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ibijau · 1 year

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Blue Orchids pt2 / On AO3

It took a few months before the doctors of Gusu Lan deemed their sect leader stable enough to leave his seclusion. It went well enough at first, and having sect business to distract him from his health was a welcome relief, but when the time came to go at a conference and be around outsiders, it quickly prove to be more of a trial than he would have expected.

He’d known, of course, that his return would draw attention, and that there would be speculation regarding his seclusion, especially considering the coughing fits that had overtaken him during his last public appearance. Before long it was obvious that, much like the Lan doctors, other sect leaders suspected that he held unresolved feelings for either of his sworn brothers (or both, some people said). After his initial irritation on the matter, Lan Xichen soon came to the conclusion that he’d rather have people be mistaken than to let them realise the truth. One way or another he would die of the sickness, probably sooner rather than later, and he had made his peace with that. But to have the entire truth revealed, to give Nie Huaisang more reason to despise him… that could not be borne.

And Nie Huaisang, who was hosting that particular conference, already caused him enough distress as it was.

Lan Xichen had known for a long time that Nie Huaisang frequently suffered from the sickness. He always did, in an intermittent manner, or so the joke went back when Lan Xichen still had two living sworn brothers. As far as Lan Xichen knew, Nie Huaisang’s first bout of the cultivator’s disease had happened when he was no older than six, having barely started learning cultivation. It was rare for children so young to develop the sickness, rarer for them to survive it, and his family had feared they would lose him. They might have, if Nie Mingjue hadn’t forced his brother to confess to a teenage disciple on whom he’d developed a crush, before guiding him into accepting the pain that came of being rejected.

Then, less than a year later, it had happened again, and once more the year after, until before long everyone simply accepted that Nie Huaisang was quick to fall in love, and stubborn about trying to keep it a secret. Since he had grown up with it, Nie Huaisang had learned to hide his condition better than most other sick cultivators. Even Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao sometimes forgot that he was ill, until they’d catch him trying to contain his coughing. They'd immediately ask if he was taking the pills his doctors had ordered, drinking the teas they'd gifted him, if they couldn’t help him talk to whoever he loved this time, and generally fussing over him in the way he most seemed to like.

Nie Huaisang was always sick, but he'd rarely appeared unwell.

And yet the sickness must have become stronger in the months that had passed since Lan Xichen last saw Nie Huaisang. For the first time in years, he was looking truly sick in that way cultivators never did unless they had the disease, his face deathly pale except for dark bags under his eyes, as if his coughing fits prevented him from sleeping well. And he certainly coughed abundantly enough, though he managed to hide it behind his fan and was careful to carry a little box in which to spit his flowers so they remained out of view.

Lan Xichen ached to see him like that. He had spent most of his life worrying about Nie Huaisang’s health, and although their relationship was now infinitely more complicated than it had ever been, although his newfound love was tainted by all the secrets Nie Huaisang had kept from him, Lan Xichen could no more stop worrying than he could have stopped breathing.

To make it worse, Nie Huaisang hosting that conference meant he had to exert himself far more than he would have done as a guest. He’d never liked being in charge even when his health was good, and could probably have used the sickness as an excuse to avoid this, but he must have wished to prove he was a changed man from the Headshaker they had all come to know. And indeed to others he must have seemed surprisingly in control as he ensured that his guests had a pleasant time while discussing politics and cultivation, but Lan Xichen knew him enough to notice every small sign of nervousness and exhaustion. For this, as for the sickness, Lan Xichen was used to helping Nie Huaisang, and he watched with increasing unease as the first day went on and Nie Huaisang’s state worsened.

It was with some surprise that Lan Xichen discovered he was not the only one who had been paying attention to Nie Huaisang. Jiang Cheng too had been closely watching their host, up until a moment of break between the discussion and dinner during which Nie Huaisang excused himself to get changed. Although they had never been close enough to be anything more than acquaintances, Jiang Cheng chose at that moment to approach Lan Xichen and chat with him, as casually as if they did so at every conference.

