythm and I was quite enjoying the domesticity.

We had small disagreements here and there, but we hadn't argued anywhere near as much as I had imagined that we would. But that all seemed to change just four days before the end of our quarantine, on the Saturday before Henry went back to work.

Henry had been up late playing a video game online with his brother in Canada and while I went to bed at a reasonable time, he woke me up when he finally crawled into bed at almost three in the morning. After that, I couldn't fall asleep again so I kept us both up for about an hour and a half as I tossed and turned until I finally gave up and got out of bed. Henry probably fell asleep quite quickly once my movements stopped disturbing him, but he didn't sleep for long either as he stumbled downstairs looking bleary eyed around eight o'clock.

Both of us were tired and quiet and even though nothing had happened there was a slight tension in the air as we both went about our mornings, feeling grumpy from the sleep deprivation. I knew that I was feeling irritable so I did my best to try and soothe myself and stop feeling so wound up, but I just couldn’t shake it and it all boiled over as I was trying to clean up after lunch.

I opened the dishwasher and, despite it being just as much my responsibility as it was Henry's, I was irritated from the start to see that it was full and clean, but hadn't been emptied. I put my plate on the counter and, rather crossly, started taking things out, but as soon as I went for the cutlery, I was stabbed by a rather sharp knife that had been put in with the handle towards the bottom and the dangerous part towards the top.

"Fuck!" I cursed, pulling my hand back and inspecting it for damage, feeling my annoyance emboldened by the pain I was feeling. "Henry, I've told you about this so many times!"

The flash of sympathy on his face at my initial yelp of pain quickly shifted into irritation.

"Told me about what?"

"Putting the cutlery in the dishwasher the wrong way!" I explained. "You left a knife sticking right up and now I've cut myself!"

I grabbed a paper towel to cover the cut and stop the blood from getting anywhere. It wasn't a deep wound, but I didn't want to make a mess and I felt it had more of a guilt-inducing dramatic effect.

"You don't need to speak to me like that," Henry scolded, picking up his own dirty lunch dishes before coming around the island counter to where I was standing. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt, did I?"

"Maybe not, but you clearly didn't care that much about preventing it since I've asked you almost every day to be careful how you load the dishwasher."

Henry shrugged as he put his plates next to mine on the counter.

"I just didn't think it mattered that much..."

"Well, it didn't. Until I got stabbed."

My tone was harsh and bratty, but it came out before I could stop it and I was so cranky that I really didn't care. I was clearly testing Henry's patience though as he sighed, a scowl on his face.

"I would hardly say that you’ve been stabbed," He argued. "I'm sorry that you’re hurt, but maybe it has less to do with how I load the dishwasher and more to do with your own carelessness."

Now it was my turn to scowl as I shot him a dirty look and wordlessly turned my attention back to the task I was doing. I fully intended to silently sulk as I worked, but as I pulled out a dish that was still filthy because of how it had been shoved in behind another plate, I lost my temper again.

"See, Henry, this is ridiculous!" I complained. "You just throw everything in however you want and nothing actually gets clean. You have to leave space between the plates or they stick together and the water can't get through."

"I didn't do it on purpose," Henry protested as I roughly put the dirty plate in the sink and went back to unloading. "No one will die if we have to wash one dish again, I don't know why you're being so horrible about this."

"I'm not being horrible! I'm frustrated that I've told you about this a thousand times and you won't listen," I insisted. "But maybe my patience for your irritating habits would be higher today if you hadn't woken me up so bloody early this morning!"

"Oh, so that's what this is about," Henry groaned. "You're mad that I was up so late playing video games with my brother."

I stopped my unloading again and spun to face him.

"That is not what I said," I told him firmly. "I don't care that you were up late and I certainly don't care that it was because you were playing video games with your brother. I don't even care that you woke me up, but since you did and I only had about four hours sleep because of it, that might explain my lack of patience with you now!"

"You definitely cared," Henry insisted with a roll of his eyes. "You huffed and tossed yourself around for ages before you finally stormed off."

"I was tossing and turning just because I couldn't sleep," I argued. "And I didn't storm off, I got out of bed because I knew I was disturbing you and I was trying to be nice."

