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icallhimjoey · 2 years

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I call him Joey, just to feel something

so there we go.

Joe Quinn fanfiction The Full Collection (updated 2 December 2022)

Like a Poem – slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort part one - part two - part three - part four - part five Summary: Joe finds solace in a quaint bookstore, your bookstore, from a hectic situation in the streets. But, you’re closed. But then also, it’s Joseph Quinn.

A Lot Like Love – slow burn, fluff part one - part two - part three - part four - part five Summary: A continuation of Like A Poem. You lull in between definitions of relationship: bookstore owner and customer? actor and fan? friends? even lovers?

Today He Loved You Extra – fluff, hurt/comfort part one - part two Summary: You are an Independent Woman™ but overestimate yourself. You hurt yourself because although very strong, you’re also a dumb bitch and Joe takes care of you.

Caught Red Handed - 18+ smut, fluff Summary: You are a chronically-online girlfriend to a boyfriend who very much isn’t. You introduce Joe to an online world that surrounds him, and he hates it. A lot.

Moving Up – angsty, fluff part one - part two Summary: Joe's had enough of living with a flatmate but doesn't leap at the chance to move in with you when you ask. What a dick. It makes you spiral into doom-thoughts until you puzzle together what's actually going on.

Going Off Script – kinda smutty a little Summary: You’re riddled with anxiety ahead of your spicy scene with Joe, but you’re both professional actors and work it out together.

We Kissed – fluff Summary: You confront Joe about secret feelings he’s had for you. For years. Without telling you about it. The absolute nerve of this man.

Perfect – angst Summary: Unable to escape harsh online comments after your boyfriend's newfound large-scale fame, Joe is shocked when he finds out how much they really affect you.

Cold Feet – fluff Summary: You are cold and Joe's body is a furnace. One plus one equals two, baby!

Great Break – angst, fluff Summary: You’re a single mother of a fussy child and in desperate need of a break. Then there’s dream angel boyfriend Joey, giving you one. Baby Hazel pt 1

Sunday Morning - fluff Summary: You’re a single mother who got a full night’s sleep, which is glorious, and in the morning you get to snuggle with Joe and your daughter. Baby Hazel pt 2

Right Here - fluff Summary: You catch your daughter calling your boyfriend ‘dada’ and you are not okay. Not helping is how terrifyingly calm and collected Joe responds to it. Baby Hazel pt 3

Everything’s Right - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: Hazel isn’t feeling well, but can’t communicate what’s wrong. It’s awful, but Joey knows how to fix it. Baby Hazel pt 4

My Bully Boyfriend - fluff Summary: Joe finds your first grey hair. It's traumatizing and then Joe has the audacity to poke fun because he's a bully boyfriend (said with love).

His Neck - smutty? turned me on at least, idk Summary: Joe has a neck. And hands. That's literally the story. I wish I could come up with a longer summary, but I'm just presenting the facts to you. Enjoy!

And he wasn’t there – big angst Summary: Joe’s off for auditions across the pond for a few weeks, which is just dandy. You pretend you’re absolutely fine when cramps released from hell invade your body (big tw: miscarriage).

Actually Pregnant – fluff Summary: You've decided to try for a baby, and Joe has no idea what he's doing, but it's very cute.

Let’s Have This Baby - fluff Summary: You’re days overdue when contractions wake you in the night. Joe get’s to practice his dad-skills on you as you try to pretend you’re not in active labour because, obviously, labour’s very scary.

Hormones - fluff Summary: You're on your period again, a month after you had the last one. What a shocker. Joe knows just what to do to take care of you because he's a good boyfriend.

Homesick - fluff Summary: Joe's far away from home, far away from you, and he knows just the thing to make him feel better.

Shit, that was hot - fluff? (idk its sorta cute) Summary: Joe's been left in the dark about a certain scene partner in a pivotal moment in Stranger Things, only to be surprised by you. Joe Keery fucking loves it.

Warmth, Comfort, Darkness, Silence - hurt/comfort Summary: You’re not a fan of flying, and to make matters worse, Joe is fine with flying. Then, a migraine strikes you and Joe does everything in his power to help.

Last Ones Standing - angst, fluff Summary: Joe’s fuming because you spent two and a half (two and a half!) (it’s a big deal, you'll see) talking to one of his friends at a party. It’s got good reason, but Joey’s mad mad.

Bonding - fluff Summary: There’s a four-day-old baby in the house and Joe loves her more than he loves you. And you’re in pain. And exhausted. Still, it’s adorable.

Surprise - fluff Summary: Joe’s finally back from his grueling trip to LA and you decide to surprise him at the airport. Joe’s reaction is something you definitely weren’t expecting.

Flashed - fluff Summary: Joe is naked a lot - so are you, until you’re naked at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

Stay For Longer - fluff Summary: You’ve had an awful day at work so you just need to not exist for a little while. Your Joey joins you and you don’t exist together for longer.

Easier In Greece - fluff Summary: Joe’s in an interesting stage of life when he’s offered an equally interesting project. You whisk him off to Greece and spend eight days together on a boat with high expectations of which none turn out to be true.

Forty-seven Days - fluff Summary: You’ve not seen Joe for forty-seven days, and you think he’s coming back tomorrow but he lied and surprises you at your job a day early and he’s all hands and hips and mouth. Anne hates it.

The Last Piece - Christmas fluff Summary: It’s the day before Christmas and you’ve eaten all your advent calendar chocolates weeks ago, because fuck the system. Joe hadn’t though, and with just one piece left in his calendar, you can’t really help yourself, can you?

Only Temporary - slow burn, fluff part one - part two - part three - part four - part five Summary: Joe needs a temporary living space, and you happen to have a spare room to let. One plus one equals two, baby.

Ground Rules - angst, fluff Summary: You accidentally fall pregnant. It’s Joe’s, but you’re not together and… so, now what? Together you figure out a construction that you have to keep convincing yourselves and everyone around you will actually work.

Soft Hands - fluff Summary: You come home from a night out at Halloween, absolutely plastered. Joe’s waited up for you and helps you into bed safely.

Meeting Eddie - fluff Summary: After learning of your flatmate’s break out role as Eddie Munson, you watch Stranger Things to see what all the fuss is about. Joe joins you for season 4 episode 1 and you suspect the worst.

Friends First - fluff Summary: Your friend catches you and Joe with sneaky hands under the table and tries to make sure nothing happens between the two of you. Again.

One Day - fluff Summary: You wake up before Joe’s alarm, and bask in the vision of him still asleep, buried into the pillows. You can’t help put your pencil to paper to make the image last forever.

Saturn’s Eyes - fluff Summary: On your first date with Joe, he suddenly has an idea. He needs to show you something back at his flat.

I’ve Got You - 18+ smut, fluff part one - part two - part three - part four - part five Summary: You and your flatmate have perfected the art of wingmanship for one another. It’s a great system that seems to work every single time, until you’re left unsatisfied.

A Whisper Away – fluff, hurt/comfort, angst part one - part two - part three - part four - part five Summary: A continuation of Like A Poem and A Lot Like Love where we dip into your November for a couple consecutive years and see how you’re getting on with the bookstore, Joe’s career and… other changes.

Sway With Me – fluff Summary: Joe wakes up in the night, and you’re not in bed with him and it hurts him physically because he’s a soft boy in love and it’d adorable.

Would You Still Love Me - fluff Summary: Joe finds himself cuddled up to you on the sofa, and it’s all sweet and soft, and then you ruin the moment by asking a very important question: would you still love me if I was a worm?

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joey quinn #masterlist #fanfiction #joe x reader #joseph x reader #stranger things 4

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warriorsofsplatsville · 1 year

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"Oh, wow! Look at all the dresses in this store! Hopefully they have some really nice ones here, yeah?"

Sandy and Cruesa enter the store, amazed by the wonderful world of fabric around them. It was unlike anything they've seen up until now- incredibly chic and high fashion.

Minu would be accompanying them, but she informed them that she already had a dress picked out and promptly ran away home.

"Oh? I heard the bell chime! Cus-to-mers~" A voice chirped from the back side of the store. Out emerged what appeared to be the owner of the store.

"Welcome to Temptation, darlings! Let me guess...from the look on your faces, you're going to attend a fancy party...no, a ball! You came to look for the perfect dresses, then?"

"Woah! How'd you know?!" Sandy gasped.

"Well, you don't end up here for just a little date or something. This, my dears, is where the magic happens." She giggled. "I'm Tempest. I run the Temptation line and stores, though recently I opened up this store here in Splatsville!"

"That's cool! Can we look around?"

"Of course, take your time~ Let me know of you need anything~"

Sandy and and Cruesa gazed at the shelves, racks, and mannequins that had dresses of all kinds: mermaid style, extra frilly, sleek velvet, anything you could want in a large selection.

"Oh, I kinda like this..." Cruesa whispered, tugging on a soft dress from the rack. It seemed to be knee-length.

"What an excellent choice!" Tempest chimed in from behind, catching the two by surprise.

"Oh, in fact..." Tempest spun around on her heel, fishing something from a folded pile behind them. "Try pairing it with this dress jacket. I feel like the colors would compliment your fins..."

"Huh....yes, they do look really cute..." Cruesa admired the pieced of fabric in her hands.

"I also have little accessories and jewels to adorn the outfit to REALLY put it together!"

"Wow! This is a luxury shop..." Sandy gulped. "This won't cost us an arm and leg, will it?"

"Hmm...how old are you girls? Teenagers? Perhaps prom age....I know how expensive clothes can get, trust me. I suppose I can offer a hefty discount if it's not within your initial budget!"

"Really?! Wow, thank you..."

The bell above the door jingled once more, and the three look over at the person entering the store.

Mirage.

Their eyes scan the store, finally landing on Cruesa and speeding over, stopping just in front of the girls.

"Can I help you, dear?" Tempest tilted her head.

"Oh- not today, I was just trying to find my friend. Thanks though." They panted, turning their attention to the Salmonling. "Ess, I've been trying to catch up with you guys. You guys walk way too fast."

"Oh, sorry Mir. Sandy was in a hurry to go shopping. What did you need?"

"I-I..." They began, a lump getting caught in their throat. "Um...listen, I don't know if you care about me all too much yet, but I might as well shoot my shot here. So..."

"...Ess. Will you...go to the ball with me...as my date?"

The three girls are left in stunned silence. Cruesa cleared her throat and blinked a few times at them. "Wait, me? Are you sure you want to take me-?"

"Yeah. I've thought about it. I can't...really imagine going with anyone else. So...?" Their face fell, softly looking at her.

Cruesa felt weak in her knees.

"S-Sure!" She smiled, laughing to fill the silence a little bit.

"O-oh! Really? Th-th-that's good! Great, even! Okay, bye-" They stammered, leaving the shop as soon as they entered.

"Did...Mirage....you know, the stoic, grumpy, quiet Mirage...just ask you out???" Sandy asked in disbelief.

"Fufu, that sounded like asking someone out to me~" Tempest cooed.

"I-I...I can't believe...they asked me of all people..." Cruesa finally managed to say. Were they insane? Not even a month ago, she was spying on the squid as a means to destroy the world, and now they were asking her to come to the ball as their partner?

...And why did she feel her heart leap when they did?

#//ic #//sandy #//cruesa #//tempest #//mirage #//my art

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big11chungus · 3 months

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15 kgs less, healthy salads, enough protein, workouts all the time, Pilates, pretty pink set, thick booty, big boobs, laser hair removal, clean body lotion, signature perfume(already found one) FRRRRRR,signature bag OSOI?, cute letting, cute purse, staple pieces for bag, cute shoes, cool vintage tees, winter wardrobe, supreme wardrobe, great pairs of jeans, cool extra large graphic cool print tees, headphones ✅, saving money, 30k for uni fees, set for life, cool room, cute curtains, great bedsheets color, nightstand so aesthetic, carpets, a makeup place, skincare all basics, good skincare, but first good body, no good body equates to nothing up there, frN body, health and books, bigger goals would be YOUTUBE, posting regularly, showing the girls how I did what I did, finding people I can actually entertain except my best friends who are sick of me not having a YouTube channel still now, answering statements like “I would love to watch your videos if u were on TikTok” with “I do have one please watch” making my parents proud and MOST IF ALL WATCHING TAYLOR SWIFTS CINCERT FRIN THE DLOOR SEATS like pleaseee. Anywho more things to add such as staying true to myself and actually cleaning my mind and also realised that a messy room doesn’t equate to anything bad, I actually live having a messy room, also more funny videos to send my parents for them to ltaf, and traveling yes travelling a lot, journalling and diary entry voice diary entries cus my hands aren’t fast enough for my thoughts, music, reconnecting with my music cus god gracious how I love mucus and books also I HAVE TO BE RICH AND SUCCESFUL for Punte my one and only sibling, word committed all over this but I so hope I stay committed this time especially since I have so many reasons to be. No shit men in life only true friends and no bad vibes all love and all the people I actually hated I literally don’t care truly me and my girls are thriving and thu thu universe is protecting me and my thoughts and even tho I’m scared I feel like THIS TIME I’ll make it can’t believe I actually saw taylor I’m dead

