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spikesbimbo · 3 years

Text

Soft sex pt.1 pt.2

-MSBY

Tags: cuddle fucking,cockwarming, morning sex, big dick!meian, bath sex, makeup sex, praise kink, hurt/comfort, pussy job

a/n: vanilla is not something to be ashamed of, its way more common than you think, you don't need to be doing kamasutra every night to keep the spark. none of that daddy shit in this. Srry : /

i also don't proofread, i h8 reading works right after i finish them, so let me know if anything's wrong.

NO KINKY FREAKY ASS SHIT

**ONLY SOFT SEX BEYOND THIS POINT**

18+ Minors DNI

-Hinata

….Morning... sex. mmhmm

He could usually control his morning wood

But after being gone for so many days, finally coming home to see you, it was impossible

You woke up after you heard a few groans, feeling him rut into your back, turning over to see his face flushed and cheeks red, whether it be from getting caught or his activities

So you decide to help him as a good s/o should

But you're also tired…

So you just pull your pants off and tell him to go at it, not too rough because you had to work in the afternoon.

“Baby, you okay?” you faintly asked, turning around, eyes trying to open after hearing him make some noises. You hated when people disturbed your sleep, which you oh so loved, but your boyfriend was an exception, sometimes.

But what you didn't expect when you opened your eyes was catching him, red faced, with his hand in his boxers trying to make it stop. Looking like he was in a lot of pain, so your quick mind got on it, not wanting to see his face in any more discomfort.

“Here” you said, shuffling your back into him while pulling down your panties, setting your ass on his bulge, grinding a little to get him to hurry up. Knowing this was the only way you could take care of him.

“You sure?” he asked already putting his cock into you being needy as ever, which indeed you thought was cute in way but him stretching you out made you respond by pushing yourself even more against him, bottoming out which both of you let out some moans and curses, softly saying them as he wrapped his arms around your torso, giving you a minute before he started moving.

“S-shoyo” you quietly gasped, holding onto the pillow as he pushed himself into you trying to close your eyes and relax, slowly but restlessly, getting deeper in you with every thrust. Leaning back into him his arm now moving around your chest, angling himself to where it felt good.

His thrusts felt agonizingly slow, teasing almost, as he shoved his face into your shoulder, groaning how good you felt. “fuck, baby m’gonna cum.” he whined out. The pressure in his hips getting stronger with you clenching around him.

‘s’okay, hurry up and cum baby” you cooed, feeling him grow in you, wanting him to feel good, moving your hips back to catch his. “fuck-k” he finished, the warmness spreading into you, some dripping out onto your legs, slipping on the bed.

“You good now?” you giggled after some time, him finally sporting a smile instead of a frown. “thank you...” he shyly muttered out, turning you around to face him, wanting to see your pretty face.

“Can u wake me up at 3?” you asked, giving yourself another hour to get clean. Already being put back because you had to come in earlier today.

“Yeah cutie.” he said, putting it on his phone, you too worn out to do anything but stay still, now facing him while he snuggled into your chest, his head right under yours, finally getting the rest you deserved.

-Atsumu

You were a sensitive little thing, loving how rough and needy he got with you.

But sometimes you needed a break, it hurting too much leaving you sore.

But you're also a fiend for him okay?

who wouldn't be?

Jumping on him every hour of the day.

So you go and straight up, atleast try to, tell him that you want him to be easier with you.

But you were also embarrassed of it, being so needy for him, also not wanting his ego to get any higher than it was, due to you basically you telling him you needed him everyday.

And he's like ok!! on it (¬‿¬)

“What wrong pretty girl, hmmm?” he asked, pulling your waist closer to him, dragging his hand on your upper thigh, fingers finding the outline of you panties under that skirt you were wearing. Him wondering why you looked so distraught just walking up to him.

“Tsumie” you said ignoring his question, bringing up your own, trying your best to get it out only for it to get caught in your throat.

“Hmm?” he responded turning all his attention on you, his gaze making you even more nervous.

“I- um... was just wondering if you could- ya know....bealittlemoregentlenexttime?” you said, muttering the last part out, hoping he understood and wouldn't inquire any further.

He paused for a minute, taking in what you just said, glad that you were comfortable enough to express your thoughts around him, pulling you closer until his face was to your chest, looking up at you with his eyes glistening due to the reflection of the lamp in them. “Right now princess?” he smirked much softer than he usually did.

“Here baby. You're gonna come with me, and i'm gonna take good care of you...real good care of you.” he said, playful traces underlying his words, getting up from his chair while picking you up with him, hands under your thighs already causing a problem. Yes you loved dom, rough atsumu but when he was sweet and gentle, that was a whole nother story, as you could prove right now.

He gently laid you on the bed, taking all your clothes off, kissing all over you until you were wet enough, before attempting to “test” you with his fingers. To which you whined in protest, wanting him in you right now, wanting to feel his warmth inside and out of you.

He positioned himself on top of you, listening to whatever you wanted, fully settling himself inside after sometime, giving you time to adjust to him. He started moving his hips back and forth, his view of you beneath him being picture perfect, as you could say them the same before leaning down into you, muttering words of praise and affection in your ears. The only sound you responded with was moans and cries, but the look in your eyes, the look of want and need, the baseline for love, told him what he wanted to hear, but it wasn't enough.

“Thank you for putting up with me, you know i love you, huh? tell me baby.” he said not rushing you wanting you to feel at ease with him “Tell me you know i love you” he finished, desperate undertones in his words, looking at you with those big sweet eyes.

“I-i know you... love- me.” you choked out, his soft thrusts still hitting you deep, knocking on your cervix, but it felt so good; being in eachothers arms, hitting all the right spots, his breath in your face entangling with yours, feeling more connected than ever. Before you knew it the two of you had finished more than once, now resting in eachothers arms, a

“You feel good baby? He asked, an airy smile plastered on his face, you trying to do the same moving closer to him so he could hear you, arms still wrapped around each other.

“yeah.”

-Kiyoomi

You loved him so much, even when he was a meanie

And he did the same, internally grateful that he was lucky enough to get someone as sweet as you.

Which is why he was making up for the argument he started earlier today.

Not meaning anything he said, just stressed and taking it out on you : ( not knowing how to apologize with words.

So he does what he knows you love, but you never ask him bc you don't want to bother him.

You loved him touching you and vice versa, but you respected his wishes and only did it when you two were alone, even holding back in private too, not wanting to bother him.

So he gives you want you want, a physical form of an apology, another way to express his feelings.

“shh..” he tenderly mumbled into your ear, the one he’d been kissing on for the past few minutes, the sloppiness of it that you loved. Your chest to his back, being completely nude with your legs spread open, one of his hands pinching your nipple while grabbing the rest of the flesh around it.

The sweat and tears adoring your face, masked in pleasure, trying your best to look up at him only to receive a kiss on the head.

“Yoomi~” you sofly cried, clinging on your hands back onto the fabric of his shirt, the one that he got back from his press conference in, the one that he came back in a bad mood, immediately taking it out on you.

His thumb played with your clit, two of his long fingers sliding in as well, leaving you more of a mess then you were already in, his voice accompanied, encouraging you to. He curled his fingers into you, not roughly but hard enough to make you feel it. Your other hand shakily grabbing onto the arm he was blessing you with.

You were such a sweetheart for him, an angel he thought. As soon as you walked in the room he could swear he saw a halo around your head, looking at you long enough to where he could bask in your beauty, but short enough to where you couldn't tell.

Sometimes he felt like he didn't deserve you, being such a bad boyfriend that can't attend to your “needs”, feeling like a dead weight on you. But the way you followed him around like a lost puppy, expressing your love for him in ways you knew he would like reassured him that you were the one.

“-omi” you moaned, legs now shaking, holding them in place with his arm, his fingers working faster while his hand was still cupping your breast squeezing it every once in a while.

“Come for me love.” he warmly mumbled into your ear, taking a break from kissing down your neck, his marks accompanying the glistening of your skin, being the prettiest sight in his eyes. You freezed up in his arms, finally letting go of his shirt, your head rolling back as far as it could. You ultimately getting the both of you dirty, your cum being now a puddle beneath you two, not having the energy to fret about it.

He lets you rest in his arms after your high, lightly resting his head on top of yours, giving it another kiss, gently holding you leaning into you before whispering a faint “Im sorry.”

-Bokuto

This is regular occurrence for you two

Yes, he fucks the shit out of you, but lovingly < 3

You two always express your love for each other through touch, being intimate leaves to you in a daze.

But after he wins a game and sees you in the crowd so excited, a big smile appears on his face, feeling grateful to have you in his life.

He shows you how much he appreciates you

“i love you....so much” he said, dragging your clothes off, eyes following you like a needy puppy, his shirt hanging on by one of his arms still in it, the rest of him naked.

You could only giggle in response, taking off the bra yourself, seeing that he was trying his hardest too, not wanting to take any longer. “Ko, baby what about you?” you said referring to his state letting out another laugh. His hair even more messed up from taking off his hoodie faster than you've ever seen, looking like a little kid trying to dress themselves.

“baby.” you murmur, your hands landing on the sides of his face, into your space, trying to bring him back to reality for a second. “I'm always gonna be here, always... so you can take your time” you finished, seeing he finally took your suggestion as he stood up.

He took off his shirt, now being fully naked for your eyes to admire. But before you could let your hands touch his chest he grabbed them, softly pulling you into his lap, wrapping his big arms around you while letting his head rest on your shoulder.

You got the hint and relaxed as he lined himself up with you, moving his head so that he could see before pushing himself inside trying to hold back his eagerness. “feel good?” he asked thrusting in you a little, the blush covering his cheeks as he held your body closer.

“yeah...feels so good.” you faintly whined out. “...only you could make me feel this way”

His big frame melted into yours as he started moving, your words being music to his ears, his slow strokes making you feel his need. You leaned your head on his shoulder too, slightly moving your hips with his, wanting to feel him even deeper.

His hands moved to your ass and the top of your back, gripping them firmly against his soft movements, letting out moans as he felt you clench around him, the soft flesh being the only thing keeping him grounded.

“F-fuck baby” he started before you cut him off with a “shh, you can cum.” trying your best to seem stable with the way he was fucking you, bouncing on him, hitting those seep spots over and over.

You felt him release, the wetness dripping down your thighs falling onto his, hearing a few curses and moans along with it, giving you puppy dogs eyes asking if you'd let him fuck you again, and of course you couldn't say no.

He kept you in this position for the rest of the night so he could hear all the words of affection, the praise you said he deserved, moaned into his ear. The scratch marks and bruises being the only physical trace left, reminding him of the love you two shared.

“You did great bo.” you said with a smile, sitting in his lap, eyes fluttering as you feel asleep along with him. His grip on you was still tight, kissing you on the forehead, his way of letting you know how much he loved you.

-Meian

Date night yayyyy

Anyways, he’s admiring how beautiful you are, thanking the gods for giving you to him

And he wants to show you how much he worships the ground you walk on, taking it nice and slow, as usual, but this time it would stay like that.

Even if he tries to be gentle with you its still gonna hurt for a min.

Poor baby :’ (

But its okay cause he’ll dote on you and coo in your ear of how good of a girl you are for taking him. : )

“Please, meian.'' you whined, grabbing onto his chest, sweaty skin linking you two together, thighs connected to his hips. Rubbing your bare self on his length, the lace panties you had on being long gone, tossed somewhere on the floor.

He couldn't keep his eyes off of you the whole night, the outfit you had on hugging you just right, the skin peeking out every so often, his hands wondering all over you to your obvious enjoyment; and on the ride home he couldn't keep his eyes off your lips. The gloss shining bright in the streetlights, your natural pout shaping your pretty little face, so innocent, reminding him of all the times you weren't.

“shhh... its okay, I got you angel. We can take it slow, okay?” he said already reading your mind, knowing how his pretty girl thinks, holding your weight making sure you didn't slide down him too fast.

He let you do whatever you wanted to your heart's content, it was always about you, he'd always go along with what you wanted, never doing anything you didn't. You wanting to ride him out of the blue, wanting to take it at your pace. He was more than happy to provide, you usually letting him do whatever he wanted to you, its only right that he returned the favor.