“I just can’t believe he’s let it get that bad,” Jiang Cheng remarked. “You’d think he would have learned by now. Really, how does that idiot keep getting sick?”

Lan Xichen grimaced. Of course, Jiang Cheng knew about Nie Huaisang’s high susceptibility to the cultivator’s sickness, having been once the target of his affection during the time they’d studied together in the Cloud Recesses. It had been Lan Xichen who had noticed Nie Huaisang’s altered health back then and, since Nie Mingjue had been too far away to help, it had also been Lan Xichen who’d had to help Nie Huaisang confess his feelings and accept the rejection that had followed. At least Jiang Cheng had handled it better than most people did, and remained friends with Nie Huaisang for some years after that. They hadn’t drifted apart until the death of Jin Zixuan, when Jiang Cheng had become too busy to maintain old friendships.

“Jiang zongzhu, are you really in a position to judge him, when you’re sick as well?” Lan Xichen asked.

“Yes, because I’ve had my heir announced since the first petal I coughed up,” Jiang Cheng snapped. “Jiang Jinyu helps me with most of my work, he comes to conferences with me, he’s ready to take over whenever my health declines too much. I've even formally adopted him to make things more secure. But Huaisang? That idiot has been changing first disciples every few months for the past ten years, he’s refusing to marry… His sect is going to tear itself apart when he dies, and that’ll happen soon enough. I give him a year at most.”

Lan Xichen’s lungs burned at the careless mention of Nie Huaisang’s possible demise. In anticipation of a difficult day he had taken a number of pills and potions that morning so he wouldn’t end up coughing flowers where others might see, and so far they'd been enough. But thinking about losing Nie Huaisang made the flowers in his chest more powerful than any drugs. He would soon need to isolate himself and vomit the proof of a love that had caused him nothing but distress.

“I’m surprised you care whether he lives or dies,” Lan Xichen still managed to say, more bitterly than he’d intended. “I was given to understand that your friendship with Nie Huaisang was a thing of the past.”

“I care politically, not personally,” Jiang Cheng sneered. “If the Nie sect is weakened any further, every small sect around it will fight for what’s left of its territory, and we’re almost sure to have another war on our hands. If that has to happen, I’d rather it happen in a few more years, when Jin Ling’s position is more secure.” He paused, and glared at Lan Xichen. “You wouldn’t happen to know who he’s in love with this time, would you?”

“I have strong suspicions. But considering the circumstances, I no longer have the authority nor the closeness necessary to force a confession out of him, the way I’d done regarding his infatuation with you back in the days.”

“I have suspicions too,” Jiang Cheng said, and to Lan Xichen’s surprise he glanced toward Lan Wangji and his husband, who had accompanied Lan Xichen to Qinghe on the assumption that Nie Huaisang might behave better if they were there. “It’ll break whatever he has instead of a heart, if I’m right,” Jiang Cheng added, and to his credit he did sound sorry. “But it’s not like he ever had a chance, and he’s always been good at recovering.”

Lan Xichen nodded. Nie Huaisang always fell fast and hard, and he always tried to hide his feelings, but at the same time once he’d been properly rejected, he always recovered pretty fast, because by his own admission he never expected his feelings to be returned… only to soon fall in love again, to everyone’s inconvenience.

“So you also think he loves…” he hesitantly started, only to find the words impossible to say, his chest tightening at the thought.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Jiang Cheng replied. “Considering everything he’s done…”

Lan Xichen nodded once more, his throat raw from flowers that his drugs suddenly could no longer contain.

Although Nie Huaisang had been infamously sick for most of his life, it had been many years since Lan Xichen had actually seen any of the flowers that were slowly killing the other man. Not since the Sunshot Campaign, when Nie Huaisang suddenly became so much better at hiding his sickness. Lan Xichen only got to see those flowers again that night in Yunping City, when blue orchids so pale they were nearly white spilled from Nie Huaisang’s mouth as he tried to defend himself against Wei Wuxian’s accusations.