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andromedashearts · 8 months

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𑁍 DAYDREAMS OF HER ؛ FARAH KARIM

summary ⇨ a buncha hcs for my best girl bcs she's way too underrated ^^

word count ⇨ 996 words

warnings ⇨ strong language . mentions of ptsd . mentions of trauma . nightmares . unhealthy coping mechanisms?? . I make my favourite character really sad for no reason . (it's because her trauma is so overlooked) . fluff . partial farah x alex, partial farah x you . (most can be read as platonic) .

an ؛ I litteraly cannot get over how much of a great (and underrated ) character she is AND SHES SOO PRETTYYFYYUU

she's an animal lover. hands down.

she likes snacky foods alot. grapes, orange slices, small chocolates. she likes foods she can just pop in her mouth.

massive night owl. she says it's because she works better at night, but it's actually because she really enjoys time to herself and nighttime is the only time she really gets to have any.

constantly bouncing her knee or shaking her foot. she does it moreso when she's stressed but most of the time she just does it subconsciously. Alex has put in extra care to make sure she's less stressed, or put a comforting hand on her knee for no fucking reason so many times.

alot of the time, without realising it, she'll show her affection by mimicking people. she's not good with words or handling big emotions my bbg :(( so this is a way for her to do it nonverbally. like she'll mimic sitting positions, quirks, like brushing hair behind your ear, or tapping your fingers rhythmically. also she'll try to match breathing and walking pace.

massive cat whisperer. she does it so effortlessly too. like she'll see the scariest lookin cat ever in an alleyway, I'm talking a gang leader looking ass cat, and just go psspspssps and suddenly it's her loyal servant. (If Alex tries this he'll come out missing an eye and his other leg)

she often bites the skin around her nails or the skin on her lip. was a massive nail biter as a kid. when she's stressed she sometimes bites so hard she has to force herself to stop cus she keeps making herself bleed.

really good with kids. she's a very serious person, as we've seen, but around kids she really let's her walls down. becomes very playful and warm.

she's also the best at coming up with or playing games with children. she's so entertaining istg.

another thing that makes her so great with kids, is she always seems to be able to know what they're thinking. it's like she's shining with them. she always knows what they need, what'll make then feel better, why they feel a certain way. she's amazing :c

often wakes up in cold sweats, hyperventilating, thrashing, ect. she has really awful ptsd nightmares, nothing she does seems to help. sometimes they're so bad she wakes up not being able to breathe, memories of being waterlogged and gassed burying themselves in her airway. :((

permantly touch starved and touch repulsed at the same time. trauma makes it hard for her to feel able to let anyone in but she's also such a warm and, honestly, cuddly person.

afraid of chihuahuas

I truly belive that Alex and Farah completely fuel eachothers paranoia. its so irritating honestly. they go out and alex is like "what if there are enemy spies working here and all of this food is just a means for them to poison us?" and Farah is immediately like "you're right, our waiter seemed super shady. we need to do an entire background check on everyone working and dining here immediately." she's joking but she says it in such a serious manner Alex just cannot tell 😭

she's such a big poetry lover, she just never gets time to read it. she sees beauty and meaning in lots of small things. like she'll see a wilting flower or a birds nest and write an entire emotionally devastating poem in her head. and just. not write it down or do anything with it so she forgets about it immediately.

often smokes like a chimney when she can. she'll pretend to be annoyed with you if you steal her cigs but she actually kinda likes it.

she thinks shotgunning is hot asf

also pretends to be annoyed if you steal her shirts but she actually loves it sm. she loves when she gets them back and they smell like you.

can become very touchy feely when you get close. her favourite things to do are always holding her hand (moving her thumb back n forth over urs ☹️) and having her hands resting on your bare back up your shirt when you're alone.

she loves sharing baths with you. she rarely gets time to have a relaxing bath on her own, let alone with you. so it's really special to her when she gets to.

its like her favourite thing to do. dark outside, candlelit smiles between you two, washing eachothers hair, bath salts, big bubbles. it's like christmas for her.

also you can't convince me she wouldn't have scalding hot baths.

she finds it really hard to talk about her feelings, so every once in awhile, you'll find handwritten love letters waiting for you somewhere. only ever when she's already left the house. it's like magic.

eyelid kisses.

that's it.

acts of service is her main love language. you're feeling too tired to get out of bed yet? she'll make breakfast and bring it straight to you. you're having trouble painting your nails? she'll hold your hands tenderly and do it for you. (😭) ect ect ect, there's almost nothing she wouldn't do for you.

incredibly protective. all she wants is to keep you protected and happy, but she'll always favour protected over happy. she needs to know your safe. this can cause some arguments between you.

biker!farah who adores having you as her backpack.

if you're in traffic or stopped for a minute biker!farah will turn around and give you a big ass smooch ><

so glad you can't see her face when she turns around, cus she's got the cutest grin everrr on her face :c

definitely the type to come and tuck you up in bed, give you a big kiss on the head. and if you need her too, (or she feels like she needs to) she'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear or lie next to you, or sit at the end of the bed rubbing your feet until you fall asleep.

── ﹫𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐄 ؛ 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗋

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fuhutao · 3 years

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self care night with your cute roommate pt. 2 <headcanons>

pt. 1

modern!au college!au roommate!au

featuring: scaramouche, thoma (separate) x gn!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: sorry idk thoma’s character the absolute best so i made his portion kinda general aahh :T also it’s 1:30 am rn so my writing’s kinda << on that note, GN/GM everyone!

scaramouche

• in hindsight, it was a tad bit foolish to think your roommate would willingly participate in something like self care.

• you just want to have fun and relax! loosen up! he just wants to kick you out! yay!

• but whether he likes it or not, you show up at scaramouche’s room one night with a basketful of activities. as expected, he doesn’t take it too well.

• you have to coax him at first, promising to take some stress off his shoulders (because he definitely needs that) and minutes later, find yourself unraveling a freshly-refrigerated sheet mask and placing it in his reluctant hands.

• upon pressing mask to face, your roommate complains it’s all icky and gooey and more than anything, cold. he can only see your back as you reach over to open another pack and inform him: that’s just a description of himself.

• scaramouche is about to say something not very nice in response when you abruptly turn around and….burst out laughing. oh goodness. his face—his face!!! it looks so funny with those confused blue eyes, nose, and mouth of his, starkly visible through the holes on the mask. confusion slowly steams into anger, and to your ultimate surprise..dissipates with a bemused grunt.

• he tells you to look in the mirror, which you do and can’t help but laugh again, this time, at yourself. you two look like ghosts; sheet masks are definitely not as pretty as those media-loved, liquid ones. but hey, they work just as good! soon, scaramouche joins in your softening giggles, saying you look stupid, but smirking to himself nonetheless.

• by the end of the night, you’ve miraculously gotten him to let you tie up his bangs and paint his nails with a coat of clear manicure. (he finds out the next day that it is not indeed clear, but an ‘extra fine silver shimmer,’ which you insist is practically the same thing) honestly, it’s baffling how you’re still alive.

• but as of right now, you’re knocked out cold on the floor. scaramouche sighs and stares/glares(?) at you, pondering what to do. perhaps...throw you out of the apartment while you’re unconscious? decisions, decisions!!

• he chooses to lift you onto his bed instead, covering your entire body—yes, including face—with the comforter. you’ll pay by making breakfast in the morning. or maybe, this could be his secret thanks for getting all that stress off his shoulders.

thoma

• you bring it up once, and being the sauve gentleman he always is, your roommate purchases and prepares everything for you.

• now, you’ve always known how great he was—assisting with especially hard assignments, bringing you lunch on campus—but this tops yet another level!

• thoma tells you how to use this and what to pair with that…he even bought your favorite scented soap! everything seems to be in smooth-sailing once he takes over, and soon enough, the night is already almost over! almost, but not quite yet.

• there is a playful tease in his voice as he places the sliced cucumbers one-by-one on your cheeks. you are currently resting your head on thoma’s outstretched leg as he concentrates on rejuvenating your skin. his hands are so gentle and his fingers dance with little to no effort. right now, you’re just grateful for the cucumbers cooling the rising heat on your face.

• afterwards, you offer to do the same for him. he deserves it after all! of course, thoma insists it’s okay, that he was more than glad to ‘serve’ you. but you simply smile and push your roommate to lay down on your leg as you did to him.

• he seems at peace after awhile and a content silence takes over. you lean down to brush his hair out of the way and at that moment, your roommate is just grateful for the cucumbers cooling the rising heat on his face.

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baeklination · 2 years

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Let Me Tell Ya...

Date: 211230

Warnings: SMUT 🔞, sucking, fingering (giv. & rec.), fucking, cumshot, gen. expl. lang.

Pairing: Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 1, 5k

Masterlist

¤¤

Hearing a knock at the door you scramble to get up. Throwing your magazine to the side, draping a shawl over your shoulders, you just about manage to come out of your little space, closing the curtain with a harsh tcwhi! as your new customer closes the door. Putting on an air of seriousness and mystique - not giving away your true feelings about him finally coming in - you saunter to your seat.

"Ah...Baekhyun…", you muse. "Sit down."

Frowning, he stays where he is.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know a great deal of things…", you smirk while spreading your cards in an arch.

(Truth is you heard someone call his name yesterday, as if answering your question as to who the man leering at you was.)

Stepping out of the shadowy entrance, he sits down across the table from you, inspecting your magical abode; velvet drapes with beads, candles in every colour and stage of burning, stones and crystals… In his patchwork blazer and necklaces he could easily be mistaken for one of you, barring his lack of belief in the otherworldly.

"Okay, I'll bite", he says, letting his tongue play over his teeth. "Tell me my future."

"Cards don't work like that…"

"Then use something that will."

Every word he utters, every look, drips with the cocky, sensual aura of someone always getting what he wants - and knowing what to do when he has it.

"Let me see your hand."

You pull it closer, determined to not show any signs of eagerness - but very much cleavage. Closing your eyes you breathe deep, pretending to "connect".

"I see a waterfall-"

"Waterfall?"

"Mm", you nod, tracing his hand. "And...some kind of void and...fingers…"

Closing his hand over yours he catches you off-guard:

"Who's..?"

"Who's..? It's hazy…" You'd been sure about the route the moment he stepped in, but not the terrain so you continue. "...I sense you have some abilities, why don't you try?"

"You're right, I think I do... It must be your fingers, 'cus that's my leg I see."

Taking his cue, you run your foot up his calf to his thigh; he lets go of your hand and spreads his legs, biting the inside of his mouth in anticipation of where you'll touch next, but you stop just short of it. Nodding, wiping his mouth, he gets up, touching this and that, heading in your direction.

"What's behind the curtain?"

"The holiest of holies. Only for my VIP's", you kid, gathering the unused cards together with a thwack! on the table.

Peeking behind the fabric he muses.

"Hm… Do you charge extra for that type of seance?"

It's only just that he puts his arm up in time to shield himself from the rainbow of cards you chuck in his direction, resenting the implication.

"Hey!", he protests, and comes to lean on your knees, overpowering whatever momentary, impulsive, spite you have in your eyes with the flare in his.

"You know that's what I came here for." Standing up again he drags his hand up his cock, and opens the button of his trousers."How can I get that?"

When he pulls the zipper down your suspicions are confirmed - he's not wearing anything underneath. Bit by bit his cock is revealed; smooth, thick and hard it keeps itself standing when he steps out of his pants.

A deep hum emanates from his throat when you take him in your mouth without a word. Sweet and salty, drops of pre-cum smeared on it, the head of his length is delicious in your mouth and keeps you sucking slowly, savouring it.

You'd been joking, but the way he already has you feeling you wonder if he doesn't have abilities after all… Spreading your legs wide you're not ashamed to show him your lust, rolling your hips in sync with your mouth, pulling up your dress to caress your thigh.

Wanting more, you push his cock further in, grabbing tightly on your leg from the satisfaction of having him there. You don't care about showing off, taking him as deep as you can, nor does he by the looks of it. Holding loosely around his shaft he breathes out slowly as if sighing, substituted by a soft groan when you use more pressure or suck harder over the ridge to the head of his cock.

"About those fingers…"

"Will it hold?", he asks, pressing down on the table.

On your say-so he gets up, placing one foot on the edge, the other on the back of your chair. Completely unabashed he spreads himself for you, daylight from the window on his lower half, candlelight on the top. Bursting with salacious excitement, he rolls his pelvis, stroking his thigh up to massage his balls then cock before you've even touched him. Wetting your finger you spread his cheek and circle around his hole, then push it in past the tight ring.

"Ah!", he wails in pleasure, dropping his head back and mouth open, his chest rising high. "Mmm, keep going…"

"Ahh… Okay", he says deeply, meaning for you to stop.

When you pull out he still lets you swallow him. Unwilling to restrain his appetite, he raises his hips towards your face with a grunt, over and over, putting a soft hand on your head.

"Ahh...stop it…", he whispers, yet starts thrusting faster but less deeply. "Shh...ah, fuck you're good…"

A few more hits and his breathing changes again, signaling it's time for him to cool off, so he sits back down, ruffling his hair with a sigh before setting his sights on you.

Pulling the dress over your head he presses you close, but changes his mind; getting out of the way he instead backs you up against it, lifting you up. Sliding his hands down your ribs and waist he curves them in over your thighs, spreading your folds, your cheeks then curls a finger into your pussy. Not ready for it, your breath hitches. He leans over, plays with your nipple in his mouth then slaps, sucking in his lip as he does. Your response delights him: smiling he puts his mouth over your breast again, puts his hand on the small of your back and pumps faster.

