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strawwritesfic · 3 years ago

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Howard Wolowitz x Female!Reader: Carnival

Summary: Sure, he can’t win a test of strength, but there are more important things in life to be won.

Rating/Tags: T (sexual references; implied sexual content; carnival; non-nerd!Reader; texting; bickering couple; bad date; Raj & Howard; Sheldon & Howard; not canon compliant; not anti-Bernadette; Reader does not get along with Penny; Reader does not get along with Sheldon; anniversary; established Howard/Reader)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Carnival

Howard Wolowitz was a man of simple pleasures: Cheesecake Factory hamburgers, walks to the comic book store, World of Warcraft marathons on the weekends, and beautiful women. Only the first three of these was he able to regularly indulge in. Since he had met you, the latter was available more frequently…but he was starting to realize there was nothing simple about dating you, pleasure or no. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he ought to resign himself to a love life consisting of nothing but online avatars depicting beautiful women.

The trouble was, Howard liked you. He liked you a lot. He liked you so much that it scared the brightly-colored skinny jeans right off him. Never before had he met a woman so intimidating and so attractive at the same time. Whether it was the way your lips parted when you were laughing (even when it was at him) or your eyes sparked when you were mad (not so much when it was at him), he was entranced.

Unfortunately, he didn’t think he’d have you around much longer, because he was seeing a lot more of the latter than the former these days. Tonight's date was turning out no different.

“A carnival,” you muttered to yourself as you drove through the flat landscape just outside the city. “Really? A carnival?”

You kept saying that, over and over, in that infuriating way girls had that made all men worry over whether or not to risk some reply. As you were nearing your destination, Howard’s restraint found itself under considerable strain. He squirmed uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

“Is there…a problem? With the carnival?” he asked finally, with some attempt at a smile, nervous as it was.

“Why would there be a problem with the carnival, sweetheart?” you asked brightly.

“Well, you just keep repeating the word to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You returned your attention to steering, and added quietly, “You’d think we’d go somewhere a little more adult for our one-year anniversary, that’s all.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you sang.

Whatever was eating you was very clearly not nothing. For the duration of the trip–all twenty minutes of it–you continued to grumble under your breath.

Howard drummed his fingers nervously against his knees in silence. Nothing. You’d said it was nothing. Once you got there, you’d have a good time. You weren’t the sort of girl to break up with your boyfriend on your first anniversary…right? He was being silly.

But if that were the case, then why, when the two of you got out of your car and headed for the blinking display in the distance, did you purposely step away from him when he tried to hold your hand? His palm wasn’t sweaty. He checked. You didn’t so much as grace him with a glance when he bought your entry tickets, let alone a smile. You merely pounded off down the lamp-lit corridor, looking quite pretty in the constantly shifting lights, but also quite angry.

“[Name], seriously,” Howard said when he caught up. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing’s the matter with me,” you answered, but you did so while scowling and crossing your arms over your chest.

He almost laughed. “You’re not a very good actress.”

“And you’re not a very smart engineer!” you burst out suddenly. Before he could recover, you were barreling on, “You really can’t figure it out? Really? How old are we supposed to be? And where did you choose to take us for our date? A carnival!”

He blinked. And blinked. And blinked some more. Then he smirked. “Oh, I get it. You don’t think the carnival is very adult. Well, that’s just silly!” This time, he did laugh, with relief, sidling closer to add in a low voice, “There are plenty of adult things to do at the fair. For instance, there’s the tunnel of love…”

“I am not screwing you in the tunnel of love, Howard!” you shouted, so loudly that several nearby heads swiveled in your direction.

Normally he admired your brash approach to sex–really admired it–but maybe here wasn’t the best place to talk about that. There were kids around, after all.

He smiled sheepishly before pushing you further down the grassy lane. “That’s not what I meant. Well, okay, it is. But come on, [Name]. You told me to pick a place for our anniversary, and you didn’t like my first idea.”

“It was the Cheesecake Factory! You really think I wanted to spend my anniversary watching you ogle that waitress?”

Howard did not protest this blatant mischaracterization–because it wasn’t. There would have been ogling. Two beautiful women to look at on one evening? As if he should have been so lucky. Obviously, he hadn’t been. “Look, I had that plan. You shot it down. Now we’re here instead, with no Penny in sight.”

“You’ve never heard of dancing? Or dinner somewhere else? A movie, maybe?”

“Well, sure, those are the suggestions Penny gave me when I asked her–”

“You talked to Penny? About our anniversary?”

“She knows what girls like you like!”

“I am nothing like Penny.”

“You’re a little like Penny.”

Your hatred for Penny was well known within Howard’s group of friends (even by Penny), but honestly, was now the time? Especially when Howard had gone out of his way to not involve her in the evening.

“She’s a romantic. She knows what women in general like, but,” he added swiftly, “I know how much you hate her, so I used Sheldon’s idea instead.”

“Sheldon’s idea?”

He could not believe he was having this argument here, with the delicious smells of frying corn dogs and funnel cakes wafting through the air. Whatever happened to giggling and clinging to each other going through the haunted house? Why did there always have to be an argument?

“Yes. Sheldon’s idea,” he said. “Admittedly, he did say it was so we could be among our own kind–the clowns–but I thought it sounded fun, and it wasn’t anything she-who-must-not-be-named mentioned. So could we please just try to have a good time?”

You didn’t say anything, but you did follow him, so Howard figured that you had at least agreed to try. That turned out to be exactly what you had agreed to: trying, and nothing more. You did eat a corn dog…grudgingly. You did kiss him inside the tunnel…while scowling. And you did go with him into the House of Mirrors…you just didn’t come out with him.

Seeing you upset wasn’t exactly the way he had planned this night to go. No, his plan had involved a lot more smiling, a bit of inappropriate touching, and maybe some hanky-panky when you two got back to your apartment. None of that appeared to be on horizon now, and Howard was starting to panic.

“Let’s go try out the games now, all right?” he said, desperation coloring his words as surely as his vice-grip on your hand did.

You didn’t try to slip away this time, just sighed. “Howard, I’m tired. Can’t we go home?”

“And do what?” he asked, letting go of himself.

You stuck your lower lip out and shrugged, a sure sign that if he let you drive the two of you home, you would fake a headache and send him on his way as soon as you arrived.

“You haven’t even attempted to have a good time tonight. At least let me try. Here, I bet I could win you one of those bunnies."

He said this as you passed by one of the game stalls. This one was a little bit emptier, perhaps due to the scary-looking muscular carnie running it. The attraction was a strength tester, hammer, bell, and all, and almost all the prizes–the aforementioned pink stuffed bunnies–remained hanging from their posts at the sides of the tower.

“Howie, I don’t know…”

Your following bitten lip was the last straw. He crammed a roll of ones into the carnie’s outstretched palm, rolled up his sleeves, and picked up the waiting mallet.

“I think I know what I’m doing,” Howard told you over his shoulder. “Everyone knows these really don’t test your strength. It’s all in where you hit the pedal. As an engineer, I know the exact place. It’s simple physics. I’m guaranteed to win you a prize.”

He swung down with all his scrawny might, then waited, watching, listening. No sound followed. No ding. The weight went up two notches, hovered there, then…fell right back down to the pedal.

“Let me guess,” growled the carnie, “y’ didn’t mean to hit it there.”

Normally, Howard would have agreed. Normally, he would have tried again and again and again until he finally managed to impress the woman he had been seeing romantically (and sexually) for a year. But this time he couldn’t. Not anymore. If this date had proven anything, it was that Howard Wolowitz could never impress a woman like [F Name] [L Name].

He set the hammer down, carefully. Then he walked over to you, carefully.

“Meet you back at the car,” he muttered as he stared past you.

To the car, however, was not where he went. A long, oppressively quiet drive back to the city wasn’t going to help matters. Nothing would. At least a plate of funnel cake would make him feel less like throwing up that corn dog from earlier, though. Or maybe more. Still couldn’t make him feel worse than Raj texting him at that exact moment to check in:

Hey, man. How’s it going with [Name]?

Terrible, Howard replied.

Doesn’t like the carnival, huh? I knew you should have listened to Penny. [Name] likes that sort of thing, too.

[Name] is nothing like Penny.

She’s exactly like Penny, and she hates the date, doesn’t she?

Fine. Yes. [Name] hates the date. Does that make you feel better about yourself?

A little bit. I always said she was too good for you.

Raj had a point. Clearly Howard had no idea what he was doing. Of course he didn’t! He’d never had a one-year anniversary in his entire life. Not that Raj had either.

Heart sinking, Howard crammed a piece of funnel cake into his mouth. His stomach churned. If he tried to force anything else into his down his throat, it would all come out, and wasn’t that just the way he wanted you to see him before you dumped him? Better to start bracing for the inevitable breakup waiting for him in the car. He hopped off the bench to throw his plate into the overflowing trashcan nearby, only to run straight into one of those stuffed bunnies from before.

“Hey,” said a familiar voice.

Howard cast his eyes above the pink ears settled against two shapely breasts to see your face. This was of very little comfort to him, given the circumstances.

“Hey,” he answered sulkily, then brushed by to finish what he had been doing before you’d so rudely interrupted.

You followed, still clutching the rabbit.

Howard snorted. “New boyfriend win that for you? Let me guess. He’s the carnie.”

“No.”

Your voice was soft. Apparently you weren’t offended at the idea of sleeping with some muscle-bound weirdo, then, so long as he was muscle-bound. Howard rolled his eyes as he stalked off toward the parking lot.

“Howie, wait,” you called after him.

Against his better judgement, he did.

You ran up, paused, then thrust the rabbit into his chest. “I won him for you.”

A sardonic smile graced his lips before he noticed that there wasn't hint of sarcasm in your eyes. In fact, they were big and wide and beautiful and how could he be mad at you when you looked at him like that?

“You…did?” he asked as he hesitantly took the stuffed animal.

You averted your eyes. “Yeah. I mean, you wanted one really badly.”

“For you! Because I wanted you to get something out of this date!”

“I know.” You took a deep breath and forced your gaze back up to him. “I did. I’m sorry. I guess I just had so many expectations about this date that I…I sort of ruined it, didn’t I?”

“A little. This is cute, though. You really won it for–for me?”

“Who else am I gonna win it for?”

“Your new boyfriend?”

You responded by punching him in the shoulder–but softly. “The only boyfriend I want is you, okay? So long as you don’t want to break up with me over me being such a brat tonight.”

His first thought was to say of course not! When was he ever going to find another girl like you to agree to spend time with him? Or have sex with him for that matter? Howard had never had any luck in that department before. But he stopped that thought dead in its tracks, because he had got a wonderful idea.