Because the flowers were not natural plants, they could change over the years, should the person they were poisoning change the object of their emotions. It was usually agreed upon that the flowers, one way or another, betrayed their carrier’s true feelings. Lan Xichen was thus coughing up mulberry flowers, his mother had choked to death on gentians, while for a long time Lan Wangji had tried to hide the little purple flowers of radishes like the ones Wei Wuxian had allegedly been growing on the Burial Mounds. Nie Huaisang, for his part, had gone through such a variety of flowers that he could have set up a shop with them.

For him to have now become overcome by blue orchids was hardly subtle. He had to have fallen for someone of the Lan clan.

If Lan Xichen had been a more hopeful man… but in all their years of acquaintance, Nie Huaisang had never shown any signs of a true preference for Lan Xichen. He’d been happy enough to be spoiled by Lan Xichen, certainly, but then again there were very few people from whom Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have accepted presents and free favours. But more to the point, for a few years between the end of the Sunshot Campaign and the death of his brother, Nie Huaisang had barely spoken to Lan Xichen at all, sometimes openly avoiding him and usually refusing to accompany his brother if he went to Gusu, especially toward the end. And although they had become closer again after losing Nie Mingjue, the fact that Nie Huaisang had never trusted Lan Xichen with the truth about that loss, the ease with which he’d used Lan Xichen to kill Jin Guangyao…

It would have been delusional to hope for love.

But that made the problem all the more puzzling because as far as Lan Xichen knew, Nie Huaisang had never shown any closeness, any interest in anyone from the Lan sect besides himself. At most he’d expressed terrified discomfort toward Lan Qiren, and a mix of fear and admiration for Lan Wangji.

That Nie Huaisang might have unresolved feelings toward Lan Qiren was something Lan Xichen still considered with great seriousness. It was not unheard of for boys to develop strong love for their teacher, even when that teacher had never been anything but stern and demanding… but in the end, Lan Xichen doubted it was the case for Nie Huaisang.

Back in the days Nie Mingjue had confided in him every time his little brother’s sickness had returned, giving Lan Xichen a good idea of Nie Huaisang’s type. The people he liked, men and women alike, needed to have a certain martial capacity (which Lan Qiren rather lacked), to fulfil certain aesthetic criteria (Lan Qiren’s beard disqualified him) and to possess a willingness to indulge Nie Huaisang when he was acting silly (which Lan Qiren had never done).

Lan Qiren did not fit Nie Huaisang’s type at all.

Lan Wangji did.

Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji weren’t friends, not exactly. Lan Xichen doubted they’d ever exchanged more than ten words at a time. But Nie Huaisang’s teenage terror of Lan Wangji had shifted over the years into a strong admiration for the other man’s dedication to helping the helpless. Meanwhile Lan Wangji, following the end of his three years of seclusion, had sometimes been willing to listen to Nie Huaisang’s tearful complaints with more patience than anyone except Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao ever showed. It was a flimsy basis to start accusing Nie Huaisang of being in love with Lan Wangji, certainly, except…

Except it was Lan Wangji whom Nie Huaisang had trusted to solve the problem posed by Nie Mingjue’s murder and dismemberment. And it was Lan Wangji’s true love who had been returned from the dead to help him with that. It was Lan Wangji alone who had profited from the ordeal of those last few months, Lan Wangji who was now happily married to a man he had loved for over half his life.

And all thanks to Nie Huaisang.

It took a certain type of personality to go to such length for the sake of love. But if Nie Huaisang could go to great extremes out of love for his deceased brother whose unjust death demanded revenge, it seemed not unlikely that he might be willing to be as ruthless in ensuring the happiness of the man he loved from a distance.

In the course of his life, Lan Xichen had occasionally envied his brother, because of the freedom he was granted, or the clemency their family had always shown him whenever he deviated from the right path.

He’d never envied him more than he did now.

