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weirdsht · 2 months

Note

What if Cale Henituse had someone special during his time as Kim Rok Soo? Although they were never officially a couple, it was clear to everyone that their relationship went beyond mere friendship. Slowly but surely, KRS grew more comfortable and at ease around this person until they were killed. Brutally (lmaaooo I'm sorryy HAHAHWHAHW). Later, they reunite in his life as Cale Henituse, but reader has changed significantly because, like KRS, they too have been transmigrated. Their life has been deeply affected and troubled by their own close relatives, unlike Cale, who, despite some hesitation from his family, at least had the comfort of a family that cares about his safety and well-being overall. (Dyk Roxanna from TWTPTFLOB? Basically her family. If you don't know, basically her family is torturous to have. I think normal ppl would die if they suddenly transmigrated as a part of Roxanna's family because they're the definition of insanity)

I'm sorry if this is too much, feel free to scroll past 🤧💌

Our Fragile Promise in Magnolia - Cale/Reader

notes: Yes the title is a bunch of Laufey song titles. Shameless plugin but my fics Close and Can I Really have similar concepts to this one

tags: female reader, novel spoilers (war), angst? not sure, very loud unspoken feelings

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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_____ stares at a male figure’s back. She’s used to looking at it. At finding comfort in it. How can she not? His back always seems so big. So strong. As if it’s capable of shielding her from everything.

However, this time that back looks smaller than how she remembers it.

And _____ is the reason for that.

“_____ don’t you dare close your eyes, don’t you dare fall asleep on me”

“Wake up! Just why did I get cursed with such an airhead child…”

The woman in front of the girl daydreaming speaks exasperatedly, bringing her back to reality.

It reminds _____ of who she currently is. How she’s not on earth fighting monsters anymore. How she has been granted another life.

Another life, another suffering.

“Follow me, the meeting is starting.”

The woman, _____’s mother, looked behind her to see if her daughter was still following.

“If you other one word that causes our family disgrace you know what will happen to you. Won’t you, my dear?”

_____, who’s currently 20 years old in this life, is both used to and tired of the sickeningly sweet smile on her mother’s face.

“Yes, mother.”

She internally laughs but says nothing outwardly. Just how scared is her mother from the announcement of war that she dared talk to her like that?

It reminded her of when she was a child.

A time before she rose to power within that useless family of hers.

“Your name is _____?”

“Why? Do you have any problem with it?”

“No, it suits you.”

The woman was taken aback by the nonchalant compliment. The man in front of her has said it as if it didn’t mean much. No, for him it probably really didn’t mean anything.

But it meant the world to _____.

It was the first time she had received a compliment. And for something as insignificant as the name she gave herself.

‘Thanks, I gave it to myself since no one was willing to name me’

Were the words she held back from saying, not wanting to ruin the moment.

_____ never would have thought that she would become best friends with that very same man.

Clang!

The young woman watched as the silver plaque hit the table. The noise it made snapped the young woman out of her daydream.

She looked at the silver plaque and saw the crest of the royal family on it.

It’s easy to understand what it means.

Cale Henituse, the one famous as the young master silver shield, is now officially the Roan Kingdom’s Northeast Commander.

Not that _____ had any issues with it. She has heard about the famous young master. He may be young but he has the qualifications. Plus who is she to question the crown’s decisions?

If the crown has decided that Cale as commander is what the kingdom needs to defend itself against the Indomitable Alliance then so must be it.

However, not once has _____ looked at the famous redhead. Hence why when he started speaking again the young noble took it as a chance to take a good look.

The first thing that caught her attention was his long red hair. It was the same shade as blood. As if he was a vampire that drank so much blood it turned his hair into one.

But it wasn’t a gruesome sight. Quite the opposite actually. _____ finds his hair to be very pretty. It reminds her of a beautiful flame that’s forever ignited. Always strong and never extinguishing despite the strong winds that come its way.

“Kim Rok Soo..?”

As soon as _____ saw the commander’s eyes her world stopped. She knows those eyes very well. Has stared at them countless times for her to not know.

It couldn’t be.

Maybe they just have the same eye colour.

Kim Rok Soo’s reddish brown eyes might be rare back in her old world but nothing is impossible in this new one.

So it can’t be.

However, she can’t deny it.

She can’t deny that the way he lands his gaze is the same as him. The sorrow that is buried deep within those copper-like eyes is the same.

The way he stared at her knowingly was the same.

But she still tries.

She tries her best to deny it.

To deny him.

Because it can’t be. That can’t be him. That can’t be her best friend slash love of her life.

It’s just not possible.

And if it was then she must avoid him as much as possible.

For she has changed. And she is well aware of the fact that she has changed. She may have the same face and the same name, but she has become all too different.

She doesn’t want her love to see the new version of her.

Two people sat on the ground. Their back leaning against the sofa behind them. It’s a rare day when the two of them have a day off so they have decided to spend it by reading novels together.

“If you try to say another spoiler I’m going to seal your mouth shut.”

“But you have to listen to this!”

The woman tries to argue while tapping on a page of the book she’s currently reading.

“I’ll find out about it when I read it.”

“But I want to talk about it now!”

Kim Rok Soo shook his head at her. As if he couldn’t believe this was the same fierce person fighting monsters on the battlefield.

“Then wait.”

_____ internally smiled at the memory. She feels that familiar warmth in her chest she hadn’t felt for so long. As she did, she thought that it was a good idea to avoid Cale Henituse. She’s not sure if they’re the same person. And if they were she doesn’t know if he remembers her.

But it’s better to be on the safe side.

After all, it’d be embarrassing to see such a lively person turn into a shell of what they used to be.

“Just how long do I have to put up with this?”

_____ mumbled to herself as she picked at her food.

“Did you say something dear?”

“Nothing mother.”

She reciprocated her mother’s smile. After years of socializing with this family, she has learned to smile and bear it all. Things will become more complicated if she tries to refute.

“Where’s the antidote? Mix it in my usual juice.”

_____ orders her maid after lunch. The maid bowed and followed her orders like clockwork.

After all, this wasn’t the first time the young lady had been poisoned by her own family.

They see her as both a threat and an asset.

They try to bring her down, make themself look superior. But at the same time, they know that they need her.

It’s comedic. Really.

“My lady a letter has arrived.”

_____’s trusted maid hands her a tray that contains a glass of juice and a letter.

“That seal… It looks like it’s from the Henituse family.”

The young lady waved her hand away and the maid went out of the room.

Badump. Badump.

Her heart beats wildly in her chest and it’s not just because of the poison she consumed.

It’s not uncommon to receive letters from the guardians of the Dark Forest. They are business partners after all.

However _____ couldn’t help but feel nervous after the recent events.

Quickly drinking her juice that contains the antidote in one go, the transmigrator pulls the courage to open the letter.

“You have a very peculiar way of writing. I think I’d be able to recognize it anywhere.”

_____ hovered over Kim Rok Soo as he wrote something on a piece of paper.

“I would say you’re exaggerating but knowing you two, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Choi Jung Soo spoke up from the couch while eating some sort of junk food.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Rok Soo retaliates. His hands let go of the pencil in order to focus on his sworn brother.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just saying. But hey, is that any way to speak to your hyung?”

“Again why are you the hyung? We were born on the same day”

“I was born first!”

True to what _____ said, she immediately recognized the handwriting on the letter. Its contents were concise, exactly how he likes to do things.

“He did his homework.”

The letter just said that the commander wanted to have a private meeting with _____ in order to talk about the upcoming war. The young noble instantly understands that he must want to talk about her territory’s military force.

She may not have an official title. She isn’t even declared as an official heir. Yet insiders, those who have a wide information network, will know that _____ is the one in control of her territory.

_____ doesn’t want to respond. But she has to. He wasn’t speaking as Cale Henituse or Kim Rok Soo.

He was speaking as Roan Kingdom’s Northeast Commander.

He was standing on business.

For he probably knows that’s the only way _____ wouldn’t avoid him.

Kim Rok Soo holds on the bleeding body in his arms.

Bleeding is an understatement.

The left side of her torso is gone. Eaten by the monster they are fighting.

“H ey, do you re member… remember our pro mise?”

A weak voice asks him. Kim Rok Soo nodded his head, too choked up to speak.

He does. Of course, he does. How can he forget?

He’ll record everything she says, no matter how trivial they are.

“Great… Th en I guess– I guess I can rest in pe ace.”

Kim Rok Soo doesn’t want that. He doesn’t need that.

“Don’t close your eyes. Please hold on. For me, for us. Please _____”

He begs. It’s so uncharacteristically of him to beg, but if it does the trick then he’ll do it a million times over.

_____ weakly chuckled. She may be weak and dying but there’s still fire in her eyes. A fire that will never be extinguished even in the face of death.

… or so Cale thought.

The fire that he thought would never die down is barely there in her eyes.

But it was still there.

It may be small. Struggling. But it’s there.

Alive and fighting to be as bright as it was before.

“_____…”

“Our business is now done, Commander Cale Henituse. If you have further business in the future please feel free to send me a letter like before.”

“_____.“

The young lady’s voice was firm, but Cale’s voice was firmer. He has no plans of letting her run away again.

He wouldn’t be able to let her slip from his embrace once more.

“Isn’t that concept sweet though?”

The two best friends are talking. They just finished a novel and are now discussing its contents with each other.

“You’re just a romantic.”

“But think about it. Promising to find each other even in another universe. Being together in every dimension…”

_____ stopped talking, lost in thought as she reminisced about the novel. Kim Rok Soo took it as a chance to stare at her face.

He has seen many people. Has read many descriptions of beautiful people in books.

But in his opinion, nothing beats _____’s looks.

Kim Rok Soo might be biased. His willing to admit that much. But his opinion won’t change.

“Hey Rok Soo?”

“What do you want?”

He grumbled as he suddenly came face to face with his “best friend”. Her face was full of excitement as she thought of a new idea.

“Let’s promise each other that in our next life, we’ll find each other again. Then let’s spill all of our secrets when we do. Not leaving anything out.”

Her idea sounds childish. Would they even remember anything in their next life? Would they even have a next life? If they did would they recognize each other?

Those were the thoughts that raced through Kim Rok Soo.

However, he doesn’t say it.

Because it was a silent confession. The best one they can give each other in this ruined world.

A promise to spill all their secrets huh?

It doesn’t need saying. Those secrets were probably talking about their feelings.

“Sure, I promise. We’ll meet again in our next life and tell each other everything.”

“_____”

Cale called out for the third time. _____ has changed and Cale has an inkling as to what brought that change.

Nothing he can’t handle.

His planning to overthrow an empire. Dealing with a noble family is nothing.

He’ll make things right.

Set things straight.

“I never break my promises. You know that _____.”

Cale– no Kim Rok Soo will make sure to fulfil his promise.

#trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf #le asks #tcf x reader #lcf x reader #totcf x reader #female reader #x female reader #x reader #lotcf x reader #cale x reader #kim rok soo x reader #lcf #cale henituse #lotcf #totcf

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hanckocks-dagger · 2 months

Text

oh, the night's so blue

masterlist

John hancock x f!reader

Description: After a drunken one night stand with your boss and mayor, you'd planned on hiding out in your room for several months. Those plans get delayed when Nate, general of the Minutemen and your childhood friend, asks you to join him on a quest in the west of the Commonwealth.