“Well,” he said, fidgeting with the rabbit’s cheap plastic eye, “I am pretty sad. I went to all this work. If you wanted to make it up to me when we got back to your apartment, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Why did I just know you were going to try to guilt me into sex?” You shook your head, but at the same time, took his hand in your of your own volition for the first time that evening. “Come on, geek. We’ve got business to take care of.”

“Yes ma’am! And Mr. Bun can watch.”

You shot him a smile. Maybe the dumping wasn't inevitable after all. You did know Howard, and he knew you. A year was a long time. There was the slimmest chance that this was how the date had been destined to go from the very beginning. He’d got one of his one year anniversary wishes in the end, and if the hanky-panky was all he got, Howard certainly wasn’t complaining.

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veinsandknuckles · 3 years ago

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Reflect what you are, pt 2

Abed Nadir/Autistic f!Reader. In love and at a loss, Abed turns to self professed woman-expert Jeff Winger for advice with mixed results. Part 1 Rated: pg Warnings: casual ableism, casual sexism, autistic stereotypes, reference to the The Big Bang Theory. If I’ve missed anything, let me know. This fic hasn’t been BETA’d. As a disclaimer, I’ll say upfront that the reader insert’s experiences with and outward signs of autism are based on my own. It’s always impossible to write a reader insert neutrally enough to be projected onto by everyone and I think that’s especially true when portraying a disability that is at once so specific and so varied. ——–

“...I think I’m in love.”

“Really.” Jeff didn’t look up from his phone.

Abed wasn’t sure why he’d picked Jeff as the right person to talk to. Perhaps it was just because Jeff had lingered in the study room after their last session, leaving them alone in the room, and if Abed didn’t tell someone, anyone, he might literally explode. “Yes. Definitely. I show all the classic signs.”

Jeff didn’t respond. Had his sarcastic, disinterested tone been more pointed than usual? It was hard to tell.

“Did you already know I’m in love?”

“With what’s-her-name, your new study buddy?” Jeff gave Abed a look. “Uh, yeah. I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”

“Oh.” Abed tapped his pen against the table and thought this over. “Do I talk about her a lot?”

“Not really, but we know you. It’s pretty suspicious if you take an interest in anyone who isn’t a fictional character.” Jeff put his phone down and leaned his elbows on the table. “Does this mean you’ve finally come to me for dating advice? It’s about time.”

“Normally, I wouldn’t need advice...”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed. “Because women throw themselves at you, for some reason.” He sounded resentful. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And usually I don’t really care either way.” Perhaps this wasn’t the best approach if he wanted Jeff’s help, but it was the truth. “I mean, the attention is nice, but it’s not important.”

“Well, if you’re ‘in love’” (here, Jeff made so many air quotes he threatened to sprain a finger) “that’s a whole different story.”

“Yeah. I’d be pretty upset if she didn’t like me back.”

“I’m sure. So what have you tried so far?”

“Hm.” What had he tried? Shockingly little, now that he came to think about it. “I’ve talked to her a little. We’re working on a project together for class. Oh, and yesterday I threatened to beat a guy up for disrespecting her.”

There was a long pause. “See, this is why you should come to me for inspiration instead of turning to the movies.”

“Yeah, but it was warranted. He’s a bully.”

“Yeah, but still. I never figured you’d go for the caveman approach.”

Abed shrugged. “I don’t really have an approach.”

“Yeah, we established that. So what’s this girl like?”

“I think she’s autistic.”

Jeff’s eyes widened and his mouth seemed to twitch. He didn’t make a face, but it seemed to take him some effort not to make a face. What was he trying to hide? Surprise? A lack of surprise? Amusement? Ridicule? Probably not envy, but what did Jeff know?

“Abed, that’s not a very nice way to sum up a person. We taught you better than that.”

Abed had it on pretty good authority that Jeff had pointed him out to strangers as ‘the robot’ and ‘just don’t call him Sheldon’ several times just this month, but for some reason, people tended to get uncomfortable if the spade joined in and also started calling itself a spade.

“Okay, this is clearly a sensitive issue for you. If I tell you she’s also beautiful and funny and attentive and kind and clever and beautiful, does that make you feel better?”

“That’s a pretty long list.” Jeff smiled. “Beautiful made it in twice, huh?”

It was a fair summary as far as Abed was concerned, repetition included, but Jeff needed to be brought down a peg or two.“I thought that would reassure you.”

Jeff stopped smiling. “Whatever. So if you care so much about her supposed personality, what do you guys actually have in common? Apart from, you know. The A word.”

“I’m not sure. We both pay attention in class, so we already have some similar interests.”

“Okay, so get her talking about those. Women love it when you pretend to care about their dumb opinions.”

Abed was very much convinced that this was not an uniquely female trait and he knew that if he chose to make a rebuttal, Jeff himself would make for an excellent exhibit A. But Jeff depended on his 90’s stand up comedian understanding of gender roles and it would be unfair to take that comfort away from him. Instead, he chose diplomacy. “If she has dumb opinions, I’ll lose interest. Even if she’s beautiful twice.”

“Yeah, you’re weird like that.”

“But I get shy around her, and I’m not used to being shy. I try to plan our conversations in advance, but then when I talk to her I forget everything I was going to say... And I don’t want to pretend to be someone else.”

“You’re overthinking this. Just go up to her and talk, ask more questions than you give answers and if she smiles and laughs at your jokes...” Jeff thought about it, then shook his head. “Huh. Yeah, I see the problem. You still can’t really read anyone. Even I can’t read you and I’m a master manipulator who’s known you for years. If she’s like you...” He seemed at a loss for words. “Don’t you have, like, a secret language or something? Bleep, bloop, Star Trek good?”

How should Abed know? It wasn’t like he’d been ushered into a secret society or subscribed to the local autism mailing list. Maybe there actually was a club and he just hadn’t been invited - that would be a fun, ironic twist. “Not one I know of.” The trekkie accusation he filed away for a later argument.

“Alright. So, when she’s happy or annoyed or on the rag, can you even tell?”

“I think so.”

Abed worried that Jeff misinterpreted the reason for his interest. He couldn’t tell if Jeff wanted to over or under emphasise the autism part, but he could tell Jeff didn’t get it. Sure, it was exciting to meet someone who functioned the way he did, but not because he expected or even wanted you to be a copy of himself. He wasn’t looking for the comedy staple where the weirdo, slash robot, slash dog’s love interest was played by the same actor, slash costume, slash dog in a wig or a pink bow. He was just as desperate to explore all your differences as your possible similarities, and the disability thing was just a small part of that. And he’d underplayed the “beautiful” part, but your mind really was not the only thing he wanted to explore. After all, you’d already turned his head months before he’d realised what you shared.

It dawned on Abed that he really would be just as excited to talk to you if the topics you chose made no sense to him - whatever you said would interest him, simply because you were the one talking. And if he ever accidentally tuned you out, he’d be happy just to watch your lips move.

How could he even begin to explain all of this? Or any of it? If Jeff had ever felt the same way, he would never admit to it.

“She emotes a lot.” By Abed’s standards, anyway. “I don’t think most people can really tell she’s autistic.”

“Why are you so fixated on this?”

“Well, in this case, I mean I think she’s more of a people person than I am. She blends in better than I do and that would take a lot of practice.” He paused. “I never really made friends before I got to Greendale, but...”

“You’re worried you might have some competition?”

Abed shook his head. If anything, competition would be reassuring. But why? “I don’t want her to like me because she has no other option. I want her to choose me.” If that was true, why did admitting it make his stomach feel so cold? Abed swallowed and voiced a fear he hadn’t even been conscious of before. “I’m worried I might be too weird for her.”

Now Jeff made a face even Abed could recognise, if only because he’d seen it so often over the years. It was a face of pained, awkward pity.

Abed was seriously starting to regret being so honest, especially with someone who clearly still expected him to be more ashamed of himself than he really was.

But Jeff surprised him and his expression changed gradually into a less familiar smile. “Yeah... I think we all feel like that sometimes. I mean, not me, obviously.” Abed nodded and Jeff continued. “I hate to be a cliché, but if you absolutely have to be in love, I really think you should just try to be yourself. If she doesn’t like you, it’s better you rip the band-aid off quickly.” He reached out as if to give Abed a pat on the shoulder but seemed to think better of it and let his hand fall. “Who knows, she might like you better for being a bit weird - I know I get sick of hanging out with normal people all the time. Whatever that means.”

Abed nodded. Especially the band-aid argument appealed to him. Right now he felt that if he didn’t either get to touch you or let go of this obsession within the week, he’d just wither up and die. Wow. He might actually have to resort to a weekend of 80’s rom coms, either to look for inspiration for some big dramatic gesture of his own, or to do what most people probably did when they watched rom coms - daydream about his own crush and imagine you and him up there on the screen instead, kissing and holding on to each other for dear life while the music swelled and the rain pored. This was so much worse than he’d thought.

#abed nadir #abed nadir x reader #abed nadir imagines #abed nadir imagine #community #community fanfiction #my fics #abed nadir fanfic #still can't promise I'll finish or even continue this fic because I'm usually swamped these days #but since this part was practically finished I figured I'd dust it off and post it

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

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subtle | 2 | Shouto Todoroki/Reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 2,265 words

summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You’re determined to track down the sender, certain it’s a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day

warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)

notes: Hi all! Happy Valentine's Day! I'm posting a follow up chapter because so many people asked for it in my inbox. It's completely unedited because I just decided to write it today, and I wanted to get it up before the holiday was over! I promise I will come back and edit at some point in the next few weeks.

No one had come for the box.

You’d made a point to be out of your office as much as possible throughout the day, leaving plenty of opportunity for whoever the sender was to sneak back in and correct their mistake. But every time you reentered the room, there the box was, crowning a pile of your paperwork like a coronet of ineptitude.

You’d checked in with Shouto several times as well, anxious to learn whether or not he’d overheard anything as he changed out of his uniform from patrol, but he proved just as unhelpful as he’d been earlier this morning. He simply leaned towards you, looking almost conspiratorial--spiking both your heart rate and your hopes--only for him to murmur in his low voice, “No one is coming for it.”

Which was so fucking unhelpful.

So you’d set about the office yourself, lingering hopefully on the fringes of people’s conversations, peering about for clues on the agency staffer’s desks, but there was nothing to give the sender away, no whispered snippet of conversation or receipt laying amongst some expense sheets. You might have resorted to sifting through people’s garbage cans, if only Shouto hadn’t taken to suddenly appearing wherever you were investigating, watching you with a wry little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You knew he hadn’t the slightest modicum of romantic interest in you, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to witness you digging through people’s garbage either. That would have to wait until you could get him out of the building.