“Are you and Nie Huaisang really no longer on speaking terms?” Jiang Cheng asked, calling Lan Xichen back to the conversation.

“I hope Jiang zongzhu will understand why I won’t answer that question,” Lan Xichen said with a polite smile.

“And I hope Lan zongzhu will understand why I’m going to insist,” Jiang Cheng retorted. “Aside from his brother, you’re the only person who ever got him to confess anything at all. If there’s one person who can force him to spit it out, it’s you. I don’t care how much you dislike him after everything that has happened, I just want you to consider how inconvenient it’ll be for everyone if he dies.”

It would be rather more than just inconvenient for Lan Xichen. Considering how the sickness had progressed for him, he had the nagging suspicion that he took too much after his mother in that regard. If Nie Huaisang died, Lan Xichen feared he might not survive long either.

If anything, that gave more weight to Jiang Cheng’s concerns. Qinghe Nie’s status was neither particularly high nor particularly low, and yet chaos would definitely follow its collapse. Meanwhile the Lan sect would survive even without Lan Xichen, his brother would take over leadership, but it might still lead to a difficult period as everyone adapted to the change, especially if Nie Huaisang's death had already thrown the political landscape into disarray. Of course even if there was a new war, things would sort themselves out in time. Lan Wangji could be trusted to lead Gusu Lan efficiently… but Lan Xichen couldn’t bear to think of his brother struggling by his fault.

“You’re assuming I’m the one who won’t speak to him,” Lan Xichen remarked. “If anything, don’t you think he’s the one who despises me?”

“You’re not dead,” Jiang Cheng pointed out, “and your reputation has remained as good as it ever was. If he’d hated you half as much as he hated Jin Guangyao, he’d have found a way to destroy you at the same time as he destroyed him. He’s not exactly been merciful toward his enemies so far, has he?”

“I don’t think that was kindness on his part,” Lan Xichen replied, tried to keep a smile on. “I think he merely knows how to pick his battles.”

Lan Xichen being allowed to live was just the same as Jin Ling had been allowed to live despite being the last descendant of Jin Guangshan. It did not speak of Jin Ling’s value to Nie Huaisang, but merely showed even he was not foolish enough to do anything that might turn the fearsome Sandu Shengshou against him. Sure the boy had been in dire danger a few times, but almost never at Nie Huaisang’s instigation. Even Jiang Cheng must have realised it, or he would not be thinking of saving Nie Huaisang from his own heart. In the same way, killing Lan Xichen would not have been tolerated by the Lan sect.

And besides, Nie Huaisang was trying to keep Lan Wangji happy, wasn’t he? However he personally felt about Lan Xichen, he had to know that Lan Wangji held sincere affection for his brother, and that his death would cause him great distress… and force him to give up his life of heroic wandering to instead dedicate himself to the Lan sect, which would cause even greater distress.

“If that’s how you feel, that’s your problem,” Jiang Cheng said. “But I think you're wrong. He's not nearly as clever about politics as you think, or he'd be protecting his sect's future. But even if you're right, it doesn’t change the fact that this idiot is going to die soon if nobody intervenes. If we don’t do something soon, when are we going to get another chance to force a confession out of Huaisang? Especially since he,” (he pointed at Lan Wangji and his husband), “isn’t exactly easy to drag to Qinghe. ”

Heavy flowers in the back of Lan Xichen’s throat made him want to scream that he did not want to hear the man he loved spell out his affection for his brother, that he hated the idea that he might have to console Nie Huaisang for this new heartbreak or worse, that he might not even be allowed to help him through the pain.

But those were selfish thoughts. Saving Nie Huaisang’s life mattered more than sparing Lan Xichen’s feelings.

“If you're certain it's necessary, I'll help you force a confession out of him,” Lan Xichen said, before coughing a few mulberry flowers into his hand which he quickly crushed so Jiang Cheng wouldn’t recognise them. “When should we do it?”