“You good doll?” he groaned, only the tip being in you right now, trying to accommodate his size, even though you were wet from him jumping on you the minute you walked through the door. His hungry eyes not leaving you once, picking you up while shoving his lips on your soft ones, hands raking through your clothes, his hands pulling them off till you only had your panties on.

“Ease up baby, look... “ he stated, his grip on your hips with his big warm hands making you melt into his touch, distracting you from your end goal. “m’sorry... im trying to go faster” you let out, a few tears following while you froze in place. Your mind racing with the thoughts of this not feeling good for him, only you, instant regret flooding your train of thought.

“No, no, no angel,” he started worriedly, wanting to take care of you as he should, leaning up against the bed frame now being face to face with you. “its all about you okay? don't worry doll it feels good for me too, I'm not as impatient as i seem” he said, a slight laugh accompanying him trying to lighten the mood.

“here, lemme move all the way inside you, then you can do whatever you want alright.” he somewhat asked. You nodded, holding onto his shoulders as his hands and hips moved, slowly filling you up, now trembling in his grasp. The stretch making you whine, feeling his balls against your ass, already rutting into him letting out a few moans while he leaned back, thinking you were the most precious thing he's ever seen, a slight smirk now on his face.

“Alright angel, im all yours now.”

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loversamongus · 4 years

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Friends, Fevers, Family Movies

a/n: first one shot for @fromthewatertribe‘s 1k follower event! This turned out to be A LOT longer than I expected and it was also originally for a whole other prompt??? And then just??? Evolved into this??? I knew I wanted to write something that featured a Sokka friendship (and a Katara one!) but also feature good ol’ Zuko fluff. So here ya go. Word vomit. TO CELEBRATE NINA BEING AWESOME.

Also important: written as a world without covid, but does mention the flu. prompt: go to bed, you idiot.

words: 2k

relationship: Zuko x reader

Sharing an apartment with your best friends has its highs and lows. On the bright side, you truly lucked out between the epic prank wars, overly competitive game nights, and the bureaucratic division of chore responsibilities. However, there’s also the constant paranoia that someone can jump out of your closet in a gorilla costume, the frustrated search for the last blue Sorry piece after a certain sore loser flipped over the coffee table, and Katara’s insistence on hand washing all dishware even though the kitchen has a perfectly good dishwasher. The three of you never experience a dull moment.

And you’re so grateful to be living with them. Sokka and Katara are your best friends but now it’s like having a brother and sister of your own. Due to the smaller size of the apartment, you and Katara share a bedroom but neither of you would have it any other way. Though you both have your own corner of the room, you’ll spend hours laying on the gray shag rug in the middle between your beds just talking.

“Today, at the diner, a man had the AUDACITY to call me ‘pretty girl’ and like, yes I am pretty but I don’t need an old coffee-breathed, wrinkly limp noodle to tell me that so I assumed he was just stating the obvious and that I should also call him by obvious nicknames in order to better communicate with and understand the customer, as my manager puts it.”

“And what did you call him?”

“When I came back with their food, he said, ‘Can the pretty girl also get us some mayonnaise packets?’ And I said, ‘Not a problem, ‘crusty man.’”

Katara tried her darnedest to flash you a severe look but couldn’t help choking on a fit of giggles.

“Suki approves of it and we spent the rest of our shift calling each other different names when we crossed paths!”

The rest of the night would linger on with more work day stories, giggles, and Sokka occasionally pounding on the door for you both to shut up already because he is trying to sleep goddamnnit and can’t do that while the apartment is filled with your shrill girlish squeals.

Finally, when you both struggle to fight off sleep, you wave the white flag and drag yourself into bed. But just before you drift off, you hear Katara whisper your name from across the room. You’re not even sure if she’s awake, you’re both so tired, but you answer anyways.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think of Aang?”

“He adores you (yawn) it’s so sweet. I like him for you.”

There’s a silence and you think you’re free to finally fall into your dreams until Katara speaks again.

“What do you think of Zuko?”

“Hmm? I dunno, he’s our (yawn) friend and I like when he brings over (yawn) fireball for game night (yawn) why?”

Your exhaustion overpowers you before you could hear Katara respond, “Because he adores you, it’s so sweet. I like him for you.”

Although also your best friend, living with Sokka feels much less sweet and much more chaotic. Somehow you’re at each other’s throats more so than he is with his own blood related sister. It may have started when the Sock Battle started, a game in which Sokka made it his mission to hide his stenchiest pair of socks somewhere in your stuff. By now, you’ve found his socks in your pillowcases, in textbooks, in your gym bag, and in a picture frame next to your bed. You deliberately retaliate in any way you can during game night. While these instances often have you second guessing your friendship with him, you and Sokka could both put the bickering aside with a Disney movie and a bucket of buttered popcorn.

You could have killed him though when he gave you the flu. Katara was spared thanks to her daily regimen of vitamins and obsession with cleanliness, and Sokka had even recovered rather quickly. But you were not as lucky. Even though it was only the beginning of October, you had Katara dig out your flannel holiday pajamas to warm you up from the chills. The darling that she is, Katara made you her famous homemade soup and set it by your bedside table before heading out to see Aang. In the meantime, it was time for payback.

“Sokka, I need you to refill my water bottle.”

“Do it yourself.”

“Fine and when I get over to the kitchen I’ll lick every bag of beef jerky you own.”

“Oh my god, fine. Give me your water bottle.”

“Sokka, I need to charge my phone. Give me your charger.”

“No? Yours in your room, go get it.”

“If only my legs weren’t so weak from this terrible flu I’ve contracted from someone I trusted to be more hygienic.”

“Here, take it.”

“Sokka, you need to light a candle in the bathroom. Ooh do the rose petal one.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate yours and Katara’s girly scented candles.”

“Okay, but then don’t complain about the smell when you go in.”

“It can’t be that bad— OH MY GOD DID SOMETHING CRAWL OUT OF YOU AND DIE?! OH MY GOD IT’S TRAVELLING. IT’S TRAVELLING THROUGH THE APARTMENT.”

By the fourth day of having the flu, Sokka was sick. Not of the flu. Of you. Katara had been spending as much time with Aang as she could to avoid catching anything from you so the responsibility of taking care of you fell on Sokka. And he was finally reaching the breaking point after you left used tissues all over “his side” of the couch. You snuggled into your pile of blankets as you watched your best friend grumble about the living room, every so often glancing at you while muttering incoherently.

After picking up the last of your snot filled, flu infected tissues, Sokka stood in front of you and took a long, exaggerated breath.

“I am leaving this Land of Disgusting to eat at the diner before driving Suki home.”

“Sokka, you had me at ‘I am leaving.’”

“Shut up. You still have a fever so I’ve called in reinforcements to look after you while Katara and I are both out. They’ll be here shortly after I’m gone. Can you handle yourself for 10 minutes?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Before leaving, Sokka grabbed one more blanket from your room to bring to you on the couch. You realize how lucky you are to be such a pain in the ass and still be so loved by your little family. These happy thoughts, along with the utter amusement over the possibility of Toph being the one taking care of you, lulled you into a short, soft nap.

When you open your eyes next, the living room is dark, save for the small lamp in the corner of the room. As you go to stretch out your legs on the couch, your feet kick into something that wasn’t there before.

“Sokka?” you ask wearily, assuming your friend is back from dropping Suki off home.

“Nope.”

It wasn’t Sokka’s voice. Nor was it Toph’s. Trying your best to sit up under the weight of five blankets, you turn your head to see Zuko’s face illuminated by his phone’s screen as his thumb continued to scroll.

“Oh. Hi.”

He looked over at you. “Hey. Can I get you anything?”

It takes you a moment to get over the fact that Zuko is the reinforcements, the one called to take care of you while your roommates are out of the apartment. But finally you respond, “Actually, my throat is really dry. Can you grab my water bottle for me?”

He reached over to the coffee table to grab your water bottle for you. Then, after handing it you, Zuko went back to looking at his phone.

“Katara says you have to take your medicine once you’ve woken up.”

“Ugh noooooo. I don’t want to.”

Taking pills has never been your been your strong suit. Maybe it’s your irrational fear of choking on them or just your innate ability to be stubborn about everything but you try to put up your best fight.

“You have to. Or else we’ll have to cancel another game night or you just won’t be able to play with us. And then who would kill Sokka first in Among Us.”

“You’ll have to continue my legacy, that’s all.”

“Just take the pills. I already cut them up for you.”

“Fine... thank you.”

After you swallow the last pill, you lay back down on the couch but Zuko gets up.

“Where are you going?”

“Since you’re up now, let’s watch a movie. There’s nothing else you should really be doing in your condition.”

“I have my DVDs on my shelf in my room. Pick me a Disney movie?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh my god, please? I am very sick and frail and only the nostalgic joys of my childhood can cure me.”

“....fine.”

You muster up a squeal that quickly turns into a cough as Zuko leaves the room. After a few minutes he comes back with Toy Story 2, a choice that makes you raise an eyebrow considering its heartbreaking song is not something you’d expect Zuko to want to watch. Nonetheless, you hardly protest as the two of you settle in on the couch for the movie to begin.

To your surprise, the animated movie managed to steal a couple chuckles from Zuko. After all the bickering throughout the week with Sokka, it was a welcome and pleasant sound ringing in your ears. Despite your better judgment, you shift closer to him, especially when you know Jessie’s big song is getting closer. He doesn’t move away though and even wraps an arm around you. When a chill runs down your spine, you wonder if it’s due to the fever.

“Are you crying?”

“It’s just SO sad, how could you not, Zuko?! Somebody needs to LOVE HER AGAIN.”

Grinning, he hands you the tissue box, which you fully accept both for your tears and flu-inflicted runny nose. But once the song ends and you’ve let out a good cry, your eyelids start to feel enormously heavy. Zuko must sense this because he scoots a bit closer to you, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to pass the flu onto Zuko, but for some reason he feels warmer than the mountains of blankets you’re buried under.

The rest of the movie plays on and you struggle to keep your eyes open, often shifting against Zuko to wake yourself back up. You know there’s more to the movie but Zuko picks up the remote and turns off the tv. Before you could even question what he’s doing, he’s lifting you up and walking you to your room.

“But we didn’t see the end of the movie!”

“You weren’t going to stay up to see the end anyways.”

“But you needed to see Jessie and Bullseye find new homes! With Andy! And Wheezy!! Wheezy gets fixed!!”

He helped you under the covers and sat beside you on your bed for a moment. You still feel enough energy to offer up a few more protests.

“Only the end of the movie can cure me with its pure, unadultered childhood joy! You can use some, too! Disney fixes all things!”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, but before getting up, Zuko leaned in to kiss your forehead lightly.

“Go to bed, you idiot.”

You didn’t even register when he left your side because you were asleep again within minutes. In fact, when the sunlight from the bedroom window wakes you up hours later, you could have sworn it was all just a fever dream anyways. Disney movies cuddled up with Zuko? Definitely sounds fake. However, later on in the morning, you do begin to suspect it was all real when you find your Toy Story 2 DVD still in DVD player and catching Katara and Sokka trying to discreetly give each other a high five.

#nina's 1k event #zuko x reader #lol what is consistent verb tense i do not know clearly

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unholyhelbig · 3 years

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Evergreen | Chapter One

Summary: Beca Mitchell is a reporter that travels across the east coast. When scarlet fever begins to overtake much of the world, she’s forced to cover a story in one of the largest, newest, hospitals. She is soon captivated by the head nurse and then stolen by something more.[The Prequel to "What's Forever?"]

Ship: Beca Mitchell/ Chloe Beale

Read the series here

Beca Mitchell spotted Evergreen Sanatorium through the large oak trees before anything else. It could very well be due to the fact that it stuck out in the rolling green hills of Virginia like a sore thumb. It was the only building for a matter of miles and quite the building it was; with its dark brick exterior and iron gates keeping everyone from climbing in- or for that matter, out.

She couldn’t help the way her breath caught. She had pushed herself forward in the little town car and felt her sweaty palms slip against the cracked leather seats. The man driving frowned in the rearview mirror, but she pretended not to notice, just like she pretended not to notice the stench of whisky on his breath and the crumbs in his uncombed mustache.

He had been leaning heavily against his taxi cab, a Chevy that may have been new at some point, but was a dingy maroon now. It was a sorry attempt to imitate the checkers she had left behind in Chicago hours before. He had taken four bites to the bitter core of his apple and dragged his sleeve against his lips before tossing it aside when he saw her approach.