Tags: Drunken one night stand, Hancock is a pining simp, and a slut. Reader is not SoSu, has afab characteristics and is referred to with she/her pronouns through the story. No y/n

Warnings: Smut! Drunk sex, consentual but I'll throw in the dubcon tag anyway, talk of violence, guns and drugs a lá Fallout ofc

Word count: 6.1K

Notes: So this is a one-shot that sort of feeds into an idea I've had in my head for a while, of a reader that knew Nate from before the bombs, who either ended up in Vault 111 as well or something similar, but got out about a year before Nate did. This might end up turning into a series of semi-connected one-shots or I might just cut it off here, but I definitely have some other ideas for this story rolling around in my head. More story focused than some of my other fics, delving a bit more into what actually living in the game's story would be like, but of course a hefty dose of our lovely Hancock. But I really like Nate, and I didn't want to make the reader the Sole Survivor so we could see the two of them interact. Also my Nate build is usually high charisma, high strength and low intelligence (idiot savant perk ofc), so he's a bit of a himbo <3 my fav type of man.

Also just a small and totally irrelevant thing, but I headcanon Nate/the sole survivor as choosing not to smoke, just because the player isn’t able to smoke in the game. Just a fun tidbit I threw in there. Also, I’m a smoker and I have friends who aren’t and the relentless back and forth teasing is always fun. They all vape anyway, so it’s just a race for who gets cancer first lmao.

Cross posted on my ao3!

"What's the status on the top shelf stuff?" You yelled out from the back room, wiping drops of sweat from your forehead before they could drop into your eyes. Sure, the new beer tap was ingenious, making the closest thing to actual fresh beer since you'd come out on this side of the cryo-chamber, but goddamn were the canisters heavy.

"Almost out of moonshine, luv," Charlie called from the bar, tinny cockney accent carrying through the open space.

That was fine, you could drop by and speak to Vadim tomorrow before opening, as long as Hancock could supply the caps and lend you some help to carry the bottles back.

"Anything else?" You grunted, heaving a full canister back out to the front, bending down to connect the pipes.

"I think you should start carrying some Fireball, I know how much you used to like it," A new voice spoke up from the other side of the bar, startling you into banging your head on the underside of the bartop. You cursed, shooting to your feet, finding a ginning, familiar face on the other side.

"Nate!"

He said your name back with the same amount of enthusiasm, slouched in one of the barstools, familiar bright blue vault suit looking a little worse for wear.

"When did you get in? How did you get in?" You asked, eyes flitting about. Sure enough, there in the background, spread over one of the couches was mayor Hancock, speaking with a smiling Magnolia and a broody looking MacReady.

"Just landed in town, figured I'd come say hi before crashing at the Rexford."

"Well, shit," You breathed, wiping your sweaty hands on a dishrag, "Can I get you a drink? I want to hear about this oh-so-secret mission you were on."

"Sure, I'll take a beer."

You fished over a clean-ish looking glass, gave it a quick wipe for good measure, and poured. The movements were practiced, muscle memory from a lifetime ago taking over as you tilted the glass, filled it, flicked the spout the other way for some top foam. You slid it over the bar, accepting Nate’s smile as payment.

You grabbed yourself a glass, calling out to Charlie as you filled the glass with ice, “I’m calling it a night, just leave me a list of whatever needs to be done in the morning.

You poured yourself some of the top shelf stuff, nothing good by pre-war standards, but nowadays it was rare and mostly didn't taste like it was 200 years old.

You stepped around the bar, planning on planting yourself on a stool next to Nate, but he was already rising to his feet, heading for the rest of the group.Hiding your awkwardness, you trailed after him. You knew MacReady tangentially, sometimes bringing him drinks into the backroom, keeping an eye out for disagreements and sometimes running up to get Ham when things were getting out of hand. Magnolia was your coworker of course, and there was plenty to talk about after long shifts, but she was– technically speaking– about twenty years your senior, and married to her job in a way you weren't.

Then there was Mayor Hancock. A charming flirt at the best of times, happy to stand up for you on the job, as the owner of the bar, after all, but there was always something about him you never managed to crack, never straying away from genial small talk. Small talk, of course, these days, meant discussing the last Super Mutant raid, or let him rattle off about his favorite chems. As you approached, he tipped his hat at you and you responded with a little curtsy, using your free hand to tug on your apron like a skirt.

You fell onto the couch beside Nate, stirring your drink with a finger, using your other hand to untie the apron around your waist. Being off your feet felt good. There were no clocks in the Third Rail, and no windows, so your sense of time tended to get a bit skewed, but seeing as Ham usually tossed out the stragglers by 5 am and you'd had a mess and a half to clean up, you assumed it must be closing in on dawn. A rough 12 hour shift made your liquor feel earned, as you sipped at it, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

"So," You said, catching Nate's attention before he could get sucked into the others' conversation, "What was the notorious General of the Minutemen up to this week? Liberating some more settlements?"

"Mmm, actually doing some work for the Railroad," His tone went hushed, unnecessary and strangely endearing, as everyone in the bar knew and was at least non-committal about their activities.

"Ahh," You replied, matching his tone. "Did it go well?"

"It went fantastically. I brought my own team in," He motioned with his beer toward Hancock and MacCready, "But we ended up getting some help from another agent, too. And, man, what a lady," he went a bit starry eyed, making you laugh.

"Got a little crush, Nathaniel?"

He snorted, and you spotted the tinge of red in his cheeks with glee.

"Nothing like that, but what a powerhouse. You should have seen her, mowing them down with a minigun."

"Don't sell yourself short, Nate, I've seen you in Power Armor before. Unstoppable force and all that."

Ever humble, Nate's cheeks turned rosier, and he glanced down at his drink. You watched his Adam's apple bob, the shy smile that graced his features.

To put him out of his misery, you turned to the group at large, "So, does this mean you've returned our beloved mayor back, or are you heading out again?"

Hancock's attention snapped up from MacReady so he could grin at you, "What, you missed me doll?"

"Well, you do sign my paychecks," You smiled back at him, then remembered, "Oh, yeah, speaking of, I have to go over to Diamond City tomorrow to get more of Bobrov's best, maybe I can steal Nate to help me ferry it all back."

He hummed, "What d'ya say, brother? 100 caps to keep my favorite employee safe?"

From behind the bar, Charlie gave his best impression of a grunt, "I resent that, mayor!"

"'M sorry, Charlie, you just don't have her charm."

"Or her tits," Magnolia chimed in, twirling an unlit cigarette in her fingers as she smirked at you.

You flushed, eyes flitting around, finally landing on Hancock and MacReady's empty glasses, "Refills, boys?"

"Thought you'd clocked out," MacReady said, even as he handed over his glass. "Well, I'm the club's ambassador even after hours, gotta keep the reputation up."

"You best not be giving free drinks to every sorry brother that walks in here," Hancock called after you as you stepped behind the bar.

"Mm, no," You sing-songed back, "Only my favorites."

The night passed easily. You stayed by Nate’s sidelistening to him tell tales of the people he'd been meeting, the farm he recruited for the minutemen last week. He didn't delve too far into this last mission, always the good soldier who followed orders. You spent about twenty minutes trying to guess his secret Railroad code name.

"Mmmm, buttercup."

"Not even close."

"Sugar bomb?"

The look of offense he gave you was so scathing it had you spitting out half your beer over the table, doubled over in laughter as he complained.

"It relates to my prowess as an agent, not some pre-war pet name!"

"Fine, fine, uhhhh. Striker? Shadow? Tank?"

"Honestly, these are terrible. Never open a baby naming business."

"Uhm, excuse you," You said, taking a sip of beer to try and reduce the heat in your cheeks, "I would make excellent raider names. Chainsaw, evil-eye, uhhhhh," You cast your eyes around, searching for inspiration, "Ricky."

"Ricky?" MacReady asked, eyebrows knit in confusion, "What's wrong with Ricky?"

"Dunno," You shrugged, "Doesn't he just sound like an asshole?" You put on an air, repeated 'Ricky' in an ominous voice, which got MacReady and Nate to crack up again.

Magnolia vanished up to the surface after a bit of flirting with Hancock, insisting on her beauty sleep. As was your usual, you whistled after her, calling lewd, joking comments as she walked up the steps. As was her usual, she gave you a scowl and the middle finger.

"Ehhh, I'll get her to crack one of these days," You murmured into your beer, that tipsy, never ending giddy smile stuck on your lips. You caught Hancock's eye where he sat, now alone on the couch, spread eagle with his gangly limbs. When he spotted you, he gave you a grin, cigarette in his teeth.

Suddenly you desperately wanted a smoke. You patted your own pockets, found that you'd left them at home. You cursed the you from the morning for whatever logic had made that choice, suddenly desperate for nicotine.

Your head, resting against the back of the couch, lolled to look over at Nate. Who, of course, didn't and had never smoked. Goody-two-shoes.

So, you clambered to your feet, ignoring the ache that made itself apparent, and collapsed over besides Hancock.

"Does the good mayor have some cigarettes to share?" You asked, hand on his knee, leaning in close to be heard over a playful argument MacReady and Nate had started.

Hancock's smile got wider somehow, those deep dark eyes crinkling at the corner, giving the appearance of crow's feet.

"For you? Always." He dug around in the deep pocket's of that crazy coat, pulling out a cigarette case. Instead of handing you one, though, he plucked the one from his mouth and stuck it into yours.

Brain slowed by a long shift and plenty of alcohol, it took a moment for the action to catch up with, fingers rising slowly to pluck at the cigarette. You blinked at him, but he seemed unphased, pulling out another cigarette from his case and lighting it.

You leant back in the couch as your brain caught up on his move, staring blankly at a gesturing Nate, MacReady equally engrossed, somehow having missed the interaction that now had your brain reeling. Hancock's arm was stretched out behind you, tantalizingly close, fingers almost tickling the hairs at the back of you neck. You felt the chill of goosebumps, shook off the urge to shiver.

You puffed at the cigarette instead, slowly sinking back in the couch, reverting back to the sort of talk you were used to with the mayor, "How'd you like the trip? Nice to get out of the city?"

Hancock took it in stride, as he did everything, "Oh, yeah. Makes you forget what's out there, staying too long in these walls."

You hummed your assent. You stuck to Goodneighbor because you wanted to stay alive. The furthest you'd ventured in the last year was scoping out that brewery for the Rexford. But Hancock was a ghoul, and even so was more careless with safety than anyone else you knew. Getting out of the city, with only yourself and the stars as company... it was a romantic idea.

"So, what, we're gonna become the Railroad's home base now?" You teased,

"Not exactly," Hancock replied, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette, "But Nate knows his shit, and he trusts them. They're doing good, dontcha think?"

You considered this, rolling it around in your liquor soaked brain, "I guess it depends on whether you think the synths are just robots or... y'know, slaves being put through just as much pain as we are."

Hancock nodded, eyes trained on you, expression curious. For all his flirting, Hancock was easily one of the more respectable men you'd met, always willing to listen, even if he was usually a bit too out of his mind to interpret it. He was whip-smart, too, when he was sober enough to put a thought together.

"I suppose it depends on if you believe in the soul. Do you, Mayor Hancock?" Some deep-seated, long ago buried urge reared his head. You remembered being a kid, sitting in a diner with high-school friends, batting your eyelashes at a crush of yours, a coy smile on your face, trying for a sultry voice and missing it by a mile. But now you were about two hundred years older, and had a few years of experience under your back.