“Today. After dinner,” Jiang Cheng said. “The more tired he is, the less careful he’ll be.” He paused, glancing at Lan Xichen’s hand. “You have that under control, right?”

“Jiang zongzhu is very kind to ask,” Lan Xichen replied with a strained smile. “But don’t worry. Like you, I have made sure my sect will be taken care of after my death. And my state is not so dire that I might die before helping you regarding Huaisang. You do not need to concern yourself about my health.”

Jiang Cheng glared at him, but mercifully did not insist, nor did he encourage Lan Xichen to confess and get over it. But of course, if he believed that Lan Xichen was dying of love for a dead man, no confession could save him, so the advice would have been useless.

“Do whatever you want,” Jiang Cheng huffed. “You’re right, that’s not my concern. I’ll drag those two annoying lovebirds to Nie Huaisang’s apartments after dinner, try to be there before us and start preparing him for it.”

“Is it a good idea to bring them both?” Lan Xichen objected, his eyes finding again his brother and brother-in-law. Already for him who wasn’t directly affected, seeing these two together could be an unbearable reminder of the sort of happiness denied to him. But for Nie Huaisang, in love with Lan Wangji for years, perhaps for an entire decade…

“Do you think it’s possible to make him go anywhere without that annoying husband of his following?” Jiang Cheng angrily retorted. “No offence.”

“None taken. And you make a fair point. I will see you later then, with both of them.”

Jiang Cheng made a dismissive hand gesture, and without another word went to join his nephew while servants started bringing the dishes. Nie Huaisang returned around that time, dressed in a beautifully embroidered dark robe that contrasted with his pale face in a manner that would have been enchanting, had it not been so tragic. Lan Xichen felt again the same impulse that had plagued him all day of reaching out for the man who wasn’t his friend anymore and offering to help him.

While Lan Xichen fought with himself, Nie Huaisang took a seat and encouraged everyone to sit down and start eating, chatting with his neighbours, recommending this or that dish, looking animated enough that one could almost forget how unwell he had to be. Lan Xichen, unable to eat because his throat was filled with flowers that would spill before him if he dared to open his mouth, could only stare at Nie Huaisang.

In the end he had to excuse himself from the banquet, desperate to get rid of that batch of flowers choking him, and to take whatever drugs would help him control his sickness for the rest of the evening.

It promised to be a long night, but Lan Xichen would bear with it if it could save Nie Huaisang.

#if you were wondering about the fic's title then enjoy this chapter of lxc misreading the situation :D #nie huaisang #lan xichen #jiang cheng #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #xisang #blue orchids

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feelin-kinda-cocky-bmc · 1 year

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Calling all BMC Writers!

Hello fellow BMC nerds :>

If this project hasn't shown up to you yet or if you're not in the Discord server, then you probably haven't heard about this project I'm working on: Feelin' Kinda Cocky!

Feelin' Kinda Cocky is a Be More Chill dating sim/visual novel where you play as Michael, and romance one of four love interests at Middleborough high (not including secret routes and possible polyamorous routes).

This game has been in production for two years now, but is stuck in the writing phase. I just recently completed Rich's route and have just started Dustin's. Not to mention, I have a bit of early-game material for Jake and Jeremy. Between school, extracurriculars, and taking care of my mental health, it has taken me a long time to write. However, I was recently prescribed ADHD meds, which will tackle my executive dysfunction. That, combined with a lofty New Years resolution, I'm aiming to get all of the writing done before the end of 2023. ...Especially because the artists for this game have been extremely patient with me, and I want them to be able to contribute sooner rather than later. Although I might have one or both of 'em draw some stuff to make the Tumblr page look nicer-

So that's why I'm here! To looks for some likeminded writers in the BMC fandom, which I know there are many on Tumblr lmao- If you're interested in helping out, there's two options right now:

The FKC Community Idea Drop:

The FKC Community Idea Drop is a Google Doc for you to just drop your ideas down. Are there any post-Squip ideas/drabbles/scenarios/dynamics you've ever wanted to see fully realized? Well throw 'em on the doc! If your idea makes it into the game, you'll be credited by whichever name you put on the doc, because I don't believe in stealing ideas. This is a non-committal way to contribute to the game at whatever pace or frequency you want. Feel free to just go wild with whatever you wanna put on there!