“Ye heading to Evergreen, are ya?” He had a thick welsh accent.

She nodded as he popped the trunk and she wondered how he had ended up on the East Coast. Virginia was no place for fools or a place to settle down. It was part of the reason her editor had sent her here in the first place. She was expendable, and so was this story. It was nothing but a puff piece on one of the newest Hospitals in the state; the first of its kind. It was bent on solving the rising threat of Consumption. Something more than stifled.

The real reporting was for the men.

But Beca Mitchell considered herself something of a real reporter, so she jumped at the chance to board a flight. The scent of nature and manure was overwhelming, and so was the apple that her driver had discarded. But she was glad to be here, peering up at the large building. It made her fingers tingle, and her toes even more.

“This place is huge.”

“Better be, it houses half of Waverly’s population. Tiny little town. It’s been hit just as hard as the rest of the world by this illness. You ain’t feeling sick, are ye?”

She eyed him and pushed herself back into her seat. “Nauseous from your driving, that’s all.”

He laughed at that and she smiled. He wasn’t too bad, a little brash. She wanted to learn more of him and how he had ended up here, surrounded by this much grass instead of the dank streets of Europe. But they had pulled up to the large iron gates before she could fish for what she really wanted to know.

The trees that surrounded the property were in full flame. Beca could smell the pungent dirt in the air as she cranked the window down and welcomed the way Jack Frost bit at her cheeks. It mixed toxically with the embossed leather of her driver. He mumbled something under his breath and tightened his coat. The gates pulled themselves open effortlessly because they had been expecting the pair.

Evergreen Sanitarium was larger than it had been when they started up the drive, and that, she expected. The main building was comprised of three parts, one that stretched into the slate sky and two others that moved to the side. It was carved from brick and stone and a large metal plaque was welded into the face. Evergreen Hospital & Research Facility It read EST. 1910.

There was a large fountain and a circle that stopped the drive. The gravel crunched under their tires, but she focused on the two angels with slightly green water dribbling down their chins into an even greener pool.

“You need help with yer bags, ma’am?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

Her words had a bit of a sarcastic bite to them, but she truly meant them. There was an ungodly chill in the air and no two people should suffer the elements when it was only one stop. She fished out a hefty tip from her coat pocket and dropped it in his callused palm before parting ways.

She hadn’t expected a welcome wagon, not in the slightest, but the property looked abandoned entirely. Beca adjusted her bag over her shoulder and watched as the town car that had brought her up here turned into nothing but a speck.

She takes a few steps towards the fountain, listening to the trickle of the water as she fought off the scent of gasoline. The pool wasn’t emerald, not entirely. There was a layer of copper coins at the bottom that reflected the grass. She let the tips of her fingers brush against the surface, sending ripples as the cold shot up her arm.

“Folks try anything to ease their minds.”

Beca startled, pulling her touch away entirely as she turned towards the voice. She hadn’t heard the doors open, nor the footsteps in the gravel. She blamed the plain white nurses' shoes that that woman wore over her own lack of perception.

She recognized the voice from over the telephone almost instantly. Director Emma Woodward was older than she had imagined, in her Mid-Forties. She had embraced the grey that sprinkled her hair, pined up in extravagant curls. She wore a form-fitting baby-blue dress with a neatly folded collar. The neckline dropped down enough to expose a pale white chest. She wore a simple gold cross to cut against the color. It was modest and professional, and she didn’t seem to acknowledge the chill in the air.

“It must be frightening for them, leaving people here.” Beca shifted her bag and extended a hand “Rebecca Mitchell, Chicago Gazette, it’s nice to meet you in person.”

Emma smiled and it was a stunning sight. She had crinkles at the corners of her eyes and her nails were neatly painted. Beca found them too neat for a nurse, but she supposed becoming a director, as a female in the early 1900’s, was cause enough to treat for a manicure. She took her hand firmly.

“Emma Woodward, the pleasure is all ours. I must admit, Miss Mitchell, we found it quite odd that a paper of your magnitude wanted to do a story on a place such as ours.”

Beca found heat blooming against her cheeks. It wasn’t their idea, it was entirely hers. It took hours of flirting and a couple of glasses of fine bourbon for their editor to agree to any type of story she had to offer that wasn’t about kitchen appliances or the proper way to tend to a man in his time of need.

She had done more than enough to persuade him, and when he finally did agree, it was in hopes to see her crash and burn. He had gotten a pleasant night out of it, and she had earned a chance (however slim) to run with it. Even if it was in a practical asylum at the height of a deadly illness.

“Yes, well, we’re very progressive.”

Emma nodded with that kind grin of hers and lead Beca up the stairs and into the main hall of the Hospital. An instant edge of heat wormed under her clothes and made her shiver. The scent of antiseptic burned her lungs in a quick moment.

The floor had an ugly checkered design of yellow and green, both colors faded and worn. There was a large oak staircase that leads to different wards, she assumed, and a few sofas with old editions of magazines on metal tables. Emma didn’t’ skip a beat as she started to ascend the steps.

“We have a couple of floors here, Miss Mitchell. The top one is strictly for research, then we move down to trauma level three. It’s where the patients that are furthest along stay, those who have signed off for study and treatment. Then we have our second to last floor. The right-wing is for mild cases while the left is for our staff's comfort. That’s where you’ll be staying.”

“And the ground floor?” Beca asked.

“That’s for those lucky enough to see themselves out.”

“Does that happen often, then?”

“Not as often as we would like, I’m afraid. Consumption is entirely new to all of us, and we’re still learning the ins and outs of its effects.”

Beca nodded even though she knew Emma didn’t notice. Her shoulder was aching by the time they ascended to the first landing. Instead of turning in the direction of the ward, they made their way down a crudely lit hallway with large metal doors blocking the main way.

Once through, the sticky heat of Evergreen seemed to thicken once more. The lights dimmed and the floors switched to linoleum instead of wood. Beca liked the way her shoes were muffled, and the paintings of flowers tacked to the yellow wallpaper.

“Evergreen used to be a schoolhouse.” Emma spouted off absently “After Thomas Evergreen’s daughters graduated and married on their own accords he sold it to a developer that made this place into a hotel. The basement flooded and then”

She stopped in front of a small door that had a little glass window cut out of it, she seemed to take a moment to catch her breath. “Well, he didn’t’ want to fix it so the city awarded it to us and we’ve done our best to make it easier on our staff. It’s simple to have them stay in here, but if we get too many patients I’m afraid we’ll have to relocate them as well.”

The door creaked open, and Beca could tell instantly that it was once used as storage. There was a small cot in the corner layered with multiple sheets to cushion the springs. There was something of a school desk with a few candles and a lighter by their side. It too smelled of antiseptic, a small window leading to a fire escape that she hadn’t noticed on the way in.

“It’s not much, I’m afraid.”

“It’s perfect,” Beca said.

Truthfully, it was bigger than her little apartment in Chicago and warmer too. She figured that the rest of the staff didn’t’ get much time to rest, to begin with. She was thankful to see an effort at making the tiny space livable.

“well,” Emma clapped her hands together “I’m sure you’re exhausted. We served dinner at Seven sharp, but don’t worry, if you sleep through it, breakfast is early enough. You’ve got free reign of this place, Rebecca Mitchell. You can shadow whenever and whomever you want for your story as long as you don’t get in the way. And stay out of the basement, there’s still a good bit of water damage down there, and I don’t want to see you in a bed on the other side of the hospital.”

Beca put two fingers over her chest “Scouts honor, Ma’am.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She beamed that signature smile once more, the kind one of a maternal figure. “Now, I recommend steering clear of our nurses, at least for a bit. They’re wary of allowing the outside press into this environment. The orderlies will be more than happy to answer any pressing questions you have.”

“That sounds like quite the challenge, Miss Woodward.”

The woman scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest “Nurse Beale is challenging. So is her staff. Sleep tight.”

The director gave one last fleeting wave before swinging the door shut and leaving Beca to her own devices. The early Virginia sky was a sharp purple and reflected dust coating the window onto the cot. She flopped down onto it, letting out a thick sigh. She was going to get her story- even if it meant digging further than she had ever done before.

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #Bechloe #AU: Vampires #Pitch Perfect #pitch perfect fanfiction

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deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth · 4 years

Text

Fruit, Seppuku and the Flying Bugsy

Late September 1971, the Tokyo Hilton in Japan. A trip to remember. **this is the short story of how and why Led Zeppelin was banned from the Tokyo Hilton for life** I hope you all enjoy the ride.

Jimmy’s P.O.V.

Speeding down the corridor, the service cart in hand was the beast, a rampant, intoxicated Percy atop it. I took another swig of my beer, watching them in amusement from the end of the hall.

“Woohoo!” Robert screamed, flailing his arms in the air. “You better move Pageykins!” He slurred.

I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed, the cart heading straight for me. Behind the handles; Bonzo - face red with delirium - roared car sounds as if he were in a drag race.

“VROOM, VROOM.“

Under John’s thunderous voice, a loud muffled sound vibrated with the buggy. Just as they almost reached me, Bonzo flicked his wrists, turning the cart to the left, making a loud sharp noise at it skidded to a stop.

“AGGHH!” Robert yelled, his face covered in a sloppy, Cheshire grin.

Through the rush of the adrenaline I caught the glimpse of a flash from the corner of my eye. Out from the bottom compartment of the service cart rolled Jonesy, taking the curtain that wrapped around the buggy with him.

“Ow.” Jones rubbed his head.

“Man up!” Bonzo laughed, beating his chest like an ape.

“So, what do’ya say, Page? Wanna go for a ride?” Percy’s bright, hopeful smile shone brilliantly considering the terrible yellow light of the corridor.

I shook my head laughing. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” I raised my eyebrows. “You piss pots are gonna get us kicked out of here if you don’t stop muckin’ about.”

"Spoil sport.” Jonesy scoffed. “You know and we know that you have done worse!”

I shrugged carelessly. “I have someone waiting for me.” I chugged the rest of my beer and lifted the glass to cheers them goodnight.

“Who the hell are you shagging?” Robert piped up, stumbling off the cart.

“Some bird I found parading in the lobby. You know she asked for you too” I slyly invited him hoping the others wouldn’t notice.

He gave me a shy smile.

“Ay where's Phil? The ol’ bugger owes me a beer!” Bonzo jumped in between Robert and I. Phil Carson who ran Atlantic Records in England was on the tour with us.

“Went into the shower about 10 minutes ago. I guess he figured since you three were out of sight he could have a peaceful 20 minutes in the wash.” I informed them wryly. “Don’t disturb us.” I waved them good night, heading for my room.

Bonzo’s P.O.V.

“What do’ya say we pay an ol’ visit to Philly with our new pal Bugsy?” I pointed my thumb toward the torn apart buggy.

“Ah man I think I’m gonna uh... hit the sheets. Pagey kinda crushed the mood.” Percy murmured suspiciously keyed up.

“I’m up for it!” Jones bounced up from the floor, the buggy curtain floating delicately with him.

Percy, the little twit ran off in a hurry while Jones and I found good ol’ Philly’s room.

“So, what are we gonna do?” Jones excitedly twiddled his fingers.

“Well mate, you are gonna open the doors and I am gonna… improvise… But Bugsy over ‘ere is gonna… well we’re gonna improvise that too!"

Jones nodded and opened the door to Philly’s suite. He entered first, confirming that the coast was clear so I pushed ol’ Bugsy in. We listened intently and heard the shower running. So far, the mission of Bugsy was a success. I nodded to the bathroom door and Jones happily opened it quietly.

After taking a quick deep breath, inspiration flooded me. At full force I ran for the bathroom, pushing Bugsy in front of me, screaming the opening wail of Immigrant Song. "AhhhAhhhAHHHHHHHHHHahhhhhhh AhhhAhhhAHHHHHHHHHHHahhhhhh.”

At the threshold of the door I let go of the cart and watched it ram into the shower occupied by Philly. He jumped to the side dodging the death cab.

“Bleedin’ hell!” He yelled clutching onto the shower curtain for coverage.

“Aye Philly, I jusssth wanted to stop by fer that beer!” I smiled widely.

The next day I woke up, not able to remember if I got that beer or not. And Bugsy was nowhere to be found… come to think of it, I never did see another service cart on our floor the rest of our stay.