Which was also proving to be an impossible endeavor. He usually had a habit of lingering after his shift, coming into your office to make queries about one thing or another that almost always devolved into conversations deeply unrelated to work. But today he was especially resistant to leaving, seeming content to lounge around in the chairs you’d set out for clients, draping one distractingly muscled arm across the backs and watching you intently with those heterochromatic eyes.

“Shouto, get out of my office,” you hissed, coming back in at the end of the day to find him still in one of the chairs, his phone clutched in those long fingers.

He glanced up at you, eyes fastening to your features in that attentive way he had. “I work here.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” you asked, trying to suppress a small spike of irritation with him. “Because it looks like you’re scaring off the box sender to me. How are they supposed to sneak in here and take it back if their boss is looming in here like their worst nightmare?”

Shouto looked unconcerned. “I’m not.”

“Not what?” you asked. Maybe he wasn’t their worst nightmare, but being caught by your boss in the middle of correcting a romantic mishap was probably at least a nightmare.

“Not scaring anyone off,” he said, putting his phone away into his pocket. “I know who the box belongs to.”

You stopped short, your attention snapping fully towards him. A thrill of excitement went down your spine, even as regret poured through you. A little part of you had maybe hoped you would end up getting to eat the chocolates, even if they weren’t yours. But this was good news.

“You do? Why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded.

Yor feet guided you to the chair where he sat, and you stood, looking down at him expectantly. He watched you through his long lashes, eyes glinting strangely.

“It’s mine,” he said finally, after a moment that stretched long and slow, like warm taffy.

Your breath caught in your chest, a swell of confusion rising within you. The box was his?

Was he being truthful or was this another attempt to make you take it? Why would he have tried to make you think it was from a secret admirer, then? Why have let you run around all day, attempting to find the sender, if the chocolates had been his all along? Unless...

Unless he was embarrassed. You didn’t know why he might have left them in your office, but you suspected maybe force of habit had drawn him here. Maybe he was operating on autopilot after his distracting shift this morning, since he usually spent so much time in your office, and then you’d come in to find them before he’d had a chance to realize it. And the rest had been history.

But then that begged the question of who he’d really meant them for--your heart sank as the thought occurred to you.

Obviously, you had known since you’d first met him that he wasn’t interested in you. You’d spent years with your thoughts all muddled around him, quelling every blush, never straying into his personal space or staring at him longer than was appropriate. You’d been so, so careful around him, but you’d never had any indication that Shouto was as careful around you. On the contrary, he was always calm and intent--he never looked away from you in a fit of bashfulness the way you had him, and he seemed to have no qualms about getting into your personal space, leaning over you as you looked through reports together, putting a hand on your back to guide you through publicity events.

So yeah, you had known he was basically immune to you. You had known it for a long time. But it still smarted to think of him giving that box to someone else.

God, how embarrassing for you. How mortifying, really, that Shouto had been thinking of someone else all those days that you had been nursing your crush on him.

But you were a professional, you could deal with this.

All you had to do was play it cool, give him back the box and laugh it off like it hardly affected you. And then you could head back to your apartment and binge ice cream and be all wistful and embarrassing for one evening. You could allow yourself that before you had to come back and be doubly professional, smile and congratulate whichever analyst or support staffer or fellow hero had caught his interest.

You could be happy for him. You’d miss the chocolates though.

Drawing yourself together, you looked down at him, pulling out a small but genuine smile. Shouto was your friend, and he was going to nail it with whoever the box was meant for--you could give him your support. But then Shouto was unfolding himself out of the chair, standing up so he could look down into your face, taking a step closer to you.

You tried to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his sudden proximity, the hint of his clean cologne and the lick of warmth coming off of his left side.

“They’re, uh, they’re yours?” you managed, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “You are in such big trouble for coming in here and peddling conspiracy theories instead of owning up to it. You at least owe me a coffee for being such a brat.”

Shouto watched you quietly, saying nothing.

“But we can hash that out later,” you said, waving what you hoped was a casual hand at him. “You need to move quickly. You should try to catch whoever you meant these for before they leave--daytime shift is over in a couple minutes.”

Shouto’s brows knitted, a small frown pulling at his mouth. “You still think they’re not for you,” he said.

It took a minute for you to register the words he’d spoken. The comment struck you dumb when you did, a thrill of disbelief going through you. Was he trying to be tactful now? Now, of all times?

“Shouto, seriously, you can make it up to me later. This is not the time to fuck around, the day’s almost over,” you said.

His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to you, close enough that you could feel him exhale. You took a step back in surprise, your hip bumping your desk.

“You promised me,” he said in his deep voice, “that if no one came looking for them by the end of the day, you would take them.”

You stared up at him, your mind churning wildly with all kinds of insane thoughts, wild insinuations that brought heat to your face. He absolutely could not mean what you thought he meant.

There was literally no way.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” you admitted. “But if you’re telling me I can take them just because you promised them, I don’t want them. I think you should give them to who you meant them for.”

That wry little smile played about his mouth again, and Shouto took another step closer. The back of your thighs dug into your desk and you wobbled, putting a hand down to keep your balance.

“To think I trust you with my career,” Shouto intoned, ducking his head to look into your face. You felt the heat of his left arm at your side as he placed it gently on your desk, caging you in. “Let me be plain, then. I did give them to who they were meant for.”

Your cheeks went hot, both with his proximity and the implied insult. But the rejoinder died on your tongue as the implication of his last few words sank in.

He had meant them for you? Shouto Todoroki, number four hero, your coworker of several years and your most patient, attentive, and mind-numbingly handsome friend, had gone to Grégoire Chardin, for Valentine’s Day chocolate, thinking--of all people--of you?

For a moment, it felt like the earth was sliding out from under your feet, but then you realized it was just you, tipping backwards on your desk. Your elbow banged into the side of the chocolate box, and you accidentally sent a small pile of papers fluttering over the side of your desk. You cringed, embarrassed, but then Shouto was over you, both arms braced on either side of your head.

“You don’t need to accept them if you don’t want,” he said quietly, watching your face. The intensity of his focus made your head swim, and you tried to focus on what he was saying, rather than the shape of his mouth as he spoke, the heat from his skin. “But I wanted you to know. I like you.”

You gaped at him, the words feeling like they were embedding themselves in your brain.

“You...like me?” you echoed in disbelief.

Shouto grinned, the expression so disarmingly charming that even your nose went hot. “Yes. Very much.”

A swell of emotions welled up inside you, like the unstoppable tide of a coastal flood, and you were gripped with the sudden desire to lean up and kiss him, to press your mouth to his and see if he meant it, if any of what he’d just said to you could possibly be real. Suddenly, that was the only thought in your entire brain.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” you heard yourself utter stupidly.

You hesitated for just a second, realizing that maybe you should pinch yourself first to see if this was actually happening, but then Shouto was already there, covering your mouth with his.

His kiss was hot and soft and utterly perfect, and very quickly there were no thoughts in your brain at all, nothing but the feel of him over you, one muscled thigh pressing insistently between yours, his long fingers tangling gently in the hair behind your ear. You clutched him to you tightly, an embarrassing little sound escaping you, and Shouto groaned, pressing more of his weight down on you, licking firmly into your mouth.

You were half-delirious with the feeling of him by the time he let you up for air, and you could feel yourself grinning like an absolute fool.

“I had a secret admirer,” you said. “You were being serious.”

Shouto smirked, leaning in to press a hot kiss to your throat. Your thighs clenched involuntarily. “Yes, I had been secretly admiring you for a while.”

For some reason, the words embarrassed you, and you tucked your face into his broad shoulder. “I...this is so embarrassing. I’ve been...admiring you, too.”

You heard Shouto huff a soft laugh, and then his calloused fingers were gripping your chin, angling your face back towards him so he could seize your mouth again. You went slack and pliant underneath him, enjoying the press of his mouth on yours, your toes curling when he did something particularly talented with his tongue.

“I did tell you,” Shouto said after a while, pulling back, one of his hands gripping your thigh.

“Tell me what?” you asked absently, wondering how you could get his mouth on yours again.

His eyes caught yours, the blue of his left glittering at you conspiratorially. “That I could be subtle.”

You laughed, feeling stupid--but more than that, flushed and completely pleased. You didn’t know if subtle was exactly the right word, but you weren’t going to argue specifics at the moment. “I guess you can be. Though you might have been a little bit more overt before now.”

“Then if you don’t mind,” Shouto said after a while, something like amusement in his voice, “I’d like to take you home and admire you quite overtly now.”

You were answering before he could even finish. “Yes, oh my god, yes.”

Shouto laughed again, smoothing a large palm down your side.

And then he did. And not even chocolates from Grégoire Chardin could compare.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #shouto todoroki x reader

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fourfucksake · 4 years ago

Text

after Jacob

request: can you write something about Andy Barber after all events from defenfing jacob? something like a continuation of his life after the last ep if you watched the show ofc , it can be sad or happy you choose ! thank yyou

pairing: andy barber x black!fem!reader

warnings: mention of mental illnesses

word count: 1.1k

p.s please, don’t read this if you feel very emotionally vulnerable!

Being with Andy was a challenge, a hard task to handle. A brilliant, but difficult man whom offered so much joy and pain at once. No surprise, his life served him with pain and suffering, giving his cheek a solid slap on multiple occasions.

You fell for him still. You could not help it. You could not stop it.

Loving him was a dream and a nightmare combined. Life with him formed a sweet and a bitter mix that rewarded with love and punished with agony.

Observing his posture sat on the floor with a bottle of his favourite alcohol placed in the right hand was not a pleasurable image. He was off his head, drowning inside that bottle.

A hacking cough came out of him, a hiccup followed. The distinct smell of alcohol hit your nostrils, your face expressed displeasure at the newly accumulated smell.

„Andy, please,” You begged, looking at his drunken face. “This again?” A disappointment sight left your mouth. He needed help, you was now sure of it. The repetition of this behaviour started get out of control.

“If you want to whine then go away. I don’t wanna fucking hear it,” He spat, rolling his eyes at you. Another sip was taken straight from the bottle before he placed it next to himself. The alcohol was now gone, every drop of it now placed in his body.

My eyes were deeply fixed on himself. The anger and rage on his face slowly turned to despair and pain. Tears were present in his eyes, but they didn't trickle down his cheeks. The need to say something hit me rather deeply, but incomprehensible blockage within me entirely prevented it from happening.

flashback

“I appreciate that you never ask me about my wife,” His words reached my ears as I turned to view his face in confusion. We were sat on the couch, watching a random episode of Big Bang Theory that was streaming on Comedy Central. Possibly not the best time to discuss the past.