"Could I make you come like this…", he whispers, flicking his tongue.

"Yes…", you exhale heavily, stroking your breast, engrossed in want.

Moving his hand up to your clit it's doused with fluids, making his hand slip and slide over it as he quickly feathers it back and forth. It's excruciatingly splendid, yet wholly unsatisfying, so when he, ending with a jolting slap, clicks his tongue and drags you along - curtly pulling your holy curtain to the side - it's with hurried, excited moves you get on the bed. You instantly feel the head of his cock against your thighs - searching - and when he finds it and pushes in both of you moan aloud; he gripping your waist, you the linen underneath.

His cock feels so sweet, gliding in and out with such lubricated ease that it mutes you, only leaving hollow moans. In contrast, Baekhyun, draped over your back, kneading your breast in the same slow motion as his hips move, doesn't quiet down at all but releases constant hums and delicate moans.

When his fingers touch your clit again it wakes you. Hearing your voice makes him impatient for more so he puts more pressure in his thrusts.

"Do that again…", he whispers, circling your clit and getting what he wants he's done for.

Flicking his fingers until he feels the surge, he gets up with a wail and vice-like grip around your waist. All you have to do is arch, bend your head back and enjoy the incessant pounding of his body against yours. Every exhale is an ah or uh, getting closer to each other until he stutters:

"Come here…", in a deep voice as he slips out.

Putting his hand on your neck he pumps himself over the edge, grimacing as his cum spurts out around your mouth, the sweet smell finding its way to your nose. Relaxed, he purrs while riding it out, seeing the threads of semen between your lips. He doesn't protest when you put your hand around him, only sucks his stomach in deep when you put your mouth around the head.

"Ah, careful…", he trembles, stroking your hair. "Ah…"

Done cleaning - and torturing - him, you wipe your mouth on some garment lying around and get up, fastening a gown around your waist.

"Can't lie around all day, Baekhyun. Or should I just close the drapes if someone comes in..?", you smile at him.

After a heavy sigh he gets up and dressed as well. Feeling in his pocket, he takes out some bills and tosses them on your table. Seeing the squint in your eyes he puts his palms up:

"For the reading..!", nodding towards the fee sign.

#baekhyun #baekhyun smut #bbh-net #my first net post

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j3ssisam3ss · 3 years

Text

Childhood Friends - Fluff

For @animebookworm16

It got kind of long and I’m not really sure it still counts as fluff, but here’s my piece for @maribat-angst-fluff-april, prompt 25, Childhood Friends.

Damian Al Ghul-Wayne was five years old the first time he met a girl his age. And in typical League of Assassins style, he went for efficiency by meeting ten at once.

“These are your betrothed,” Talia told him. “All but one will be dead by your twelfth birthday. You will marry the sole survivor on your eighteenth birthday and produce an Heir to carry on the great legacy of the League of Assassins.”

Nine of the girls heard the words without so much as a flinch. The last stared in shock at Talia, then broke into tears.

“Quiet, Marinette,” Talia hissed.

“No,” she yelled defiantly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I want my mama!”

Talia backhanded her and she fell to the floor with a yelp.

Damian surveyed the girl – Marinette – with distaste.

“Mother, surely you don’t consider this sniveling coward worthy to compete for my hand?”

“Her mother, Sabine Cheng, was our best assassin for years before she turned traitor. I suppose she’s lost her touch if she raised such a weak daughter.” Talia shrugged elegantly. “No matter, if she turns out to be useless, we’ll ship her mutilated corpse back to Sabine as a reminder of what happens when you cross the League.”

She waved the girls away. “To your training now.”

Damian watched as Marinette sniffled and followed the other girls out the door.

She won’t last a week.

He had no idea how wrong he was.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was five years old the first time she won a fight. And in typical Dupain-Cheng fashion, she did so in the most unpredictable way possible.

“You’re going down, pigtails,” shouted a pretty brunette, charging at Marinette with a sword that was as tall as she was.

With a startled shriek, Marinette darted away. She hated how behind she was here. Back home, she was good at everything – reading circle, art class, tussles when the teacher’s back was turned. Here, it felt like she was constantly playing catch-up.

Not to mention, the constant threat of death was not fun.

Skidding around a corner of the labyrinth arena, she tripped over a protruding stone and fell to the ground. The brunette grinned viciously, advancing towards her.

Marinette smiled nervously. “Can’t we talk this out?”

“Not a chance, shortie,” said the brunette.

Marinette glanced around frantically.

I don’t want to die!

She reached for a rock, a stick, anything that could help her fight, but came up with only a handful of sand. With a pleading glance heavenward, she flung it into the brunette’s face and lurched to her feet, grinning when the girl had to stop to get the grit out of her eyes.

Taking off into the labyrinth of passages, she nearly stumbled again, this time over a nearly buried metal object.

She shifted away the dirt surrounding it and smirked. “Finally, a weapon I know how to use.”

Ten minutes later, the watching League members straightened in surprise as the smallest and weakest of Damian’s betrotheds utterly decimated her opponent.

With a frying pan.

“What are you doing here?”

The two children spoke in unison, glaring daggers at one another.

“I always come here,” Marinette said. “It’s my drawing spot.”

“The vents are my domain, Dupain-Cheng,” Damian said. “Get out.”

Two years’ worth of resentment and anger simmered beneath Marinette’s skin.

Drawing is the last thing I have of home. I won’t let him take it from me.

“No.”

Damian looked thunderstruck and Marinette couldn’t keep the smirk off her face.

“I am Heir to the Demon! You will obey me!”

“You may be Heir to the Demon, but right now you’re also a kid skipping classes,” Marinette argued. “And if you make me leave, I’ll tell Talia exactly where you go when you’re not in class.”

Ha, take that, you tyrant!

Damian froze. Marinette watched as emotions overtook his face – anger, resentment, then acceptance.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Marinette smiled and returned to her sketchbook – which wasn’t really a sketchbook, just some loose papers she’d tucked into her history book.

A few minutes later, Damian peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing,” she said, holding out a few of her older sketches, the ones she wouldn’t mind losing if Damian decided to rip them. “There’s your mother fighting, cook making soup, the sunset from this other spot in the vents – actually, that one’s pretty bad because I didn’t have any colors.”

Damian stared at the drawing of his mother.

“I’m keeping this,” he announced.

Well, at least he didn’t tear it up.

The next week, when Marinette arrived at her drawing spot, Damian was already there. With an annoyed grunt, he shoved a sketchbook and colored pencils into her hands.

Marinette looked between him and the supplies in confusion. “What’s this for?”

“Teach me how to draw.”

Marinette bit her lip, looking longingly at the colored pencils. Then, she pushed them back towards Damian.

“I want you to give me weapons training. As often as I teach you drawing.”

I may be naturally talented at combat, but the other girls have been training their entire lives. I need to catch up.

Damian eyed her suspiciously. “That’s against the rules.”

“So? Are you scared?”

“Never.”

“Then it’s a deal?”

“It’s a deal.”

Damian lunged, making a displeased noise when his quarry danced out of his reach.

“You’re slow today, Dami,” Marinette teased. “Losing your touch?”

Marinette was no longer the scared little girl she’d been at five, or even at seven. She’d thrown herself into her training with single-minded determination and two years of training with Talia by day and Damian by night had made her a formidable – and snarky – combatant.

“Never,” Damian replied. His next attack nearly threw her off-balance.

With a grunt, Marinette recovered her footing and countered with a flurry of blows that would have left a lesser opponent dizzy.

Damian smirked, parrying each attack easily. “Completely mediocre. Should I tell my mother that her protégé is slipping?”

Although he’d never admit it, Damian was proud of her. She’d gone from being the worst of the League’s trainees to the only one able to keep up with him in a fight.

“Me? Slipping? Not a chance.” Marinette flipped backwards, knocking his weapon away. “Hey, Damian?”

“Yes, Marinette?” He scooped up his katana, readying himself for her next move.

“The floor is lava.”

With a startled intake of air, he leaped onto the nearest table.

“Really?” he asked, half annoyed, half amused.

Marinette giggled, peering down at him from her spot in the ceiling rafters. “I thought we could use an extra challenge.”

Damian glanced up at her. “You just like having the high ground.”

“Technically speaking, it’s the high rafter,” she pointed out.

“Either way, it won’t prevent me from defeating you,” Damian said, pulling himself into the rafters.

At that moment, the door opened and they both immediately went still.

“Damian? Are you here?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “Skipping again?” she mouthed.

Damian shrugged in response.

Rolling her eyes, Marinette gestured to the vents behind him. “I’ll meet you in the lower training rooms to finish our bout.”

“Marinette!” The teacher startled as she caught a glimpse of the pigtailed girl. “What are you doing up there?”

Effortlessly, the girl swung down from the ceiling, drawing the teacher’s attention away from Damian’s hiding place.

“Just improving my arm strength, Mistress Eva.” As she distracted his teacher with false information about his whereabouts, Damian climbed into the vents.

Marinette makes a surprisingly tolerable ally.

It didn’t seem to matter how many people Marinette killed; it never got easier. Surrounded by the bodies of Deathstroke’s traitors, she retched.

She was alone. Somehow, in the midst of the fight, she’d gotten separated from the rest of the League’s loyalists.

I need to get moving. I’m an easy target right now.

With a shuddering breath, she climbed to her feet and made her way out of the compound and into the shadows. It was there, staring at the ruins of the League’s strongest base, that the realization hit her.

“I’m free,” Marinette whispered, tears trickling down her face.

The Head of the Demon was dead, his followers scattered.

“I can finally go home.”

She ignored the voice in her mind that said her home was here, with the League, with Damian. She ignored the tightness in her chest at the thought of never seeing Damian again. She ignored the fear that he might already be dead.

The League kidnapped me. Talia abused me. Even if I managed to be happy here, I owe the Al Ghuls nothing. A vow of loyalty made under duress is no vow at all.

Her hands curled into fists.

And if they come for me again, I’ll be ready.

Damian scowled as their plane descended into Gotham.

“This is imbecilic. I should be assisting you in decimating our enemies, not hiding like a frightened child.”

“Damian,” his mother’s voice was cold. “This is not up for negotiation. You will stay here and train with your father.”

“Yes, Mother,” he replied bitterly. A moment passed, then he tilted his head in thought. “But what of my betrothed? If she is to be my equal, should she not train with me?”

Talia studied him carefully. “You use the singular of betrothed,” she noted. “Despite the fact that three remain alive. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me which one you consider your wife-to-be?”

“Tt. Your protégé, the Cheng girl, is the only one that even approaches competent. You know this.”

“I also know that you trained her separately – against my orders,” Talia said.

Damian nearly flinched. “And yet you didn’t stop me.”

“I wonder if that was a mistake,” his mother said. “You feel more for her than you should.”

“She is an effective ally. That is all.”

“Then you won’t mind being separated from her for a while.”

“Not at all, Mother,” Damian lied.

“Marinette? Is that you?” Her mother looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

Marinette smiled. “Hello, Mama.”

Sabine reached out a shaking hand to cup her face. “How are you here? We saw you die.”

“Sabine, do you know where – ” Tom dropped the pan of croissants. “Marinette?”

He jumped over the counter and raced to her. Marinette took a step back before her mind caught up with her body.

This is Papa, you idiot. He’s not a threat.

She threw herself into his arms, shoving away her fears.

Twisting to face her mother, she said, “I don’t know how my death was faked, but I never died. The League kidnapped me.”

Tom’s arms tightened around her.

“The League?” Sabine’s face went pale. “What did they want with you?”

“The usual,” Marinette said with a shrug. “Revenge on you for leaving and a capable assassin and potential wife for Damian if I turned out to be any good.”

“Who’s Damian?” Tom asked with a frown.

Marinette grinned. “Oh, Damian’s great! He’s the Heir to the League, but he’s actually pretty okay for an assassin. He helped me get good enough to survive. You know, after I blackmailed and bribed him.”

“What?”

Meeting his father did not go the way Damian had imagined.

Talia always spoke of Bruce Wayne’s great intellect, his strength in combat, his determination in all things. She never mentioned his brainless playboy act, his absurd prohibition of killing, or his habit of taking in strays. Damian wasn’t sure which one was most offensive, but he was incredibly disappointed in his father regardless.

He had to reassess after he saw Batman at work. When not purposely acting like a buffoon, Bruce Wayne was everything his mother had described and more, entirely deserving of Damian’s respect.

He set out to prove himself in his father’s eyes. It didn’t go well. Whatever he did, it was the wrong thing. In any fight with the imposter sons, Damian was punished – even if he won. Assisting his father with Wayne Enterprises was met with an eye-roll and a request to stay away from Bruce’s office.

It should have made Damian angry but instead it hurt and Damian did not understand why.

And then his father was gone. Richard Grayson became Batman.

Damian became Robin. Finally.

And yet the triumph felt hollow.

Not to mention, it came with strings attached: ‘Murder is bad.’ ‘Justice, not vengeance.’ ‘Robin doesn’t kill.’ ‘Protect rather than avenge.’

Grayson’s teachings were imbecilic. And yet he had to follow them. His mother had yet to finish with the traitors.