So when you looked at Hancock through lidded eyes, purposely hollowed your cheek as you sucked on your cigarette, the one that had been in his mouth before yours, you could appreciate his reaction. The widening of his eyes, the way the hand behind your head seemed to move just a bit closer, the minute shift of his hips as his body turned further towards you.

"I think I'm a bit too sober for those kinds of questions," He snickered. Being a Ghoul made determining age difficult, but sometimes you were sure Hancock was young, younger than you even, the way he carried himself, the carelessness of a teenager.

You smiled back, soft, put your cigarette out in an ashtray on the table, picking up your glass instead.

Hancock said your name, sultry, and that hand finally brushed your shoulder, a gentle, teasing touch.

You answered with a smile, a tilted, " John," followed by a sip from your drink, one you concentrated all your effort into drinking as normally as you could. If you let your tongue slide over your lips to catch the lingering taste, well, no one had to know.

"You know," You said, voice hushed as if you were revealing a great secret, "I feel like I don't know you well enough. You haven't been around enough since you hired me."

"I knew I left the bar in good hands," As if to prove his point, his fingers teased over your bare forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Maybe, I should- ah- give you a tour of the Old State House sometime."

The innuendo was painfully obvious, accompanied by a lecherous wink, but you felt your face flush anyway, ridiculously charmed by his brazenness.

Charlie ended up kicking the four of you out, insisting on sweeping before the sun came up. On the way up the stairs, conspicuously a few steps behind Nate and MacReady, the two of you got a bit too handsy, after you'd spent the last couple of minutes petting the velvet of his coat, hypnotized by the luxurious softness of the ancient costume, as Hancock rattled off history facts about Boston, some of which you'd half remembered from history class.

"Found the old fucker's diary in a closet on the second floor," He'd said, as your fingers traced down his arms, across his chest, barely disguised fascination. You wanted to steal his hat, tuck it onto your hair, flick it the way Hancock often did.

"That old bastard was– was kinkier than you could ever imagine," His voice stuttered as your fingers traced near his navel, studying the stitching on the waistcoats he wore.

"Oh yeah?" You snickered, loose enough with drinks to lose your impulse control chasing after whatever felt good in the moment. Mostly that had been cigarettes, but now it was the idea of kissing him, of feeling that mouth on you, anywhere.

"The mayor of Goodneighbor," You breathed, smoothing out his collar, "Keeping himself busy with five hundred year old porn."

Hancock laughed with you.

Outside, the two of you stumbled apart, leaning against the brick wall to share a cigarette, Nate and MacReady somehow still talking, even if Nate was shooting you curious glances and MacReady smirked every time your eyes passed over him.

Eventually, though, when a too loud sentence awoke a grumbling drifted who threatened to hurl a bottle at Nate, it was time to call it a night.

Nate clapped Hancock on the shoulder and kissed your cheek, which got him a punch on the arm, a bit harder than you meant to with the alcohol in your system. He took it like a champ, of course, calling out, "Have fun!" As he rounded the corner towards the Rexford.

MacReady vanished with a tip of his cap, leaving you with smoke in your mouth and the morning sun in your eyes.

"You want to take that tour now, doll?" The brush of a teasing hand over your lower back.

You thought about your dusty apartment, of waking up in a few hours to repeat the same shift for the millionth time. A cold bed, empty.

"Yeah," You breathed, hand catching on the fluttering sash around Hancock's waist, setting a firm pace and tugging him along with you like a dog on his leash. His hands found your hips before you even made it to the door, pinning you against the old wood to kiss you, deep and warm and wet. Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, till you stood hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest.

Somehow, one of you got the door open, falling through the door, walking each other in an embrace towards the staircase. The kiss deepened, Hancock licked into your mouth as you bumped into the banister, struggled to keep your balance.You let him lead, pushing you backwards up the stairs, hands always gentle, ready to catch you if you tripped.

It was a drunken fumble, your shirt rucked up, trying to get all his stupid buttons unbuttoned as you staggered to the stairs, his lips suddenly attached to your neck.

His hands moved to your exposed waist as you reached the second floor, greedy hands moving over the expanse of skin. You huffed against his mouth, finding it unfair as you struggled to even get under his ridiculous fucking shirt, finally managing to sneak a hand under it, nails gently scratching against rough skin. You weren't exactly versed in Ghoul anatomy, but you'd heard enough complaining from drifters at the bar about the lack of feeling in their skin to know you'd have to push a little deeper, press a little harder. Sure enough, as Hancock lead you stumbling towards his bedroom, you pushed your hand up to his chest, pressing down into the meat of one of his shoulders, you received a deep groan against your mouth.

Then suddenly you were in the Mayor's bedroom. Clean enough, by the wasteland standards. Strewn with chems, as you'd anticipated, but the bed looked as clean as you could be.

Hancock had ended up behind you, hands sneaking around to your ass, your collar pushed to the side so he could kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder. It felt... nice. Soft. Softer than you'd anticipated from him. It sent an ache through you, not to your core, though electricity tingled, desperate for attention you hadn't provided it with in years. The ache was in your heart, extending out to your lungs, stealing your breath the way his kisses had, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

You spun around in his arms to capture his lips again, nipping at his bottom lips, hands moving to his waist, sneaking down into his waistband. The two of you danced around the room, lips locked, hands moving as clothes were unbuttoned, tossed to the side, shoes pulled off.

Then you were naked, falling onto a surprisingly plush mattress, as Hancock dropped his coat onto the back of his desk chair, pants unbuttoned and half falling off his skinny hips. He left the hat on, even as he stripped everything else off, and it made you huff a quiet, airy giggle. He grinned back at you, always happy to be happy, as he crawled on top of you, bracketing you between his legs.

His dick was the same as the rest of him, scarred and pocked, but you found you didn't mind in the slightest as your hands wandered downwards, teasingly gentle touches running over him, drawing out airy breaths and groans.

You were quick to guide him into you, pulling him down for a kiss when he entered you, sending shocks of burning pain through you, uncomfortable but manageable. Still, he noticed, unfocused eyes blinking down at you, a frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong," You breathed, even through the tension of your muscles, "Just– uh– been a while. Gimme a moment."

He seemed unsure for a moment, looking as if he wanted to pull out, but you forced a calm through your muscles, slowly feeling him inch his way further inside, until the two of you were hip to hip. You breathed through the sting, shutting your eyes and guiding his face to your neck, happy when he got the hint and nipped at your skin. Your breath got shaky when he found a perfect spit by the junction of your neck and your shoulder, feeling his teeth sink into the flesh, soothed quickly with his tongue, with his spit-slick lips.

"Okay," You breathed eventually, one hand holding the back of his neck, the other clutching at the muscle on his back, "You can move."

"Are you–"

"Hancock," You said, voice firm. In a more sober state, his caution would touch you, but you were desperate to feel the drag of him, to feel his hips working. "I'm a big girl, it's okay. You can move."

He bent down to kiss you as he slowly pulled his hips back. With conscious effort to keep your muscles calm, your side of the kiss was a bit half hearted, but you gasped into his mouth as he pushed back in, the stretch not painful but, "So fucking perfect," You breathed, "Just like that."

Hancock was amazingly receptive, somehow cataloging every moan and twitch, and he had you pushed into the mattress within minutes, gasping and shaking beneath him. His hips drove into you at a perfect pace, his mouth moving to your tits, gentle bites at the soft skin, pulling your nipples into his mouth to flick at them with his tongue. Your whispered words of direction quickly dissolving into moans and gasps of his name.

Almost the exact second the thought of your clit popped into your head, his fingers were there, moving tight circles, pressure just the right side of too hard. You arched into him, a moan so loud it would have made you self conscious if you weren't too focused on driving him deeper, getting him closer, getting as much of his skin on you as you could.

Your orgasm approached with mounting tension in your muscled, strangled cries of more, harder, "Please, John."

You came with a strangled cry, every muscle in your body tensing and then going completely limp, gasps of air as your peak faded, replaced by a pleasant buzzing sensations. John's pace slowed as you shook, hands leaving your clit to grab at your hips, pull you towards him as he chased his own release. You were happy to let him, your hands exploring him leisurely, gripping at his biceps, his shoulders, wrapping around his neck to guide him into another kiss.

You could tell when he got close, the way his hips jerked, thrusts growing rushed and sloppy, desperate, the way his breath quickened, the way his dark eyes seemed to darken even further. At the last moment, he pulled out, wrapping his hand around his cock, haphazard pace the same as he fucked into his fist, a few more pumps and he came over your stomach. You tensed under the surprising heat of it, but relished the soft groan that escaped his mouth, head tilted back, mouth open,

He half collapsed on top of you, breathing against your mouth, only his arms holding him from falling into you. With every inhale, his expanding chest brushed against your breasts, every touch sending electric shots through you.

He collapsed beside you, still panting, one arm curling around your chest, just under your tits, pulling you into his side. "Just– give me a second, I'll get you something to clean up."

"Mmm," You breathed, relishing the heat of him, positive he was warmer than a normal person, the way it radiated off him, heating your skin at the contact points, "Don't worry about it. Deal with it in the morning." Your words were slurring, eyelids heavy.

"Mmm," Hancock agreed, tucking his face into your shoulder. He held you tight, like little kids held onto teddy bears. It was... nice. Unfamiliar to you, but, as you buried your head into the soft pillow, you supposed it was something you wouldn't mind getting used to.

You woke with a start, unfamiliar footsteps thudding above your head. It took a moment to reorient yourself, to recognize the walls you were blinking at, the hand tucked around your waist, the soft snores in your ear. Your head thudded, your mouth dry as a desert, tasting like cigarettes and whiskey.

"Shit," You whispered, slowly extracting yourself from Hancock's warm arms, getting to your feet. Stark naked. Your pants were slung over a chair, one sock still in the pant leg, the other tossed onto a desk, surrounded by several tins of mentats and empty jet canisters.

"Fuck," You breathed, hopping around trying to get your socks on. One of your boots was on its side, halfway under the bed. Your shirt was hanging on the fucking doorknob and you tugged it on, ignoring the stale smell of sweat and alcohol that clung to it from last night’s shift.

You swept the room, but couldn't for the life of you find your underwear. The thought of leaving them somewhere was mortifying, but when Hancock shifted in the bed, you decided not to risk staying. You pulled your boots on, leaving them unlaced as you crept over the ancient floorboards. Seeing as Hancock was managing to sleep through the ruckus of the drifters on the top floor, you doubted the creak of the house would wake him, but you were still extra cautious as you cracked the bedroom doors open, just enough for you to slip through and rush down the staircase, pointedly not looking at any of the Neighborhood Watch.

Out in the semi-fresh morning air, you took a deep breath, mumbling another curse to yourself as you began a quick jog home, trying to avoid any knowing glances as you rounded a corner and shouldered the door to your apartment building open.

Shower, underwear, find Nate, get him to ask Hancock for the caps while you cowered in the background with sunglasses and a baseball cap over a dark hoodie. Fuck.

The shower was cold, obviously, and you counted your blessings for having running water at all, even if it was a bit too irradiated for comfort. You did your best to scrub fast, hands brushing through sweaty, greasy hair, soaping the necessary areas. You very pointedly did not linger on the dried, flaking cum on your stomach, exorcizing it with a washcloth and curses.