"You stormed off," Henry repeated bluntly. "Which is why I felt the need to get up so early despite not managing to fall asleep myself until a very unreasonable time."

"I didn't storm off," I insisted. "And I didn't ask you to get up before you were ready to. If you're so tired because of me then maybe you should take a nap since you're acting like a child."

Henry barked out a laugh despite the irritation written all over his face.

"I'm acting like a child? You just accused me of stabbing you because I loaded the dishwasher wrong!"

"I said that I got stabbed, not that you physically stabbed me," I clarified. "You're deliberately misunderstanding everything I say."

"It's not hard to misunderstand when the things you're saying are so ridiculous," Henry rolled his eyes. "Maybe you're the one who needs a nap since you're in such a foul mood."

"I'm not in a foul-" I felt a flash of anger as I snapped at him, but stopped myself as I realized this argument wasn't getting anywhere. "Okay, whatever. I will go take a nap."

My plan was to just step back from the situation and get some space from Henry until we could both calm down, but clearly we weren't on the same page.

"Okay," Henry shrugged. "I'll join you."

I glared at him for a moment before I spoke again.

"I'll nap on the couch then."

"Seriously?" He asked, but when I held my glare, he sighed. "I'll take the couch then if you're going to be like that."

"No, Henry, you're three times the size of me," I pointed out. "You won't be comfortable on the couch."

"Then we can share the bed."

"No," I insisted. "I'll take the couch."

Henry rolled his eyes and turned to walk out of the room. My shoulders fell with relief as I assumed that he was letting the argument drop, but as I followed him out of the kitchen I saw him grabbing himself a blanket as he headed towards the couch.

"Henry, seriously. You are not napping on that couch."

"I disturbed your sleep last night," Henry reminded me. "I'm not going to ruin your nap as well."

"Well, apparently I disturbed your sleep too so maybe I don't want to ruin your nap now either."

He ignored me as he lifted the blanket in the air and went to drape it over the couch, but in my frustration, I grabbed the end of it before it could fall. I tugged it roughly and Henry's surprise was written all over his face when it slipped from his grasp.

"Just go upstairs if you want to nap," I demanded, tucking the blanket under my arm.

Henry was feeling just as feisty as I was though and he shook his head as he reached out and grabbed the corner that was hanging down. He tugged on it just like I had, but I was prepared and managed to hold on before it could slide away completely.

"Why are you being so difficult?" Henry growled through clenched teeth. "Let go of the blanket."

"No," I snapped back. "You let go."

We stood there like children, jerking the blanket back and forth, but realistically, I was no match for Henry. After a few minutes of pulling and bickering, he lost his patience and pulled on the blanket with much more strength than he’d been using so far. My grip on the blanket was tight though so instead of it flying out of my hands like he had intended, my entire body went with it as I crashed against him with a yelp.

"Shit," Henry mumbled as he caught me in his arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"I know, it's okay," I assured him as I found my footing again.

All of a sudden, as I looked up at him, with the blanket dropped around our feet, the ridiculousness of the entire situation hit me and a giggle slipped from my lips. I quickly covered my mouth, not wanting to irritate Henry even more by laughing if he was still angry, but I noticed his lips twitch into a smile as well. Moments later our laughter bubbled over as I rested my head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me.

"That was the silliest argument we've ever had," I giggled as we fought to get ourselves under control. "I'm sorry I was being so harsh on you."

"I'm sorry that I was as well," Henry chuckled. "And I'm sorry that I never take the time to load the dishwasher carefully. Is your hand okay?"

I looked down at the wound that started this whole mess to see that there was barely even a scratch to show for it.

"It's fine," I admitted. "It hardly even hurt, it surprised me more than anything. I shouldn't have made such a big deal about it."

"And I shouldn't leave knives sticking up in a way that could hurt someone."

I giggled again, picturing how insane we must have looked trying to pull a blanket out of each other's hands and shook my head at the image.

"I think I really do need a nap," I confessed. "Even though, I really didn't 'storm off' this morning when I got out of bed, I was just trying to be respectful because I knew I was disturbing you."

"I know," Henry groaned. "I don't know why I said that."