He wondered where Marinette was, if she was undergoing similar training, if she fought the way he did to reign in the bloodlust. Considering how she had to hide her dislike of killing, how she helped heal her competitors, he thought probably not.

Slowly, things got easier. Grayson became tolerable. Damian learned to suppress the instinct, the muscle memory that said ‘kill or be killed.’ He found an adoration for animals and learned to deal with his classmates. He finally began to understand why Grayson and his father valued life so highly. His father came back and he chose to deny the League. Wayne Manor became home.

On days when he struggled, he retreated to his room and the comfort of his sketchbook. And if a certain blue-eyed girl made an appearance every few pages, well, who would know but him?

Returning home did not go the way Marinette had imagined.

She knew it wouldn’t be sunshine and roses, of course. But she hadn’t expected the magnitude of the changes in her home, or in herself.

School was laughably easy. Marinette had the equivalent of several college degrees. Finding x and learning how to spell ‘earthquake’ was a waste of her time. Instead, she spent class drawing and coming up with increasingly complex plans for fighting off the League should they try to kidnap her again.

She kept herself closed off from her classmates – she didn’t know how she’d ever called them friends. They were neutral parties at best – not one ever stood up for her against Chloe. Her parents encouraged them to give her classmates a chance, but the League had trained her well. Misplaced trust could kill. And Marinette had fought long enough for survival to know that dropping your guard was a death knell.

She hated hurting her parents though.

Though they tried to hide it, she saw the pain cross their faces when she flinched away from hugs. When she moved like an assassin rather than a child. When she gave away her stuffed animals. When she skipped family game night and spent her time training.

She hated hurting her parents. So she changed.

Marinette locked away her lethal grace, faking clumsiness and turning it into an art form. She hid her weapons, training only when her parents were asleep. She returned to family game nights; she initiated hugs. At school, she became bubbly and friendly again, though she trusted no one.

More than anything, she tried to atone. She sought out those in need and tried to help – whether by providing food, babysitting, or making them warm clothing. She discovered an interest in fashion design, but mostly stuck to making the essentials for those in need. She met a tiny floating bug named Tikki and became a superhero.

On days when she struggled, she retreated to her room and the comfort of her sketchbook. And if green eyes and a cocky smirk featured prominently in the book, well, who would know but her?

Damian frowned as he followed his brother into Wayne Enterprises.

"I don't understand why it's so important for me to be here."

"C'mon, Baby Bird!" Dick said. "You said you wanted to be more involved in the company!"

"I meant the business side of things," Damian said. "I have no interest in showing around a gaggle of unruly teenagers."

"You're a teenager too," Dick pointed out. "It'll be fun!"

Damian sniffed. "I'm an adult. And fun, really? Surely you don't truly believe that?"

Dick sighed. "Just give it a chance, okay? They seem like really great kids."

They walked into the lobby and Damian stopped short, eyes catching on long black hair and brilliant blue eyes.

"Marinette?"

In truth, Marinette wasn't all that excited about the Wayne Enterprises tour. The architecture was interesting, sure, but her class had a habit of making themselves a target and Bruce Wayne's patronage was not helping.

She gave it three days, at most, before they got in trouble with Gotham's Rouges.

Which meant she was on 'keep the class from dying' duty. Joy.

She kept her eyes and ears peeled, which meant that she heard the faint whisper of her name from an unfamiliar voice.

"Marinette?"

Forest-green eyes filled with far too much emotion had her breath catching in her throat.

"Damian?"

With obvious effort, the League's Heir pulled himself together. "Fancy meeting you here, Dupain-Cheng."

His voice. Oh, kwami, it should be illegal to look AND sound that good. Nope. Nope. Not doing this. He's an assassin, get your act together, Marinette.

"Al-Ghul." She was proud that her voice betrayed nothing. "I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here. This doesn't seem like your scene."

She reached out for a handshake and was taken off guard when Damian kissed her hand instead. She blushed.

"It's Wayne now," Damian said. "I'm... no longer associated with the Al-Ghuls. Or their business."

He's not an assassin anymore? Yes! I knew you were a good person deep, deep down, Dami!

"Really? I broke ties with them several years ago myself."

See that, Damian? We're both good people. Good people that would be great toget - no! Bad Marinette!

Damian grinned. "In that case, I look forward to reconnecting. Perhaps after the tour?"

Oh, kwami, I'm doomed.

"I'd like that."

"What was that?" Dick asked in a low voice. "I've never seen you open up to someone so quickly."

With difficulty, Damian tore his gaze from Marinette.

Stars, she grew up gorgeous.

Damian smirked. "Don't be ridiculous, Grayson. I met Marinette over a decade ago."

I wonder, does she still consider our betrothal valid?

"Wait, so she's an assassin?" Grayson blanched. "Who is she here to kill? Who do I have to protect? Ugh! Why can't you ever have normal friends?"

"Relax," Damian chided. "She's an ex-assassin. Like me."

"That does not make me feel better. Who is she to you?"

Damian hummed in thought, running through years of teasing, fighting, and spending time together. "She was my first friend."

And maybe now something more.

#daminette #maribat #maribat angst and fluff april

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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

Note

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

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

Cait:

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

"Shit, sorry, Cait."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Curie:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think you should take a break?

Maybe you should have a half day?

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

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

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

“Much. Thanks again, Curie.”

“Of course! Anytime, mon amour.”

Danse:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t still see it, can you?”

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

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

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

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

Deacon:

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, citizen?”

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

Deacon laughed as he looked at her full mouth,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I said serious, Deacon."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So… then, why do you do it?"

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

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

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

Is that, is he... blushing?

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

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

Hancock:

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

“Ahhh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MacCready:

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

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

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

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

"You, ah, need some help?"

"... No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's that supposed to mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Piper:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preston:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here.” He said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

X6-88:

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

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

“Ma’am?”

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

“Why do you use these shelves?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I like them the way they are.”

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

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

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

“Don’t you get hungry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

332 notes · View notes

milkacchan · 4 years

Text

Request for anon: Ah!! My bad!! Didn't know you couldn't write controversial stuff!! I'll be happy to resend the ask!))May I have Enji, Bakugo, and Deku with a very punk S/O?-Anarchy anon

Bakugou:

• He thinks its very entertaining.

• V e r y

• He likes what you wear 🥺🥺

• He thinks they suit you

• they match your skin

• and your body

• thigh highs?? Yes.

• skirts??? He loves it

• tight jeans?? Baby pop the duck off

• studded collar? Y e s

• all your bracelets? Shits dope as duck

• Listen I know his parents literally work in fashion- but he did not inherit the genes needed to be good at it

• so you're gonna have to help hi

• and your make up blows him away

• You teach him how to do eyeliner

• bc we all know he abuses the power

• so you sit him down and you show him how you do yours

• and then you give him an extra eyeliner pen and he copies each step

• Now his eyeliner is sharp as fuck

• its great

• he'll help you dye your hair

• which you love because the feeling of him playing with you hair or running his fingers through it to even out the dyed strands feels like heaven

• you've fallen asleep from it before

• he thinks its funny

• bc here you are

• big scary punk babe

• falling asleep bc he's playing w your fucking hair

• HE LOVES YOUR ATTITUDE

• There just this ion give a fuck attitude that punks have

• and he lives for it

• except when it comes to school

• or anything else productive

• so basically just when you're dealing with other people

• bc he's absolutely on your ass about grades

• he'll come w you to get new piercings

• stick n pokes are a no go tho

• seriously he'll flip lmaoo

Deku-

• Bro you and Dekj are literally the opposite

• he's ✨🧚‍♀️🥰😍💋💫❣❣

• a fucking bottom

• and youre 🤬👺😈💢♠️⛓💉🩸🗡

• its very amusing to see a babey decked out in black and blue and purple with crazy fucking hair, screamjng profanities at some bitch who had the misfortune of messing w ur bf

• and then a broccoli boy w green hair panicked and trying to pull you away from the fight

• :)

• he's enamored with your makeup tho

• heavy eyeliner?? Yes

• blush??? Yes.

• eyeliner in places thats not your fucking eye? Yes.

• Black lipstick? Yes.

• Babey wants to try and to it 🥺

• its harder than he thinks

• he's looking at the best he just made on your eyelids and he's like 😓

• he likes to try on your jewelry too!!

• just chill with it throughout the day

• like he'll walk into class one day wearing your spiked choker and no one bats an eye

• bc they just know

• its a deku thing

• or he'll come in wearing your cool hand chain things on days they don't have to train

• or your bracelets!

• also?? He sees your coping method of piercings

• and that you do them yourself

• and he'll watch as you do it like 🥰🥰

• he'll make sure its all safe tho!!!

• just because you're punk doesn't mean you can't be safe!!!!

• he likes to see all your cool pins :(

• he'll steal those too

• @ arthur making a fist meme pin

• your favorite one

• he SNATCHES

• HE JUST TAKES IT

• AND YOURE LOOKING FOR IT

• UNTIL ONE DAY YOU SEE IT ON HIS MOTHER FUCKING BACKPACK

• n your like sir??????

• whomst??

• you can't take it from him tho 😔

• he's just too cute and he'd be sad if you took it

• he'll sometimes pick your outfit to go out

• or he'll have you style something he can wear so he looks 😤😤 too

• and its a vibe

Enji:

• You'd never think

• THE Enji Todoroki

• would end up

• w someone

• like

• you

• He's a very composed man

• He dresses well, expensive designer brands

• he's always put together and well-mannered (for the most part)

• and then there's you

• the fucking gremlin from hell that runs on caffeine and energy drinks that looks like a hottopic advertisement

• Its awesome tbh

• Shouto LOVES you

• Bc you're in your late 20's- Early 30's and you fr just living not giving a shit

• Not acting like his mother

• knowing you have like 0 authority over him

• just fucking vibing

• And somehow you managed to snag his dad??

• youre the embodiment of ill marry your date and make you my stepson bitch

• he's like yo, I see you

• Enji lowkey (highkey he just doesn't think its obvious) finds it hot

• that you dress the way you too

• and your attitude

• it just does things to him

• he just really really likes the vibe

• theres an excitement of finally just letting go and saying fuck it after a long day of being composed

• and it appeals to him

• I feel like lowkey part of the punk vibe is making/thrifting/mismatching clothes and just good hard as fuck

• like

• I got these pants from Walmart, this shirt from 7/11 that I cut up and I found these shoes behind the dumpster of an Arby's so here we fucking go

• so when he buys you fancy and expensive punk shit you're like 😤😤😤

• but also like 👁👁

• bc get that bread sis

• mans just watches you kill your hair with bleach and hair dye

• "Would you like me to call and schedule and appointment with Fuyumis hair stylist?" He asks with confusion

"No!! We're fucking shit up is what we're doing. We HAVE to do it this way!!!!"

"Okay, would you like help? I can try the best I'm able to,"

"Aw bby, help is for the week."

• you end up needing help to get the back lmaoooo

• you do your own haircuts

• bc like I said

• fucking shit up

• thats the vibe

• m u l l e t

• PLEASE

• or you know the girls that cut lil bits of their hair so short it looks like lil horns??

• please do that

• I promise he'll get rlly soft about it

• "I believe it suits you," he'll say softly, running his fingers through the ends of your hair

"Thanks, I fucked it up and went for it."

• he tends not to curse as much

• so

• :)

• you'll curse for him

• some shit goes wrong? You're right next to him?

• get ready for the storm bb

• "oh you mother fucking cu-"

• he honestly doesn't mind the mouth

• bc like I said before

• its refreshing for him to know he can come home and not be expected to be composed

• He will absolutely be willing to pay for whatever tattoos you want

• and honestly just take him up on it bc tattoos are expensive like

• 3 letters is like 150 bruh

• but!! Piercings are done at home!

• unless they're in your mouth :)

• tongue piercing or that peircing above your teeth

• he won't let you do shit like that at home

• when you did get them he helped you take care of them

• but esr piercings are free game

• overall he's very very supportive in the way you dress and act all around• he really doesn't mind at all

316 notes · View notes

peaches-writes · 3 years

Text

there’s nine days left until christmas

skz of christmas day 1: early morning mass with jisung

member: jisung wc: 1.6k genre: fluff, comedy, childhood friends to lovers au (but the lovers part is so tiny), neighbour au warning: explicit language note: this the one time im making church boys skz happen bc it’s kinda funny + i made a rlly corny joke somewhere there but u hav to squint rlly rlly hard

Having to live in the city for almost 350 out of 365 days a year in order to study at university, you’ve naturally come to appreciate the peace and quiet of the countryside you would spend long stretches of holidays at. From the screeching but natural sound of roosters replacing your phone’s alarm clock to the gentle breeze that doesn’t need you to run around in circles a few times to brush past your open arms, you’re always looking forward to staying with your grandparents in a small mountainside village just an hour away from the main road because of all the healing it has to offer.

Well, maybe except small but constant inconvenience in your visits in the form of your neighbor, Han Jisung.

“Ji, I swear I will drag you out of your bed and take you to church in your pajamas if you don’t get up right now.” You threaten the still snoring boy on the bed you’ve been crouching next to for the past five minutes. Slapping his cheek once more, you frantically try and wake him up again by adding, “Han Jisung, get up now! We’re going to be late!”