“Why?” He persisted to my surprise, carefully investigating my face for cues. I couldn’t quite put a pin on why he’s asking me this right now. Sure, he had a right to ask if he was curious but why now. I examined the events from the past couple of hours to inspect possible clues. None were detected as of now.

“Huh, I don’t know. I guess I just assumed that’s something you don’t want to talk about,” Shrugging my arms, I took a sip of red wine placed in the glass I was holding. I felt awkward to say the least. His stare pierced through my body so penetratingly I felt interrogated.

“I don’t, you’re right,” He shrugged his arms. “It never stopped anybody though. People always ask about her. About my son. I’ve gotten used to it by now.” He explained further which was met with my small nod.

“Do you want me to ask you about it?” I asked unsurely, feeling as I am entering a dangerous zone. I couldn’t help but to feel nervous. It felt like inserting myself into a new level of intimacy that I was not quite ready for just yet.

Truth be told, I often contemplated whether to shower him with questions or stay silent. He was such an interesting person, such a complex persona.

He didn’t answer. I didn’t want to be noisy, so I didn’t say anything either. I had a feeling, deep down, that it will come back and bite me. He started a topic that I could easily finish. In a way, he gave me a clearance to be noisy, but I did nothing.

end of flashback

“Andy,” My hand reached out to touch his skin. He glanced up to investigate my face for a brief moment before returning his stare at the both of his hands.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I feel like I am drowning in my own thoughts.” He confessed with a shaky breath leaving his insides. “My son…my son is gone. I will never see him again. I will never talk to him. I will never hear his laugh. I will never look him in the eyes and tell him how much I love him. And she’s the reason why.”

I didn’t know what to say, how to react to his painful confession. I sat myself next to him and wrapped my arm around his head. I kissed his cheek, caressing the top of his head with my fingers. His forehead was burning up. I didn’t understand how alcohol could cause all of this.

“Should we try therapy, baby?” I proposed, scanning his body with my eyes with focus. I saw no other option. He was the most collected person I knew and now he was far from sanity.

He shrugged, clearly not happy with my suggestion. In a way, I understood why. I went to therapy and it wasn’t what I expected at all. Did it help? I would argue Xanax helped with sleepless nights I had due to my daily talks about my own nightmare with the therapist. “They would make me stop this shit. I don’t want that. I need to drink, however awful that sounds.” Andy mumbled under his breath. He looked like he was seconds from falling asleep.

“Come, let’s clean you up, huh?” I got up, helping him to do the same. God, he was in such state. Out of all the people that I knew he was the one I would never suspect of acting in this way.

“You are so good to me, baby. I don’t deserve you.” A drunk smile appeared on his face as he tried to lean down in order to give me a kiss. I held him tight, afraid that he might fall and hurt himself.

“Let’s go, loverboy.” I sent him a dreadful look, exhausted with his current state. It was possibly very selfish of me to think about myself after he indirectly admitted to his dark thoughts. However, carrying a man taller and heavier to oneself to the bathroom to give him a wash was enough of a redemption to the egotistical feelings.

I had no idea regarding what I should do next. Now, more than ever, I regretted not knowing as much as I probably should about him, his past life, or his previous surrounding. I knew his dad was still out there, still alive. Contacting him would probably be the worst possible scenario but if there was somebody who could know anything about his childhood or his other time it was him.

(should I do a part 2 or is this too depressing?)

#chris evans imagine #chris evans blurb #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #chris evans #andy barber #imagine

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agntofhydra · 5 years ago

Text

Sawbones // TWO

(gif credit)

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3!

part one here!

read on till the end for notes!

SAWBONES

TWO // PULLED TAUGHT

No.

You hadn’t been avoiding him.

You were busy. Taking inventory, filling out incident reports, stocking, taking care of your patients - which, you noticed, had decreased in number over the last couple days. And you knew why.

Someone must’ve been taking better care of their pilots.

Jasti was released the morning after the whole - for lack of a better term - ordeal. She’d heard your violent retching and had banged on the door, asking if you were okay.

Your vision was white, and after about two rounds you were dry heaving. No fucking way, your mind rattled. The revelation shook you to your core. You were happy being unsuspecting, ignorant of the fact that your soulmate had been pittering around D’Qar for literal months while you sat in your office, pissing off FX-7 and berating their antics in your head. The furrow of his eyebrows, the flicker of concern in his eyes at your sudden change in demeanor when you saw his pinky also had ingrained itself in your mind. Lingered every time you shut your eyes. You must’ve stayed in the refresher for an hour or two, senses numbed to Jasti’s incessant banging on the door.

You also weren’t good with conflict, and a conflict this was indeed.

What were you supposed to do? Tell him? Would he even believe you? Ziff said he didn’t trust the concept anymore, too many girls taking advantage of where he once was soft. Exploited that weakness until it was solid beskar.

So no, you didn’t tell him.

You’d stayed busy. He was busy, too. Per your objections, Leia had him and his squadrons flying more recon and actually formulating a real operation to investigate the cargo ship orbiting around Kessel. You’d heard that from whispers in the hallway, and you didn’t really want to venture out for any updates.

Turns out, you wouldn’t have to.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Poe was dragging a pilot from blue squadron into your medbay, one of their arms around his shoulder, one of his around their waist. His eyes were searching, panicked until they met yours as you flew from your office and threw the pilot onto the first open bed.

“What happened?” You asked, immediately checking for vitals. His skin was burning, clammy. FX-7 recorded his temperature and your heart dropped at the number.

“We were flying back, literally leaving hyperdrive when I was notified Blue Three was having trouble, and could barely steer his x-wing through D’Qar’s orbit.” Poe paused. “His skin is on fire.”

“I’m aware,” you tried not to bite back as you threw FX-7 an IV bag. You also did not dwell on the fact that Poe didn’t even know this pilot’s name. “Do we have hadeira serum?”

“You did inventory,” FX-7 duly responded as he inserted a needle into the pilot’s basilic vein. Poe cringed and looked away, eyes focused on you instead.

You hadn’t really done inventory, and you were cursing yourself for it now.

“Wait,” Poe frowned. “Hadeira? You think he’s got bloodburn?”

“He’s been in with a fever before,” you muttered as you rifled through the cabinet on the opposite wall. Poe followed, barking over your shoulder.

“And you didn’t ground him?”

You paused, closing your eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before returning to your search. You really didn’t need Dameron on his high horse right now, questioning your calls.

It was only fair. You had done it to him, you reminded yourself. That didn’t mean you couldn’t whip around and land one in the middle of his chiseled, ridiculously handsome and symmetrical face. You groaned audibly at not only your thoughts, but your inability to locate the literal life-saving serum.

“Back off, Dameron,” you said between your teeth as you all but sprinted back into your office where you kept the more valuable medicines. You unlocked the closet behind your desk with your hand and entered, eyes scanning the shelves. Once again, Poe followed.

“What’s wrong, doc? Don’t like it when people question your authority?”

You finally turned to him, slightly put off by the fact he was less than a meter away. You didn’t let it show.

“You wanna do this right now?” You raised your eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest and the thread around his pinky was directly in your field of vision. You held back the bile that rose in the back of your throat.

“His fever is so high that his blood is boiling right now. Which will kill him. So please, Dameron. If you think this argument is worth more than me finding the serum and saving his life,” you punctuated each word, “keep talking. But I’m not listening.”

Your eyes caught the vials to the right of his head, and he stepped out of the closet and into the expanse of your office as you grabbed the vials and quickly returned to the medbay where FX-7 had started hydrating the pilot. You handed the droid the hadeira serum and FX-7 made quick work of administering.

You let out a long breath. You weren’t totally in the clear, but it was as under control as it could be. Poe gave you a look and you nodded, silently telling him his pilot was okay. For now.

Poe stared at him for a couple moments longer, and once he was satisfied leaving him in the care of FX-7, he kicked your boot lightly.

“Can we talk now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded and led him back into your office. Poe sat down in one of the stark white chairs that matched the rest of your office as you locked the medicine closet. You turned around to him but kept your distance.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep him from grinning. “I don’t bite, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless moved closer to him and sat atop your desk.

The red thread floated between the both of you, moving as if it was being jostled by the air currents in the room. Before you could even think, your left hand went to pluck at the string tied near the base of your finger. To your utmost surprise, the now tangible string pulled back due to your force. You let go in shock. The string vibrated and you watched the movement travel to shake the thread connecting to Poe. He coughed, left hand clenching and unclenching his fingers. You watched the action and met his eyes. Once again, he furrowed his brows.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

It was your turn to furrow your brows, and Poe continued, “Y’know. Looking into space and then turning pale like there’s a rancor in here that I don’t see. And then you look at me like it’s my fault?"

It’s now or never, you told yourself. Come clean.

“It’s nothing.” Coward.

Poe dropped the subject. “Anyways, you must’ve been swamped these last few days because you haven’t checked in to hear any updates on the cargo ship.”

Not trusting your voice, you just shrugged as your eyes rested back on the crimson that connected the two of you. Seeing it was definitely a curse. You tried not to dwell on how different things would be if it was Poe that could see it. What a weight off your shoulders that would be.

Maybe if he could see it, it wouldn’t be you on the other end, the voice in head told you. Poe was still rambling about Kessel and you definitely weren’t listening. You don’t want that, do you? For him to be soulmates with someone else?

It happened all the time though, people ending up with those who they weren’t tethered to. The galaxy was far too huge and vast, many people never having the opportunity to leave their home planet, let alone venture and seek out their soulmate. Some people, Poe included now, saw it as a myth, it was becoming so rare. You’d only ever known one pair of soulmates to meet in the years you’d been alive. Your parents.

Either way, your mind needed to slow down. You didn’t know Poe. From what you’ve seen of him, despite his impeccable physical features, you weren’t really a fan. But...just regarding his physical features? Big fan.

He snapped you out of your reverie. “Stars, you are infuriating.”

You apologized, placing your hands in the front pockets of your medic coat in hopes to ignore the thread, but it stuck out of the material of your pocket instead.

“There’s no harm in collecting more intel,” you told him. “Especially if it saves lives.”

He rubbed his forehead. “There is if it’s time sensitive! The ship could leave Kessel at any moment and then we’ll never know what was on it.”

You snorted. “You said it’s been in your knowledge for a while, been written off until now. I don’t buy it. I don’t know what you’re wanting from me, Dameron, but I won’t apologize. This is how I feel, and General Organa and Vice Admiral Holdo agree with me.”

“I want a common ground,” he said. Your gut twisted. “We met not ten minutes before you blasted me to pieces in that briefing room.”

“I don’t think you’re used to opposition.”

“I’m not.”

“You should always consider every point of view, especially for things like this. Have you heard about the terror running the First Order? You really want to face him in your little x-wing?”