Link here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/134HD8ZxBILGacL5Zg165A-mU0IX3HbQqynKuyCqctIE/edit?usp=sharing

2. Joining the FKC team

Everyone who has joined the team so far (two artists and a writer) has joined completely voluntarily, purely in an effort to bring this idea to life. I feel like this is a given, but I want to make it clear that this is not a paid job for anyone involved, including myself. Just like Be Less Single, Feelin' Kinda Cocky will be published on a website and/or on Steam for free, meaning I will make absolutely no money off this game. I just want to make a fan-game with the help of my fellow fandom nerds lol

As a writer, I'm hoping we can work collaboratively to come up with storylines, route events, and dynamics between the ships. Whether you want to work on all the routes, or just focus on one ship, I'd love to work with you! I am currently one person attempting to plan out and write four separate routes, all with three different endings if you don't include secret routes, which I will write myself regardless.

I will also say, if you want to multitask (for example, be an artist or a programmer while also being a writer), go ahead.

For the writing (and the game as a whole), I want to make it clear that I care a great deal about positive representation. And I don't mean just making cute little scenes of our favorite ships (though that is absolutely apart of the game); I mean accurately depicting things like trauma, mental illness, neurodivergency, queer experiences, relationships and friendships, so on and so forth. Not only because all the things I listed are important to me, but because they're extremely important to a lot of other people, especially within this fandom.

Now, if there are any other ways you'd want to contribute to Feelin' Kinda Cocky's development, let me know! And if you have any questions at all, my inbox is always open, and so is the Discord server (linked on this Tumblr page)!

Thank you to everyone who's been with the development so far! Hopefully, this turns out awesome when it's done :)

#bmc #be more chill #broadway #musicals #lgbt #fkc #fkc sim #feelin kinda cocky #boyf riends #expensive headphones #pins and patches #homeboys

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gaykillermoth · 4 years

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carrie and leo

#eyevrst #carrie eyevrst #leo eyevrst #ill probably draw them sooner or later #my ocs #jaypg

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vancilocs · 2 years

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persephone: i don't cry to manipulate my partner i cry for real reasons why would i ever want to look weak around him

#*partner goes on a date* but what if i overexaggerated a lil bit.#stuff in space #she has real reasons she cries and wants him around mainly nerve pain and anxiety from being cheated on #brain scrampled egg only thoughts of sims and moths #being so in love it hurts but not wanting to say it? chefs kiss delishis #not being in love anymore but still saying they are bc they can't bear the alternative? well #i need to check what codependent is defined as before i start using the word #also i found a song that fits them so ill probably draw smth sooner or later and use it as a caption #am predictable like that

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wh0rephobic · 2 years

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William that has a Plus size s/o that needs help understanding that they are sexy?

!! yes!!

i feel like in this it would start your relationship with having sex while you’re partially clothed, just to your comfort. you managed to work around william’s desire to get you completely naked, diving into his lips and demanding that you need him now!! whenever he reaches for your shirt, making him forget about it.

it’s not something you like addressing, but you knew william would probably bring it up sooner or later, especially since you two have been seeing each other for a while now.

when he does bring up though, you’re kind of quiet, trying to find the right words to explain to him that you just don’t think you have a very sexy body, that it confuses you seeing yourself naked in sexual/suggestive context because it just doesn’t feel right to you. william is utterly heartbroken.

“come on, dear you’re being ridiculous. you’re the most beautiful thing ive ever laid my eyes on!”

“will-“

“honest! ive been trying to get you naked since we first met because i think that your body is just perfect, i never want to take my eyes off of you.” he explains with his silver eyes burning into you. “if you give me the chance, ill prove it to you. let me show you how sexy you are, darling…”

so you let him strip you down. you feel oddly uncomfortable and exposed until william kisses you passionately, already hard in his pants as he drives his tongue into your mouth.