You were busy drying your hair with your dirty shirt, because whenever the water lingered too long it left an uncomfortable sheen over your hair and smelled a bit like a bog. A knock sounded at the door, sending ice through your veins, a response equivalent to the roar of a Deathclaw or the clicking of a Mirelurk.

For a moment, you contemplated crawling onto the rusty fire-escape outside your living room window and walking into downtown Boston to let some Super Mutants eat you.

Instead, though, you stepped over to the door, moments quiet as you contemplated what the fuck you were going to say. Last night was a mistake. You're my boss. I haven't had sex in two years and I'm sorry for leading you on, can I please have my panties back?

Another knock startled you out of your thoughts, fast and panicked, followed by the call of your name from a voice that definitely did not belong to Hancock.

You opened the door to a panting Nate, already back in his suit and armor, gun tossed over his shoulder.

"Nate?"

"Hey! Have fun last night?"

You flushed, even though his expression was nothing but kind; curious and happy for you, like a good friend should be.

"Uh. What's with the get up?" You deflected, which Nate took in stride.

"Distress call from the Minutemen, they asked me to head out west to Graygarden."

"The... farm run by robots?"

"Oh, that's what it is?"

"Wh- Never mind. What are you doing there?"

"Something about the water supply and Super Mutants. I'm leaving in a few minutes"

"Okay, that's fine, I'll drag someone else with me to Diamond City, no stress."

"No, I want you to come with me."

You blinked, hand tensing on the door frame, "Nate I'm not a fighter."

"Yes you are," He said, looking so genuinely confused it made your heart seize a bit, "We fought together. At Anchorage. Did you forget?"

"No, I didn't–" You swallowed.

After returning home, witnessing massacre after massacre, you'd sworn to yourself you wouldn't get involved in that kind of shit. Even after the world ended, you'd managed to keep that promise. At night, alone in your cold bed, you could still hear the hissing of sentry bots, the creaking of power armor, the whistling of bullets. "I don't do that anymore, Nate."

Nate pulled one of his more serious faces, a rare sight for a man with seemingly endless drive and relentless optimism, even after losing more than you could imagine.

"Look. I understand what you're feeling–" You took a breath to interrupt him, because his blind patriotism had driven him forward when you'd lagged behind, weighed down by the blood on your hands. Nate pushed forward, "I know you don't believe me, but I really do. And nothing helped me heal those wounds like helping people."

"Helping robots." Your voice was flat.

"Who provide food for over a dozen settlements. You'd be doing good."

You bit your lip, casting your eyes over your apartment to avoid the earnest look in Nate's eyes. Sure, you were... content in your life. Goodneighbor was as safe as any settlement could be, you had steady income, some sort of purpose. But you remembered the day Nate had walked into the Third Rail with Nick Valentine on his heels, bleary eyed, vault suit still pristine. The way your heart had sung, the way an aching loneliness you'd felt since coming off the ice had faded.

Was this what the rest of your life would be? Slinging drinks, small talk with coworkers and bar patrons, waiting for the next time Nate would walk in through the doors like some yearning wife waiting for her husband to return from war?

Besides, you weren't going to be able from Hancock in his own fucking town, not for long.

You shut your eyes, feeling the phantom weight of a gun in your hands.

"Fuck. Fine."

The smile on Nate's face was like a kid's at Christmas.

"Great! I'll meet you at the front entrance in..." He glanced down at his pip-boy, "Thirty minutes?"

"Okay."

And he was off, leaving you standing in your doorway, blinking at nothing wondering what the fuck you'd agreed to.

Under your bed there were some loose floorboards you'd been using to store the important things. Your spare caps, your vault suit and pip-boy, your 10mm pistol and your combat shotgun. The former was familiar to you, used centuries ago in a war no one understood anymore. You'd grabbed it on your stumbling way out of the vault, and it was a good thing to or you would have gotten gored by some very territorial mole rats before even making it to a settlement. The shotgun had been stolen, in your trek to downtown Boston, taken off a raider you'd knocked out with a lead pipe. He'd clearly made some adjustments to it, with a hair trigger, less recoil than expected and a scope you'd never needed to use. You'd been meaning to sell it since you'd gotten in, but it had ended up in the floorboards where you'd simply hoped it would stay unless you were strapped for cash.

A knapsack was quickly filled with everything you needed, a change of clothes, a portable water purifier, all the food that would go to waste if you didn't take it with you. You tucked some spare caps into a hidden inside pocket, wrapping them in cloth to keep them from rattling. Your spare 10mm ammo, a few packs of cigarettes, a lighter, a flashlight.

The pistol was strapped into a thigh holster, a gun belt held your shotgun rounds. The shotgun went around your shoulder. They felt heavier than you remembered them being, their weight an oppressive reminder with every step you took out of your apartment. You'd need to let Charlie know you wouldn't be in for a while, and you'd need to stop by KL-E-0's for some spare parts. Easy enough, it was just the matter of avoiding certain tricorn-hat wearing mayors.

You kept your head down as you made your way through the street. You cut a more imposing figure with your armor, with the glint of weapons. People moved out of your way as you jogged towards the Third Rail, sliding in through the door like a mouse darting into its burrow.

You rattled like a tin can chime as you walked down the steps to the bar, announcing your approach before you could be seen, a cat with a bell. You were skittish, pausing at the last step to peek into the lounge, trying to spot a red coat, a familiar smile. Coast was clear.

"That the new uniform, then?" Charlie's voice nearly sent you flying, a squeak leaving you as the Mr. Handy suddenly appeared in view. The three eyes didn't exactly convey emotion well, but you could hear the dry amusement in his tone, maybe a hint of judgement.

"No, I uh–" You shook yourself, loosening the cotton in your brain, "Nate asked me to accompany him on a mission. Shouldn't take more than a week."

"Seven days and I'll file a missing person's report." Dry, dry, dry.

"Right," You breathed, gripping the banister like a life line, "Right. I appreciate the uh– The thought, Charlie. I'll see you around." Saliva filled your mouth, and you had a second to panic about throwing up on the floor as your stomach rolled, before the feeling faded.

Charlie didn't dignify you with a response, going right back to... whatever it was he did when the bar was closed, so you turned around, rattling right back up the stairs. First vacation in two years.

Again, you kept your head down as you walked through the alley towards Kill or Be Killed, pointedly avoiding letting your gaze slip to the Old State House, like the building itself would summon him. Something burned in your chest, not quite shame, but the next thing to it. In another life, you would've considered chewing on a baby aspirin, kept the landline in view, ready to dial 911, if you were having a heart attack. Now, though, you shrugged it off, grabbing your canteen and taking a greedy drink, washing away the cigarette taste that still lingered in your mouth.

KL-E-0 was in her usual place, piercing red eye landing on you.

"Well, don't you look dressed to kill."

You'd wondered, sometimes, if she had been especially programmed to sound so sultry, or if it was just her natural charm.

"Heading out for a while," You dug your bag of caps out of your pocket, placing it on the table as your eyes roamed over the wares available, "Think you could spare some grenades and shotgun shells?"

"Let's get you outfitted, killer."

The word left a sour taste in your mouth that had nothing to do with the cigarettes. You made it through the trade quickly, enough ammo to last you several encounters, enough grenades to get you through a couple rough spots. You left with your pockets lighter, your bandolier, pack and shoulders weighed down.

"Have fun, baby."

"Yeah, thanks, Kleo."

Nate was standing by the entrance, a respectable distance from the Neighborhood Watch, a focused frown on his face as he fiddled with his Pip-boy. He looked up when you approached, frown turning to a bright smile.

"So," you said, shouldering your gun, "Ready to head off?"

"Not quite, we're still waiting on the rest of the party. You know how he is, always fashionably late."

You didn't manage to get out your confused "Who?" Before a familiar hand was clapping Nate on the shoulder, saying, "So! Ready to get this show on the road?"

Fuck.

Notes: This is so insanely self indulgent it’s crazy, but I do hope you enjoyed at least a little <3

#fallout companions #hancock #hancock fo4 #hancock x reader #hancock x you #john hancock #john hancock x reader #fallout hancock #fo4 hancock #male sole survivor #john hancock x you #fo4 companions #fallout 4 companions #fallout imagines

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bobfloydsbabe · 1 year

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PSA FOR TOP GUN WRITERS

Earlier this evening, someone reblogged my Mob Boss Bob masterlist. Happy about this, I checked the person's blog only to discover that they are a minor, aged 13, and are blatantly disregarding the 18+ and minors dni warnings on fics, including my own.

The blog is @topgunbb – they managed to reblog an additional three of my fics individually before I blocked them. The blog is also brand new, about an hour old when I last checked.

I'm asking that you block them. Please. They are disrespecting boundaries we have put in place to protect ourselves and others. I'm tagging a bunch of people below the cut, but please, reblog to spread the word. This is not okay.

TAGGING RELEVANT PEOPLE: @sebsxphia, @withahappyrefrain, @mothdruid, @yanna-banana, @rhettabbotts, @lewmagoo, @bradshawsbitch, @bradshawsbaby, @seresinsweetie, @wkndwlff, @sylviebell, @blue-aconite, @delopsia, @roosters-girl, @rooster-84, @thedroneranger, @cherrycola27, @desert-fern, @teacupsandtopgun, @rae-gar-targaryen, @joaquinwhorres, @veetlegeuse, @mxgyver, @wicked-remarks, @ryebecca, @writercole, @roosterbruiser, @roosterforme, @ohtobeleah, @callsign-magnolia, @topguncortez, @fanboygarcia

#helena rants #top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #mickey fanboy garcia #javy coyote machado #reuben payback fitch #bob floyd #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #natasha trace #minors begone debacle #minors begone

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rae-gar-targaryen · 1 year

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a thousand assumptions [tommy miller x fem!reader -- preview]

pairing: tommy miller x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni (this preview is safe)

Just a sneak peek. Full fic coming soon. Below the cutttt

✨ Let me know if you want a tag! ✨

“Your favorite flowers are magnolia blooms.”

You shake your head, allowing the feel of the sheet to softly scrape along the side of your cheek as you did so, gazing up through your lashes at the man above you. Placing all of his weight onto his one arm so that his other hand can caress your cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb a different kind of delightful scrape along your skin – a gentle, pleasurable rasp.

“No?” He asks, seeking assurance that you were the one mistaken, and not him.

Tommy Miller is nothing if not assured, the military breeding into him a kind of self-possession that the Fireflies have since affirmed.

“No,” you confirm, your lips curling into a half-smile as you allow Tommy to continue to caress your cheek. Not so keen to be seen in his eyes as favoring such a symbol for purity as a magnolia flower, not when the world was like this. “Though I remember reading once that magnolias were basically prehistoric. Cool, right? Still, not my favourite ... so, my turn.”

You prop up to peck at his lips before settling back down onto the mattress, eyeing Tommy as though he were prey.

“Do your worst,” Tommy purrs, skimming his hand down your cheek down and over your throat, pausing there to feel the evenness of your next breath, the smooth roll of your swallow – before continuing down and allowing the warmth of his palm to seep into the skin of your hip. His eyes sparkling and smiling at your form, roving you lazily with all the darkness and depth of slow-drip coffee. Something to be savored.

Moments like this were rare at the end of the world.

“Hmmm,” you ponder, allowing your eyes to roll over the man before you like a wave – washing over inky, obsidian curls that you had swept from his face with feverish fingers and totalitarian tugging, stuck at odd angles as a result of your passionate attention. Taking in the broad sweep of his shoulders and the expanse of warm, coppered skin littered with freckles like cocoa powder and the silvery crescent moons of nicks and scars, seemingly in equal measure.