Poe jerked his head. “Do not insult my ship.”

“Stars, Dameron, can you listen to a voice that isn’t your own for five seconds?”

“I was listening, obviously, ‘cause I heard your jab about my ship.” You could force-choke him right now. “But I get where you’re coming from. Where you’re more conservative and safe, I’m intuitive and risky and you hate it,” he said with a smile that met his eyes.

“I would call it impulsive and ill-informed,” you countered. You definitely didn’t hate bantering with him. You noticed subtly that over the course of the conversation, Poe had begun to move closer to you, inching closer and closer to the edge of the chair.

“Astute and adept,” he stood, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes never left yours.

“Reckless and arrogant.” You didn’t want him to come any closer, unsure if you would either retch all over his shoes or bunch up the material of his brown leather jacket in your grip to pull him closer.

As if the stars were listening and answered, FX-7 appeared in the doorway. Your eyes broke from Poe’s, turning your attention to the droid and Poe followed suit.

“Pilot Nunb’s fever has broken,” it said. “He will make it through the night.”

Night? You realized you’d been so consumed the last couple days you’d lost all concept of time.

“Great news,” Poe said, turning from FX-7 back to you. “I need to go tell the rest of blue squadron.” Poe shamelessly looked you up and down.

“‘Till next time, Doc.”

Poe sidestepped the droid in the doorway without another glance at you. You remained on your desk, hands still in your pockets as you watched the thread disappear into the wall as Poe left.

“It is hardly relevant to speak in matters that pertain to humans,” FX-7 began, “let alone ones that concern my superior, but if I may?”

You couldn’t hide your confusion. FX-7 never spoke to you unless it was a medical matter. You nodded for him to go ahead.

“You are consumed with plenty. I caution against adding Commander Dameron to the list.”

You frowned. “FX, do you know about the soulmate thread?” What harm would it be to tell a droid? FX barely talked to you, and chances were zero that the droid would air this to anyone else.

The droid lifted its metal head up and down. “Yes.”

It was the most humanistic the droid had ever been, and you felt mildly miffed. Has FX-7 always been able to not be so robotic? You’d save that thought to be pissed about another time.

“I can see it,” you said quietly. “It’s tied to him.”

FX-7 was silent, motionless for a few moments and it almost seemed like he had powered down. “That is…” he paused. “Inconvenient.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said, hopping down from your desk. Your hands left your pockets to run through your hair as you tried to clear your thoughts and just breathe.

“Is that why you have busied yourself more than usual?”

“Didn’t wanna deal with it,” you nodded. “Still don’t.”

“That will only prove to make things more arduous. You have two options when it comes to Commander Dameron, and you know which I favor. For the good of the Resistance and your work.” FX-7 then left the doorway to your office as promptly as he had arrived.

✗ ✗ ✗

You fell asleep in your office that night, or maybe it was morning by the time you collapsed against your desk. Despite FX-7’s confirmation, you couldn’t let yourself go back to your quarters when the pilot in your medbay was teetering on the cusp of cardiac arrest.

Leia Organa woke you by softly brushing the hair out of your face. Your head lifted instantaneously, a paper stuck to your cheek. You quickly removed it and smoothed down the rest of your hair to at least try and look presentable.

“General,” you regarded her, standing up from your seat. She smiled softly at you.

“Doctor, I apologize for waking you.”

You shook your head and tried not to wince when you peeked at the digital numbers glaring at you upon the wall.

“I needed to be awake, anyways. I’m late for rounds,” you muttered the last part to yourself.

“I came to update you on the operation,” she moved back around your desk and sat down in the seat Poe had occupied only a few hours prior.

“We’ve received intel that the TIE fighters stationed in front of the ship are no longer there, presumably to return to the First Order to refuel or receive maintenance. It’s a narrow window, but Commander Dameron and both Red and Blue squadrons have departed a few hours ago to hopefully investigate that cargo ship.”

You nodded at her words and contained the frown from surfacing on your face. Your stomach knotted, fearing that the absence of First Order protection was all too convenient, and they were falling into a trap.

The First Order was smart, something you had learned first hand. You’d been on their radar for as long as you could remember. The bad guys needed medics, too.

Some of your peers that you had completed medical school with had left to join, and ultimately you couldn’t blame them. The offer was tempting, yet mostly threatening. Most of them joined more out of fear than anything. You had been moments away yourself, but instead you were here. On D’Qar. A vital part of the Resistance. If you were someone who believed in such phenomena, you would swear the galaxy itself had made sure of it.

“Have you heard anything since they left?” You asked.

Leia shook her head, trying to hide her worried expression. “They’re in good hands. Poe is the best pilot I’ve seen since…” She stopped herself. “He’s the man for this.”

“So I’ve heard,” you said. “I hope he proves me wrong. And also brings every pilot back in one piece.”

“Together, I think you two would make quite the formidable pair.”

“With respect, General,” you tried not to snort at her words. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance. Our stubbornness might tear a rift in the galaxy.”

“Or,” she winked. “It could bring it together.”

You had no response.

“I’ll be back should there be any word from Poe, and - “

Leia’s words were cut off by the familiar screech of a x-wings cutting into the atmosphere and landing on the runway.

Wordlessly, the two of you all but sprinted from the medical wing out into the open, expansive area that was the runway. Countless others were surfacing outside, watching the ships land and be courted off into the hangars for repairs. From what you could tell, they all looked fine. No exposed wires or blaster burns. For the most part, the squadrons looked untouched. The last ship to land was Poe’s black and orange T-70.

The second the x-wing was stopped, Poe all but threw himself from the cockpit, shucking his helmet off and chucking it at the ground. BB-8’s body blurred as the droid tried to keep up with his long, quick strides. His eyes met Leia’s first, immediately spurning his feet to turn in her direction. When he eventually realized you were also next to her, his eyes all but physically set you on fire.

You held your breath as he crossed the runway. Poe looked downright dangerous, he was so angry. Leia noticed this too, but did not change her demeanor as she waited patiently for him to come to her, hands clasped behind her back.

“Mission report, Commander Dameron,” she said.

“Can we discuss this somewhere else?” Poe asked as he stopped walking, finally reaching his destination. BB-8 rolled up a second later. His eyes flicked to yours.

“We can, but the Doctor will be there regardless.”

Poe wanted to scream.

“The mission went as smoothly as expected. We were met with no First Order resistance or ambush as we docked and investigated the cargo ship.”

“And what did you find?”

Poe took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat that was deafening in his ears. His fists clenched and unclenched, and unfortunately the thread was still there. Except this time, it was pulled taught between your bodies when it usually sagged with slack.

“We found spice, General.”

Oh.

Maybe you did believe in some higher power. There had to be someone pulling the strings behind this scenario. You wanted to laugh, point your finger and tell him ‘told you so’. But you didn’t, because the tension and anger in Poe’s body was so apparent that it looked like he was a chain pulled so tight it wasn’t a matter of if, but when he would snap.

So you settled for pursing your lips very tightly.

“Nothing else to report?” Leia questioned.

Poe shook his head.

“I’m glad you all made it back safe,” she said, putting her hand on Poe’s shoulder. “It was one mission, Poe. There will be other opportunities.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes as Leia took her leave. The two of you stood in intolerable silence and you weren’t sure why Poe didn’t immediately sprint off as soon as Leia left.

“I’m glad everyone made it back safely,” you spoke slowly, offering a metaphorical olive branch.

Poe cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he met yours. You braced yourself, waiting for him to maybe pull out his blaster and take you out on the spot.

“Save it,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold the venom you expected. “Do you want me to tell you that you were right?”

You shrugged. “Not required, but I’m not against it.”

He did not accept your poor attempt at lightening the mood. Instead, he sighed deeply and dragged a hand down his face.

“I look like a complete joke . Making such a big deal out of this whole operation, only to be completely and utterly wrong.” He laughed dryly, and you tried not to wince.

“But you know who was right? A fucking medic. The holier-than-thou doctor who doesn’t ever leave her medbay, but the one time she does she completely undermines everything.”

Of course, it was your fault. Poe didn’t want to face the fact that his lack of patience and impulsiveness had forced him and his whole squadron to investigate a cargo ship full of spice. Against your better judgement, you let him continue his diatribe. He continued, berating your position, your lack of expertise and inability to, how did he put it? Stay out of matters that don’t pertain to you. He seemed to have forgotten the minute detail that Holdo had asked for you to be there, even though you reminded him of that fact last night.

After a ridiculous amount of time, Poe eventually stopped to catch his breath. As soon has he did, he tried to continue.

“Not to mention - “

You cut him off. “Are you done?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I could go on all day.”

You crossed your arms. “I’m sure you could. Because you absolutely have the right to completely tear me down when we met for the first time a couple days ago.”

“I’ve heard enough about you,” Poe countered.

“As have I,” you clenched your jaw. “Your reputation precedes your rank, Dameron. You really think you’re going to earn respect and trust around the base when you’re running through every female here? You think that speaks well of your character? You think that’s Commander behavior?”

Poe interlaced his hands on the top of his head as he laughed at you incredulously.

“I can’t even stand to breathe the same air as you right now,” Poe said.

How fucking immature. You narrowed your eyes. “Then stop breathing.”

At your words, the red thread tightened around your finger painfully. So tight, it felt as though it was about to cut through and remove the finger entirely. Your other hand rubbed at your finger - desperately, futilely trying to loosen the string.

Poe watched your action, and then sucked in a breath through his teeth as he grasped as his own pinky in pain. He noticed his movements mirrored yours.

“Wha-” he paused. “Wait - “ Two pieces clicked in Poe’s brain.

But it didn’t matter, because you were already retreating, your steps quick and purposeful. You were fleeing back to the medbay and away from whatever was about to come out of Poe’s mouth. You couldn’t deal with it, not now and probably not ever.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes watched your hands before watching his own, his forehead creasing with confusion, then what you hoped wasn’t realization. You didn’t think your actions obvious, but if he felt the same pain you did, it was impossible not to notice.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, your mind spiraled. Poe called your name, your actual name, but you were too far gone and nothing short of the force would make you go back to him.

This time, your interaction with Poe Dameron didn’t end with emptying your guts in the refresher, but by entering your office and locking it.