I met Richard down in the car as he had promised to take me out. On the town! Just us pals! It would be bloody grand!

After a day filled with random stores, supper, a little nose candy and a pub stop, we were on our way back to the hotel when we saw the light! It was a street lamp that shone its brilliant luminescence on a store with a big sign in beautiful Japanese lettering. Of course, we had no fuckin’ idea what it said but in the window of this little blessing of a store was just what we needed to have a good time. Quickly we crossed the street and entered the store only leaving once we had purchased two beautiful samurai swords.

Heading back to the hotel we took another snort of coke and found our way up to our rooms. Screaming random words that sounded like they could be in a Bruce Lee movie, Richard and I tore both our rooms to splinters. Smashing the tellys, cutting the bunks up, tearing down the curtains, slashing the carpet to pieces and slicing the walls with our majestic swords.

“Korosu!” Richard yelled at the telly as he smashed the screen into pieces. “Daijoubu!”

When our rooms were no longer recognizable, we left for the corridor, sword in hand.

“… I wonder what Jonesy’s up to…” I smiled slyly at Richard who returned the devious grin.

We ran to his room and tried the knob but it was locked.

“Who needs doorknobs… when we have these!?” I held up the sword like king Arthur.

Richard caught on and stepped away from the door.

I swung the weapon back and like a baseball bat, swung it forward again. It hit the door with a loud crack. We both looked at each other and broke out into laughter before we both started whacking the door until the shards of wood lay in a big pile at our feet, the door barely standing on its hinges.

We entered the room to find Jones drunk and unconscious in his bed.

“Grab his leg!” I smacked Richards arm and grabbed Jonesy’s other leg. We dragged him out of the room and left him passed out in the corridor then repeated seppuku on his room. When we finished, we backed away to the door and gazed at the disaster we had created with our newly found toys.

“Kachi! Katsu!” I yelled raising my sword in the air to clank with Richards. Proud of our success we had a beer and celebrated then headed off to new, fresh rooms to sleep.

Jonesy’s P.O.V.

“Mr. Jones…” An annoying voice kept repeating my name over and over.

I could feel the haze of the inevitable awakening fog my brain. My head pounded and my stomach felt queasy. I just wanted to sleep.

“Mr. Jones…” The voice continued.

In a huff I opened my eyes and found a maid standing above me, poking at my shoulder.

“What in fuckin’ hell do ya bloody want?” I yelled. “Can’t you see I’m trying to fuckin’ sleep!" I was madly irritated, my tone and words too rash and harsh but a hangover was ensuing and if this woman didn’t leave me alone to continue my slumber I was going to hurl.

"But Mr. Jones.” Her face looked terrified. She took a step back and tried to speak again but I cut her off.

“Why the hell are you in my room anyway?” I asked outraged, rubbing my eyes as I sat up. When my eyes focused, I realized I was not in my bed. “Why in the bloody hell am I on the floor?” I asked mostly myself. I looked around and realized I wasn’t even in my room. “Where am I?"

The maid crossed her arms, her expression not happy. "You are in the corridor sir. I believe that is your room.” She pointed to a chopped-up door.

“What the fuck happened?"

"I don’t know.” Her tone was livid. “But I’m not cleaning it!” She turned on her heels and walked away.

Percy’s P.O.V.

The next night, after the concert, ran pretty much the same way the previous nights had. But instead of dangerous weaponry or flying carts from hell, us mates and the roadies gathered in the dining hall for a little snack after a hard-working evening. Some idiot, probably Richard, decided to take all the food up the corridor on the floor we inhabited and once we were up there, with belly’s full of booze we started throwing food at each other.

Watermelons denting walls, apples smacking people in the head. Poor Page got a banana smashed into his precious hair.

“God dammit!” He cried trying to pull the chunks out. “Who did thi–” He started but one of the roadies threw a grape in his gaping gob.

He eyed the roadie suspiciously then grabbed a handful of tangerines and started whipping them at him. The roadie, hit a couple times by the tiny oranges, started ducking and dodging. Sticky orange splatters covered the walls behind him.

Bonzo off to the side was smashing grapefruits and kiwis into the carpet. Jonesy was in a banana battle with Cole and I was throwing more mushed up food into Jimmy’s hair while he was still pinning the same poor roadie with pears now.

When none of us could take anymore we took hideout in Pagey’s room. Page spent the rest of the night fixing his hair while the rest of us, sopping wet and sticky with fruit, continued drinking until we passed out.

The next morning, we were all awakened covered in dried fruit juice and lint, our hair matted and sticky. Early in the morning we were all summoned to the lobby where we found all of our equipment and luggage sitting at the door.

“You have made a disaster of my hotel, giving it a bad reputation. I am now to ask you all to leave and never return!” The manager of the hotel who once welcomed us with smiles and open arms now sneered at us. “Led Zeppelin is banished from The Tokyo Hilton for life!"

Peter paid the original bill with a few extra thousand for the damages caused by all of us all while attempting not to laugh at the ridiculousness we had created and the fact that us rambunctious group of lads and imbeciles were now banned for life from a prestigious hotel and good ol’ Tokyo, Japan.

We left groggy and sore, not bothering to argue. It was an adventure we would remember forever. Once we made our way to the airport and sat ourselves in our seats we broke into an uncontrollable laughter. It was one hell of a trip.

#Led Zeppelin #Jimmy Page #John Bonham #John Paul Jones #Robert Plant #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fan fic #Robert Plant fanfiction #John Paul Jones Fanfiction #John Bonham Fanfiction #Short Story

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returnn-of-the-mac · 5 years

Note

Companions (+ Maxson, Haylen and Sturges? 👀) react to a female sole who has long hair that gets caught on things / is always in the way but refuses to cut it.

Ahh this one was so much fun to write! I kinda went a bit crazy; the reacts are looong. But the more the merrier, right? I kinda have to cite the US Navy handbook for *spoiler* Maxon’s React; I copied and pasted some parts directly from there *end spoiler*. Please enjoy!😸

FO4 Companions React: Female Sole’s Long Hair Being An Inconvenience

Preston: Preston and Sole were hiding in a steam trunk, preparing a sneak attack on a gang of raiders that had taken over a newly established Minutemen checkpoint. When the raiders had gotten close, Preston turned to his partner. “On the count of three, we’re going to leap out of this truck and attack, okay?” Sole nodded. “One...two...three!” The pair leaped out of the trunk, safety’s off and ready to attack. Sole suddenly shrieked. The trunk had slammed shut behind her, right onto her long hair. She was stuck in place. “General! Stand your ground! Try to do as much damage as you can in that position and I’ll hold them back!” Guns blazed as the gang of raiders swarmed the little shack, trying to get past Preston who was standing in the doorway and fending them off. From behind, Sole aimed at the raiders, able to pick them clean with expert precision. When all the raiders had been cleared, Preston approached his companion and opened the trunk. Sole stood up, gently massaging her sore scalp and apologizing profusely. Preston chuckled. “It’s okay, I know how much your hair means to you.”

Sturges: Sturges and Sole were enjoying a relaxing afternoon in Sanctuary, listening to country music and crafting armor. “Hey, I made a prototype heated metal press,” Sturges mentioned. “It might make it easier to make thinner parts for your armor. Why dontcha try it out? You can be first to test it.” Sole beamed at the offer and followed Sturges over to the complex contraption he designed. Sturges picked up a metal bucket and set it down on the platform. “Whenever you’re ready, just pull the lever and boom! Gotcha self a sleek new piece of metal to work with.” Sole set a cluster of aluminum cans on the platform. Just as they were about to pull the lever, a gust of wind blew her long hair forward. The hot press clamped down on her hair. Sole shrieked as Sturges quickly yanked the lever up. “[Name], are you okay?” Sole stared in horror at the long locks of burnt hair still attached to the metal press. She then ran their fingers through her hair. Half of it was gone. Her eyes began to water. “I’m so sorry, [name]. Come here,” Sturges said, opening his arms to a devastated Sole. She accepted the gesture and mourned the loss of her majestic locks.

Cait: Cait and Sole were crawling in an air vent, prepared to ambush a group of gunners below. “We best be careful,” Cait warned, “these gunners have eyes like a Deathclaw and ears like...a Deathclaw. They are human deathclaws. With guns.” A gunner walked right under where they were standing. “Ye jump down behind me, yeah?” Cait gave Sole a thumbs up and then kicked the vent out. “COME ON YE STUPID BASTARDS!” Cait landed on the gunner’s shoulders and bashed his head with her gun. She then got up and started shooting frenetically, “How does it feel gettin yer arses kicked by girls?” It was when the gunners began to gang up on her that the redhead noticed the absence of her partner. “[Name]? Where the fuck are ye at ye whore?” She turned around and saw Sole hanging from the ceiling by her long hair. “Motherfucker.” Cait muttered in annoyance, “Well, I guess it’s gonna be a one-woman’s show then. INCOMIN’!” Cait chucked a grenade, and, using a fallen bookshelf as leverage, launched herself back into the air vent, dragging Sole with her. Using her knife, she chopped Sole’s hair to free her and they quickly retreated, just before the bomb went off. Cait woefully looked at her partner. “I’m sorry about yer hair. You probably ain’t pleased. But I didn’t want you to get blown to smithereens.”

X6-88: X6 and Sole were exiting the Institute, on their way to start their next mission. On the way out, the pair discussed their strategy to destroy The Railroad when Sole suddenly shrieked. X6 turned around to see his partner flailing. He then noticed that her long hair had gotten caught in the automatic door...again. Ma’am? May I suggest getting a haircut?” X6 asked flatly, “This is the second time this week and fifth time this month that this has happened.” Sole huffed and X6 rolled his eyes under his glasses. She could be stubborn; especially when the subject involved cutting her beloved locks. X6 made another attempt to change his partner’s mind. “What if this happens during our mission? The repercussions could prove fatal. Please, reconsider.” After seeing that Sole was not going to be persuaded, X6 held out an elastic. “Put it up. For this mission, at least. Now’s not the time to be irrational.” Sole finally gave in and put their hair into a bun.

Gage: Sole and Gage were sounding the evening constructing a base for a raider gang. Sole had just finished nailing a wooden wall into place when she walked away to take a sip of purified water. She took a few steps toward before she was yanked backward. She turned around to confirm her worst fear: she had nailed the board right over the tips of her hair. She called for Gage, who was busy spray painting the exterior of the shack. “Sup boss?” Gage asked. Sole pointed and Gage rolled his eyes. “You gotta be kiddin me. And I thought you were a smart one.” Gage examined the board and nail. “What’ve we got here? ...Hey, you ain’t half bad at carpentry. But as for common sense. That’s another story.” Gage skillfully removed the embedded nail using just a pocket knife and a bottle opener. He removed the board, freeing Sole’s hair. “Impressed, boss? Ya gotta learn how to improvise sometimes.” Gage chuckled dryly. “But uh. Ya ain’t gonna try that again without pullin your hair back next time, right? Don’t be stupid. You're on your own next time.”

Piper: Piper and Sole were standing outside Mayor McDonough’s door, trying to break in and free Geneva. “Okay so obviously kicking and screaming didn’t work,” Piper scratched her head nervously, “Any ideas, Blue?” Sole approached the door and began to pick the lock. “Oh that’s right, you’re the queen of lockpicking! Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit back and take notes.” When the lock clicked, Sole and Piper looked at each other, nodded, and flung the doors open. “I knew it! I knew you were a synth, McDonough! Now let that hostage go!” Just then a breeze came through the window and slammed the doors behind them. Sole flew backward; as her hair had gotten caught in the door. “Dimwits.” McDonough muttered, watching Piper panic as Sole frantically tried to free her own hair. “Blue, woulda quit fidgeting for a minute? I’ll open the door for you. Just stay still.” Piper turned the knob on the wooden doors and pushed out, freeing her partner. A disoriented Sole scrambled to her feet. Piper shook her head and focused her attention back on the deranged mayor. “I hope you enjoyed that little show, because now we mean business,” She turned to her blushing partner and smirked, “Right Blue?”