You paused to savor the scars. Whether they were the result of his time in the military, an ill-advised barfight from the world before, or from a much-less savory present, you weren’t sure. And far be it from you to ask.

Tapping your chin as though deep in thought while you allowed yourself to savor his beauty in the creeping burnt-orange light of the rising morning, a stolen memory within a stolen moment.

Tommy, clearly having grown tired of waiting for you to provide your guess, sweeps over you fully now, pressing his lips to your neck, dotting the column of your throat with feverish kisses, imagining – or maybe he didn’t have to – the stutter in your already-fluttering pulse as he draws the bridge of his nose over the tender skin of your shoulder.

“No, no!" You squeal, urging Tommy to pause his amorous assault. "Wait, I’ve got it,” you announce, your fingers tangling in his curls once more and pulling him from your skin. Your eyes meeting his honeydrip ones while you deliver your answer, cupping his cheeks and locking your gaze with his. “You’re a younger sibling.”

And it’s a bold assumption to make, to phrase it in the present tense. Glaringly bold to assume that if he does have an older sibling, they’re still alive.

But you can’t take the words back once they’ve left your lips.

Tommy is silent for a moment, his eyes casting down to gaze unseeingly at the peaks of your collarbones before blinking and holding your gaze once more, the swirl of honey in them still glinting at you teasingly – your game still apparently intact. Lilting and loving.

“And how d’ya figure?” he presses, his lips curled into something that might be a smile – if it wasn’t so wistful.

“Your skin, here,” you release his jaw from your hold to allow the thumbs of each hand to trace the thin, fine-lined skin along the outsides of his eyes. “You have crow’s feet. But no lines here …” Your right thumb gently traces along the skin of his forehead between his eyebrows. “You’re someone who's laughed a lot, but not much stress. No frowning. No fretting. Just like a younger sibling – No cares in the world when you’ve got someone else to do your worrying. To look out for you."

Tommy is silent as you finish. You drop your hand from his face, resting it along your own skin as you figure his gaze, worrying your lower lip between your teeth as you figure you may have overstepped. May have ruined your little game.

A game you’ve played how many times now?

Something like "Twenty Questions" that’s become more like … "A Thousand Assumptions." Somewhere between spilling information from your lips and into his ears – the ears of the Fireflies, did you find yourself in Tommy’s arms. And then in his bed. Spilling other kinds of secrets, acknowledging truths about yourself in the guise of a game. A game where one of you would make an assumption that the other would have to confirm. A dangerous thing, to allow someone to know you in this climate.

And if you'd overstepped, it was a secret Tommy wasn't letting you in on.

His eyes followed the trail of his hand, from your throat back to your chin. His thumb finding your lower lip, tugging it loose from between your teeth, eyes following the plush of your flushed lip, his eyes dancing with mirth and want.

"Smart girl," Tommy rumbles. "You want your prize, sweet thing?"

Tommy surges forward, capturing your covered lower lip between his own, a means to swallow you whole with clandestine kisses and feverish longing. It's not as though he could give you forever. But he could give you this.

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tlou fic #fic preview #upcoming fic #gabriel luna #tommy miller imagine #tlou hbo #tlou imagine #tlou #tommy miller

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dadbodbuck · 4 months

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tell me bout all your wips

yippee!!!

ok in order from "front burner" to "back burner" (an arbitrary decision that changes all the time and does not mean anything for publishing timeframe):

- buck 1.0/begins tommy: i've posted about this, i mess with the timeline a bit and tommy is buck's mentor through his probie term. they have nasty toxic workplace sex that makes them both worse. tagged with "fic tag: closet case/1.0". current title is "fuck my face, closet case"

- eddie breakdown fic: eddie has a breakdown after chris leaves and attempts suicide. it's a really angsty fic but with a happy ending because i can't do MCD. also a flagrant attempt for me to process having a mentally ill father through christopher. current title is "all your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand"

- eviller doug au: another REALLY dark fic where doug grooms buck when he's a teenager (14-17) which is also a trauma processing fic for me (don't ask why i have 2 trauma processing fics so far up the front of this list i've had a bad month). current title is "HONEY, I'M HOME"

- old school kidfic: the 118 get Blasted With Lasers and it temporarily de-ages them physically and mentally by ~25 years. bobby is ~33, hen and chim are both ~15, eddie is 11, buck is 6

- ecologist!buck au: MY BABY MY BELOVED MY DEAREST. based in my own personal experiences as an ecologist. buck moves in next to eddie and starts turning his house into an ecologists paradise, chris takes immediate interest, eddie is sexually repressed about the hot smart beefy sweaty man next door who keeps adopting busted up animals. maddie is also a marine biologist and there's an extensive b plot about madney falling in love via maddie helping chim overcome his fear of animals. and there's also a lobster heist. tommy guest stars as a wildlife rehabilitater. working title is "kitchen table ecology" snip uploaded before i started my fic tagging system :(

- maddie single mom au: maddie stays with doug a little longer and gets pregnant, she leaves him ~2020 instead of ~2019 and is one of the women from the mudslide house. madney-centric

- eddie adopts a cat: exactly what it says on the box. set during the eddie breakdown era. one snip uploaded under "fic tag: magnolia"

honorable mention: the buddie qpr fic that's currently 75% uploaded and i went 2 years without updating i'm so sorry to everyone who's enjoyed that fic so far i promise it'll get done at some point 💀

EVEN THESE ARE NOT ALL MY WIPS THESE ARE JUST THE ONES WITH MORE THAN A FEW PAGES WRITTEN

#hi everyone who followed for the 3 posts that broke containment i'm fucking insane by the way #asks #jordan 🥰#fic tag: closet case/1.0 #fic tag: magnolia #fic tag: kitchen table ecology #fic tag: honey i'm home #fic tag: letters in the sand #fic tag: old school kidfic

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magnoliasforyourmedic · 18 days

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Ok but Gene picking up a dropped firearm and using it in order to protect one or several of his boys who are wounded. He makes sure his boys are okay and stable before running over to the German to try and save him, but ultimately fails. Of course he’s all sorts of bent out of shape about it because he hates all the killing now that he’s seen what it does to people.

#magnolias for doc #<- my tag for drabbles and ideas #eugene roe #band of brothers #doc roe #fic ideas

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daydadahlias · 1 year

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JESS THOSE LAST TWO PARAGRAPHS WERE MEAN!!!!

No but I absolutely ADORED this chapter. I just want to adopt MIM ash because of how sweet he is. Ashton just ogling Calum while he’s getting his make up done was so sweet and charming. And when he was clinging to him in the store!!! There’s just so much to unpack.

Sweet angel baby Calum always checking in that he wasn’t making ash uncomfortable at all was so adorable. Now he’s gonna be all emo because he has a date and is so down bad 🥺.

Also loved that Mali made an appearance! There’s so much I just loved about this update that I can’t put everything into words but I’m so excited for the next update.

I like to add drama 💙

I’m so glad you enjoyed the update!!! If there’s one thing I love to write, it’s some mutual pining ☺️

Cal is a sweet little guy 💙 he’s doing his best

Thank you so so much, I’m so glad!!!

#I was excited to include Mali #I didn’t get to tag her bc I ran out of tags lmfao #pigeon #anon #there’s too many tags on this damn fic #I think the last two paragraphs were really sweet 💙#jumpscare #MiM spoilers #made in magnolia spoilers

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queerdiazs · 7 months

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writing patterns 🫧

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

in the meantime | 2.3k, teen

“You should take him on a vacation when he gets out,” Athena says, nudging her shoulder with his. “It’ll be nice.”

i am just a fool, but i have loved you all along | 5.1k, teen

At 10:17 in the morning, Buck barges through the front door unannounced. He has an impressive load of shit in his hands—boxed candies and chocolate-covered strawberries and two stuffed animals and a massive bouquet of magnolias and yellow daises packed in a gorgeous glass vase.

like a cat in the rain | 4.6k, teen

A ricocheting clap of thunder wakes Buck up from a deep, dreamless sleep. He startles, shaking in a shot of terror at the sudden noise, and nearly falls off the couch as he flails in an attempt to gather his bearings.

he's a big boy | 5.7k, explicit

The best thing about being married to Buck is that Eddie finally has somebody to carry the forty pound bags of mulch to the backyard when he doesn’t want to.

what to do when evan buckley breaks into your house at 3:17 in the morning | 2.9k, teen

A sharp, resounding noise wakes Eddie up from a messy, sweaty sleep. He snorts, coughs, snorts again, and rolls over to check the time on the alarm clock with one crusty eye open.

the house i built is burning | 6.4k, mature

Giggling, drunk on champagne and Buck’s fingers shoved up under his shirt, Eddie kisses his way along Buck’s throat, behind Buck’s ear, and whispers, “D’you know we haven’t fucked since last year?”

deck the halls (and your in-laws) | 29.6k, mature

Four days before Christmas Eve, Ramon and Helena Diaz arrive at LAX at two-thirty in the afternoon.

and i feel just like i want to kiss you underneath my mistletoe | 9.3k, teen

“So, you’re telling me,” Ravi starts in, all wide-eyed and giggly like he’s been given a secret he can’t wait to share, “that you’ve never kissed anyone under a mistletoe? Ever?”

merle said mama tried, but the prison still won | 2.9k, teen

Eddie would like to preface this by saying he considers himself to be a kind, mature, intelligent, thoughtful man who tries his utmost best to meet people in the middle whenever an aggravating situation arises.

there you are, sweetheart | 2.9k, teen

Exhausted, worn all the way down to the bone, Eddie stumbles into the house and kicks the door shut with the heel of his boot. He’s loud about it, too, stomping and huffing and tossing his bag on the floor like he used to as a teenager after baseball practice; he’ll pick it up later just like he’ll sweep up the mud from his boots, too, but after.

oooh, i found a few patterns doing this, lmao, and those are: 1. turnpike lyrics as titles 2. putting mr eddie and his boy buck thru it 3. i am the King of Silly Eddie 4. i was accidentally in the holiday spirit

tagged by @actualalligator, @puppyboybuckley, @wikiangela, @honestlydarkprincess, @devirnis, @jeeyuns, and @exhuastedpigeon, mwah

tagging @monsterrae1, @loserdiaz, @wildlife4life, @watchyourbuck, @rogerzsteven, and @thewolvesof1998 if any of you wanna play!