Small victories.

thank you all so so so much for all the positive feedback and support!! i love it!!! i’ve gotten a couple requests for a tag list so if you’d like to me to create one / be added to it just send me a message! also, if i made a playlist for this, would y’all be interested? lmk! xoxo.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #soulmates #soulmates au #red thread soulmates #red thread of fate #medic!reader #star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #mine #slow burn #romance #pre-TFA

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flybi91 · 4 years ago

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legit surprised and disappointed by the lack big bang theory fanfic that’s x reader and penny with howard or raj, like i know there’s amy and bernadette but i was honestly expecting more reader inserts and.......i guess polyamory? between penny and the boys

#the big bang theory #tbbt #leonard hofstadter #sheldon cooper #howard wolowitz #raj koothrappali

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tempestaurora · 5 years ago

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So, I'm just curious as to why you hate RPO? I read it ages ago and liked it enough (but don't get me started on the film, that was a trainwreck of a shit bucket) anyways, you really seems to diskike the book, and I'm just wondering why...

film was purely average. i might watch it if it’s on but not like, out of choice, and i’ll still firmly hate wade watts, the most intolerable man on earth.

the reasons are many tbh, though i haven’t read the book in a while so i’m going from previous posts and this seething hate that still sits in my body. this isn’t all of it, really, but i think you get my point lmao:

the first chapter has a nerd trivia contest in which one guy messes up a comic book fact and literally lowered his head in shame while the audience cheered

making me read the words twinked out wannabe gunter uberdork

in ready player one he makes it clear he doesn’t think transgender women are women, and then in ready player two has aggressively backpeddled and yet is still a dumbass and wrote (and got past the editors) the phrase nonbinary sex

ernest cline wrote the cringiest fucking poem about porn. like this shit wouldn’t even get a grade in my degree. the teacher would tell him he did bad and to write a new poem.

incredibly info-dumpy

the 70s references are so overdone that it’s clear the author’s just jerking off to his own intelligence

actual interesting lore keeps getting ruined by the author’s shit narrative

the Masturbation Paragraphs

that time wade watts removed all the hair from his body for no valid reason whatsoever

he said it was so he could spend less time in the shower so he could game more but how does shaving off your eyebrows actually save you time in the shower and ALSO he says he showers everyday anyway so what was the fucking point of resembling an egg i hate this novel so much

samantha has absolutely no reason to be attracted to him in the slightest

samantha’s biggest problem was that she had a birthmark on her face so she believed she wasn’t beautiful

and that meant the moment someone (wade) called her hot, she melted into his arms because no one else has ever loved her and her birthmark

the movie’s trials were actually better than the book’s but that’s because different shit works for different mediums

conveniently having vital passcodes for 6 months without telling the reader (and without having the passcodes change)

lbr this was the author shitting himself and realising he needed a loophole to his problem and decided to get fucking lazy

continues his laziness into the sequel

at one point in rpt he describes a character just as a “young arnold schwarzenegger” and that’s it like fuck dude learn to WRITE

ernest cline and his novels (even his armada book got panned btw) are a direct response to white men trying to take science fiction for themselves - and succeeding! - ever since the 70s. the big bang theory is also a response to that. his book perhaps fit that culture in 2011 (despite being terrible), but considering his sequel follows the exact same themes in the year 2020, despite the 2015/16 hugo awards wars about white men controlling this genre, IT DOESN’T FIT. he hasn’t learned. he’s tried to aggressively show lgbtqia support because he got panned so hard for it last time, and it comes off forced and tacky and like he doesn’t actually care

it’s obviously a self insert novel power fantasy for ernest cline, and tbh, power fantasies are fine. just make it a fucking good one oh my god

#anti rpo #talk #every time i do a I Hate RPO day i do have to answer this question #like if you wanna like the novel thats fine!!#one of my friends loves the novel bc it introduced him to D&D so im not allowed to shittalk the book in the group chat #if you like it thats chill #and i hope u enjoy liking it #i just Will Not #kristineku

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strawwritesfic · 3 years ago

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Rajesh Koothrappali x Female!Reader: Swallow

Summary: There’s a chance you won’t end up with as many cats as Sarah expects after all.

Rating/Tags: T (drinking; drinking in excess; designated driver; texting; meet-cute; bars; set when Raj couldn’t talk to girls; set before Penny and Bernadette getting married to their canonical spouses; Penny & Bernadette; Penny & Bernadette & Raj; reader & original characters; mild language)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: Yeah, I used to watch this show with my parents. I stopped way before them, but I got requests for some of the characters, so...Anyway, please keep in mind any references to Raj being foreign and all were my attempts to reflect the show itself, not actually my own personal views. Same with the dismissive references to nerd culture.

Swallow

“Ready? On the count of three. One…two…three!”

With a chorus of clinking and several shudders, three shot glasses hit the hard tabletop. The sound had barely faded when one of the surrounding girls started giggling. Five stops into this barhopping experience and someone was sure to snap sooner or later. Sure enough, the next words spoken were, “Shut up!”

The giggling stopped.

“Wow, guys,” you said, as you gathered up the empty cups. “Much more of this and I’ll be peeling you all off the floor.”

“Shut up,” Sarah snapped again, which only caused Cassie to break out in another fit of giggles.

You lifted a single eyebrow, and she quieted quickly enough. Then again, that might have had more to do with the death glare that Sarah shoot her. Angry Sarah, silly Cassie…you were starting to get a bad feeling about this entire venture.

“Seriously. I think you’ve had enough. All of you,” you added at Jess’s blank fidgeting right across from you.

The entire adventure was for her benefit, but she looked the least enthusiastic of the bunch. Letting her drink herself into oblivion sounded kind on paper, sure. Forcing her to get up for work the following morning with a raging headache? Not so much. You took her silence for agreement; unfortunately, your attempt to take pity on poor Jess went absolutely nowhere.

Cassie shook her head frantically. “Whaaaaat? You mean we have to go home? But that’s not fair, [Name]! That’s just not fair!”

“Calm down, Cass.” Sarah patted the distraught woman clumsily on the back. “[Name] can’t make us go anywhere.”

“She can’t?”

“I can’t?” you asked.

Sarah downed another shot, then threw you a wide grin that you liked the look of not at all. “Just because you’re the designated driver–”

“Because I have to be.”

“Shut up. You’re the last person to have a breakup before Jess, so it’s your turn. That’s how it works.”

“And when’s it gonna be your turn?”

“When I break up with Dan. Which I won’t. So shut up.”

“This is a load of malarkey," you muttered

“Maybe we should ask Jess,” Cassie suggested, turning to the blonde still staring morosely at the table. “You ready to go home, Jess?”

“I thought Jake was my Dan,” was Jess's mumbled reply.

“Not enough booze!” Cassie cried with barely concealed delight. She reached for another tiny glass. “Sorreeee, [Name].”

“What do you mean, not enough booze? She's practically crying already,” you said, as Jess’s eyes filled with tears. ”

“She has to drink until she forgets Jake or until the bars close,” said Sarah.

“Are you kidding me? You three are already drunk off your asses!”

“Them’s the rules,” Sarah’s smirk swiftly transformed into her typical drunken scowl. “Until you get yourself paired off with some guy, you’re the driver on these things. Consider it an incentive to not wind up the crazy cat lady of the group.”

“I only have one cat,” you pointed out.

“Oh! Oh! Didn’t you say you were thinking about adopting another?” Cassie asked.

You shot her a death glare of your own this time, though its effect was not as great as Sarah’s.

“Oopsie.”

Sarah was too far gone to find any amusement in this revelation. She rolled her eyes and slid her empty cup toward your growing collection. “You don’t want to sit here watching us drink, fine. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go get us another round?”

“Oooor you could work the room,” Cassie said as she handed her glass over to you as well. “There’s loooots of boys here, and I’m sure you could find at least one smart enough to tempt even yoooou, [Name]!”

“Oh, you’re sure are you?” Sarah said.

“I’m sure!”

“Yeah, well you were sure at the last bar, too. And the one before that. And the one before that.”

“So?”

“So your optimism is grating. Shut up.”

“I think you should shut up!”

“I don’t think so. Why don’t you…”

Sarah’s voice faded into the background as you moved away from your friends. By the time you got back, Cassie and Sarah were likely to be at each other’s throats with Jess in tears over it.

Barhopping always sounded a lot more fun when you were the one drinking away a breakup. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe it was time for you to find someone else. You weren’t still hung up on your ex anymore–far from it, the jackass–but sometimes another cat seemed more appealing then another guy. You had yet to meet anyone that really made you want to work at a relationship. A few dates here and there. Nothing serious.

The bartender didn’t seem all that thrilled at you returning his dirty cups, though you were grateful that he didn’t send you away. The last thing you wanted was to be drawn into a fight that would be completely forgotten in the morning.

Turning on your stool, you made to face the indie band playing at the back of the bar. They weren’t very good, but they beat the tar out of whatever was going down back at your friends’ table. You figured you could give the lot of them twenty more minutes, and then they’d all be so annoyed with each other that they would agree to go home. Until then, crummy music and snatched bits of nearby conversation would have to do for entertainment.

“Come on, Raj. Go out and buy some girl a drink,” a shrill voice punctured the otherwise dull buzzing surrounding the bar.

You glanced in the direction it came from without thinking to see a tiny blonde woman–even tinier than Jess–gesturing at the wide selection before her and her two companions. The nearest to you was another blonde, taller than the other and with an air of practiced charm, who did not speak up until she had finished whatever was in her bottle:

“Yeah, you don’t gotta marry her or whatever. Just practice talking to a few. Otherwise you might as well have stayed back with the guys playing Call of War.”

The man they were speaking to simply looked pained. He clutched a beer so tightly in his hand that you were surprised it hadn’t shattered. Why he was even there, you didn’t know. He didn’t seem to be having a good time, and it was pretty obvious that he wasn’t the designated driver. He wasn’t even dressed to be at a bar–then again, neither were you.

“Come on, Raj,” said the tinier one again. “You can talk to us, can’t you?”

Raj shook his head.

“Not enough booze,” she said in a stage whisper.

The taller of the two women rolled her eyes heavenward, then mussed her hair up with her free hand before making to disappear into the crowd. “I’ve got an audition tomorrow. We wait much longer to do this, and there’ll be no one left here worth meeting. Let’s go.”

“Right. Our racks’ll probably do a better job than a pet scientist anyhow.” The other took a step to follow her friend. She didn’t get very far before she stopped and turned back to Raj. “If you drink enough that you can use that tongue of yours, feel free to join us.”

A nervous nod on his part, then she was off at a trot. The two girls passed by you closely enough that you distinctly heard her mutter:

“As if that’ll ever happen.”

Now it was you, this Raj fellow, and a few other mostly silent patrons at the bar. As bad as the band was, it was still live music, and most people seemed more interested in that than sitting around waiting for someone to buy them a drink. Not that you needed a drink, since you had three stops to make on your way home, and not that Raj needed another one before he finished the one he already had. You sighed and tried to concentrate on the music, though you were pretty sure it was giving you a headache. How much longer until Jess passed out?