Hancock: Sole and Hancock we’re enjoying a relaxing afternoon on Spectacle Island . They had just taken down the Institute and decided to take a well-deserved vacation. “This is niiiice,” Hancock beamed, taking a long hit of jet. “I could really get used to this.” Sole smiled as she laid down in the sand, absorbing the warmth from the sun. She closed their eyes and imagined she was at the beach in Cape Cod with Nate and Shaun— a vacation spot the family frequented. She was just about to drift into a deep sleep when suddenly she felt a powerful force grab hold of her hair and toss her across the sand like a rag doll. Dazed, Sole looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. “[Name]! Are you okay, doll?” Hancock yelled, trying to fend off a mirelurk. “Bad move, buddy.” Hancock stayed as he repeatedly shot the underbelly of the ferocious crab. The mirelurk eventually gave in to its injuries and fell to the ground, dead. “Looks like I’m your king now.” Hancock teased. He then ran over to his partner and knelt beside her. “Seriously, though? Are you okay?” Sole nodded. “How’s the hair?”Hancock laughed, grabbing a thick lock of hair and examining it. “Is that a bald spot I see..!? Nah, I’m just messin with ya. It’s all still there.”

Deacon: Deacon and Sole were leaving the Railroad for their next quest when the secret door closed behind them, right onto Sole’s hair. Sole cried for help and Deacon sprinted over to her. “Looks like you’re in a bit of a hairy situation.” Sole shot daggers at Deacon as he chuckled at his own joke. “Alright let’s see here...shit. What’s the password?” A livid Sole screamed ‘Railroad.’ Deacon looked at them. “What? No way, that’s too easy. Knowing Des she probably made the password something complex like...schadenfreude.” Sole was now cursing in frustration. Deacon had a goofy smile plastered on his face “Okay, fine, if you insist, I will try ‘railroad.’” Deacon spun the wheel to spell out the password and the door opened. Sole freed herself and glared at Deacon. He chuckled, “You’re fine, you were never really in real danger anyway.” Deacon explained, putting a playful arm around Sole’s shoulder. “Maybe you should cut hair a little so it doesn’t get caught on everything. You could even donate extra inches to Lockes4Deacon. I’m am bald, after all.”

Strong: Strong and Sole were wandering around Back Bay When Sole suddenly felt a massive tug on her hair. She was practically flung into the hard ground. A confused Sole yowled in pain; everything hurt from her head all the way down to her legs. Her vision was blurry— definitely a concussion— and she couldn’t get back up. “Strong sorry, human!” Strong apologized, “Strong step on fur and human kept running! No mean to hurt!” Sole weakly begged their Supermutant friend to give them a stimpack. Strong obedient searched through Sole’s inventory and grabbed the medicine, promptly injecting Sole. Sole stood up and massaged her scalp. “Human should cut fur.” Strong advised, “Long fur is weakness. Easy target.”

Longfellow: Sole and Longfellow were fishing on the docks of Far Harbor when suddenly a gulper leaped from the water and chomped down on Sole’s hair, dragging her into the salty water below. “Shit! I’m commin!” Longfellow yelled as he dove in after her. He took out a spear and swiftly swam toward the enemy. With a powerful jab, he impaled the creature, killing it instantly. Sole and Longfellow then swam to coast. When they had both reached the sandy shore, Longfellow chuckled. “Well, that was a doozy! Good thing I didn’t start my drinking at 7am today!” He joked. He then studied Sole’s hair. “Well, would you look at that; not even a scratch on the hair. Impressive! Mind donating some of that so I can use it as fishing line?”

Ada: Ada and Sole were fighting off robots in the mechanist's lair when Sole screamed. Her hair had gotten caught in one of the hostile robot’s machinery. “Hold on, ma’am! I’ll be right over to assist you.” Ada finished off the robot she was currently fighting and scrambled over to her struggling companion. She scanned the area of the trapped hair. “My diagnostic revealed that your hair is stuck in between a coil and a gear. There is only a 3.776% chance of getting your hair out unscathed. Your viable options include: manually freeing hair and risking a large bald spot— or— cutting hair short to at least have a style that looks half-decent—or— doing nothing.”

Nick: Nick and Sole were sloshing around the flooded streets of Forest Grove Marsh when Nick turned to his partner. “Careful,” he whispered, “I hear this place is a popular vacation destination for ferals.” Almost immediately after he said that the pair spotted emaciated bodies of the ghouls patrolling the end of the road. It was then that Nick noticed a building that was still in-tact but had a few openings that could be used to discreetly shoot the ferals. “Now, would you look at that? This building would make a fantastic shooting post.” The detective mused, “If we sneak into the building and lock the door behind us, we might be able to wipe them out from a spot where they can’t reach us.” Sole nodded and the two crept into the building. Sole closed the door behind her— unaware her hair had yet to make it through— and Nick barred it. “I’ll shoot from the window first; you stay there. We’ll trick them into thinking it’s just me over here. Then, you jump in. Ferals are pretty...feeble-minded. So your surprise attack will probably disorient then.” He then walked over to the window. “Ready?” Sole gave a thumbs up. Nick aimed his laser rifle and shot at the hoard of ghouls. Nick was able to take down about 1/3 of the mob when he called to Sole. “NOW!” Sole leaped toward the window—or at least tried to. She hollered in pain as her hair tugged at her scalp. Nick immediately understood what had happened. “I’m coming, pal!” He ran over to his companion. After quickly assessing the situation and realizing that opening the door was out of the question, he took a machete out of his inventory. “I’m so sorry I have to do this [name], but it’s either this or becoming feral food.” Sole gave Nick the okay and with the swift swipe of the blade, Sole was freed from her long locks. The pair quickly moved to the window to continue their ambush.

MacCready: Sole and MacCready were making their way down a dirt path in the woods when a pack of five wild mongrels attacked. All but one of the dogs were easily killed. The fifth dog— an alpha— snuck up behind the pair and clamped onto Sole’s hair. Sole screeched in pain and MacCready pulled out his gun. He aimed and fired, immediately killing the canine. Sole thanked her companion and MacCready smirked. “Hey, don’t mention it. That’s what I’m here for, right?” He shifted uncomfortably. “Actually [name], there’s been, uh, something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, and I think this might’ve been the universe’s sign that now’s the time.” Sole perked up. “I...I don’t really think it’s a good idea to be wandering the Commonwealth with free-flowing hair that practically reaches your thighs. It could be dangerous. Like what just happened. What if that dog were a feral? I don’t even want to imagine-“ he realized he was rambling and stopped himself short. “But I digress. What I’m trying to say is maybe that was a sign that you should cut your hair.” Sole shot him a look. MacCready immediately understood that he had not gotten through to her. “It’s kinda a liability, yanno. For both of us.” Sole rolled her eyes and MacCready scoffed. “What? You gonna miss all those hairballs that clog the drain in the only working shower in Sanctuary? They’re gross.” Sole turned away and continued walking down the path, MacCready following close behind. The pair continued on their trek, an awkward silence between them. Eventually, MacCready sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. Your hair is beautiful. And I really don’t care about the darn hairballs in the shower. How many times do you think I actually use the shower? I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” Sole turned to face her partner and saw how genuinely distraught he was. She felt bad, and the two compromised that from here on out, Sole would wear her hair up in a bun.

Codsworth: Sole and Codsworth were walking around Sanctuary when Sole’s hair randomly got caught in a rotted doorframe. She called Codsworth for help, and the robot sighed. “Mum, remember back in the old days when your hair was...groomed? Well, wasn’t it easier to maintain? Didn’t it feel good not worrying about getting it stuck in everything?” Sole rolled her eyes at the robot’s question. Codsworth signed. “Fine. I suppose it’s none of my business. I just think you would be better off without your hair holding you back.”

Curie: Sole and Curie were approaching the Saugus Ironworks when they were attacked by a gang of Forged raiders. The pair fought valiantly and had taken out most of the group until a Forged managed to sneak behind Sole and set her hair on fire. “Madam! You’re hair! It’s been set ablaze!” Sole shrieked and threw herself onto the dirt ground in an attempt to smolder the flames. Curie defended Sole while they recovered. When she had defeated the Forged, she knelt down beside Sole. “Are you alright?” Curie asked, concerned. Sole sat up, revealing hair that was charred up to the shoulders as well as some minor neck burns. “Oh...” Curie mourned, “Let me treat your burns. As for your hair—“ Curie touched the burned hair and it crumbled in her hands. Sole began to cry. “Oh no, please don’t cry,” Curie pleaded, she wrapped her arms around her sobbing companion and gently held her. “I know you’re going to miss your long hair, but it will grow back. And hair can still look nice short.” Curie smiled, looked at Sole, and wiped away her tears “We can be like twins until your hair grows back.”

Danse: Sole and Danse were sneaking through the buildings of college square, fully prepared to ambush the synths that had taken over the area. “Remain vigilant.”’Danse warned, “These synths are stealthy sons-of-bitches.” Just then, a mob of synths busted down the door, revealing the duo. “Show no mercy!” Danse bellowed, loading his laser rifle and shooting at the robots. Just then, a gust of wind blew Sole’s long hair into Danse’s face. “View obstructed!” Danse yelled as he missed the targets. The synths used this error to charge at the pair. “They’re closing in— melee!” Sole and Danse put away their guns and engaged in physical combat with the synths. When the synths were finally defeated, Danse looked at his partner. He was not pleased. “Soldier! Do something about your hair!” The Paladin berated, “It’s a hazard, and it’s a violation of policy. I’ve been letting it slide, but this could’ve ended in a fatality had we not been prepared for physical combat.” Danse took a minute to cool off before continuing, “I apologize for scolding you. But this is a written rule, and it’s enforced for a reason. I know you take great pride in your hair, but for your own wellbeing and for the safety of your brothers and sisters please just...manage it.”

Haylen: “You sure your hair isn’t gonna get stuck in the power armor?” Haylen asked, concerned. “It might get locked in the door or caught on a gear or something. Thankfully there are emergency release switches but—“ Sole stepped into the power armor. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?” Haylen muttered to herself, “And that makes 3 of the 4 members of this squad hardheads.” She looked back over at Sole, holding up an elastic, “You sure you don’t even want a hair tie? I have plenty extra.” Sole shook her head and activated the suit. It powered up and sealed— right onto their hair. Sole shrieked in pain, and Haylen rushed over to activate the emergency release. When the suit opened back up, Sole was greeted by Haylen, arms crossed and smiling smugly. She silently held out the hair tie again and Sole snatched it. “1 for Haylen; 0 for [name].”

Maxon: Sole was nervously sitting in Maxon’s quarters, waiting for the Elder to arrive for the private meeting he’s called for. The Elder finally entered the room, closing the door behind him. He took a seat across from Sole. “I called you here today to discuss a policy violation. Specifically the uniform code.” Maxon pulled out the Brotherhood of Steel Employee Handbook. Page 124, Rule #22 states: Because it is impossible to provide examples of every appropriate or unacceptable hairstyle, the good judgment of leaders at all levels is key to enforcement of Brotherhood’s grooming policy. Therefore, grooming appearance while in uniform shall present a neat, professional appearance. It should not impede one’s ability to enter/exit power armor and/or fight in combat. Hair length, when in uniform, may touch, but not fall below a horizontal line level with the lower edge of the back of the collar. Long hair should be pulled back.” Maxon sternly looked at Sole, who was obviously avoiding his gaze. “You are not an exception to the rules, so the choice is yours: you can either cut your hair or pull it back. You can no longer have it free-flowing.”

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xshatteredreflectionsx · 4 years

Text

Morgan was awoken by someone repeatedly slapping their cheek. They blinked the sleep away and rubbed at their eyes. They didn’t remember when they had fallen asleep, but this chair was surprisingly comfy.

“Don’cha know it’s rude ta fall asleep when someone invites you for an interview?”

The jovial, slurring tone shocked Morgan the rest of the way awake. Sitting in the chair next to him was a familiar face. Dark pink hair, bubblegum-pink moustache, pressed yellow shirt, rainbow suspenders and… no pants. Why was he not wearing any pants? “I’m only filed from the waist up,” Wilford explained cheerfully. Besides, who needs pants when your calves are this beautiful?” He lifted one of his legs onto the arms of his chair and wiggled his toes. “They’re so smooth; feel ‘em.”