#cackling at all of this silly stuff #can't wait to return to this mindset ugh #tag games

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lewmagoo · 11 months

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christmas is my absolute favorite time of year, and i thought it would be fun to host a writing celebration to get into the festive spirit! 🎄

RULES:

use the tag #a lew magoo christmas

must be 18+ to join

choose from one of the songs below and use it as inspiration to write a one shot about one of lew's characters (listed below)

it doesn't just have to be writing; moodboards are also more than welcome!

send me an ask with your song and character choice; limit to one song per writer; if two people request the same song, i will permit it as long as you are writing about different characters. no more than two fics per song

tag or message me when you post your submission so i can read and reblog it!

please have your submissions posted on or before december 24th

if you do not celebrate christmas but would still like to participate, winter themed submissions are also permitted

CHARACTERS YOU MAY CHOOSE FROM:

bob floyd

rhett abbott

miles miller

calvin evans

harrison knott

SONGS:

a marshmallow world - dean martin (harrison | @seresinsbrat ; read it here!)

step into christmas - elton john (bob | @attapullman ; read it here!)

sleigh ride - harry connick jr (rhett | @delopsia ; read it here!)

all i want for christmas is you - vince vance and the valiants (rhett | @floydsmuse ; read it here!)

what christmas means to me - stevie wonder (bob | @bradshawsbaby ; read it here!)

believe - josh groban (miles | @auroralightsthesky ; read it here!)

merry christmas darling - the carpenters (rhett | @whisperofsong ; read it here!)

christmas (baby please come home) - darlene love (rhett | @callsignspark ; read it here!)

please come home for christmas - eagles (rhett | @mikpieboo) (bob | @nerdgirljen ; read it here!)

let it snow! - dean martin (rhett | @bobfloydsbabe ; read it here!) (bob | @ryebecca ; see the moodboard here!)

white christmas - bing crosby (bob | @dulcewrites ; read it here!) (rhett | @rhettabbotts)

it's christmas time for everyone (but me) - buck owens (rhett | @sebsxphia ; see the moodboard here!)

like it's christmas - the jonas brothers (bob | @roostersgirlfrxend)

winter wonderland - bing crosby (rhett | @luminousnotmatter)

blue christmas - dean martin (bob | @damrlova)

last christmas - wham! (rhett | @callsign-magnolia) (bob | @sunlightmurdock)

please reblog this for anyone who might be interested! merry christmas to all, i can't wait to see what you come up with!

#a lew magoo christmas #lewis pullman #bob floyd #rhett abbott #calvin evans #miles miller #harrison knott

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meadowziplines · 25 days

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wip ask game

tagged by @cuubism :)

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

ok so here's the main issue is that i have like ten wip folders and nine hundred wips so i'm just gonna pick a few wip folders

sandman

10. (wip) proposal + shenanigans + wedding

cemeteries of amalo au

chronically ill dream wingfic???

cold weather ow + ableist asshole doctors

damsel in distress + self-rescuing princess (4+1)

olympics au

the old lie

untitled document

intake pt 2 (outtakes)

death/johanna meet-ugly

trans dream abortion fic

october daye series

chelsea at university

ficlets

magnolia smoke

merlin cliff

rue the daye

qualified to speak of honor

cemeteries of amalo

untitled document

tagging (optionally) @karalynlovescake, @tryan-a-bex, @lenreli, and @lostelfwriting (and anyone who wants to!)

#tag games #ask meme #wip ask game #meadow writes #my fic #the sandman #the sandman (netflix)#dream of the endless #dreamling #october daye #october daye series #cemeteries of amalo

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taomyou · 2 months

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The Affections of an Architect - Chapter 5

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: ONGOING, inconsistent updates Summary: There’s a woman Levi sees every Friday on bus 143, and he thinks she’s really cute. It wouldn’t hurt to keep a paper star from her, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and he falls in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to design the architecture of his dreams. Word Count: 6.9k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking, levi pov (A/N: this fic is available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead! The Affections of an Architect is a spin-off of The Romance of Reimbursements, but can be read as a standalone if preferred. They are the same story, but The Affections of an Architect is written entirely in Levi's POV. The Romance of Reimbursements is already completed, and The Affections of an Architect is currently a side-project that will be updated infrequently.) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

our bus

“I’m driving, what do you want?”

“What?” Hange singsongs. “Can’t I just call my favorite architect friend?”

“I’m your only architect friend. I’d say Shadis barely counts, seeing as you-”

“Don’t you bring that up with me! I don’t know who started that joke that I had a crush on him,” it was Isabel, but, to be fair, she was, like, 15 at the time, “but I just thought Keith was cool! And that was way back in college!”

Levi knows that, but he rolls his eyes anyway.

“Okay, so what do you want?”

”Oh, I just wanted to call you for no reason.”

“Really?” His sarcasm bleeds through the line.

”Nope! No reason at all!”

Levi sighs. “I’m hanging up,” he takes a hand off the wheel to end the call from his car’s monitor, “text if you want to annoy me, I’ll look at it when I’m home.”

Hange’s voice passes through again. “Wait!”

“Fucking what?”

“I’m actually calling to ask if you’re gonna be free this weekend?”

Well, he knows where this is going.

“We’ve gone out every weekend for the last month, Four Eyes.”

“And?”

Which excuse is he going to give this time? “I have work.”

“Do you really?”

"Yes." This time, he's not lying—he has a work meeting tomorrow—but he'd still say yes regardless.

“Ok, well, we’ll only be out for a couple hours! Do it when you get home! You aren’t being paid extra to work overtime, anyway, so just come with! I was thinking that we could get dinner with, you know, the whole crew, plus my super cool neighbor-slash-best friend!”

He pauses for a second before putting his hand back on the wheel, sighing.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“Oh, come on! Who else are you gonna socialize with? That bald dude that regifted you his grandma’s tea set?”

“He’d be better company than you, holy shit.”

“Then he can come too!” Hange laughs, and they sigh happily. “You’re coming with us, capeesh?”

Levi flicks his signal on as he waits to turn into the open parking lot in front of Magnolia Floral. “I wasn't lying, I do have work. Go without me, what’s the big deal?”

“Aw, really? That sucks! Okay, next week, then!”

Levi groans, letting himself fall forward enough to tap his forehead against the top of his steering wheel. “I’m so sick of you.”

“So what I’m hearing is ‘yes, Hange, I would love to grab dinner with you and the others next weekend! Thank you so much for inviting me, and I’ll happily wait for more details?’”

“No.”

“Well, that’s what I heard. This all works out anyway, since I just remembered Astraea is staying in this weekend. I'll text you later! Buh-bye!” They hang up, and Levi lifts his head to sigh and put his focus back on the road.

Why him? Why does it have to be him?

He’s not an idiot. He knows Hange is trying to set him up with you, and so is everybody else.

He supposes that you probably can’t pick up on Erwin and Miche’s scheming because you only knew Erwin as your work superior and you’d only met Miche for the first time a few weeks ago, but it’s not lost on him at all that the two aren’t subtle at all in their unnecessary teasing and excessive play on his “positive qualities.” Erwin drops a line or two about how Levi lead the pack of them professionally, Miche casually mentions his master’s degree, and the cycle repeats while the two of them are high-fiving each other underneath the table.

(Moblit is excluded from all this because Levi knows the guy couldn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone’s dating life (save for Hange’s—it’s painfully obvious he’s liked them since that one time they kissed at some college party Levi was forced to hear the details of from Furlan) (Isabel asked for them, not him). Moblit minds his own business otherwise).

But at least those two are at least attempting the art of subtly. With Hange, they burn the canvas with a million matches and chooses to start a bigger fire elsewhere.

”Hey, did you know Levi is set to be tenured in a few years?”

”Say, doesn’t his hair look so good today?”

”Levi, why don’t you tell her what kind of car you drive?”

”Oh, didn’t you mention making, like, seven figures a year? Really, no? Is it eight now?”

It’s so juvenile, the way they try to make him out to be such an eligible bachelor, and, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating enough that he has to be out in public with them when they act like this, but also in front of you?

Yeah, no thanks.

Ugh, and, best worst of all, “oh, Levi, you go sit next to her!”

“…Why?” You’d ask. Levi's too mortified to ask himself.

“I wanna sit with Moblit, and Miche and Erwin need to be on the ends because their legs are so long!”

Levi swears Hange makes sure to choose restaurants and eateries with only booths to accommodate their party.

He doesn’t say anything about it to them right there because doesn’t want to be rude and suggest the notion that he’d rather drive off a cliff than be squished into a booth between a giant (Erwin) and someone he’s already way too nervous to be around (you), but he hopes it’s still obvious enough to you that he’s not the one orchestrating this contact, regardless of how harmless it actually is. You probably do know all of the above is Hange’s doing, since he assumes you know well enough by now that that’s just how they are, but if you’re bothered by it, you don’t mention it yourself, and it’s not obvious enough to him for it to be any outstanding issue.

Quite frankly, that’s also probably why he’s gone this far without wanting to actually drive off a cliff—the fact that you’re also being forced in the spotlight, and that he’s not entirely alone in this weird high school-esque matchmaking plot.

It certainly doesn’t matter to Hange whether or not the two of you are receptive to their teasing, but it’s good enough that Levi can share his misery with someone else. Gives him something to think about to stave off any embarrassment that’s beyond what’s normal for Hange to bring upon him, and the forced proximity is great practice for him to steel his expression during more intimate interactions. He’s gotten pretty good at it, not that you’d notice anyway since you’re in your own world sometimes, just folding paper stars while he watches and everyone else at the table complains about the drive over.

It's probably just because he’s the closest one to you, but when you’re finished with folding a few, maybe four or five, you drop them into his hand. He rolls them around, one by one, in-between his fingers, and he just nods when you smile over at him.

Totally not because he has no other idea how he’s meant to react when that happens, but yeah.

This is all fine.

He’d rather you be uninvolved entirely, but this is the next best thing.

And, well…

He supposes it’s a nice change of pace that he now has someone to talk to on the bus, even if just once a week. He did use to wonder what your company would’ve been like (….even if that was just a month ago), and while the circumstances of his formal introduction to you were less than ideal, it’s… nice to at least know your name now. There isn’t really much that you and him talk about besides what’s considered office small talk. Maybe you'll imply you've been sleeping worse or that work's been especially hard, and he'll do the same, but that's all in-between much more lighthearted dialogue about how the weather is or what your weekend plans are.

It’s very casual, but it’s cordial, and that’s more than he can say for pretty much any other conversation he has throughout the week, so that’s good enough for him.

Plus, you have pretty good decent taste in tea, so at the tip of his tongue is a question about what you’d suggest. He’s never actually asked, but maybe he’ll venture past what’s already been established as the boundaries of this routine when the two of you aren't being constantly hounded by Hange. It's just the two of you on the bus on Fridays, but there's still the ghost of awkwardness that lingers from all the embarrassment Hange brings upon them on the weekends. It'd probably be there even if Hange wasn't like that, but, for now, he's just going to blame his nerves on that.

The driver behind him honks their horn at him, and Levi sighs again as he raises his hand in apology and puts his foot back on the pedal.

Fucking, whatever. At least there’s something for him to be looking forward to for next week, even if it is just another handful of paper stars he drops into his glovebox. Not that that really beats out seeing you on the bus, but he'll deal with that thought later.

✰

Ok, so maybe it isn't the worst thing in the world that he's being forced to go out soon. He really could use something to keep him away from his laptop because it's probably going to explode from all the angry typing he'd bound to do soon, all things considered.

Ugh, winter semester has barely even started, and there's already so many things irritating him. It's not even like it's his fault.

He spent all of winter break prepping for the new term, making sure to correct all his mistakes from fall semester, but there's a whole new plethora of problems that arise now that he's actually trying to settle into the groove of things. He was beating himself up already with the pacing of his class (which he still does, but he'd spent the last month trying to get back everyone back on track to pass, so he feels better about that now), but as the semester's progressed, he's come to realize that these problems aren't even his doing.

Annie, one of his teaching assistants, had emailed him earlier in the week to meet today before class, and she told him that, apparently, the department decided that it was a great idea to schedule all the core architectural classes at the same exact same times on the exact same days, and that's why so many students don't show up half the time and why the rest can barely keep up, even if Levi was moving slight above pace for the first couple of sessions.