"And I don't know why I made it sound like you'd stabbed me. God, if anyone heard that they'd think we were insane."

"I think plenty of people have had arguments just like that over these last few months," Henry pointed out with a chuckle. "With everything going on in the world, being in such close quarters with someone for an extended period of time makes even the little things feel big sometimes."

"Well, it all feels ridiculous now."

"It does," He agreed with a smile. "But how about we have that nap, together in our comfortable bed, and forget this ever happened?"

"That sounds like a very good idea."

I smiled and stretched up to place a kiss on his lips before taking his hand in mine and leading him up the stairs to our bedroom.

Tag List: @heartfelt-pen @stephartrave @herefortherealdeal @imaginecrushes @justaboringadult @ speakerforthedead0 @summersong69 @bichibibi @healojane

Let me know if you’d like to be added!

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #two burning hearts

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bates--boy · 3 years ago

Text

The notifications had slowed down. The well of notifications had started to dry; instead of drowning in tags and mentions and new comments, only a handful of new ones popped up onto his phone screen per day. It was too bad that Peter had been feeling off lately, and couldn’t enjoy the relief that came from his rant becoming obscure as he swiped the alerts away. Maybe it was a little demoralizing to clear everything away one by one and finding, as far as he was aware, not a supportive message. Then, again, he had... how many days’ worth the alerts? Peter’s finger stopped just as a familiar name came up next

Naseem Tue 6:34 PM Don’t do this, Pete. Please take the pills.

Tuesday? That was yesterday, right? Peter checked the calendar.

...Four days ago. So, this has been going on for...

Peter squeezed his sore eyes shut as he tried to sort out the passing days. It was all melting together, flowing as one especially when the nights were coming sooner, but he was sure that the time was close. In a couple of days, Peter will hit them up, maybe invite them over, let them see that they were wrong, and talk it out so they could put this all behind them. In the meantime...

Peter set the phone facedown on his bed and flipped open to a fresh page of his lyrics notebook.

My soft mouth can make you hard When you flash that black credit card Let you lick coke off my feet And let you shake me in your sheets

Peter lifted his pen from the page so the ink wouldn’t bleed. He drummed the top of it on his blanket as the writing lapse set in. He needed to get at least the bare bones of a verse down before he made his trip to the library and return the books Mike recommended to him. But did he want to see Mike before the day of reckoning? He didn’t want Mike to mistake the late night attempts at writing with some sort of declination (and truthfully, Peter was certain that the sight of the other man would set his blood boiling instantaneously), so he would need to rewash his face and slather the makeup on, and get a lot of caffeine in him to wake him up.

Should he also bring his writing notebook with him? Not to show Mike what he’s been working on, because he knew that Mike didn’t really give a shit, but Peter knew that the best revenge was productivity, like take up a seat at the library and write until the pages were full of his lyrics. Mike will probably gossip with Ashira about how well Peter was doing, and Ashira would tell Naseem, and Naseem, forever his advocate, would help smooth things over with the others and Peter can return with as little hassle as possible. Then they could get back to songwriting and scheduling tours, and...

Peter picked his phone back up and opened his browser. Tapping on the saved URL of The MizFists’ website, Peter went to the tour list they had set up.

Right on top was a banner:

NEWS REGARDING PERFORMANCES

He nibbled his bottom lip and pressed the banner’s link. It annoyingly opened a new window to another page that Peter was not aware of: a news page separate from the updates for their merch and tickets.

From the Crew to You: We’re Sorry

We understand, as we try to be as close to our fans as possible, that this news may lead to disappointment, but it’s a decision we have to make for the good of one of our crew members: one of our own has become ill and it is imperative that he takes care of himself. This means that we have to hold off on collective shows. Solo acts will still go on, but collective shows aren’t the same when one of our family is down for the count. Tickets will be refunded or fully valid for possible later dates. We thank you for understanding.

And we wish Attrossity a full recovery so he may come home.

It was a PR stunt. Peter knew it was a dumb and weak PR stunt, because no one who had been following this would believe that his tirade -- no, self-defense against that writer came from some sickness. Bruised pride? Maybe, and that was all.