A few minutes passed before you looked over at Raj again. He was still there, still looking downcast. Every so often he would sway to the music. You felt for him, poor guy. This didn’t look like his scene at all, and it must have sucked being ditched by his girlfriends like that. Perhaps you were two peas in a pod for the time being.

It might have taken you another five minutes, but finally you worked up the nerve to go over to him. His eyes darted to you and away not once, not twice, but three times as you walked toward him in the semi-darkness. Raj was kind of cute, in a dorky sort of way. Not the kind of guy you normally met at these sorts of venues. Perhaps not the kind of guy who wanted to meet you at these sorts of venues, since he looked outright terrified by the time you stopped in front of him.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly.

He took a gulp of beer.

“I’m [Name].”

Raj smiled. Your heart banged uncomfortably in your chest. Obviously this guy didn’t want to talk to you. Why not bail? But somehow the way the small woman had dismissed him earlier made you want to try harder.

“And you are?” you prompted him.

He opened his mouth.

You leaned forward eagerly to catch whatever came out, and…

He closed it again. Raj closed his mouth and swallowed and smiled and bobbed his head, and then went on to stare past you, as though you were nothing more than yet another license plate on the wall.

You were so disappointed that you couldn’t find it in yourself to move away for nearly thirty more seconds. Well, you thought as you walked off, at least you tried. Maybe now everyone would be ready to leave so that you could escape the site of your most recent embarrassment as quickly as possible. Your first time talking to a guy in months, and it had to turn out like that. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe you were doomed to be the crazy cat lady.

“Don’t forget we have to pick up our pet scientist before we leave.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Would you quit worrying? He’s not even drunk. He can find his way home just fine. He’s not our child, Bernadette.”

You looked up at the familiar voices. The two women from before stood just a little bit in front of you, looking bored and a bit more pink around the edges.

Before you could stop it, your mouth was saying, “Um. Hey.”

They looked over at you in perfect unison.

“Hi,” said Bernadette hesitantly. “Can we help you?”

Probably not. Almost certainly not. Why you were bothering, you didn’t know, but you took a step closer and nodded your head in the direction of the bar. “About your friend back there.”

The taller one frowned. “Who? Raj? What about him?”

“Does he speak English?”

They stared at you so hard that you wished you had never spoken to either of them. Then they burst into laughter. Having no idea what you had said that was so funny, you could only watch on, bewildered. What? He looked foreign. No big deal. Him not speaking English would explain a lot–and perhaps bolster your. confidence a little.

No such luck. Bernadette recovered first: “Of course Raj can speak English,” she said, as though this were obvious.

“Oh, I just thought–he wouldn’t talk to me...”

“Oh, sweetie,” the larger woman said, leaning forward and patting your shoulder so hard that you nearly toppled over. “He can speak English. He just can’t speak to women.”

“What?”

But they were already moving past you. “Pity he can’t find enough alcohol here to get him to talk. That one was actually cute,” Bernadette said, just before they walked out of earshot.

Cute? You looked back over at the bar. Raj remained there, still intent on swaying to the music.

“Hey, [Name]! You gonna help or what?” Sarah shouted at you.

Startled, you twisted around to see her and Jess struggling to keep Cassie on her feet.

“Move your ass! We gotta get her home before she starts vomiting. It’s your car, remember?”

You remembered. Raj forgotten, you hurried over to take the brunt of Cassie’s weight. What with Jess and Sarah being so inebriated, they could only hinder the group’s slow and unsteady progress toward the door. What followed was another chunk of time dedicated to getting Cassie in the car and buckled in while the other two made jokes at her expense.

You had finally got everyone settled in and were about to open the car door to get inside yourself when you spotted the same trio from before leaving the building. Raj looked more upset than ever, but what did that matter to you? He didn’t speak to girls.

Wait. Speak?

“[Name]!” Sarah shouted after you as you raced away from the car and toward Raj and his two friends.

“H-Hey! Wait up!” you called.

They did, though you suspected this was because you looked like a madwoman, running up with your arms flailing above your head.

“Oh. It’s you,” said Bernadette. “Did you need something, or…”

“Raj!” you said, slightly out of breath after all the physical labor.

The look on his face made it obvious that you knowing his name was not something he’d expected. He didn’t talk this time either, but he didn’t have to.

You dove into your purse, resurfaced with a pen and paper, and quickly scrawled your name and number across the scrap. “Here.”

Looking confused, he took your bit of paper.

“Text me?”

Before you could get a straight answer, you scuttled off. You had to get Cassie home, after all.

Bernadette’s said one last thing in her high voice before your car door shut behind you: “You better text that one, Raj! Before all that beer leaves your system!”

“What was all that about?” Sarah wanted to know.

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” you said as your vehicle left the bar parking lot. “Let’s be quiet for now. Wouldn’t want to wake up Cass and Jess.”

She made a scoffing noise, but did as you directed. The drive home was relatively quiet and uneventful–save, just as you came back from laying Cassie out on her couch, your phone buzzing in the cup holder. You allowed yourself a peek and grinned.

“Rajesh Koothrappali. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

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randomfandomimagine · 5 years ago

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Crossovers Masterlist

PREFERENCES

DC & Marvel

Loving Gestures 💛

Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy XV & My Hero Academia

Fangirling

Final Fantasy VII, Gof of War & Marvel

Not Childish Squad On Halloween 🎃

Brooklyn 99, Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy X, God of War & My Hero Academia

Childish Squad On Halloween 🎃

My Hero Academia, Heroes & Marvel

S/O With A Migraine

Final Fantasy VII & Final Fantasy XV

Comforting You

HEADCANONS

The Maze Runner & Divergent

Gladers Factions 👤

The Maze Runner & Glee

Gally In The Glee Club 👤

The Maze Runner & Teen Wolf

Thomas And Stiles Are Twins 👤

Teen Wolf & Divergent

The Pack Factions 👤

Sherlock & Big Bang Theory

Sheldon Holmes 👤

Final Fantasy VII & Final Fantasy XV

Cloud Meeting the Chocobros 👤

Final Fantasy VII & Marvel

Cloud & Steve Being Reunited Old Friends 👤

Marvel & God Of War

Avengers In Midgard 👤

X-Men & God Of War

Kratos vs Wolverine 👤

Final Fantasy XV & The Lunar Chonicles

Chocobros + Rampion Crew 👤

PROMPTS

Teen Wolf & The Flash

“Someone’s jealous” [Stiles Stilinski & Barry Allen]

Final Fantasy VII & Final Fantasy X

“Guess I didn’t think that through” “When do you? 👤 [Cloud Strife & Tidus]

Supernatural & Teen Wolf

“You’re dating a hellhound?! Of all the creatures…” [Dean Winchester & Jordan Parrish]

DC & Marvel

“Who do you choose?” [Diana Prince & Natasha Romanoff]

Final Fantasy VII & The Legend of Zelda

“Cut it out!” 👤 [Cloud Strife & Link]

“Stay with me, please” “Don’t go” [Cloud Strife & Link]

ONESHOTS

The Flash & Teen Wolf

Old Wounds [Barry Allen x Reader]

The Flash & The Maze Runner

You’re The Voice // Part 2 [Barry Allen x Reader]

Teen Wolf & Paper Towns

Stay With Me [Stiles Stilinski x Reader]

Lost & The Flash

My Deepest Secret // Part 2 [Barry Allen x Reader]

Glee & The Maze Runner

New New Directions

Jurassic World & The Hunger Games

For You [Peeta Mellark x Reader]

Final Fantasy VII & Final Fantasy X

Don’t Say It [Tidus x Reader]

Marvel & Supernatural

In Another Dimension

Final Fantasy XV & Marvel

Contradictory Feelings [Spider!Prompto Argentum x Reader]

FICS

Supernatural, The Maze Runner & Teen Wolf

Supernatural Night At Beacon Hills 🎃👤

The Hunger Games & The Maze Runner

Tributes In The Scorch 👤

#masterlist #fandoms masterlist #crossover #crossover masterlist

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foreverwayward · 6 years ago

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Foreverwayward’s 500 Writer’s Challenge

Well, I don’t know how, but it’s happened. I officially have over 500 of you crazy people following me. Yay! I am seriously so grateful and beyond excited over this milestone since I only started this blog at the beginning of December. As a brand new writer, I didn’t think that anyone would care enough to even follow. So, thank you thank you thank you!

I thought we’d do something fun to celebrate. Now, whether or not people actually do this with me, is yet to be seen. I was thinking we would do a SPN Writer’s Challenge. I will give you quotes from movies/tv shows and you can pick one or two to put in your piece. Send me an ask when you’re ready to pick, and I will make sure I note everything you decide on :)

Let’s Get Down To it!

It would be great if you followed me :)

Everything is welcome, so anything goes! Ships, reader insert, angst, smut, crack, fluff, whatever floats your boat. It can be written taking place at any point in the supernatural universe and could be AU as well of course. OFC’s are always welcome as well.

Please make sure you put the correct warnings at the top and your word count.

You can pick one or two quotes from below and once one is taken two times, that one will be gone.

Please tag #foreverwaywards500 so I can find it. Tagging me in it would help too.

It can be any length that you choose, just please make sure there is a “read more” if it goes on longer than a oneshot.

There is no deadline.

I will end up making a masterlist for them and am SO excited to help you showcase your work.

Prompts:

1. “It’s just a flesh wound.” Monty Python @flamencodiva @huntersociopathavenger

2. “That is my least vulnerable spot.” Casablanca

3. “I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.” Airplane

4. "If you don’t mind, I’d like to stop listening to you.” Big Bang Theory @winchest09 @themoonandotherslikeit

5. “I’m about to do to you what Limp Bizkit did to music in the late ’90s.” Deadpool @erins-culinary-service @waywardmoeyy

6. “He might be okay. [Beat. Huge explosion.] Well, no, probably not now.” Groundhog’s Day @hannahindie @erins-culinary-service

7. “Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.” The Godfather @whizzer1320

8. “I’m in a glass case of emotion!” Anchorman @becs-bunker

9. “It’s like I have ESPN or something.” Mean Girls

10. “What’s wrong with me? Oh, don’t open that door.” Friends @da5haexowin

11. “Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here. This is the war room.” Dr. Strangelove @wonderlandleighleigh

12. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you look ugly. And that makes me kind of happy.” Bridesmaids @flamencodiva @claitynroberts

13. “It’s not a man purse. It’s called a satchel. Indiana Jones wears one.” The Hangover @hunterscabin @amanda-teaches

14. “It’s going to be legendary.” How I Met Your Mother @maddiepants

15. “Give me all the bacon and eggs you have.” Parks and Recreation @castielslittlestbee @mirandaaustin93 @persephone-reincarnated

16. “That’s what she said.” The Office @winchest09 @mirandaaustin93

17. “Let’s hug it out, bitch.” Entourage @sister-winchesters99 @poppyville

18. “Your music is bad, and you should feel bad.” Futurama @castielslittlestbee @poppyville

19. “I’m not great at advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?” Friends @da5haexowin @themoonandotherslikeit

20. “Goodnight. And if there’s an apocalypse? Good luck.” Big Bang Theory @anathewierdo @amanda-teaches

Please reblog and share with your friends!