He doesn't even smoke, but as the words pass through her lips and she expresses her frustration and thinly-veiled contempt, he wants to bolt to the nearest smoke shop and get a pack of cigarettes to burn through. Annie leaves after Levi reassures her that he'd figure this all out and to relay that message amongst the other TAs, but now, as he walks back from yet another lecture with half the seats empty, he can't stop himself from sighing as he keeps his arms crossed on his walk over to the bus stop.

Seriously, what kind of fucking idiot thought that would be a good idea? He wouldn't have bothered blaming his students for double-booking courses since it's not exactly easy to get a schedule put together in the first place, but, now, he can't even if he wanted to.

How he's meant to remedy this problem, he's got no idea right now. None of his asshat colleagues even bother replying to his emails under any circumstances (especially Pixis), so he doubts they'll be any help even if they did ask. Not to mention the fact he has close-to-no pull with the department considering it's his first year teaching and he's technically still on professional probation, and he'd probably have a better shot at getting struck by lightning than being able to get different times made available for his classes.

His feet somehow guide the way to the bus stop without him really putting much thought into it, and as he goes to tap his fare against the scanner, he thinks to himself that maybe today's meant to be the day that he actually talks about something other than the weather with you. Work's never really been something Levi's found much enjoyment in talking about with others, since he's always considered his work and his private life to be very separate, and, well, private, but, all things considered, he think you'd listen without judging him.

Besides, you're a part of the bridge's journey between work and his private life, and no doubt that you have your own complaints about your day. Maybe it'd be a nice offer of comradery for his fellow subject of entertainment.

He finds his usual seat on the right, facing the sidewalk, and he slings off his backpack to put onto the spot next to him. He'd thought it was a bit much for him to him have done it last week, considering that he really doesn't need to (that one day in January was an exception), but there's no ulterior motive to it; it's just a gesture meant for himself since he moves the backpack onto his lap when the bus approaches your stop.

He'll just call it a force of habit, or something like that. He doesn't know the exact phrase he'd use, but that's hardly relevant when he'd never admit to doing something like this to literally anyone.

The bus starts back up again, and Levi tips his head back against to top of the seat to stare at the overhead lights and the route map sticker pasted above the windows. His eyes follow the red line connecting all the stops, back and forth, because it's a hell of a lot easier than accidentally letting his thoughts linger on the shitfest that is his teaching career right now, and the gentle hum of the engine combined with the rock of his seat keep his other senses occupied. He looks out at the street view in his peripherals to see if the bus has miraculously moved fast enough to get to your stop before all the other ones that come before it, but that's more of him just trying to waste enough time for you to get on.

His fifteenth time following the red string, the bus where it's meant to catch you, and Levi scrambles to move his backpack off of your seat. He holds it up by its lifting handle and gently holds its side to shake off any dust that's caught on the bottom of it, then placing it on his lap before cautiously looking out towards the front of the bus where the scanning machine is. His hands have learned to not show his nervousness anymore after having to hold them out to you so often, but he tries his best to not let it show on his face. He leans forward slightly to see because there's a few stanchions blocking his vision of the front, and he rests his chin atop his bag.

The first person that comes on isn't you, but Levi thought it could've been because the light reflecting off their watch is like the one that comes from the the clasp of your briefcase. The second person that comes on isn't you, but Levi swears it might be because the tap of their shoes on the upwards stairs are like the clicks of your flats. And the third person. And the fourth person. And the fifth person. After eight people get on the bus and are squared away in their seats or standing and holding the railing, the doors close, and the engine starts back up again, the seat to his right still unoccupied.

Levi has to blink to really make sure he hadn't missed seeing you sit down next to him. He can hear the jingle of his bird keychain as the bus starts and stops, so his ears work; he hadn't missed your greetings to the driver. He looks back up at the red line chart and through the window to make sure it'd stopped exactly where it's meant to catch you, and it did.

Huh.

It's probably just the break in routine that's getting to him, but his face falls slightly. He slumps back in his seat, moving his bangs out of his face, and he sighs as he lets the weight of his backpack settle further back onto him.

Like a rolodex, his mind riffles through all the possible explanations as to why you aren't here, cards flipping mechanically and without rest.

Are you stuck in the office? Did you get off early? Did you decide to try out a new line to get home? Is he the one that's on the wrong bus? Did you take your car to work today? Did you decide you were getting sick of having to see him so often?

The actual answer could be more important to him if he had any semblance of entitlement for your thoughts, but he doesn't, so the reason why you're not here isn't important either. The two of you hardly know each other beyond formalities and half-truths that're probably more fiction than not, and while, yes, he isn't repulsed by your existence like he is most other people, that's not enough reason for him to really have that be any of his business.

Still, he thinks he cares is curious enough for it to not be that weird if he were to text you and ask if you weren't going to be on the bus at all today.

Maybe something happened to you? There's no harm in looking out for someone who's, at the very least, a frequent acquaintance, right?

Looking over at the empty seat next to him, he concludes that he is right; it really would be okay. He wouldn't mind if you'd done the same if you were in his position, or more since he'd think you're more forthcoming with your friendship than he is. You've already exchanged numbers anyway, even if neither of you use it, so it's not like he's really having to go out of his way to contact you.

Think of it as a premature gesture to reassure you that his opinion of you hasn't been tainted by Hange's ramblings about your (definitely inflated) salary and whatever else they want to lie about.

He moves his backpack back onto your seat so he can stand briefly to get his phone from his back pocket, and he rests his right elbow on the plush of his bag as he pulls up your contact on his phone. He drums his nails against its side as he ponders what to text, but it's not all that hard when it's straightforward enough.

Not taking the bus today?

That's casual enough. Not demanding of any further answers, not too small-talk-esque that it suggests he's only asking to get your attention for something else.

Very casual. Very simple. Very face-value.

Yeah, that's good.

He sends it as-is, and he sees the Read receipt almost immediately. No reply comes in, though, even after he waits for a minute or so, and he pockets his phone again to ignore the email notification he just got from his work account.

That's kinda embarrassing, but whatever.

It's probably better, then, that you're not on the bus today. He can't imagine how boring he would've been to you, talking about his work, and how inconsiderate it probably would've been if he just sprung that on you. He imagines the most likely reason you're not here is that you're caught up in the office, and that combined with the bags underneath your eyes that he's noticed over the past couple of weeks means you probably have your own share of hardship at work too. He wouldn't ever comment on it, but it's best left unsaid anyway.

He sighs as he crosses his arms and tips his head down to wait out the rest of the ride. He'd go to sleep if he could, but a thirty-minute nap hardly sounds appealing anyway with all the bumps and breaks of the ride. His mind just focuses on the abrupt starts and stops, and because there's so many and they're so inconsistent, he's very easily able to just force time to pass that way and, sooner rather than later, he's at his stop, and he boards off after raising his hand in thanks to the driver through the rear mirror.

On her way out the house this morning, Isabel mentioned that her evening class was cancelled for the day (basically asking if Levi could take her home after her afternoon shift), so after he slings his backpack onto both shoulders, he heads over to the floral shop to go fetch her. She should be wrapping up by the end of the hour, but Levi's fine just waiting in his car 'til she's done. As he approaches it, he rolls his eyes at the display that's been put up in the storefront window.

Gaudy, obnoxious red roses in (quite frankly, kinda ugly) vases line the bottom, and hearts are drawn over the glass in all the cheesy romantic colors. Heart balloons with corny pick-up lines and red animals are floating at the sides of the display, and Levi can see more of them lingering at the back of the shop. There's a holiday banner hung at the top of the window and there's lights strung beneath it, and Levi cringes to himself as he takes it all in. He'd already been acutely aware that Valentine's Day was coming up because several students have asked for extensions on their projects that're due by then, but, now, it's like he's being forced to remember.

No doubt that this is all Isabel's handiwork because none of this was up when he parked his car here in the morning. The elder Magnolias have no trouble with subtly and they already had a Valentine's Day display set up with some teddy bears and their usual assortment of roses at the front, but their daughter probably just wanted to make a bigger deal out of it and redid it herself. Probably told them that it'd be better for business if lonely businessmen were to be reminded of the upcoming romantic holiday (even though any respectable husband would've remembered regardless, and the less-than-respectable ones would just go to the grocery store just a few feet away for shittier flowers instead).

Levi looks over his shoulders to check that there's nobody around (because the last thing he wants people to think is that he buys into this romantic bullshit), and he opens the door to the shop to go check on Isabel. The bell rings as he steps inside, and he scans the store quickly to look for her, and he spots her at the counter where she usually is, her back turned.

"Isabel, do you need a ride back toda-"

And, mid-sentence, he makes eye contact with a very familiar face.

You sheepishly wave from where you are, right at the counter. "Hey, Levi."

He pauses, blinking.

What're you doing here?

He makes his way closer to where you and Isabel are, his eyes looking anywhere but you. They land on the countertop, where, now that he's closer, he can see that Isabel's assembling a bouquet.

Isabel turns around, and she waves at him in greeting. "Nah, I'm good. I was gonna go to the movies after my shift's over." Levi nods, and his eyes drift back awkwardly to you. "Oh, yeah!" Isabel continues, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You bastard, she told me you guys made the tarts! Why didn't you just tell me that? Me and Furlan have been looking all over Yelp to try and find them, and you just let us struggle!"

Levi rolls his eyes. Seriously, that's what she's mad about? "Because, if I told you, you'd force me to make them for you."

"Damn straight I would!" Isabel whines while grabbing some more floral accessories. "You don't even know how to bake! Is that why some of them were so ugly?"

To his right, you laugh, looking away from the pair to hide your smile. Levi holds his breath for a second to steel his face because he already can feel blood rushing to his face.

"Yeah, Levi, why were they so ugly?" You tease.

"Good one!" Isabel laughs, the sound just a bit louder than the crinkle of the floral wrapping paper that she's assembled around the bouquet. She tilts it up to show it to you, and she waits as you get closer to look at it. "How do you like it?"

Is it yours?

"It's perfect! Thank you so much!"

Levi stands where he is as you and Isabel drift over to the register, but your eyes float back to his once you're there.

Again, he steels his face. He can't be too sure he doesn't turn red if he doesn't do that.

"Why didn't you tell them where they came from?" You ask.

He shrugs, leaning back onto the counter. "Didn't want to bother you for the recipe if they asked for more." That, and he doesn't want to give off the impression that he only values your company because you can give him something tangible.

Oh, god, he's trying so hard to look nonchalant, but he's already having trouble not stealing glances over at the bouquet now sitting on the register table while Isabel punches in something into the machine there.

Red and white are the colors he spots in the assortment. No roses, but it seems Valentine-esque, doesn't it? He's not so old-fashioned to believe that any and all flowers are just for lovers, but it's the most natural assumption when Valentine's Day is less than a week away. He doesn't think Hange would encourage homewrecking, so he'll rule out the possibility that you've got a lover already, but maybe you're interested in someone else already and just waiting for Hange to get off your back so you can pursue them?

He sees you wave your hand half-heartedly, and he pulls his attention away from the flowers.

"It wouldn't be a bother," you tell him, smiling slightly.

"I don't think I could make them anyway. It was mostly you."

You roll your eyes at him, probably teasing him. "Don't sell yourself short. I could make them again for Isabel and your other friend too, you know? I don't mind."