Like you, Jisung only visits on Christmases and a few weeks at the beginning of each summer. He stays with his own grandparents who live next door to yours which, in hindsight, sounds like it doesn’t give you much reason to be hovering over him at 3:55 AM on a Thursday if not for the fact that when there’s 9 days left before Christmas Day (aka today), your grandparents want to attend the early morning mass in the town proper but the only means of transportation is the shuttle that only comes at 4 AM.

Jisung’s clearly not a morning person, either, so you can see where your problems currently lie.

“Jisung...” You call his name again between gritted teeth now. You’ve pulled the covers, took his extra pillows away, and switched off the electric fan across the room but to no avail—the boy just groaned, whined, and curled up into a ball on his sleeping bag. “Deadass the only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because your grandma promised me rice cakes again if I got you dressed before the shuttle arrives so wake up, you dumbass, or I’ll turn you into the rice cake.”

In front of you, Jisung only rubs his closed eyes and whines even more. “Five more minutes, baby.” He mumbles under his breath, lazily bringing his bare arm up to his face to cover his eyes from the harsh light flickering on the ceiling.

The nickname has you rolling your eyes and smacking his head. In frustration, you then stand up from your position and walk over to his closet, throwing him his clothes. “I’m going to count down to five and if you still haven’t opened your eyes and started changing, I’m calling Minho in from next do—“

The mere mention of your other childhood friend across the street immediately has the boy opening his eyes and throwing the random shirt over his head.

“You have drool on your face, dumbass.” You point to Jisung with your index finger, chuckling when he aggressively wipes on the area right next to his bottom lip. “The whole church would smell the morning breath through the speakers.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, sinking into his seat with his acoustic guitar hugged to his chest and a yawn. “What’s taking so long, anyway?”

“The priest who’s supposed to preside had something come up last minute, apparently,” You shrug, flipping through the song book and practicing on the old piano in the mean time. Nearby, both of your grandmas are conversing animatedly with the rest of the choir while your grandfathers have both wandered off somewhere—most likely to the small vendors outside the building. “I’ll give it ten minutes until they get the priest from the next village.”

Jisung groans, finally placing his guitar back on its stand and sitting up properly only to scoot closer to you and rest his head on your shoulder. “I could’ve gotten more sleep at home.”

You immediately shrug him off in response but to no avail. “And who said you can sleep on my shoulder?”

“You woke me up so you take responsibility.” He pouts, linking your arms to hold you in place and adjusting his head on the crook of your neck. “Wake me up when we’re about to start, okay? Goodnight!”

“Ya, Han Jisu—ya!” You tilt your head down to meet his gaze to find his eyes already closed forcibly shut. When you flick his forehead and complain even more, he simply cusses at you and swats your hand away with his free hand. “So that’s how it is...”

“Don’t you dare...”

Moving your hands as close to the piano keys as you can, you then surprise the sleeping boy by practicing on the piano as loudly as you can. Great Amen echoes throughout the entire church, amplified further by the speakers set up near every pew and, naturally, veryone in vicinity jumps in surprise, including your own grandma who drops her fan, Jisung’s grandma who almost topples over in her seat, and even Seungmin who’s supposed to help sacristans this morning with the candles.

“I hate you so much.” Jisung mumbles with furrowed brows.

“Then get off my shoulder.”

“No.”

“Why are you playing a Bb6? It’s a Gm7.”

“No, it’s not.”

You and Jisung squint your eyes at each other as you continue playing through the song anyway. Fortunately, the people sitting in for choir haven’t noticed the small mistakes yet and you’re already halfway through the mass.

“It was a Gm7.” Jisung insists anyway, leaning forward on your piano to look at the handwritten music score properly as he strums his guitar. “Whoever wrote this needs to get their ears checked.”

“You wrote this in last year with Changbin.” You point out, biting down a chuckle. The song then finally finishes and the two of you lean back in your shared seat to wait for the next one. When you look over at the choir where your grandmas have been for the past forty minutes, you see them paying attention to the mass and not at all caring about the two of you arguing. “I’m trying to follow you, dumbass.”

Stubbornly, Jisung scrunches up his nose in denial. “No, I don’t think so? I’d remember if we did.” He defends himself, earning him an eyeroll from you as he then picks up a nearby pencil and writes the ‘correct’ chord on the paper. “Anyway, it’s only the first mass.”

You’d erase the correction on any other day had your grandma cued you again for another song. Sitting up properly (and making sure you elbow Jisung enough for him to scoot away and give you space to play on the lower keys), you then deadpa, “You don’t even remember anything else you write.”

“Yes I d—!” Before his tone of voice could rise up higher and disrupt the entire mass, you make sure to push him back from the microphone nearest to his mouth by placing a hand over his face. “Ya!”

Speaking of your other other childhood friend, you and Jisung immediately trail after Changbin once the mass concludes. Stifling your giggles as you try and blend in with the crowd of aunties who are now talking about where they could eat breakfast together and children who’ve just woken up from napping throughout the entire ceremony, you find your target by the rice cake vendors at the church entrance with the same (almost annual) look of distress on his face.

“Third year in a row.” You whisper to Jisung as the two of you hid in the mini garden right in front of the church. Just a few meters ahead, Changbin is still contemplating on buying the rice cakes. “Do you think he’ll do it this year?”

Next to you, Jisung is quick to shake his head. “Sorry to break it to you, baby, but did you see him back there? He couldn’t even hold the other person’s hand!” He laughs, a hand hovering over his lips to muffle the sound. “I’m pretty sure the rice cakes are gonna take another two years.”

“I did, I saw him! He looked nervous as fuck I felt really bad for him!” You topple over in laughter at this, clasping your hands together. “Ah, Changbin shouldn’t always be hanging out at the rice cake vendors after every mass if he’s not going to buy. He keeps giving them—and us—false hope!”

“Can you believe this guy ditched us to flirt? He can’t even do it properly.” Jisung dramatically scoffs, breaking into another fit of laughs when Changbin walks away from the rice cake vendor at seeing his crush already walking home. “We should ambush him later when we play basketball, ‘no?”

“And you think you can do better?” You quirk an eyebrow teasingly, elbowing Jisung by his side. “Flirt, I mean?”

“Yeah, totally!” Jisung nods with so much conviction and exaggerated determination in his expression that it makes you laugh again. “Stop doubting my skills, Y/N!”

“Of course I’d doubt it, you’re all bark and no bite most of the time.” You scrunch up your nose, making his eyes widen and a string of protests to come out of his lips. “What? It’s true!”

“That’s not fair, you only see me on Christmas and summer!”

“Exactly.” You cross your arms smugly which he squints his eyes at. “So, think you can do better than Seo Changbin, Ji? Prove it!”

Taking your hand in his, Jisung then pulls you up to a stand and starts dragging you over to the rice cake vendors. “Oh, I will prove it.” He rolls his eyes, even going as far as intertwining your fingers before you could even fully comprehend what’s happening so suddenly. “What color of rice cake do you want, baby? Also, you like cheese on the rice cake, right?”

december 17 (lee felix)

skz of christmas (masterlist)

m.list

@skzwriternet

69 notes · View notes

cross-d-a · 3 years

Note

if you're doing those characters then please give me more amazing takes on princess mute 🥺💕

OMG IM SO LATE ANSWERING THIS BUT HERE I FINALLY AM

Also omgg thank you SOSOSO much for asking me about Princess Mute?? THE LOVE OF MY LIFE??? You know me so well, vish!! I love and adore you so much!! Thank you for giving me the chance to blabber on about the woman I love!! ⁽⁽٩(๑˃̶͈̀ ᗨ ˂̶͈́)۶⁾⁾

ALSO! I’m gonna do my best to like- not spoil all my plans for whispers, haha

The rest is under the cut bc I just have a lot of FEELINGS~ about our resident zombie girl

❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

How I feel about this character

OH BOY OK I JUST??? LOVE HER??? A LOT???? I wasn’t expecting to get quite so immediately and intensely attached to her?? But from the second I heard about her in the legend I was just gone. Completely done for. I’m generally a sucker for mythology, and there’s just SO MUCH that’s fascinating about the tale behind the Princess Mute and the South Sea King?

Even though Princess Mute is so central to the myth, the South Sea King is deemed as the most important? I mean- duh it is his tomb, but Princess Mute is the catalyst? None of this would have happened without her? She’s main character material and yet she isn’t the main character of her own story?? She has practically no agency? It’s so? Fucking? Fascinating?? And there is so fucking much left unanswered? The myth says she turns into a goddamn monster?? Is this- figuratively? Or literally? Is she a monster for breaking gender norms and committing the ultimate taboo by killing the Emperor??? Like- holy FUCK? Like- LOOK at this pic from Ershu’s Expensive Powerpoint:

and a close-up for good measure:

(note the HORNS/HELMET?? the LIGHTNING STRIKE!!! 👀👀👀 how she’s dressed as a SOLDIER?? that SPEAR??? also she’s depicted as much bigger than the emperor!! which, of course, means she’s more important!!!!)

and, HELLO!! She’s called the PRINCESS MUTE. She is only known/named in association to someone else. Her name has been erased from history. It isn’t important to anyone. Which is so fucking ironic. She’s Princess Mute. Her voice has been stripped from her, just like her agency. This tale is the Mute Emperor’s and not her own. Her suffering means nothing to anyone. Her life means nothing other than for the Emperor to desire and the South Sea King to mourn over (and WOW!! ISN’T THIS JUST!! SO perfectly encapsulating Nanpai Sanshu’s female characters and their relevance to the story/male characters)

(so what is her goddamn name???? I mean, I know what I’ve named her, but sorry dudes. Again. I don’t wanna spoil too much :) )

also, WHY is the South Sea King covering her eyes when she’s sent off to sea in the origami boat?

What actually happens to her after this? The body we see of the South Sea King has long white hair so I assume he died pretty old? So why does she look so goddamn young?

And- the million dollar question here (WHICH I HAVE A LOT OF HEADCANONS FOR BUT I DON’T WANNA SPOIL WHISPERS): What happened to her after she killed the Emperor????

ALSO!! WHY IS SHE HOLDING A DINGLAN RULER WHEN SANSHU FINDS HER IN THAT FIRST EXPEDITION?? (internet says it’s a “special ruler used for making shrines, carving wood statues and making tablets of gods. Later used in measurement of architectural scale; measuring instrument for the netherworld, wishes best for tomb owner) did she design her own father’s tomb?? is there more to her becoming a leather figurine than filial loyalty/sacrifice??

Why does she have a tattoo?? I go a bit into this in my fic, but from my understanding it was unusual for people (women especially!) to have tattoos during this time! (this is just from my research! if I am wrong please correct me!)

For anyone who hasn’t read whispers, there were a a few tribes (minorities!) during this time who tattooed themselves (and to this day, they continue this tradition :) ). The Li were often attacked by invaders who assaulted the women and sold them as slaves. The women ended up tattooing their faces and bodies to make them less appealing, and it ended up becoming a tradition. When a girl came of age she’d get tattooed. Then we’ve got the Dai, who (from what I understand!) got tattoos of animals with characteristics they wished to embody, such as to show their virility and strength! So they’d tattoo tigers and dragons, etc.

So why does Princess Mute have one? Who gave it to her? WHAT ACTUALLY IS IT!!!!!! (eternal frustration that we never see a clear shot of the whole thing!!) It kinda looks like a heavily stylized fish? With some waves. But I am unsure! But it would make sense, considering the ongoing theme of snakes and fish throughout dmbj.

Also, her scars seem very strange. Like- if someone skinned her (YIKES!) then- her scars don’t really seem like they’re a result of skinning (double yikes!!). You’d think that for a woman who was the daughter of the King, they’d take more care to preserve her face?? So why does it seem like someone has done their utter best to ruin it? Did the Emperor do it himself? Did her father? Or did someone else do it?? Did she do it herself????

Also, I just wanna cut the bullshit with the creepy hand clam thing. A hand clam isn’t gonna wrap their fingers around Wu Xie’s hand to stop him from blowing himself up. Like. I get that it’s the censorship. I get it. But- you can’t tell me it wasn’t actually the Princess Mute who saved him. I just?? This moment is so powerful? It literally knocked the breath from my chest.

Princess Mute’s story is just so fascinating and tragic and I am just a mess over how she isn’t in control of her own story? She never is. Except for when she kills the Emperor. (AND when she saves Wu Xie) And I think that’s fucking telling.

Of course, it felt like they had more of a storyline planned for her which never happened, but I’ll get more into that later.

Basically, I just have SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!

It’s like- I dunno. Seeing a gorgeous woman flip an obnoxious man over her shoulder and slam him to the ground without breaking a sweat and watching her walk away with stars in your eyes. You barely know anything about her but you’re already half in love and you just want to know more.

I’m super Gay for her, if you couldn’t already tell.

Honestly, she just perfectly represents all the female characters and their treatment in dmbj with all the extra PIZAZZ of the mysterious supernatural/mythological elements. She just makes me go feral and I adore her with my entire heart.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

NUMBER ONE I SHIP HER WITH MY CUTE AND PERFECT GF XIAO BAI!!!!!!!!