“god, you’re so hot,” he mutters against your lips, leaning you back into the mattress as he drags his hands up and down your sides.

he trails kisses down your neck, leaving hickies on your collarbones and continuing to trail kisses all the way down your body, practically moaning at the skin contact as he makes his way down between your legs. you’re watching him with parted lips and glossy eyes.

he kisses up and down your thighs, groaning. “jesus christ you’re so pretty,”

william dives in, introducing his tongue to your wet hole and making a mess of you. you’re moaning, shooting your hands down to tangle in his hair and pull him closer, if that’s even possible. he hums against your skin at the feeling of you tugging on it.

“god, y-you’re good at that-!” you gasp, grinding your hips down onto his tongue.

he truly is, pulling out every trick in the book: shaking his head, drawing shapes inside of you with his tongue, all of it. eventually, he moves your thighs with his strong arms wrapped around them so that they’re closed around his head, holding him against your core before reaching his arms up to cup your chest, kneading your plush skin and pinching at your nipples to enhance the ache between your legs.

he can tell you’re close when you squeeze his tongue, and he takes that chance to flick it back and forth against your sweet spot. your moans grow higher and higher until you finally snap, tightening your legs around his head as he eats you out through your first orgasm.

that’s right, first. william never lets you off the hook with just one.

when he comes up from between your legs, he leans over your body to start leaving love-bites, making you writhe underneath him.

“can i fuck you?” he asks, looking up at you while he sucks another hickey onto your boob. “god, please let me fuck you. i wanna feel you around me so badly,”

“yes, yes william, please fuck me!”

“okay, okay”

genuinely, he looks hazed. pupils as wide as your own, eyes raking up and down your figure to take in your beauty with a blush on his face, feeling painfully hard as he pushes inside of you and both of you moan. he doesn’t hesitate to set the pace fast and hard, gripping onto your hips to pull your body down to meet his thrusts, chasing his orgasm right off the bat.

“f-fuck, you’re so fucking hot,” he slurs. “you’re a fucking god(dess), love. i-i love your body so much. you were made for me. ah-sh-shit! ‘m gonna cum,”

#🍒 — let’s talk!#🍒 — william afton

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calpalirwin · 3 years

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I Think I Like You

Summary: Bucky falls for his best friend’s sister

A/N: I told y’all I wasn’t ready to let them go yet

Word Count: 5k

And away, and away we go!

1936

The ache in my knuckles was starting to occupy more and more of my attention as I followed Steve into the apartment complex. “So, this is home, huh?” I asked, flexing out my hands.

“Something like that,” he quipped, digging around in his pocket to produce a key, before letting us into one of the apartments.

I was about to ask what he meant by that, but stepping into the home quickly answered the question for me. There was something… acutely feminine about the place. It was tidy, much tidier than my own apartment down the block. Magazines were neatly stacked on the coffee table. In the kitchen, the counters were wiped down. And on the dining table, a vase of flowers. All subtle signs of the home containing a woman’s touch. “Oh?” I said suggestively, taking a seat on the couch.

Steve just rolled his eyes, as he sat down next to me, sighing deeply as he sunk back in the soft cushions. I looked over at him with a smirk. Alright, if he wanted to keep his secrets, he could, I decided. I also wondered if I looked half as bad as he did. His lip was split, and he was already beginning to bruise along the right side of his face. I looked down at my own hands, flexing them again. No doubt they’d bruise too. But that was about the extent of my own injuries compared to my friend.