It would have been easier to believe if the photos hadn’t loaded in that moment.

A picture of Pakiza and Mike holding crayon-scrawled signs: Get well soon! With their knuckles, adorned with hearts drawn with black and red markers, raised to the camera.

Adel and Tarsha placing cards under his windshield wipers-- probably worn by the weather by now because they surely must have known that Peter rarely drove his car.

An older photo of Naseem and Peter, sitting across from each other with notebooks open and hands raised in mid animated conversation.

It was a weird PR stunt, but it worked, because Peter laid his phone back on the bed and stared at it, feeling so stupid.

#The MizFists #long post #life thus far ( story )#droid noodles ( writing )

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flyingsliceofpiart · 4 years ago

Text

Ames' Transfer

In the Prime kindergarten, a few of the Amethysts are wrestling, others sitting in their emergence holes.

“Attention!” came a curt call.

Their moss agate stood at the end of the wall of their clearing, arms crossed behind her back.

The amethysts jumped to their feet, some dropping down from their holes, and lined up along the canyon wall, forming the diamond salute.

“Enough”

They all lowered their arms to their sides. Moss Agate walked down their lineup, stopping in front of Ames, pulling an envelope out from behind her back.

“Amethyst Facet 6 cut S?”

Ames’ arms shot up into the diamond salute again, “Yes Ma’am!”

“Congratulations, you are no longer my charge.” Said Moss.

“You have gotten a one-way ticket out of this canyon, orders from high up, you now work for a hessonite a few settlements away, they want a redistribution of soldiers, don’t know why they are only taking one.” “Your instructions are in the envelope, there is a cargo transport that you are scheduled to depart on, landing pad 2- top of the hour, read once en route.” Moss continued, jabbing the rigid envelope into Ames' chest.

Ames’ eyes widened and she took the parcel, “oh, uh- yes ma’am!”

“You are dismissed, get over to the launch pad.”

Ames slipped the small envelope under the shoulder strap of her uniform and began jogging away toward the launch pad.

. . .

When Ames arrived, she saw a single Nephrite overseeing the loading of some cargo, directing where it was being stored in the ship. It was a bit odd, usually a flight crew was made up of 2 or 3.

“You must be the amethyst being re-assigned, right? I’ve been filled in on your transfer – go ahead and climb aboard, I’ll be starting the engines once I check off and sign the fuel reports.” Said the Nephrite.

Ames climbed into the crew cabin and sat down on a jump seat. A few minutes later, the Nephrite entered, closing the hatch behind her and walked over to the control panel. Outside the ship, Ames could hear the engines begin spinning up. The Nephrite spoke over the communicator, receiving clearance for departure. Shortly, Ames could feel the ship shift beneath her as they left the ground. Over the intercom, she could hear that their flight-path would take them out over the ocean at low altitude.

“You should probably open up that packet” Said Nephrite, still looking out the front window.

Ames sat up upon being addressed, “Huh? Oh -that’s right!”

Pulling the envelope out from under her shoulder-strap, Ames snapped the rigid sealed envelope, pulling the two halves apart revealed a parchment instruction packet, which she slid out of the remaining half of the envelope. Turning the note over, Ames saw an iridescent clam embossed into the note. Ames unfolded the page and began reading.

__________

Amethyst 6xS,

Your Agate was informed about a transfer to a Hessonite, that was a cover story to justify your departure.

Your will be acting independently as a guard to a new oysterbed that has been initiated on this colony, charged with the well-being of the caretaker and any pearls that form First – and the protection of the facility second.

Due to recent disturbances within the colony, extra precautions have been taken to keep the location of this oysterbed a secret. Even these instructions do not contain the location of your new assignment, in the case they were intercepted.

Your escorting pilot knows the specifics of your insertion point, they are on loan from a separate fleet and will be transferred back following your deployment.

The facility is already in place and the caretaker of the oysterbed will meet you when you arrive.

__________

Ames looked up toward the pilot, who was looking over the navigation sensors.

“There’s 8 minutes to the drop site- to avoid suspicion you will be dropped at speed, so the flightpath doesn’t deviate from expection. One in the ocean, head West until you find a structure, should be less than a click”

Ames looked around and saw a row of visors by the exit hatch and reached for a pair.