Morgan looked down at the leg (he was wearing sock suspenders but not pants?), then up to Wilford. The reporter had an open-mouth grin and was wiggling his eyebrows enticingly. Morgan reached out to touch the skin of his leg, but the back of their hand was slapped sharply. “Ya took too long. Th’ moment’s gone now.” Wilford said grimly. He withdrew his leg, using his big toe to wave goodbye.

Loud, jovial music blared over an unseen loudspeaker before Morgan could even begin to question anything. Wilford adjusted his bowtie, gave his moustache a good wiggle, and looked sideways at Morgan. “Time ta get started. Smile for the camera and give a good show, would ya? People on the internet are readin’ this.” Wilford winked towards the reader and gave them a set of finger guns, click included.

The curtains of the stage were drawn open with uproarious fanfare, and Morgan was blinded by the light.

———-

“Come ‘ere. Come ‘ere, come ‘ere. Lemme see. That’s…” Morgan could feel Yancy prodding at their face. When his fingers brushed their nose, they hissed in pain. Yancy sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oooh, yeah. That’s broke real good. Well, don’t ya worry; I’ve done this a million times. Jus’… brace youse’s self, aight? On three. One… two…” The popping sounds were nothing compared to the sharp pain that blossomed from Morgan’s nose as Yancy snapped it back into place. Reflectively, they tried to scoot away from him. “ ‘ey, ey. Wigglin’ will jus’ make it worse.” Yancy put a hand on Morgan’s shoulder to keep them still. A few more well practiced pushes and squeezes, and Yancy finally pulled his hand away. “ ‘s not gonna heal perfect, but what can youse do?”

Morgan nodded glumly, re-adjusted the bag of frozen peas over their face. Their decision to remain in prison did come with perks, they would admit. But even despite Tiny’s bi-weekly book club, or Happy Trails Tap and Musicals for Society’s Rejects, at the end of the day a prison was still a prison. Not everyone could be won over by masterfully choreographed song and dance numbers. Something that the newest inmate wasted no time in expressing. For such a little guy he had a wicked right hook, as Morgan’s face had learned the hard way. To hear the rest of the family tell the story, Yancy had gone absolutely ape-shit and beaten the daylights out of the new guy. He had gotten solitary, but it was a slap on the wrist compared to the other guy.

“Look on the bright side, ah? You had your first prison brawl! Youse is really one’a us now. We jus’ gotta get Sparkles McGhee to get you some badass tats, and it’ll be like youse have been ‘ere for years.”

Blearily, Morgan held their wrist out to Yancy, where the small tattoo of an adorable cartoon box was printed onto their skin. Identical to the one Yancy had on the column of his neck. Yancy clicked his tongue. “C’mon, Mores, we can do better than that. Trust me, Sparkles is a magician with that needle a’his. Even if you will be sore for weeks after.”

Morgan smiled, despite the pain in their cheeks. They managed to mouth a thank you, despite their swollen lips. Yancy looked down and rubbed the back of his neck.

“’Ey, don’t even mention it. Youse a part’a the gang now, and I takes care of my boys… and goils… and people who don’t conform to genders.”

Morgan gave another smile and slid off the table Yancy had propped them up on, they swayed uneasily in space, but he was there to keep them steady. “Watch it. Blows to the head are never fun.” Upon noticing just how closely they two were to each other, Yancy put an arm’s distance between them, smoothing back his hair then rubbing his neck. “Youse gonna be okay gettin’ back to youse’s cell?”

Morgan gave them a thumbs up before carefully making their way back to their cell. The cook would just have to deal with the fact there was a bag of peas missing.

———-

Life on the sea had been everything those pirate books said they would be: Pillaging, raiding, avoiding the Coast Guard, mooning the Coast Guard, singing sea shanties, and rallying the entire crew against a single seagull. In their defense, that seagull was probably possessed by one, if not several, demons judging from the way it went for the eyes. Oh, and it had also twisted its head all the way around and its caw sounded like a monster from hell so, yeah, probably several demons. Poor Timmy still had nightmares.

And yet, despite the adventures and the treasure and the spiffy new outfit, Morgan found themself distracted by thoughts of home. Since they were a wanted criminal in several countries, they couldn’t exactly go home for Thanksgiving dinner. They couldn’t even go back to tell Chica her father had died because a pirate captain threw an anchor on him. The little Beepus was probably beside herself with worry. Maybe Morgan could convince the crew to get her? And of course there was the man, and myth, the idiot himself; Mark Iplier. Sure he was loud, and impulsive, and had gotten them into a life of piracy to begin with, but he had still been a good friend. His idea of what a good date was sucked, and he had once dragged Morgan across state lines to get Cracker Barrel, but there was heart there.

The sound of Captain Magnum’s tree-stump feet rumbling across deck could probably be heard for miles. Morgan straightened up respectfully upon hearing his approach. Even if they were his First Mate/honorary adopted child, a captain was still a captain.

“There ye be, ah- don’t you be getting’ all formal with me. Yer me First Mate!” Captain Magnum smiled jovially as he finally made it up the last step after some struggle. He had to practically bend himself in half to get his mouth even remotely close to Morgan’s ear. He cupped a hand around his mouth “Ye didn’t hear this from me, but yer me favorite.” He straightened himself out and tugged on his overcoat, trying to look nonchalant. “I couldn’t help but hear that ye’ve been a bit... melancholic. What’s ailin’ ya?”

Morgan worried on their lower lip. They could say that it was the seasickness getting to them, but Captain Magnum would probably see right through them. Slowly they pulled out their journal and quill, licked the tip, and wrote their response. Captain Magnum pulled out of half-moon reading glasses as he read what Morgan had showed him, mouthing the words under his breath. “Ah, I get’cha.” He said, tucking his glasses away. He wrapped an arm around Morgan’s shoulder, or as best as he could with the impressive height difference. “Every one of these salty barnacles has felt a touch homesick. Even yer proud, fearless Captain. And yes, even I know the pain of losing a friend to a tragic anchor accident.” Captain Magnum looked out to the sea, eyes misting over as he lost himself to the memory. He shook his head and pulled a spot of rum out from his belt. “A toast, to the homes we left behind and the people we’ve lost.” He pulled the stopper out with his teeth and spat it somewhere above Morgan’s head carelessly.

(“My eye! The seagull is back! Lord help us all!” Timmy wailed.)

Captain Magnum took a hearty swig, draining nearly half the bottle, before relinquishing it to Morgan. Feeling like it would be bad karma if they didn’t finish what was left; they drained the rest of the rum in two large swigs. The Captain smiled and patted their back, the force nearly knocking them over, but it was the thought that counted. “Now then,” Captain Magnum took the bottle back and tucked it into his belt (they would never throw glass in the ocean; they were pirates, not animals). “Back to work with ye! This ship ain’t gonna run itself, lads!”

Startled by Captain Magnum’s abrupt shift from paternal to stern, Morgan slapped their forehead in a sloppy salute and dashed off back to work.

—————————-

The darkness was cold and oppressive. It pressed against Morgan on all sides like it was trying to compact them down into tiny little particles. The oppressive atmosphere wasn’t helped by the Entity they found themselves face to face with. His clean, pristine white suit stood out against the darkness like a beacon, but it was anything but hopeful. If anything, it made the particles of angry red and shocking blue all the more prevalent. Despite the Entity’s calm façade, Morgan could see reality (if this could indeed be called as such) bleed reds and blues and grays at the corners of their vision.

“You look like you have something to say,” The Entity said, his tone almost intrigued. Reality shifted, and he was sitting at a polished desk in an overstuffed chair. He leaned back and steepled his fingers, black eyes seeming to pierce right though Morgan. They had to wonder if it was even really them they were speaking to. “Go on,” A red afterimage glitched into existence, glaring hotly. A blue one flickered into view, its gaze inquisitive. Both were gone the next time Morgan blinked.

They finally uncurled their fingers from around the strap of their heist bag, willed their hands to stop shaking, and signed:

“We’ve been here before. Haven’t we?”

If the Entity was surprised, he didn’t show it. He leaned forward, hands folded on the desk, and looked into Morgan’s eyes for what felt like the first time since this started. His eyes flashed crimson, then cobalt, then back to black. “Interesting. Tell me, what makes you say that?”

“It was… faint at first. Flashes of… stuff” Morgan’s eyebrows pinched together as they struggled to collect their thoughts. Their head throbbed, and they could practically feel their memories crumbling to dust. Like someone far greater then themself was selectively picking which ones they wanted Morgan to keep. “But I do remember. You, the box, this heist; all of it.”

“So it is different this time…” The Entity mused, more to himself than to Morgan. He shook his head. “Well done. If I didn’t know that you’ll let the veil be pulled back over your eyes sooner or later, I’d congratulate you on not being completely hopeless.”

The Entity picked up the box that had materialized on his desk, looking over the intricate carvings. He scoffed, like it was irrelevant, and set it back down on the desk. It sounded more like the distant, ominous rumbling of thunder than it did wood meeting wood. Flakes of reality drifted from the box and onto the Entity’s suit, which he brushed away with a disgusted grimace. “None of it is worth it. Not what’s in this box, nor whatever game he’s playing; but I’m wasting my time. Come the next cycle, you’ll forget all this happened.” He glanced up at Morgan and slid the box across the desk to them. “Our time is up.”

——————————

#a heist with markiplier #a written record (stories and drabbles)#madman with a familiar face (wilford)#golden hearted convict (yancy)#Guess I’m his child now (Captain Magnum)#The Demon (Darkiplier)#There was a bit with Illinois but I wanted to stick with endings that were actually endings #he just kinda saunters off #Fourth Wall? Wilford’s never even heard of the first three #Yancy and y/n have matching Tiny Box Tim tattoos and that’s adorable

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chronicowboy · 5 years

Text

Are We the Strongest? -

To Better Circumstances

masterlist

Their first encounter was less than ideal. There were no introductions, no handshakes, no greetings. It was life or death. Hero or villain. Relief or grief. And despite Carol's decades of singlehandedly saving galaxies and entire civilisations this short rescue mission felt like her most important one to date. A pressure like no other settled on her shoulders and she would come to wonder if that was what Tony Stark felt like on a daily basis. Ignoring the sense of make or break the fate of the entire universe that she was experiencing, Carol acted without hesitation. She strutted out of the compound and shot off into the void of space with one thing on her mind: find Tony Stark. This time, however, it felt different when she broke through earth's atmosphere. It felt as unknowingly important as the man himself was. Carol couldn't decide whether it was that knowledge or the lost group of heroes below that meant she could find the ship in under an hour.

When she encountered the gently drifting leaf on the ripples of a blue supernova, Carol swore she felt the weight fall from her sore muscles for a grand total of a second. Her heart froze with terrified agony as her eyes landed on the man with closed eyes, sunken cheeks and a chest that didn't seem to move. She willed herself to glow brighter, pushed the energy to every extremity of herself until even she had to squint if she wanted to catch the billionaire open his eyes with as much effort as it took her to lift the ship and steer it towards his home planet.

As he stumbled down the ramp a suffocating joyful relief thickened the air so much so that Carol found it hard to breathe until he embraced his fiancee, Pepper he had whispered into her neck.

Tony's arrival was chaotic to say the least. He refused to rest once his friend had connected him to a drip and pushed him into a wheelchair. Everybody fussed over him until he snapped at them and directed their attention to the other being that was starving and dying on that ship with him. He caught everyone up, they caught him up. And, although he refused to break, Carol saw the toll the battle had taken on him. Even when no one else did. It was insane, she thought, how everyone but his real friends could see his struggle. It was only when the man did a 360 on the captain who was anything but a captain that his broken insides were painfully visible for all to see. And, even though Carol had no idea what happened between them, she found herself smirking as the mortal man confronted the super soldier with no weaponry whatsoever but his words and cracks as if they were the deadliest bombs the man had encountered. The corner of her mouth sunk when he collapsed. She barely knew him and yet she reacted immediately, going to catch him before she realised it probably wasn't her place. Even so, Carol got the feeling that Steve would have done nothing if hed hadn't have been so close and it was tragic.

She didn't want to intrude. This wasn't her place to be. Her place was a comfortable bungalow in Louisiana, but it didn't feel like home anymore. However, there was a tug that told her she had to see Tony. Like it was calling her home. And it was strange. Incredibly strange. But real. So real. After he had woken up, he tired his soon-to-be wife and best friend out whilst proving to them that he was still him old self. Thinner and older and impossibly more traumatised. But still him. The pair had fallen asleep in their bedside seats, leaving Tony alone. But there was some nagging feeling that he didn't want to be, so Carol decided to go and check on him. One simple choice that would change a life or two.