Before he can tell you he wouldn't want to inconvenience you and pull you away from whatever free time you have outside of work and hanging out with Hange (which he assumes isn't that much time to begin with), you excuse yourself to go over to the register and pay for the flowers.

You smile at Isabel, and you bring up the bouquet to smell them before tucking them underneath your arm. "I should be leaving now, but thank you so much, Isabel! I'll be sure to get some more tarts to you, and I'll text you," and you look over at Levi now, that smile still on your face as you speak to him, "the recipe when I'm home, okay? Bye"

When you're out the door, Levi turns to glare at Isabel.

She looks back at him, eyebrow raised. "What're you looking at me like that for?" Looking between him and the door, she smirks, crossing her arms across her chest. "You want me to tell you who those flowers are for, don't you?"

Levi frowns, scrunching his nose. "What the fuck? No, I don't."

"You totally do!" Isabel laughs, uncrossing her hands to put her elbows on the register. "What, you like her? I don't blame you, she's really pretty! I have been wanting to go to a wedding lately, think you'll be having one anytime soon?"

"I don't like anyone, much less her," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And since when do you care about my dating life?"

"You don't have one for me to care about!"

He walks over to her, flicking her forehead once he's close enough. "Exactly, and that's how it's going to stay." Isabel knows by now that Levi's just messing around, so she doesn't move her hands, instead letting Levi rub at the spot with his thumb so that it doesn't hurt.

Still, that doesn't stop her from whining. "Oh, come on, Levi! I'm just teasing you!"

Levi pulls away and rolls his eyes. "You must think you're so funny."

"I do, actually," she huffs, smiling. "Okay, but, really, do you wanna know?"

Yes.

"It's none of my business."

She raises a brow. "That's not a 'no.'"

"It is."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Romeo," Isabel taunts. "Say, do you think you could give me her number? She seems really nice, and it'd be good for me to be acquainted with a lawyer, y'know? In case I get into legal trouble or something."

"You're insufferable. I'm going home," Levi groans. "And she's a family lawyer. Unless you need a divorce or custody of your kids, she's not gonna be much help." On top of giving out your personal information being a real invasive breach of privacy, he's a bit humiliated to be left on read. He's not just gonna go back and look at your contact just to be reminded of how pathetic he is.

"Still! I think she's cool, I'd wanna be friends with her! Do you think you could at least pass my number off onto her?"

"Ask Four Eyes for her number if you want it so fucking bad, I'm not doing that either."

"You're no fun," Isabel sighs. "Well, go on home. I'll be back at, like, 11 or something."

"Call me if you need a ride later, Furlan's out for drinks with his coworkers so don't get in a car with him. Or make one of your annoying ass friends drop you off, I don't care as long as you come back in one piece."

"Yes, dad, I'll make sure to wear my seatbelt too," she replies, waving him off in the direction of the door. "Now, shoo!"

"Don't need to tell me twice," he says under his breath, turning on his heel to leave.

Just before he puts his hand on the door to push it open, Isabel yells out at him again. "Wait! I actually forgot my keys today, can you or Furlan stay up to open the door when I'm back?"

"No." He already saw that she left them in the morning, though, so he fishes the obnoxious neon orange lanyard she keeps her keys on from his backpack's side pocket and throws it back to her. "But stop forgetting them. You're lucky I saw them on the couch on my way out."

She catches it before grinning at him and making a heart with her hands above her head. "You're the best, Levi! How ever can I repay my hero?"

"You can start by vacuuming the living room."

"Oh, nevermind then."

He expected as much. "Of fucking course. Anything else?"

"Well, Romeo, since you were asking, she was getting those flowers for her-"

And before she can finish her sentence, Levi is through the door and already on his way out.

✰

After getting home, getting changed into comfier clothe, and making dinner for himself (and for his housemates to eat when they get home), Levi is now at the dining table, typing an email on his laptop as he gets ready to turn in for the night.

The solution he's come up with to making sure his students don't fall behind and don't have to choose between his class and someone else's whose much less forgiving is that he's going to have to start recording his lectures and providing a separate transcript of his lessons. It's unfortunate that that's the only reliable enough option, since it's sure to lessen attendance and the department will hound him for not being strict enough to demand it, but it's the only solution Levi has that isn't going to inconvenience anyone but himself.

He has to email the technician for the lecture hall he teaches in because it doesn't have a camera and recording system hooked up, and he'll figure out what else needs to be done later. He's already done enough since having dinner—redoing his course syllabus sheets, contacting all his TAs and students and informing them of any changes, doing some preliminary grading to help take the load off his teaching staff—and a lot more to do, but, right now, all he cares about is getting settled in for the night and having a cup of tea.

After proofreading the email and making sure that he's properly listed what he needs for the class recordings to happen, he hits send and is on his way to get some water boiling. He closes his laptop and brings his phone with him to the kitchen so he can keep track of time, and he goes to the counter to grab the kettle and fill it with water.

While he's waiting for it to get full, he hears his phone go off with a text notification. Is Isabel already on her way home?

He checks it, and it's you.

Astraea - 8:56 PM

sorry i didn't get back to you earlier yeah, i had work off today to plan an intern's birthday party

...Is that who the flowers were for?

Levi mentally knocks himself for immediately assuming that they'd be for someone else for something else, but before he can do anything else about it, the water has spilled over and Levi has to frantically move it out from under the spout and put the kettle on the counter. He goes to grab a kitchen towel to clean up the spill, and he frowns as he goes to pick up the now-wet fabric and put it in the laundry bin in the washroom. Coming back to the kitchen, he plugs in the kettle and turns it on. While he's doing that, his phone goes off again, but it

When he comes back, there's another text from you. This time, it's a picture from what looks like a handwritten recipe book.

Astraea - 9:03 PM

here's the recipe! sorry, my handwriting's kind of garbage

Clicking on the picture and zooming in, it really doesn't. It's fine enough to read, all the numbers clear and written distinctly. The two-page layout is spotted at the edges with what looks like flour residue and earmarked, but it looks like all the other pages in this recipe book are too. It seems well-loved.

Levi - 9:07 PM

No need to be sorry I was just worried you missed our bus

Is that the right word to use? Worried? The word feels a bit too... intimate, but Levi thinks it's the truth; he was worried something had happened to you, even if he knew he wasn't entitled to know what that was.

Looking at the text again now that it's sent, his face falls when he reads that he'd written out "our bus."

He puts his phone face-down on the counter and runs his hands down his face, groaning.

Why the fuck did he do that? Sure, he considers seeing you there every week part of his routine, but that doesn't mean he entirely associates it with you. He doesn't own the bus, neither do you, so what the fuck was he thinking, call it our bus?

Okay, okay, he can save this. Hange, in their infinite wisdom, would suggest making a joke, and even though Levi doesn't quite listen to their advice, that seems like the appropriate thing to do now.

Levi picks up his phone again.

Levi - 9:09 PM

And I'm a professor, do you think I can't handle some messy handwriting?

He waits impatiently when he sees you typing back a response near immediately, but a breath of relief passes through his lips when you don't say anything about his text about our bus.

Astraea - 9:10 PM

i said nothing of the sort! but is it really that messy?

Levi - 9:10 PM

I can read it just fine Thank you for sending it

He's not entirely sure he's going to be making use of it anytime soon, but it'll be nice to have if he needs to get Isabel to clean her bathroom or get Furlan to grab dinner on his way home when Levi's took lazy to cook.

Astraea - 9:11 PM

yeah, of course! let me know if you need help with any of it

Levi - 9:12 PM

I definitely will need it

Astraea - 9:13 PM

i can also make them for you guys i really don't mind

Levi frowns slightly. Of all the half-truths Hange tells him about you to get him interested in you, the one he finds the most true is that you're much too kind and forthgiving with your time.

Levi - 9:13 PM

You barely have time to sleep

Astraea - 9:14 PM

and how do you know that?

Levi - 9:14 PM

You look more tired nowadays

Astraea - 9:14 PM

that noticeable?

Levi - 9:15 PM

Yeah, no offense

Fuck, why the fuck did he say that? It isn't that hard to keep his mouth shut about it, but it's not really like he's lying or exaggerating. He groans again as he puts down his phone, this time, face-up, and he hears that the kettle beeps. As he goes to grab a teacup for himself and the cannister of dandelion root tea that's about half-way empty now, he sees another text back from you.

He tips some of the tea leaves into a strainer, and he drops it into his teacup, watching as the colors bleeds into the water. In his peripheral, he reads what you'd said.

Astraea - 9:16 PM

none taken i'm in bed so i'm gonna go to sleep

That's good to hear. He'll assume that Hange's backed off on having you join any plans now that Levi isn't coming, so you can actually rest up this weekend. He sets a timer for his tea before replying to you.

Levi - 9:16 PM

Sleep well then

Astraea - 9:16 PM

you too!

There's an unfamiliar flip in his chest at the sentiment of the text—like he's about to throw up but he doesn't feel the actual dread that comes with that feeling—but he ignores it.

And maybe it's because you're already on his mind and there's already a cup brewing, but he takes a picture of the teacup as it sits alone on his countertop, and he considers for a second sending it to you so that you can see that he's making good use of what you'd given him. He attaches it, and he types out the first thing that comes to mind.

I will. See you next week

And, almost immediately, he physically cringes and deletes everything: the text, the picture, the thought of sending something like that at all. He clears all the apps active on his phone, and he haphazardly slides it across the counter to be out of reach.

What the fuck is going on with him today? He's all worked up over nothing, and it's making him act all... weird. He's a near-thirty-year old man, what the hell is he doing?

Before the tea feels like it's had enough time to steep, his phone beeps to tell him that it has. Maybe time just moves faster when he's flustered. He takes out the strainer, opening it and tapping it against the side of the compost bin, then dropping it into the sink, and he pulls the teacup closer to him.

And even though there's nobody around, before he takes a sip, he looks over both shoulders again here because, uh... he doesn't know? He thinks a robber has broken in? God forbid he's not aware of that happening if somebody had just come in and ransacked all his belongings.

It's definitely just because he's shy all-of-a-sudden, but he isn't going to be the one to admit that.

As he takes his first sip of his tea, he finds himself smiling faintly at the taste. It's become familiar, as absurd as that sounds, and regardless of how much of a mess today way, this is still a nice way for him to end his evening before having to turn in and get showered and ready for tomorrow. The citrine eventually calms his nerves, and he carries the cup with him to the couch as he watches a rerunning episode of some random cop show that pisses him off.

And as he watches the courthouse drama unfold and tips the cup all the way up to find it empty, the thought strikes him as harshly as the gavel does wood—that even without any meddling or orchestration by anyone other than the universe, he was able to see you on this particular Friday.

And that realization is kinda... nice.

Yeah, nice. It's nice that the one good thing he's looked forward to for the last, like, five months still hasn't really changed, and that he can keep that little bit of nicety to himself to enjoy.

...

God, he's going to be so fucking nervous when he sees you next week.

✰

Next Chapter - coming soon!

thank you for reading, and please consider checking out a sip of sunshine for more content from levi's pov! it's postcanon, slow burn, angst, (domestic) fluff, friends to lovers, and is a very lengthy levi character study (42k+, to be completed by the end of august)! i'd appreciate it a lot ^^

#levi x reader #tao.levi #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #levi aot #fanfiction #levi ackerman #the affections of an architect #levi pov

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