“Don’t bother – your form should be fine dropping into the water at speed, but the visor will probably shatter in you face from the impact.” Explained the Nephrite, looking over her shoulder.

Settling back down into her seat, Ames tucked the note under her shoulder strap, deeper this time in anticipation of the plunge.

. . .

“One minute to dropzone – get by the door, opens in 30, when I signal, jump and keep your feet together when you hit the water.” Nephrite called, looking between the navigation console and Ames.

With a hiss, the cabin door opened, wind rushing around the frame. Ames held onto the frame of the door as she took one step out onto the stairs built onto the door, her hair blown back by the roaring wind. Ames looked out to see the sun getting low on the horizon, getting her bearings, then turned to see Nephrite holding up her hand, raise it a little, then wave it down.

Ames took another step and fell away from the ship, crossing her arms over her chest, holding her heels together, her hair fluttering up behind her fall, helping to stabilize the fall slightly. Ames watched the ship continued over the water for a moment before squeezing her eyes shut and scrunching her nose just before hitting the surface.

Her body shot down through the water, leaving a stream of bubbles. She slowed down but kept drifting to the bottom. The fall had disoriented her a bit, but by looking at the low angle light streaking through the surface she was able to determine which direction she needed to go, then started walking off across the ocean floor.

After a few minutes of hiking, Ames crested a rocky ridge, maneuvering around bladed of kelp and stones – she saw a notably gem-built structure – a moderately sized shelter section with a glass sided walkway which led out towards parallel rows of large oysters. Standing amongst the clams, Ames could see a green gem who appeared to be writing on a pad. Satisfied she had found her destination, she began down the ridge toward the structure, and the green gem beside it.

As Ames approached the structure, the green gem looked up from her work amongst the oysters and noticed her. The gem stood up straighter and started waving at Ames, then walked over to the end of the glass walkway, by a door, and waited while Ames finished approaching. Once they were together, the gem activated the door, letting them into a compartment that sealed off behind them and began draining the water. The noise of the draining was enough that Ames kept quiet, as did the green gem beside her, who about came up to Ames’ chest in height. Once the water was gone, a blast of warm air came from above and to the side of the gems, then the second door opened to the glass walkway. The green gem took a few steps forward into the glassy hall then turned.

“Welcome to the Pink Diamond colony oysterbed! I’m Green Opal – the caretaker of this new facility!”

Ames began following Opal down the hall, “I’m Amethyst, 6xS, I have been reassigned here-“

“Yes! I was expecting you! Well, I didn’t know it would be you- but was expecting someone, was told a quartz was being sent.” Opal replied, walking slightly sideways, smiling and looking at Ames while leading her down the hall.

The door to the shelter opened up and they walked out of the glass hall.

“Shower’s by the door, helps with the salt – lower level is mostly work oriented, there are some more private quarters on the second level, lift’s in the far corner, also have a deactivated warp pad for emergencies.” Opal said, tossing her gloves on a shelf then shook her head and combed her fingers through her hair.

Ames looked around and made note of the layout, the lower level was relatively open with some areas enclosed behind doors. She could see back to the warp pad and levitation lift on the far side, a communications station across from them through an open door. There were enough windows to see about outside the shelter, with enough doors to close off the computer and communication station. Overall, not a particularly secured structure, though there was not much of value, most of the importance of the location were those giant clams, the structure just living quarters, equipment, and storage. The external vulnerability was likely why Ames’ arrival was so secretive, with minimal defensive capabilities, secrecy was the primary form of security.

“Let’s head over to the computer,” said Opal, “We’ll get you up to speed on how the facility is run.”

‘It seems like it’ll be a nice change of pace from the boisterous kindergarden’ thought Ames, proceeding to follow Opal to the console.

#su ocs #su fanfic #fanfic #writing #ames #amethyst guard #green opal #su #steven universe #long post #solid 1.5k lol - too daunting to do a comic so have some writing #ending is a bit abrupt bc i don't know how i'd actually wrap it up - otherwise id probably go through a whole facility tour and try to end

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