She peeked around the door, waving a hand that no longer glowed.

"Hey, Carol, is it?" He tilted his head, fighting the smile that tried to make an appearance at the new captain. She nodded, closing the door softly behind her. "Thanks for saving me and all. Big fan of that whole photon glow thing you have going on-"

"You don't have to do that." Her tone was firm yet sincere at his obvious deflection. Sympathy washed over her as she wondered how many of his so-called friends overlooked it as plain and simple apathy. Even if he didn't want her, she'd make him feel understood. "Look, I'm not gonna ask how you are because I know you'll just say you're fine in the form of some snarky comment-"

"So you're me, if I was blonde, female and an alien?" Her voice was far too genuine for the fragile billionaire.

"I'm of the human disposition, unfortunately. Survived a blast from the tesseract, absorbed its energy and here we are." The corner of his mouth ticked up and Carol fought off her own smile. "I don't know what went on with you guys," she gestured to Steve who was examining a hologram outside with Natasha, "but I want you to know that I don't give a shit. That rant was the most satisfying and entertaining thing I've seen since 90's tv. And I know he deserved it." She dropped into the chair next to Rhodey as he chuckled. "I've seen the tapes. Of you fighting," and Tony was struck with the horrifying sense of deja vu. He wasn't ready for a new prospect in the friendship area to drag up his deepest insecurity and lay it all on the line. The line that he wouldn't lay down on and let someone else crawl over him, according to Rogers. "You're a good man. You fight for what's right, anyway you can, but you still take more precautions than the rest of them to preserve civilian lives." There was a beat of awkward silence as Tony mulled over her words and Carol let him before she clapped her hands. She winced, checking to see if Pepper or Rhodey had woken up. "Okay, well, that's the most emotion I've done for years." Tony laughed, it was loud — as loud as could be so his family wouldn't wake up — and glorious and it made Carol feel inexplicably proud.

"So besides turning into a glow worm because of the tesseract, what's your story?" He asked, shifting to get comfortable. She jumped up and held his arm as she rearranged his pillows. His gaze was intense as he examined her and she felt it burning through her so she cleared her throat.

"You know, not many people get to see that side of me." She admitted, running a hand over the back of her neck.

"I'm honoured?" He smirked.

"I was a pilot in the 90's. Couldn't fly for the army because I was a woman, so I tested planes. One day, I crash. Straight into some kind of alien mission. The Krees wanted the tesseract so I blew it up. Woke up and they turned me into their pawn. I didn't know what I was." Carol shifted, kicking her feet up onto the end of his bed. "My first proper mission goes wrong and I crash on earth. Fury meets me, you know Fury?"

"We've met." Tony cocked his head to the side. Did Fury really get himself everywhere?

"He told me a lot about you. Bitched about everyone in his confidential boy band." So she is a blonde, female version of him. "Anyway, he gives me a nice, warm greeting before I convince him of the Skrulls' existence. A shapeshifting alien race. Then, I find out I had a family. A best friend and her little girl. Maria and Monica." She looked at him and saw the realisation dawn on him. But it wasn't pity, it was understanding. She nodded and he interrupted for the first time.

"The kid," and Carol remembered his first words, "Spiderman. Queens' local vigilante. Teenager. Batshit crazy teenager, Peter. I tried to keep him safe. I did. I did everything, but it didn't work. I was ready to die for him, but that choice was taken from me by that stupid wizard." He stopped himself and looked to her, tears glistening. She could see the pleading in his eyes and she knew she should continue.

"They helped me find my old self. The Skrulls, they were just trying to find a home. So I knew I had to help them. I got to break free from the Krees' control. And I did. Destroyed some missiles from a dick called Ronan. Then, just helped the universe. And listened to Fury complain about his superhero children." Tony laughed, wiping his tears away. "You know, the Avengers are named after me." She bragged.

"Is that right?" He removed his glasses and placed them on the bedside table.

"Captain Carol 'Avenger' Danvers." She clarified. "Except, I'm a real captain. Unlike America over there." She jabbed a thumb at the stern-looking man. "Before I got promoted to colonel." Tony chuckled again.

"Oh my god. Please pull rank. Please. I beg you." Carol joined in, shaking her head.

"Couldn't do that to his ego. Its bigger than your's." She joked, rolling her eyes. "I'll do it if he pulls any shit with you."

"Carol Danvers, are you my guardian angel?"

"Maybe." She shrugged. "But if I was, I would have protected you from them."

"So Maria," he began, "just your best friend, right?" Tony swore looks could kill as his breathing slowed down and his heart sped up. It couldn't be a good combination.

"You're a bit like me, right? Kidnapped, turned into something bigger than you should be. Lied to. Betrayed. All of the hero origins combined into one very fragile human. Apart from, your brain gave birth to Ironman and my stupid nobility gave birth to Captain Marvel." If an AI had eyes, Tony was sure that it would roll its eyes at the amount of eye rolling that had taken place in the small hospital room.

"Yeah, I'm a genius."

"Hey, me too." She cheered, hushing her voice as James' head lolled to his shoulder.

"Well, maybe, but-"

"You're smarter, I'm stronger." Her voice dripped with humour, but Tony thought it was a good compromise.

"I'm not gonna argue with you there, firefly." He held his hands up in defeat. "You're the strongest of us all." Carol didn't normally like compliments, but it felt special from him. "Because you're me if I had the physical strength."

The rest of the night was filled with laughter until Carol's wrist lit up with a red alert.

"Duty calls, but it was nice meeting ya, Tony." She announced, standing. "Tell me if the big boy gives you any trouble." Her childish voice and condescending tone made the man smile. She was one foot out of the door when,

"Hey, Carol? If you ever need a place to crash, I'll send you the coordinates of the place I wanna build my house." He winked at her as she left. Perhaps he'd just made a new friend.

@marvelficwriter @galaxy-parker @bi-marvel @theamazingschneiderman @underoosstark @delmars @confettidogs @dixiehellcat @lucious-has-heard @phoenixinferno1023 @grilledkatniss @marvelrose

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mamabearcat · 5 years

Text

The Not So Good Very Bad Day

A little bit of NaLu pregnancy fluff, inspired by the beautiful sketch done by @theweiszguy Everything in this fic pretty much happened to me while I was pregnant (but thankfully not all on the same day!)

"Hey Luce, I got that garlic bread that you wanted to go with dinner", called out Natsu, as he shut the front door behind him. He walked into the kitchen with the grocery bags, plonking them onto the bench next to the sink. It looked like Lucy had already made a start on dinner; a rich Bolognese sauce was simmering on the stove, and the spaghetti was bubbling in a pot of salted water. He turned on the oven and put the foil wrapped garlic bread in; dinner looked like it would be ready any minute.

"Luce?" called out Natsu, wondering where his wife had got to as he put groceries away in the fridge and pantry. He had his answer a few seconds later as he heard the toilet flush, and he grinned, realising he should have known where she would be. Lucy's constant visits to the bathroom now that she was eight and a half months pregnant were a running joke between them, one that she was getting mightily tired of.

He peered around the corner of the kitchen to look down the hallway with a little trepidation, wondering which Lucy would greet him tonight. Over the last two weeks, her mood swings were getting a little… difficult. Not that he was complaining too much. At least he wasn't the one that was going to have to push a baby out anytime soon. Nevertheless, he smiled in relief when Lucy looked happy to see him, although she also looked exhausted. She was already changed into her pj's – a black singlet top that used to be his and a pair of boxers with the waistband pushed down below her baby bump. One more day of work, and she'd be on maternity leave.

Lucy waddled over to Natsu to give him a squeezy hug, well, the best approximation she could with her baby bump in the way. "I'm so glad to see you", she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. Natsu rubbed her lower back with his strong fingers, and she groaned in relief, making him chuckle.

He kissed the top of her head in greeting. "Did something bad happen at work today?" he asked, continuing to knead her sore muscles.

"Not really", Lucy said. "I'm just so tired Natsu. The lift broke down and I had to walk down three flights of stairs for a meeting, and then back up again. At least it was fixed by the time I left to go home."

She gave him a small affectionate peck on the lips and moved over to the pasta. "Why don't you go wash your hands while I plate this up. Should only be a minute or two before its ready."

Natsu wandered down the hallway of their small apartment to the bathroom, quickly washing and drying his hands. As he walked back past what used to be the spare bedroom, he couldn't help but stop to lean on the door frame and look, like he did now every time he walked past this door. Even though he had seen the ultrasound images, felt the baby move in Lucy's tummy, talked to and read the baby stories as Lucy giggled at him, read all the 'dad' chapters in Lucy's pregnancy books and attended every information class at the hospital, this room… this is what made it finally feel real for him.

The once beige walls were painted a pale blue, and cheerful yellow gingham curtains decorated the window. A white chest of drawers was filled with little baby onesies and singlets, and a blue pram was pushed into the corner. Nappies were stacked on the wooden change table, sharing the space with creams and baby wipes. A plastic baby bath stored underneath, a bright yellow rubber duck sitting proudly in its centre.

Lucy had painted a mural on one of the walls – a red dragon flying in a night sky, filled with silver stars and a smiling moon. A big cardboard box that contained the pieces of the wooden cradle leaned up against the wall opposite him. That was his job for this weekend; to put it together and set it up in their bedroom, ready to be used by their son or daughter when they brought him or her home.

A sudden squeal and crash had Natsu sprinting back to the kitchen. Lucy was sitting on the kitchen floor sobbing, with the upturned pasta pot and water spilled over the floor. He dragged her backwards away from the spreading water and sat her down on one of the kitchen chairs, examining her anxiously.

"Fuck Luce, are you okay? Did you burn yourself?" He turned her hands over, checking for burns, patting her pyjamas to see if they were wet anywhere, and then stooped down to check her legs and bare feet. When he couldn't find any injuries, he cupped Lucy's face in his hands, trying to wipe away her tears with his thumbs as they continued to fall. "Tell me, what's wrong? You're worrying me."

Lucy's face contorted as she tried to get words out through her sobs. "Can't do anything right", she finally managed, trying to get a hold of her emotions. "So stupid and clumsy… dropped the pot. It just fell out of my hands."

"Hey", Natsu crooned, still stroking her face. "It's just pasta Luce, it's not worth all these tears. I can just make more. Please don't cry." He put his arms around her shoulders and rocked back and forth, and Lucy buried her face in his shoulder, still crying. When her sobs started to calm down, Natsu pulled back a little so he could reach the box of tissues on the table. He dried her eyes and handed her another tissue, so she could blow her nose.

While Lucy sat on the chair, gradually becoming calmer, he began to clean up. Not wanting to risk her slipping on the wet floor, he stripped off his black t-shirt, and mopped up the water, wringing it into the sink, then scooped up all the pasta in his hands and put it into the bin. After putting the empty pot in the sink, he turned off the oven and stove and served the chunky mince Bolognese sauce into two bowls, adding a few hunks of garlic bread and a fork to each. He carried them into the lounge room and placed them on the coffee table and came back for his girl.

"Do you wanna tell me what's really wrong Luce?", he asked, helping her get to her feet. She leaned on him as they walked into the lounge room, still sniffling. Natsu sat down on the sofa, stretched out lengthways, and helped Lucy sit down so she was cradled in between his legs, her back resting against his bare chest. He reached out and started rubbing her stomach in circles. "Tell me, baby girl, I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

Lucy sighed, still hiccupping a little. "Nothing's really wrong", she said. "Just a lot of little somethings that all built up. It started when I got dressed for work this morning. My feet were all swollen and none of my shoes fit. I had to wear my slippers to work."

Natsu tried very hard not to, but a small snort of laughter escaped. Lucy hit him on the arm. "Fine", she grumbled, "you can laugh, everyone one else at work did too." That stopped his laughter, and he began rubbing small circles again, kissing her neck gently in apology.

"What else happened Luce?"

"Well, I already told you that the lift was out. I had to walk downstairs for a meeting, and when I got there, I realised that the folder I needed was still on my desk, and I had to walk all the way up there again and back down, and then I was late." Natsu murmured sympathetically.