Thanks for doing this crazy thing with me and I hope that you enjoy the challenge. There’s no stress, it’s all just in good fun. I love you all!

Foreverwayward’s Forever Tag List: @gemini0410 @huntersociopathavenger @paintballkid711 @crystallstaircase @love-nakamura @da5haexowin @coffee-obsessed-writer @flamencodiva @salt-n-burn-em-all @spnbaby-67 @sandycub @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @hunterscabin @rainflowermoon @akshi8278 @maddiepants @deansenwackles @lauravic

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warcats-cat · 3 years ago

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Earl gray and rosehip

Earl Gray - Favorite quote from your WIP?

Lol which WIP?

Uuhhhhh I don't know if I'm allowed to do this but since I've been focused on the big bang:

[ Virgil was sitting on top of the carriage as they passed; Logan inside working through some manuscript on magical theory, and Roman driving their horses. Roman was so picky about driving, honestly, anyone would think he was some farm-boy instead of a prince. He’d installed the little bench and rail to the top of the traveling carriage for the express purpose of watching if Logan or Virgil were ever tasked with the leads.

Really, the prince was such a brat sometimes.

Virgil smiled to himself despite the thought. Yes, Roman could be a bit controlling. But he was also gentle, and incredibly kind. Virgil loved him a little more every day. And it was a wonderful honor to travel with him.

Even if sometimes it felt like he was trying to get them all killed. Lucky Seventh Son my ass. ]

I just really really like this blurb. I personally think it's cute, and the few people who have looked it over have also liked it :)

Rosehip - First Person, Third Person Limited, or Third Person Omniscient?

Third Person Limited all the way 😅 writing first person always feels like I'm making diary entries. I prefer to leave that to reader insert fics (yes those are a guilty pleasure 😉) and something always feels a little weird about Third Person Omniscient. There's too much that gets given away.

#warcats answers #ask games #writing asks #crow friend

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kaitymccoy123 · 7 years ago

Note

Can u do aos spock for the ask meme please? Love u merry christmas!

WEIRD HEADCANNON THING - Spock

MERRY CHRISTMAS

I don’t know why this one turned into a part reader insert sorry

What they smell like: Spock’s smell is not expected, which is the smell of soft clean laundry, only perceptible when your face is pressed against his chest.

How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc): You would expect Spock to sleep straight on his back, in Sheldon-from-big-bang-theory style, but mostly you find him on his side, curled ever so slightly, arms resting gently out in front of him. He has a long-ish bedtime routine, which he started about 30 mins before he goes to bed, but isn’t so strict as to when he starts this. He is an early and quick riser, though the odd time when he doesn’t have a shift you’ll find him sleeping in.

What music they enjoy: Spock enjoys the cultural music from Vulcan, but can appreciate classical, as well as some soft indie, but he will be having none of pop, country, or metal, as he finds them ‘contrived and repetitive’.

How much time they spend getting ready every morning: He usually doesn’t have breakfast, and usually only takes the time to comb down his frustratingly unruly hair that sticks up in the morning and get dressed. Though on slower mornings that he doesn’t have to work he likes to make a traditional ‘big breakfast’ with eggs and bacon etc, which he likes to share with you as you have your morning coffee. (THAT INSPIRES A FIC OMG WAKING UP WITH SPOCK OMG)

Their favorite thing to collect: Spock considers his specimen samples as ‘things he likes to collect’, but he has a fondness for beautiful and strange stones that he lines up on a shelf in his cupboard.

Left or right-handed: Right handed, I think.

Favorite sport: Though Spock didn’t grow up with sports, he is forced to play a few games when he meets Kirk, and has to admit he enjoys a good game of water polo, as he loves to swim and has insurmountable skill in throwing the ball all the way from the other end of the pool into the goal.

Favorite touristy thing to do when traveling (museums, local food, sightseeing, etc): He usually just enjoys following along with whatever his friends or crew-mates are doing, though he has a particular fondness for seeing a symphony or opera, as they make him feel like he’s transported to another world.

Favorite kind of weather: Since he’s from Vulcan, he only really knew a hot and dry climate, but once experiencing earth’s climate, he grows to love a clear, crisp fall day. He likes to see you all bundled up, swearing ‘it’s damn freezing’, and always taking your scarf off to wrap around his neck because he’s only in one layer.

A weird/obscure fear they have: Spock has many deep fears that he won’t admit, such as losing his loved ones, or losing control, but the weirdest one has to be ants. It came to be on an away mission that went a little wrong, and ended with Spock’s entire calf being bitten by fire ants, and now he just can’t stand the little-legged creatures and his tight, imperceptibly afraid face is too cute.

The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail: Knocking down the pins with the ball. His Vulcan strength and accuracy allows him to win every single time. He always gives the stuffed animal to you with a soft smirk of pride on his lips.

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balancingbookact · 7 years ago

Text

Ready Player One Review/Rant *Spoilers*:

Copied from my goodreads account:

*cracks knuckles* Okay, let's get into it.

I want to start this by saying I like the plot and action of the story. It was engaging and propulsive, and the tension was very effective in the last chunk of the book. The world of the Oasis is cool and I like the idea of this crazy creator fucking with the world by pulling a One Piece and leaving his fortune as the prize in an international treasure hunt. All that is aces to me, my issues with the book come from two things: the protagonist, and how nerd culture is represented.

Let's get one thing straight: being a nerd does not ostracise you from society. Being really into Star Wars or Game of Thrones isn't seen as uncool. These are some of the most popular franchises in history! They are MAINSTREAM ENTERTAINMENT. The only reason someone would make fun of you for liking something is if you're being a dick about it. This book is Big Bang Theory-esque with it's approach to nerd/geek culture. Name-dropping Star Trek characters or quoting television shows isn't good, comedic writing. You're just naming things. And that's all this book does, it just names things.

The thing about references, or 'easter eggs', is that you're meant to FIND them. If you spot a reference or easter egg it's cool, it's like a little pat on the back to yourself from getting the joke. That's what makes it funny. If someone has to explain the joke to you it loses all of it's fun. That's the problem with all the pop culture references in this book- every time Cline mentions something he has to go out of his way to explain to the reader the context of the thing, defeating the purpose of what an easter egg is supposed to be. People who know what you're on about will get it, that's what makes an inside joke cool. It's like when Wade takes out this teleportation device in the Oasis and the password to activate it is 'Brundle'. Now I, as someone who has watched The Fly, knows this is a reference to the movie about a scientist named Seth Brundle, who builds a teleportation machine. I got the joke! And he didn't feel the need to explain it! A successful use of an easter egg! But every other time he does something like this the reader is treated to a five page essay on the history of the thing AND I DON'T NEED IT. It would be like if every time Stephen King referenced one of his other books in The Dark Tower series he stopped the narrative to give us a plot summary of The Shining. Not fun.

Then there's the stuff itself which is referenced in the book. It's all so generic. It's like if you did a general survey on the most popular stuff from the 80s, that's all the stuff that Wade and Halliday are into. Now, obviously this is all the stuff that Ernest Cline is into and that's why he chose to write about it, so I can't really blame him for that. They're his interests. But it would've been nice in the midst of all the dude-centric stuff to maybe get a few nods to female creators or influencers, like Mary Shelly, Ursula K. Le Guin, Hiromu Arakawa, and the like. I guess this just goes into one of my main issues, being that this book is such a dude-bro nerd hand job. In as many words. But we'll get to that.

NEXT, I don't buy that Wade was able to ingest the amount of content that he did. He lists so much stuff that he's watched/read/played and I'm calling bullshit. Now, I know what it's like to hit free-fall with stuff and when you do nothing but binge, you can binge hard, but he's seen War Games, Blade Runner, and Monty Python enough times to know every word, he's seen the entirety of Family Ties three times, he's read every Stephen King book (there are, like, sixty), he's read every issue of Amazing Spider-Man (there are like 800, not to mention the countless other Spider-Man titles out there, i.e., Spectacular Spider-Man, Web of Spider-Man, Sensational Spider-Man, Spider-Man 1990, etc.), and countless other things. There's no way in the five years since the contest began that he ingested everything that Halliday had across the entirety of his life! There's just no way. But whatever, I'm not hung up on it or anything.

But the thing is, being able to quote and reference shit doesn't make you a "true fan" in the same way that getting an A on a standardised test doesn't necessarily make you smart. Anyone can know things, but it's how something touches your heart and makes you feel that counts. It's like, the sixers just KNEW STUFF, they didn't have the same heart for it that other gunters did, you know? They could just get fed the answers, like cheating on a test. That's why trivia tests are an ineffective way to measure a person's level of fandom. There's probably lots of other people out there who have seen How to Train your Dragon more times than me and know more obscure details about the film, but when it comes to FEELINGS I'd best any one of you bitches.

Now, onto Wade as a character. In short: he dumb and boring. Longer version: he's a dime a dozen protagonist with nothing interesting about him that clearly serves as a self-insert/audience character. Nothing about his perspective is fresh, and I think the story would've been vastly improved with a more interesting MC. Also, he's really dumb and careless. I don't blame him for the sixers getting his school info- the contest hadn't even begun, he didn't know any better, whatever. But then he tells Art3mis his name! This person, who he's never met irl, who isn't being particularly forth-coming with any personal details of her own, he just tells his civilian identity to. Last time this happened his house blew up, resulting in a lot of death (not that he appeared to be too bothered by this), so you'd think he'd be a little more protective of his identity. Honestly, I was with Art3mis throughout the whole thing. She was being so much more reasonable than he was. Although her whole reveal with her birth mark was a bit lame. Like, we're supposed to believe this mark would make her repulsive? Have you seen Prince Zuko? A scar aint gonna put bitches off you. Also, Aech's whole reveal of being *gasp* a woman made me question why it had to be a reveal in the first place. Like, I get why she would disguise herself online but I don't know why Wade and/or the reader couldn't be clued in earlier. I think people are past gender and sexuality being used as plot twists.

And that concludes my rant. I didn't hate this book, there were just lots of things that irked me. I think, in the right hands, this story could've been a lot better. Fingers crossed for the movie.

#ready player one #rpo #ready player one spoilers #rpo spoilers #spoilers #ernest cline #books #i have some thoughts that i need to share

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