They are my two favourite (okay and my wife Su Nan!) female characters in dmbj. I think their stories parallel each other pretty beautifully? They’re both women in a powerful position, though with limited agency. They both defy gender norms and accomplish things (I’m counting killing the Emperor as Accomplishing Something) in a very male-dominated world. And- okay. I know the Princess Mute is technically dead. But she also?? is someone still doing stuff?? and pushing along the storyline?? as a zombie?? So I’m just gonna say that both of them aren’t truly killed off for the Man Pain like all the other female dmbj characters (except for Xiu Xiu, and I guess Chuchu but ChuChu’s situation is kinda....Iffy. At best.)

Also both of them are linked pretty heavily with Wu Xie? They both have an interesting relationship with him. And Princess Mute leads Wu Xie to Xiao Bai!!!

And okay this is spoiling a bit of whispers, BUT!!! Warehouse 11 was built atop the South Sea King’s temple. Isn’t that fucking important??? I stand by my headcanon that Xiao Bai is a Warehouse kid (descended from the Founders) and so she grew up there. And like- ignoring censorship bc I can AND because Reboot leaves a lot of supernatural stuff up in the air anyway- wouldn’t growing up atop an insanely powerful temple do something to you? Wouldn’t it affect you in some way?? There’s just!!! SO much potential between Princess Mute and Xiao Bai!! Plus!! I think it’d be great for Xiao Bai to form a relationship with another woman. She needs some female solidarity in her life.

And- well. I just ship Princess Mute with all the dmbj women, really. Princess Mute has two hands, why can she use them both?? I’ve got a couple Princess Mute modern au’s going and in one of them she just- sweeps A’Ning and Su Nan off their feet :)

I really can’t ship Princess Mute with any male characters, I think. There’s just- so much underlying trauma surrounding her agency and how she’s been used by the men in her life. Also, I like wlw & mlm solidarity. Let Princess Mute and Wu Xie wallow over their Stupid Crushes. Or Princess Mute & Xiao Ge. I’m not picky.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Purely bc of my own au, I am very much invested in Princess Mute & Li Cu (& spirit snake). As I mentioned before, there’s a running theme of loss of agency in their own lives and suffering the consequences of others’ actions. Plus, there’s a lot of supernatural happenings surrounding the both of them. Why wouldn’t they find a connection?

And, obviously, I adore Princess Mute & Wu Xie. Princess Mute saved Wu Xie and then Wu Xie was promptly obsessed (can’t say I blame him). They had such an interesting relationship in Reboot that was just- so fucking tragically dropped.

My unpopular opinion about this character

SHE SHOULD BE MORE POPULAR!!!!!!!!!! She is so goddamn fascinating and gorgeous and I just!! Want!! Everyone to adore her as much as I do!!!!!!!! At least I feel a bit accomplished for swinging some readers over to her side in whispers!! That’s something!!!

I’ve got like- a million au ideas with her. I’m going to be the creator of the content I wish to read!!!!!

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I WISH SHE COULD HAVE GOTTEN A SATISFACTORILY COMPLETED STORYLINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She just gets completely dropped after she leads Wu Xie to Warehouse 11. So once more, she is a plot device and not. And actual. Person. Her importance is tied irrevocably to the male leads. Her agency is not her own. Wu Xie cares so much about her, and okay, he’s trying to figure out a mystery and we all know how he gets when he’s trying to puzzle out a mystery-- but you can’t tell me he just- stops caring after he encounters Warehouse 11??? What happens to her after that?? Does she rot away in a box in Wushanju?? Does Ershu take her back?? I’m just?? WHAT????

I want to know her side of the story and not what everyone else has said. I want her to actually properly communicate with Wu Xie. I want her saving the day again and I want her being fucking badass and I want her and Xiao Ge being soft together and I want her and Xiao Bai to bond fall in love and I want everyone to just- fall in love with her? And care about her? And I want to to find herself caring about these fucking idiots too???? Can you imagine her and Liu Sang bonding over shitty fathers and lack of agency and Trauma?? Can you imagine Princess Mute getting her life back and the freckles returning to her slowly darkening skin and her being silly with Hei-ye bc he keeps shoving increasingly ridiculous sunglasses at her. And can you imagine her trying on jeans for the first time and picking out a cute bomber jacket and shoving a baseball cap on her head and dipping her feet back in the sea and befriending shibie bc she’s just?? that?? cool?? while Iron Triangle is off on the side fretting like she isn’t befriending some very dangerous creatures but it’s okay bc she’s a dangerous creature too and she understands fear and desire and hunger.

I want her returning to Thunder City. I want her getting closure. I want her story to get closure. Period.

And I know it didn’t happen bc censorship and Nanpai Sanshu and just- a host of Other Things. But I want it, and she deserves it.

AAAHH VISH!!!! Thank you so much for letting me yell about Princess Mute!! Sorry I couldn’t go more in depth with headcanons but!! Like I said, I don’t want to completely spoil you for whispers, so I’ll keep those close to my chest for now

٩(*ゝڡゝ๑)۶♥

#dmbj #the lost tomb reboot #princess mute #dmbj meta #sorta??#tltr #Wu xie #Xiao bai #cross talks #reunion: the sound of the providence #bai haotian #ask game

15 notes · View notes

wheres-everyone-going-bingo · 4 years

Note

Alright imma just throw a concept out there, good sexy orc/uruk hai reader tops Legolas. I'm just saying, if there were good boi versions 👀

Night Watch

Pairing: Legolas x Uruk Hai Male Reader

Warnings: smut

——————-

The campsite smelt foul, not only did it have the stench of orcs but it was accompanied by the smell of burning flesh of an orc who stood out of place. We had been on the trail of the fellowship for a few weeks now, finally catching up to them when they rested in a clearing in the woods. The party had split up, trying to escape, but our numbers had overpowered them. Now they sat tied to an old oak tree. I wasn’t a stranger to killing, I had done it many times. However I had done it in self defense, I didn’t see the honor in tracking down, and killing a group of people trying to better the world. I wasn’t on board with Sauron’s rule, it sounded like hell.

I stood from my seat on the ground, heading towards where we kept our food. Opening the sack I was greeted with various pieces of bread, and a few stashes of rabbit. I picked out my rations, turning to glance at the fellowship, I tried to remember the last time they had eaten. My mind came up blank. I grabbed a few extra pieces of food, making sure no other orcs saw me.

The elf noticed my approach first, he tensed up, warning the others of my presence. I gave them a smile, trying to be as comforting as possible, but judging by the smallest hobbits reaction, it didn't work.

“What do you want, orc?” The dwarf spat at me, I grimaced at the harshness in his words.

“I uh, just noticed that my tribe hasn’t fed you since your capture” I replied, revealing the food in my hands. They all eyed me with suspicion as I placed the food next to their hands.

“It’s poisoned isn’t it?” The dirtiest looking human asked, obviously not seeing my good intent.

“Look, I know that I’m an orc, it’s obvious. However I would appreciate it if you thought to yourself that maybe all of us aren’t bad. It’s impossible to have an entire race with rational thought, and for all of them to be evil, some of us think for ourselves” I spoke to them, desperately trying to get my point across. They stared at me, watching my every move with caution. I sighed, noticing their stubborn distrust in me. “Fine, I see you don’t trust me, but you either die of ‘poison’ or starvation” I muttered, walking away from the group.

“He does have a fair point” Boromir offered, picking up his food to examine it.

“I’ll try it” Legolas spoke up, willing to put his life on the line for his friends. Legolas brought the bread to his mouth, taking a small bite. Everyone looked at him intently, waiting for him to drop dead or something. He then took another bite, not realising how hungry he was until now.

“It is settled then, we shall eat” Aragorn said, taking a bite of his food. The fellowship watched the strange orc intently for the rest of the night, noting how he kept to himself.

The sun rose along with the orc warriors. However this morning was more chaotic than usual, a fight had broken out among the tribes. The Snaga had gotten out of line and questioned my people, resulting in a massive fight. I made sure to stay hidden, not wanting to get involved in the bloodshed. I noticed a gangly Snaga creeping towards two of the hobbits, licking his lips as he drew his knife.

“Please don’t eat us!” Pippin pleaded, eyes wide at the rusty blade in the orc’s hand

“Yeah! We’re only skin and bone!” Merry added, as the rest of the party struggled against their restraints, trying to save the pair. The orc raised his knife, ready to stab Merry. He let out a horrible squeal as blood rushed from a stump where his hand used to be. Everyone’s eyes turned to me as I held my sword, now stained with the Snaga’s blood.

“You! You cut off my hand!” He snarled in fury, clutching the stump close to his chest.

“Yes, now run away before you lose your head too” I warned, pointing my sword at him, he took the hint and scurried off in fear. “Are you okay?” I asked the hobbit, scanning him with my eyes to make sure he wasn’t wounded.

“I, uh, yes, I think so” He responded, mouth agape. I nodded, kneeling down, bringing out my knife to cut the rope that was tying them to the tree. The rope gave up, falling to the ground in pieces.

“You should go, while everyone is distracted” I advised them, handing them their stuff. The group got to their feet, taking all of their stuff and equipping it. They started to walk away quietly until one of them stopped, turning to me.

“What about you? Surely they’ll kill you” Legolas questioned, worried about my well being

“They most likely will, yes, but I’m okay with that” I smiled at him, walking back towards camp.

“Wait!” I felt a hand on my arm “Come with us? We could use someone of your strength and you know the enemies plan” Legolas pleaded with me, not letting go of my arm

“We are not allowing him to come with us!” Boromir exclaimed, looking shocked at the very idea

“Are you daft, elf? He’s an orc! He’ll kill us” Gimli tried to reason, not forgetting what terrible things orcs had done to his bloodline.

“They don’t want me to come, majority rules” I smiled at the elf, grateful for his concern, however his grip only tightened.

“You do not have to come with us all the way, but please, come with us, come with me” He begged, I sighed, nodding my head, knowing that he was too stubborn and every second more we spent at the camp, would put them in even more danger.

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

It had been a few weeks since that day at the camp. The group, especially the dwarf, did not trust me at all at first but had slowly begun to warm up to me. The hobbits had shown their thankfulness of my rescue by putting together a cheerful song about ‘the orc with a heart of gold’. Although Legolas was not like the other party members. He did not engage in friendly sparring but instead rested his head on my lap when he found it hard to sleep, something about him was different.

I was supposed to be on watch tonight, but the others, besides Legolas and the hobbits, didn’t trust me to watch over their sleeping bodies, so they had Legolas stay up with me. We were discussing beautiful landscapes that we had come across in our travels, he had a lot more examples as Mirkwood was a lot prettier than Mordor.

“I love hearing you talk” I told him “You just have so many good stories, sounds much better than being an orc in Mordor”

“You know when this is all over, you can come live with me in Mirkwood” He offered, I scoffed at the idea

“An orc? In Mirkwood? I’d be killed on the spot”

“I won’t let that happen, I don’t care if my father disowns me and I’m banned from Mirkwood, I’m not going to let you go back to that life” He turned to me, his face dead serious. I grinned to myself, glad that he cared for me. “It’d be great, we could get a house together, I’d introduce you to elven traditions and foods, and we could even share a bed” He said the last bit quieter than the rest.

“You want to share a bed?” I asked, meeting his gaze.

“If you, uh, I mean, if you wanted to” He tumbled over his words, his face heating up.

“I’d like that” I told him, finding his embarrassed state very cute.

“What else would you like?” Legolas pried, leaning closer to my body

“A nice meal, to not be so cold, and avo have ukex wiavh lat” I admitted, saying the last part in orcish. Legolas tilted his head, not understanding orcish.

“What’s that last part mean?”

“avo have ukex wiavh lat translates to ‘to have sex with you’” I looked away, my turn to be embarassed. I heard Legolas chuckle next to me

“You’re not very subtle” He joked “But as long as we’re quiet we don’t have to wait for that” He whispered to me. I smirked, iking where this was going. Legolas crawled onto my lap, steadying himself by putting his hands on my shoulders. He rolled his hips, pressing down on me. I let out a primal snarl as I grabbed onto Legolas’ hips.

I pressed my lips against Legolas’ my tusks getting in the way slightly. I trailed my mouth down Legolas’ neck, biting at his smooth skin with my teeth. He gasped as I found his sensitive spot, quickly biting down on his knuckle, trying to keep quiet. My hands tugged at his pants, desperate to remove them. Legolas lifted himself off of me slightly, pulling his pants down.

I wrapped my rough hand around Legolas’ cock, giving it a few pumps as he bit down on his knuckles harder.

“Oh, please, take your pants off” Legolas breathed in my ear, clawing at my garment. I obeyed his request and tugged my pants down to my ankles.

Legolas put his fingers in his mouth, coating them in saliva. He started to push them in and out of his ass, putting on a show for me.

“I’m ready for you now” He purred in my ear, as he lined himself up with me. I let out a low guttural sound as he pushed himself down on me. He started to move, pushing himself up and down on me over and over. I couldn’t hold in my urge anymore and threw him to the ground, me on top of him.

I growled in his ear, roughly thrusting in and out of Legolas. The biting of his lips and concentration to be quiet displayed his pleasure. I started to growl and make animalistic sounds as I pounded the elf into the dirt. He started to swear in elvish nearing his release.

“Y/N, oh, I’m going to cu-“ he stuttered, losing control of his body’s movements. The feeling of Legolas’ body clenching around me was enough to push me to my orgasm. I came inside him, we pulled away from each other, looking around to make sure we woke no one up.

“Looks like we got away with it” Legolas whispered as we clothed ourselves.