"Then because I was late, by the time I had lunch they'd run out of all the sandwiches I like in the café downstairs. All they had left was curried egg, but I was so hungry I bought it and it gave me horrible heartburn all afternoon. But that wasn't the worst part." Natsu hugged her tighter, racking his brain for comforting phrases to say after Lucy revealed what might have made her so upset.

"I was talking to the new sales manager about who he'd need to contact for that big conference next month, when Levy popped in with the twins to say hi to everyone who hadn't got to see them when she was in hospital." Although Lucy smiled at the thought of Levy and her one-month old twins, Natsu sensed that she was about to reveal something that had really upset her.

"They weren't even in my office, they were out in the tea room. I was trying to wrap up the meeting so that I could go see them when Jonah started crying. Crying really loudly." Lucy covered her face with her hands.

"Hey, c'mon, it can't be that bad…" began Natsu.

"My boobs leaked Natsu. I was wearing a white shirt, and my boobs leaked. The front of my shirt was covered in two big wet patches. And Jason just kept staring at them. He didn't look away and I didn't know what to do! I was so embarrassed! So I pretended I had another meeting and went and hid in the bathroom for half an hour."

"Creepy bastard", growled Natsu. "Remind me to punch him for ya if I see him at the office Christmas party."

Lucy giggled, but it was a worn-out tired giggle. "I'm so sorry Natsu. I know at the moment I'm not always the nicest person to be around, but I'm just so exhausted. I can't sleep properly because I can't get comfy, and when I finally do, I have to get up to go to the toilet, or those stupid Braxton Hicks contractions start up. I keep forgetting stuff and dropping things. I don't even know what my feet look like anymore."

While she was talking, Natsu kept on rubbing her stomach. He drew up her singlet top, so it revealed the pale skin stretched tight over her bump. The baby wasn't kicking so much anymore, because the midwife had informed them that he or she had pretty much run out of stretching room, but every now and then Lucy's stomach would move, and Natsu's hand would reach out to rub and press on her skin where the baby was. When she had finished speaking, he dropped a loving kiss to the top of her head.

"Luce, you know what I think? I think today was your last day at work. It was a shitty day, and I don't think you need to go back there tomorrow. I think tomorrow we're both gonna call in sick, and I'm gonna pamper my princess while I still can, before we're both too busy running around after a newborn for stuff like that. What do ya say?"

"Natsu, that sounds so tempting, but…"

"But nothin. I'll even call the midwives at the hospital to see if we can get a medical certificate for ya to mail to them. You've already done all the hand over stuff Luce. I'll call Gajeel tonight and let him know – all the appointments we have booked in for tomorrow are smaller tattoos, he can handle it."

Lucy sighed. "Okay". Suddenly she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off he shoulders. She placed her hands over his on her belly, and they both smiled as the baby bumped a small knee, or perhaps an elbow, into their joined hands.

"Thankyou Natsu. I don't know what I'd do without you." Natsu kissed the top of her head again, and then laughed as Lucy's stomach growled loudly.

"Right back at ya, baby girl." He helped Lucy sit upright on the sofa and reached over to the coffee table for a bowl of Bolognese and garlic bread with a fork stuck in the middle of it. "Here ya go madame, fine dining at its very best."

Lucy began to shovel in forkfuls of the savoury mince into her mouth, suddenly realising how hungry she was. "So Natsu, what sort of pampering were you thinking of?"

"Well, I thought I could give you a foot massage or a back massage", began Natsu, stuffing a piece of garlic bread in his mouth. "Maybe we could watch a movie together on the sofa." His green eyes took on a greedy glint. "If you were feeling up to it, perhaps I could give you a 'Natsu Special' massage, with all the trimmings."

Lucy grinned at him. "Is that massage for you, or for me?"

"Both of us", winked Natsu, leaning across to give her a loving kiss. Lucy started kissing him back, but then couldn't stifle a yawn. "But tonight princess, it's off to bed early for you. I got lots of pampering I wanna do, and I can't do it if you're asleep."

He bent down to kiss her belly too. "Listen Junior, stop treatin' your Mumma so rough. She's the only one you got, so you gotta take care of her. Try not to tap-dance on her bladder tonight, so she can get a good nights sleep, okay?" He kissed her stomach one more time, then got to his feet, holding his hands out to Lucy. "Bedtime Luce."

Lucy grumbled, but Natsu helped her to her feet, and gently pushed her down the hallway to their bedroom. He grabbled the extra pillows, and after she got herself settled on her side, he stuffed one between her knees, and one under her bump. He knelt down next to the bed to gently stroke her forehead as she yawned again.

As her eyes drifted closed, he realised that their nights like this, with just the two of them here in their home would be coming to an end in just a few weeks, maybe even just a few days. It both excited and terrified him.

He stood for a few moments, watching Lucy sleep, her hands curled protectively over her rounded belly filled with their child. He realised that he wouldn't want it any other way.

#Nalu #nalu fanfiction #nalu fanfic #natsu x lucy #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #pregnancy fanfic

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purkinje-effect · 7 years

Text

The Purkinje Effect, 15

Table of Contents

“God, Geek, you’ve got a curse with timing, you know that?” Hancock leaned hard into the back of the couch and rubbed his temples with one hand, the other on a wine bottle. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see ya, but it’s been chaos since the moment I sent you off on your little errand. ...Speaking of which, how did all that go? You’re certainly back faster’n I expected. Hope that doesn’t mean you’re comin’ back empty handed.”

“Besides the walk to and back, it really didn’t take much,” Galen replied quietly, sitting on the couch beside him. “I didn’t have to find them. They found me. ...Where’s your bodyguard?”

“You missed a goddamn shit show.” The colonially dressed ghoul slammed back a third of the bottle and grunted once he’d taken a breath. “Hopefully it’s all blown over finally. Fahr’s alive, if only barely. She’ll be fine.” When Galen looked on expectantly, Hancock offered the bottle, but Galen waved it off.

“I, no, that’s not it. I just. I’m worried what happened, is all. Did Goodneighbor get attacked by raiders or something?” He settled in a little better, setting his duffel on the ground under his feet.

“Before you, last time I saw a vault dweller was over a year ago. And now two have blown through here in a single week. That little shit... You know, I don’t blame him, to be fair. I feel completely accountable for everything that happened. No, y’know what? Y'want story time? I’ll tell you what happened, but first things first. I’m payin’ ya for the scoop on North End.”

Galen nodded, lips tight.

“They’re legit, the Railroad. The Institute crafts synths to use them for slaves, and the Railroad is like, well. You know your history, yeah? I’d imagine somebody wearin’ John Hancock’s getup would know a thing or two about prewar stuff. Pretty sure they call themselves that after the Underground Railroad. They’re all about smuggling escapees outta the Institute and gettin’ ‘em someplace safe. Away from the Institute, and away from the bigots who think that because synths were created to serve some supervillain empire, that the synths themselves are evil by design. Y’know, I will take y’up on that.”

He motioned for the bottle, and the mayor shared. After a solid swig, the dreg passed it back to him.

“I said they found me?” Galen kept on. “Apparently I’m not just a sore thumb stickin’ out sideways around here, I’ve got a goddamn spotlight on me. They had their eye on me since I got outta Diamond City. And... they want me to sign on with ‘em. I kinda want to. Nobody, no thing, deserves t’be enslaved. That’s a cause I can get behind. They know you sent me to scout ‘em out, and they sent me back with reassurance they have no intention of embroilin’ you, your town, or its people, in their dirty work. Not without ‘em also signin’ on, provin’ they’re on board black-n’-white about it all. No innocent blood shed on their watch, an’ all that.”

“Respectable work they’re doin'.” Finishing off the bottle, Hancock put it down on the coffee table with an elevated brow and heavy lids. He reached for his cigarette case and lit one up, flicking the extinguished match into the ashtray. “Y’say y’wanna join ‘em? What’s stoppin’ ya?”

Any ease left in Galen’s face drained right out of him.

“I came East lookin’ for answers about what might be wrong with the equipment at my vault. Bein’ pink ain’t rosy. My time up top just keeps rackin’ up red flags over symptoms an’ details we all just sorta accepted as normal. Time got to be a blur, and all we knew was what we were experiencing. I’m sure for most of us, it’s been like this so long we’ve forgotten it wasn’t always like this. Anyway, I’m outta places I’d know where to look for information, but really I’ve all but given up anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I care what happens to ‘em, but I’m positive they’d cut their noses off just t’spite me at this point, even if I had a way to fix all this.” After a moment the turn of phrase had marinated, and he straightened. “Bad choice of words.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Hancock murmured, grinning genuinely a moment. “You’re really pulled every which way, aren’t ya?”

“It sounds horrible, but I’m just lookin’ for a way for me t’survive this... I wanna be in the pink, not just... Yeah. Can I bum a smoke off ya, in exchange for playin’ y’couch psychiatrist?”

“--Sure.” Picking up the case again, Hancock produced a second cigarette and lit it off the cherry of his own, then he handed it over. As he spoke, he gesticulated with his cigarette not unlike an implement. “This classy lil’ tricorner hat’s gettin’ kinda heavy, man. That other vaultie I mentioned? Showed up a few hours after you left. Scrawny little creep with a Handy. Jamjar glasses and a bad limp. Finn, one of my best guards, decides to get friendly with the guy in the worst way, just because Finn doesn’t like how I’m running things and was tryin’ t’put his foot down wherever he could stomp it. Finn an’ I get into a disagreement, and I had to put him in the dirt over it to protect the guy.

“I thought I had a bead on everybody in my town, knew where I stood. Have I become a tyrant? Finn wasn’t the only one who’s actin’ like it.” Hancock shut his eyes, took a long drag off his cigarette, and paused on his head space, holding the smoke in for a moment before letting it out his nose-less nostrils. His head lolled onto the back of the couch, his hand drooping off the arm of it. “That little shit wasn’t even in my town a full twenty-four hours before another of my folks had him tricked into helpin’ her breakin’ into my strong room. All hell broke loose. There was... collateral. Fahr was just doin’ her job, and it almost got her killed. Vaultie’s got some serious debt racked up, if he can’t get back the shit he helped Bobbi steal from me. And something along the lines of a fine for critically wounding my second-in-command.”

A short silence followed.

“I get that you’re pissed,” Galen started, puffing away as he leaned forward onto his knees. “But didn’t you just describe that other vaultie as a scrawny, decrepit nerd? If he had the wool pulled over him by this Bobbi, you really think he’d be capable of coercin’ her t'cough it back up?”

“Oh, it ain’t about him makin’ recompense. It’s about makin’ him sweat. If he can get that loot back from her, he’s earned it. But what’s got me is, Bobbi thinks I earned her makin’ me for a mark. I had a job done on me. I’m getting too hunkered into my laurels. I’m goin’ crazy inside my head. I’ve gotta. I’ve gotta get outta town. Blow off some steam, sharpen the ol’ killer instinct.”

“...Funny thing, that timing. I finished the part of the story you asked me to fish for, but there’s one more thing. In order to join on the Railroad, I have to do a job for them. Prove my aptitude or somethin’ like that. An’ I’m kinda wary to go alone. The guy I’ve gotta meet with is the one I think’s been tailing me the past week, and he’s kinda... weird.” He squinted and shook his head, and swallowed his filter without snuffing it. With his head collected, he made eye contact with the mayor. “You wanna get outta town. I gotta get outta town. I’d love it if y’came with me.”

Hancock shot up and slapped his knees, then stood animatedly. His face lit up, and he wagged his free hand at Galen while he finished off his cigarette.

“You. I knew I liked you. It’s settled. We stock up and head out ASAP. I gotta bow to the formality of a speech before all that, though. I owe my people that much. But they can hold their own while I duck off with ya. They’ve got Fahr, once she’s a hundred percent again. This little job shouldn’t take too long, should it?”

“It’s out by the old Corvega plant,” Galen replied. The mayor’s intensity was catching, and a strange smile crossed the pink dreg’s face. “You’re good people, Hancock.”

“By the smile of Heaven, I am a free and independent man,” he grinned, tipping his hat toward him over his shoulder as he ducked out the balcony door at the end of the room.

#fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 fanfic #hancock #john hancock #fallout 4 #the purkinje effect #fo4 oc #fallout 4 oc #geek #bonus points for a game of guess who

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