“I’m glad, maybe we could do it again some time?” I offered, leading him back to the rock that we were sitting on.

“Yeah, let's do that” he smiled at me.

#legolas #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #hobbit #x male reader #male reader #fanfic #smut #orc #reader #uruk hai

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bokutos-eyebrows · 4 years

Note

Hello👉🏻👈🏻 could I perhaps have a daichi or asahi scenario where ur the captain of ur volleyball team(gender neutral or female POV, whichever you prefer to do~) but the opposing team deliberately spikes the ball w intent to harm at ur youngest team member but u move them out of the way and end up getting hit and knocked down, everyone’s super nervous cus you also hit your head(1/2)

(2/2 sorry I’m a lengthy bitch lmao) and asahi(or daichi!) gets extra anxious because you have a majorly bloody nose but you’re a brave and mildly vindictive bean and stuff that nose w tissues n keep playing, winnin n ending in major fluffy caring feels from a mother hen bf 🥺 thank u so much and even if this doesn’t float ur boat that’s totally cool! I just need more daichi and asahi love in my life 😭stay safe and healthy💖

Mother hen bf is like the perfect way to describe those two I love it sm! And don’t be sorry! Being lengthy is always appreciated bc i wanna do my best !!!!!!!! I couldn’t decide on which one so I just did both LOLLL Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you enjoy :3

Azumane Asahi

What had started out as a friendly match with a neighboring team was quickly turning sour. Your community volleyball team had agreed to this match without really knowing much about the other team, thinking it would be a fun game between communities. As it turns out, the other team was known for their rough play, using fowl tactics to win games. Your team had won the first set, the current scores were tied 21-21.

You were tired, running around to receive the extra harsh spikes that felt targeted towards the smaller and younger players was taking its toll on you. Looking down, you saw how scuffed up your arms were, wincing at the thought of all the bruises that would form. It was rough, but you were too defensive of your teammates to let anyone else take the brunt of it.

There weren't many people in the crowd, and even if there had been, it was easy to spot your 6’2, long haired boyfriend. He had a concerned look on his face, brows furrowed. You flashed him a quick smile for reassurance, but his worry did not ease up.

The opposing team’s ace was sizing up the youngest member of your team. This set off alarm bells in your head. As the setter tossed the ball, you sprinted over to the side of the court your teammate was on. The other teams ace spiked the ball down hard, as if to really hurt your teammate.

A sickening smack noise quieted the entire gym as you fell to the floor. You had barely made it in time to take the impact of the ball right to your face. The silence of the gym was interrupted by the loud noise of Asahi running down the bleachers towards you. As you sat up, blood dripped from your nose, prompting the game to take a timeout for you to get checked out.

Asahi carried you to the bench where your couch had tissues and water waiting for you.

“Y/n, you should sit the rest of the game out, that was a really rough blow.” your boyfriend was on the verge of tears after seeing you hurt.

You gave him a reassuring smile, “Babe, we’re 4 points from winning the game, I have to finish.” You plugged your nose with tissues and got up to go back on the court despite Asahi’s protest. He stood up, flipped his hair over his shoulder and shot the ace of the other team an intimidating look.

Part of you wanted to tell him to knock it off, but he was so cute when he was being protective. With his support and your teammates backing you up, you guys score the last few points you need to win the match. You snuck in a few power spikes of your own directed at the ace and other players that had targeted your teammates.

Asahi brought you your favorite fruit and a protein drink. You collapsed in his arms, happy the hellish game was over. Your boyfriend wrapped his arms around you snugly.

“You really shouldn’t have kept playing, y/n. I was so worried.” Asahi sighed, stroking your hair.

“I wanted to make sure the game ended quickly! With minimal damage to everyone else.” You pouted.

Asahi laughed, “You’re really something else, y/n. You did great today my little team captain.” He snuggled into you, holding you close as you rested and you in close to make sure you didn’t see him glare down at the other team as they left.

Sawamura Daichi

Your team had absolutely dominated the opposing team during the first set. You weren’t one to brag or gloat too much but your team was really coming together today and absolutely killing it. It was partially thanks to your boyfriend, Daichi, agreeing to help out as team manager. With his experience, each member of the team learned how to remain level headed in game and play their strengths.

The second set was going well so far, 20-18 in your team's favor. After scoring another point, you and one of your teammates high fived. You heard a middle blocker from the other team make a loud “tsk.” noise and whisper something to their wing spiker. They seemed to be planning something.

You glanced at Daichi and locked eyes, you could tell he had picked up on it too. You locked your gaze on the wing spiker. The other team had the ball and their setter was about to toss it. The wing spiker glanced at the teammate to your left. It was the youngest player on the team.

Before you could think twice, you felt your legs carry you in front of your colleague as the wing spiker hit the ball. They were aiming at your friend but you managed to receive the ball, albeit with your face, and the rest of your team followed through and scored a point, not letting your sacrifice go in vain.

You yelled out an encouraging cheer before you realized your nose was gushing blood. Daichi was calling a timeout and rushing to your side with a towel to catch the blood. You sat on the bench while Daichi patched you up.

“Sit out the rest of this set, y/n.” Daichi said as he handed you a bottle of water.

“No way, babe. You saw the way they tried to target my team.” You took a long drink.

“Y/n that wasn’t a suggestion.” your boyfriend sighed, “I know you want to look out for your team but your nose is bleeding pretty bad.”

“Daichi, I love you,” you said while rummaging through your sports bag, “I know you were the captain of Karasuno but, I’m the captain here.” you smirked.

Daichi couldn't help but let out a laugh, he loved your get it done attitude and knew there was no further room to argue.

“I love you too, y/n. Go get em,”

You found a tampon in your bag that you carried for emergencies and plugged your nose to stop the bleeding. Too determined to win the game to care if you looked silly, you got back on the court. Your team completely shut out any of the opposing teams spikes and serves, making the win quick.

After you’d had your team meeting and picked up your stuff to leave, Daichi picked you up bridal style and carried you.

“You didn’t think I’d let you strain yourself even further after that fiasco did you?” He mused, holding you tight in his arms. “I’m going to take care of you till you feel better, since you don’t seem to care about anything but playing volleyball.”

“Hah, that’s rich coming from you Daichi.” you laughed, pulling your boyfriend into a kiss. He carried you all the way home, complimenting your plays and how cute you look in your jersey the whole way.

#asahi azumane x reader #asahi x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #daichi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu scenarios

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Five:Sensory Integration 1

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A Friday full of teasing for Shane ends in a steak dinner with a blue-eyed beefcake. If you don’t finish this chapter hungry for one or the other, if not both, I haven’t done my job! Lol! (For inspo on Sy’s date outfit, think back to that one Men’s Health photoshoot Hen did and just imagine his hair shorter. That’s what I did. lol!)

Click me to catch up on the story and other stuff by Hannah!

Word Count: 4k (This date got away from me! Lol! And it’s only half over!)

Warnings: Mostly this is utter fluffy fluff, but I’m gonna put the following warnings on, anyway. Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, borderline food worship (Shane may have a problem, I definitely do! Lol!) Also, pretty much every Sy fic I’ve read says that his given name is Logan, so...should his given name be used henceforth, that’s what I’m going with because it seems the most cannon and I like it and if it’s good enough for Wolverine...

Author’s Note: So, guys, this is crazy. First off, the reaction and love Sy and Shane’s story has been getting has taken me completely off guard and utterly made my day/week. (I’m serious. Every note makes my heart do a happy dance. A like, a reblog, a comment. It all means the world to me. Thank you for your feedback and for sharing this story.) Second, YOUR FEEDBACK MATTERS TO ME! Because initially, idk what I was thinking. I was going to skim over their first date and like…not write it…and I kept getting notes as I worked on further chapters to the tune of “can’t wait for this date!” and I thought…hmm…well, the date must be written! So, here it is, the first half-ish, of Shane and Sy’s first date. I hope it’s all you were expecting…or at least half of all you were expecting! Lol! More to come in part two of Sens Integ! (BTW, fun fact, these chapter titles are all named after treatments that therapists actually use on their patients sometimes! Lol!)

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira @oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland @speakerforthedead0@tumblnewby @suavechops

Friday morning. She was up with the sun. And a bit before, really. Today was the day. Her first date with Sy. She’d taken extra care in the shower, less clumsy, thank God! She shaved her legs because she had chosen to wear a knee-length blue dress with a scoop neck and cap sleeves in wrinkle-proof Jersey knit since it would be in her tote bag all day. She was not shaving because she thought anything would happen tonight with Sy. She didn’t think she was ready.

That is, she was ready, but, only physically. Emotionally, mentally, she would need to prepare for him a bit longer before taking him as a lover. She hoped he was on the same page.

He had an appointment in the early afternoon. He greeted her with his warm “Hello, sunshine.” Following it up by telling her how pretty she looked today, causing blush to burn in her cheeks. She’d reciprocated, even though he was in his typical tee and shorts look. It was still true. They got on their usual bikes to warm up for about 15 minutes, and then took to the leg press to try to advance his strengthening.

“I’m really proud of your progress! You wouldn’t have been able to do this much weight two weeks ago!” She encouraged him.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Now, we are going to do some drills next. Simple ones, but they aren’t going to be fun for you. I’ve chosen to do them on your last day of the week for a reason. You may be sore. Ice and whatever you take OTC if you must. Ibuprofen or acetaminophen. But try the ice first. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Okay.” He conceded, dejected.

“Stretching afterward.” She promised.

“Okay!” He pepped up. She knew he just loved an excuse to have her hands on him.

Later, as he lay on the mat, sweaty from the exertion of the drills, with her up there with him having to use her whole body to leverage the proper stretch out of his hip flexors, she felt the heavy weight of his gaze. She tried to look anywhere but those sapphire eyes below her. They were too vulnerable. She couldn’t handle that right now. Not here.

“Shane?” Dammit, he was gonna make her.

“Hmm?” She looked down at him, smile meeting smile.

“I just…” he couldn’t seem to get out the words. But she thought she understood what he was feeling.

“I know, Sy. I know.” She gently patted his outer thigh where she had been bracing her hand for the stretch, and let his leg back down, while dismounting the mat, as well.

“Well, that’s about the hour. Any questions before I let you go?”

“Are you as excited for tonight as I am?” He asked. She chuckled. She couldn’t imagine him being more excited than she was!

“Yes! Hehe! But I still kinda meant about therapy, Sy.”

“Oh, right. Are you excited to finish up with your therapy patients at therapy today so I can pick you up from the therapy clinic and take you on our date?”

“Just because you say therapy 20 times doesn’t make it about therapy.” She laughed.

“Okay, I do have a question for you, since I’m here.”

“Shoot.” She encouraged.

He stood and held her face, taking it into a kiss so devastatingly and painfully tender, she could not process what to do next. She was leaning toward fainting. But then tackling him onto the mat again seemed an attractive option. She settled for placing her hands on his waist, ready to control the situation as need arose. But after a brief moment of slight deepening, he broke away, still holding her face in his large strong hands.

“Ahem. That’s a good question. Why don’t I have you a reply later this evening?”

“Sounds good to me, sunshine.” He grinned widely, and waved a quiet goodby to her.

She walked to the doorway of the small room to watch him walk out…his gait still uneven from his injury but improving enough that she could tell he once took very…confident strides. She could almost picture it. She sighed, forgetting herself for a moment until Anita came up behind her walking her elderly patient with a gait belt and front wheeled walker.

"Is that a bit of drool on your chin, Shane?" she said quietly, but still startling the younger therapist from her reverie.

"Oh, uh, hey." she checked her chin, absentmindedly, late in getting the joke, and rolled her eyes. "Funny, Nita. Do you need anything?"

"Nope, Gladys and I are just headed to the gym for a few minutes on the NuStep to round out her treatment." Nita grinned at Shane.

"Who was that handsome young man that just left, Shane?" Gladys asked her, as women of her…demographic tended to do.

"He's just one of our patient's Miss Gladys. But I can't tell you his name. It's against the privacy policy." She explained.

"Oh, okay. Well, if I was a few years younger, I'd let ya give him MY name…and my telephone number." she smirked with pride in herself. All three ladies giggled.

"I'm pretty sure he's spoken for, Gladys." Anita broke the news to her randy patient, smirking at her coworker.

"Shame! Well, that's one lucky young lady!" Gladys hobbled on with the walker as Anita cued her not to let the device get too far ahead of her feet. Shane was beet red from the whole interaction. At least she wouldn't have to wear blush tonight.

Her day finally finished, notes done, and final communications sent, the most important (in her opinion, probably not her employer's) message of them all was next. The text to Sy that he could head toward the clinic to pick her up.

She touched up her eye makeup, applied another coat of mascara, and dabbed on some of her favorite lipstick in a deep red that complimented her skin tone. She also spritzed on a bit of her favorite Armani perfume before slipping on her dress and black ballet flats and sliding on a pair of simple hoop earrings. She'd had her hair pulled up all day in a clip, so it should be pleasantly wavy when she took it down…and with a bit of flipping, shaking out, and finger diffusing, it was.

She looked in the mirror. She was ready.

Was she ready? She examined herself in the full length mirror in the empty locker room at the clinic. The dress and the shoes suddenly seemed all wrong, both together and as individual pieces for the occasion. She looked great, it wasn't that…but…was it right for tonight? Should she cancel? Was she being ridiculous? Clearly she was, as she'd already sent the message telling Sy he could come get her. But the closer she got to being ready to go, the less ready she felt. Those butterflies were suddenly clawing at her esophagus, disrupting the bile in her stomach, and threatening to choke off her air supply. They were no longer pleasantly fluttering. She felt like she had a boot against her windpipe.

She was snapped out of the panic attack when she heard her phone go off. A message from Sy.

Your chariot, m'lady. Should I come in and get ya?

She grinned like a lunatic. How could she have considered calling tonight off?

Nay, m'lord, verily the gates be locked. I shall use the rear exit and meet thee around yonder forsooth.

Wow, you ran with that one. *laughing in tears emoji*

I have that tendency. Lol. *monocle wearing emoji*

She grabbed her bags, walked out the back door, and tossed the one that wasn't her purse into her vehicle, which was parked nearby and walked around to the front. He was standing on the sidewalk near that edge of the building.

The sun was just setting, and the light from it hit him so bewitchingly that it took away her breath. Not in the frightening way of the panic attack she'd just had, but in the nice way, like right before you surface from a deep dive and you know the sweet relief of oxygen is imminent. She assessed his ensemble with approval. Black books, sleek dark blue jeans, and a sapphire v-neck polo that even in the low light of near dusk made his blue eyes dance with vibrant intensity against his fading tan. His hair was starting to grow out ever so slightly, but it was still very close cropped. His beard, she could tell, had been finely groomed, combed, and styled. He looked…well, she'd never looked up the word "handsome" in the dictionary, but she imagined it would describe the image before her quite succinctly. And alternatively, Sy's image could be used as an illustration in the reference book, itself.

The best part, though, was the look on his face when he saw her.

She felt like he'd never properly looked at her, perhaps. Maybe he wasn't expecting a dress, or loose hair, or red lips. Or maybe it was a combo of the whole Date Shane package he was seeing before him. As his eyes beheld her, he almost looked confused. As if she was a stand-in. Or maybe an alien. Some body-snatcher. Only he wasn't frightened. She was having a hard time working out his expression as she'd really never seen it before, and particularly, never aimed in her direction. He said one word.

"Wow." It was reverent. Not a whisper. But barely a decibel above.

Again, her cheeks required no artificial pigmentation.

"Hey. You look…you certainly scrub up good, mister." she giggled nervously, feeling immensely awkward at her inability to properly compliment the chiseled image of Adonis before her. His every muscle hugged to perfection by the fabric covering it. How did you even begin to tell such perfection how perfect it was?

"You…Shane, I don't remember the last time I saw anyone look so beautiful." he frowned, as if trying to recall, then giving up with a smile, and leaning in to kiss her cheek. He lingered a moment to hug her, hold her as the day faded, breathe her in. She did the same. He was freshly showered and wearing cologne, as he often did, but it rarely hit her so solidly as it did tonight. She loved this scent. Woody, but earthy, with notes of bergamot, a kind of musky scent similar to amber, but more masculine, and something spicy that she loved. The combination exploded like an olfactory fireworks display.

The shirt was an unthinkably soft cotton (blended she thought perhaps with kitten, she could not stop touching it.) and the warmth of him radiated into her as his chest rose and fell over the course of his numerous breaths as they stood there holding each other and enjoying this feast for the senses.

"You ready for supper?" he asked, a faint but distinct rumble from his abdomen indicating that he most certainly was.

"Yes." she smiled up at him as he took her hand in his and led her to his truck. A Ford F150, the same sapphire blue as his shirt and his eyes. She was sensing a pattern, here. It wasn't the newest vehicle, but he had taken immaculate care of it. She felt shame for her own treatment of her Explorer, Bessie, which often functioned as storage shed, trash can, and sometimes, hotel, when she felt like a road trip on a shoestring budget. He walked her to the passenger side, opened the door for her, and helped her in, as the truck sat a bit higher than what she was used to.

"So, I have us a table saved at this great steakhouse just down the road. And then, it's supposed to be a nice night, I thought we could take a walk by the lake?"

It sounded perfect to her. Quiet and simple.

"Amazing. As long as your knee is up for a walk?"

"I've got all weekend to rest before getting tortured again." he smirked at her as he pulled the truck out of the parking lot and on the main road toward the interstate. "B'sides, who better to have with me if I start hurtin' than my PT?"

The emphasis he placed on the possessive pronoun, claiming her as HIS PT sent a delighted shiver through her that she blamed on the AC, which he promptly turned down.

He had his Spotify shuffling Kings of Leon at a low volume as they conversed lightly and pleasantly. Since it was an earlier model, even well equipped as it was, it wasn't quite ready for auxiliary or Bluetooth sound, so he'd bought one of those radio receivers that tune into an unused frequency and connect to your phone or iPod. She'd retrofitted her 2003 Ford Explorer in a similar fashion.

They were both caught a bit off guard when "Sex on Fire" came on, and tried valiantly to keep talking. But it was hard to hear anything but those lyrics. Singing of exhibitionism and dangerous sex acts that were definitely moving violations…and simply the sex being on fire. She was thankful, for once, that this song that she'd always found catchy without paying much attention to the actual lyrics, was now fading into the night as they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

She remembered to wait for him to get the door for her, even though it had been ages since she'd been on a date or had any kind of romance whatsoever. He helped her down from her perch, giving her a gentlemanly moment to adjust her skirt before taking her hand and leading her into the building.

He opened the door and led her in by that lumbar lordosis that made everyone tremble and swoon. She was no exception just because she knew that part of your back was not actually called "the small" and she got perturbed when she heard it referred to as such.

"Welcome to Mark's, how can we help you?" the host greeted warmly.

"Reservation for Syverson." Sy piped up. She was used to being the voice in these situations. She was thankful not to have to for once. It was a small thing, but it was still nice.

"Right this way, folks." he grabbed two large menus, a mid sized one, and a small one, and led them to a cozy but still spacious two-top in a quiet corner of the dining area. The warm light was low and ambient, and there were real kerosene lamps on the tables, which she loved. It had the rustic ambiance of a cabin with all the refinement of any four+ star restaurant she'd ever been to. Not that she'd been to many.

"Here you are, the table you requested, and your menus. Have a look at them, and Katie will be out soon to answer questions and take your orders."

As he walked away, Sy pulled her chair out for her, and aided her sitting. His gentility was so refreshing to her, because it was so sincere and kind, and in no way oppressive or domineering, as some men seemed to use such gestures. Wielding them like a club rather than a feather. She was just used to seeing a certain side of him, teasing and silly as he was in therapy that this side of Captain Syverson, or as she may end up calling him one day, Logan, his given first name, if it pleased him, had taken her off guard.

"Nice place." she approved, looking around at he exposed beams of the ceiling and the iron and copper chandeliers and light fixtures on the wall. She also noticed quite curiously a copy of American Gothic by Grant Wood on one wall and The Kiss by Gustav Klimt on another. Such different styles to be displayed in one room. She really liked it though.

"It's one of my favorites. I try to come in every couple weeks or so." The fact that he liked steak on the regular was definitely a point in his favor. She loved it but rarely went out for it on her own. Eating out alone wasn't so bad, but it was hard to enjoy a steak dinner by one's self.

"What's your favorite cut?"

"Oh, I've tried most of them, and you can't go wrong." He assured her.

They had a crazy selection. Ribeyes, filets, sirloins, prime rib, all seasoned, smoked, topped and wrapped in every way you could imagine…it was like staring at the Netflix menu of steak. And much like she tended to do with Netflix, she relied on a classic favorite. After all, who goes for an obscure choice their first time at a new steak house?

"I'm keeping it simple and going for their prime rib and a baked potato."

"Ah, that's a perfect choice. We're getting some of their lobster mac and cheese to start, though. Unless you're allergic or something?" he added the disclaimer when he saw her eyes widen.

"Not at all, that sounds…"she was thinking "sexual," but decided instead on "heavenly."

Soon, Katie, a peppy, slender young redhead in black jeans she'd been poured into and a white T-shirt she had outgrown some time ago, descended upon their table with gusto.

"Howdy, I'm Katie and I get to take care of you fine folks this evening. What drinks and appetizers can I start y'all off with?"

Sy looked at Shane to prompt her to start.

"Sweet tea?" she half stated, half inquired. Katie nodded and jotted.

"Sure thing! Sir?" she thought her eyes sparkled when she looked at Sy…she couldn't blame her. But…she thought she could take her if she tried anything. She was certain there was a very sharp knife in the black napkin set-up at her right hand.

"Same for me, Katie. And we are also gonna need an order of your lobster mac to start and a bottle of your house cab."

"Fantastic. I'll be right back with the teas and wine after I put in for the lobster mac for ya, and then I'll take your meal order." she smiled brightly. Sy looked at Shane, though, as he replied "Wonderful."

~~~~~~~

Her instincts about the lobster mac and cheese had been spot on. She couldn’t contain her yummy noises of enjoyment which amused Sy to no end. She couldn’t imagine the steak any better.

About that, she had been completely wrong. It was so succulent, tender, and flavorful, she debated on whether or not the provided au jus and horseradish were even needed. They were also too good to resist, though.

Her potato, twice baked to the perfect tenderness had a salt brined skin, and a garlicky butter that just sung with the sour cream and chives. She was in food heaven, and even if that meant she was dead, it was fine.

He’d ordered the same entrée as she had, but took his baked potato…a bit differently.

“You don’t like sour cream?” She asked, nonplussed.

“Nah, I mean, I can eat it, but…it feels weird in my mouth. I prefer the au jus and butter, instead. It’s much more tasty.” He said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” She laughed.

“You’re welcome to try mine when I get it all doctored you how I like it!”

She did, right from his fork. And he was right about it being so flavorful, but she preferred the mild, creamier texture of her own side with the savory notes of her steak.

They ate and enjoyed each other’s company and conversation.

“Ya know, Sy, I totally had you pegged as a beer man, instead of a wine guy.” She said, as she brought her own glass of the deep red liquid to her mouth and nose, inhaling the bouquet before she took her sip.

“Normally, you’d be right. With a burger, pizza, sometimes tacos or what not, definitely. But I can’t do beer with steak. It’s gotta be wine. Red. And full-bodied.” He held her gaze as he drank from his own glass. Why did he have to look at her like that when he said those kinds of words? Her cheeks were warm from more than the booze.

For desert, they shared a decadent marbled brownie/blondie a la mode. He’d had the idea to slide his chair so he was sharing a corner of the table with her, rather than looking across it at her. Purely so they didn’t have to keep sliding the dessert…not so their knees would brush against one another now and then, or so they could feel the heat radiating from one another’s bodies…but actually, exactly for those reasons.

“Last bite is to you, Sy.” She set her fork down, full to bursting.

“Are you kiddin’? My mama’d tan my hide if she knew I took the last bite from my date.”

“You’re being gallant, actually! Rescuing me from a certain belly ache.” She patted her small but slightly rounded tummy. She did like her food, and was no gym rat, after all. He didn't seemed to mind. Yet.

“How 'bout we share the last bite?” He suggested.

“Technically that’s not physically possible. Becau…”

He interrupted what was going to be an intellectual explanation of why no matter how small you cut up a bite, the remaining bit was still technically one bite, and couldn’t be shared.

“No. Shh. I know you’re smart. You got nothin’ to prove here. I’m gonna cut what’s left in half until I get a bite you’re willing to take. Okay?” She nodded.

He only had to take the fork to it twice before she conceded, also letting him feed her, feigning paralysis from the food coma. She held the fork tightly between her lips, making him work to pull it from her mouth. She looked innocent, but she was an intentional little shit.

“You're so cute when you eat.”

“Said no one ever!” She held her hand over her face.

“You are, though. You enjoy the food. Experience it. It’s like you’re…getting a story from it, or something. Like it’s…almost like it’s entertaining you, I don’t know. It’s just…beautiful.” He leaned his elbow onto the table, supporting his head in his hand as he looked at her.

"Well, sometimes I think I like food a little TOO much for my own good." she lamented, reaching for the cabernet only to have it snatched by her date. He uncorked it and dispensed a generous pour for her, and topped off his own glass, killing the bottle.

"No such thing. Like I said about the wine, full bodied is the way to go. Nothin' wrong with a little cushion." he winked at her. She could not resist finishing a rhyme she'd always heard about the desirability of curvy girls…for the pushin,' and hoped the flush in her cheeks from the wine was enough to disguise the deepening color from the current blush she was feeling thinking of Sy…pushin' her cushions…but something tipped him off to her distraction.

"What's on yer mind, sunshine?"

"I'm wondering if you're prepared to carry me on this walk we're planning, actually." It was possible to think more than one thing, after all. "I don't know how I'll ever even walk again."

"Ah, give it fifteen minutes. Finish up your sweet tea, and by the time we're done with our walk, you'll want an ice cream cone."

"Ha, doubtful." But she was ashamed to admit, ice cream already didn't sound bad. Vanilla…maybe pistachio….no, coffee! In a waffle cone…with fudge drizzle…and almonds…maybe she had a problem.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded. He flagged down Katie and gave her cash, and what one might call a benevolent tip. They left the warm steakhouse, and entered the breezy late summer evening, the humid air seeming thick with promises.

Up Next: Chapter Six-Sensory Integration 2

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