The door clicked open behind us, and both of us swiveled our heads to look at the woman walking in, a bag of groceries in her hand, and a bag slung over her shoulder with papers all but spilling out of it. She was smartly dressed in a crisp blouse tucked into a black skirt that hugged her small frame tightly. She toed off her heels, blonde curls falling to obscure her face from my view. She didn’t seem to acknowledge my presence as she walked over to the couch, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek, her face pinching into a frown when he winced. “Oh, Steven, what did you do now?” she asked, moving to set the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, her tone suggesting that she was used to seeing the man this way. She didn’t appear to care for an answer either, as she turned out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway, returning a few moments later with a small first-aid kit. Only then did she acknowledge my presence, blue eyes sweeping over me with slight disdain. “Bringing your fights home now, huh?” she asked, tongue clicking in her cheek, as she grabbed his face, examining the damage carefully.

“We were on the same side,” he replied bluntly, sitting still for her while she cleaned up his face.

Her gaze flickered back to me, her tongue clicking again. “For being on the same side, it looks like he got out better than you did.”

“He’s a better fighter,” Steve explained with a shrug.

“And who is he exactly?”

“James Barnes, ma’am,” I told her politely. “Pleased to meet you. Wasn’t aware Steve here had a lady.”

Steve gave a bark of a scoff, “She’s not a lady.”

Her own eyes rolled. “What he meant to say was that I’m his sister. And I’m no ma’am either. It’s ‘miss,’ Mr. Barnes.”

“My apologies, miss.” I bit back my smirk. Not Steve’s lady, and not a ma’am only worked more in my favor. “And would you happen to have a name to accompany your title?”

“That would depend on who’s asking.”

“That would be me.”

“Then, that information would be classified, James.”

I chuckled, definitely toeing a fine line of getting in way over my head, and not caring the slightest bit. “Well, then, I suppose it’s only polite to ask if you prefer ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’ then.”

“From you? I’d prefer neither.” She flashed me a sweet smile, releasing Steve’s face, and snapping the first-aid kit shut. Then, she was on her feet, going back into the kitchen, and returning with two ice packs. “Might wanna ice your face and hands there, sluggers,” she said, tossing one to Steve, and the other to me. “It’ll help with the swelling.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a sister, let alone one that was a nurse, and we’ve been friends for how long now?” I questioned Steve, letting the ice pack rest across my knuckles.

“2 years. And she’s not a nurse. Just a nuisance,” he quipped, leaning his head back and placing his ice pack against his face.

“You’re the one who comes in here all bloody and bruised. So who’s the real nuisance here, dear brother?” she retorted.

“That would still be you, by a long shot. I fight bullies. You just like to fight.”

“No, I command respect. Feeble-minded men only view that as liking to fight. And you?” she asked, turning her attention to me. “Steve fights bullies. I fight for respect. What do you fight for, Mr. Barnes?”

“I fight to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, how noble,” she said, clearly not impressed with my answer.

“And half a lie,” Steve snorted. “Go on, Buck. Tell her what you do at school.”

“Buck?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A nickname,” I brushed past. “And I’m on the wrestling team. So, sure, one could make the argument that I have fighting in my DNA. But as I’ve said, I use the advantage I have in fighting to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, well maybe next time care a little quicker about my brother, yes?”

“With all due respect, miss, your brother has a tendency of getting himself into fights before I’m around to help get him out of them.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true… Steve, do me a favor, and put up those groceries would you?”

He pulled the ice pack off his face to squint over at her. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of you being home if you’re not going to be useful?”

He grumbled, but got to his feet to do as she asked anyway. “So, how’s Mother?” he asked her.

“Still dying,” was the answer. “And still asking why you don’t visit.”

Steve sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to visit,” he started.

His sister held up her hand, cutting him off, “I know. Watching her die isn’t exactly pleasant. And she knows you’re busy with school, and stopping by her to help me. Nobody blames you, Steve. But she’s getting worse, so I’d make time if you can. Sooner rather than later. But not too soon. Wait until your face heals a bit. James, has my brother offered you anything to eat or drink? Or is he as bad a host as he is a fighter?”

“We were barely home a minute before you came bursting in, and started chastising us,” he told her.

She ignored his excuse. “James, can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

“A glass of water would be lovely, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“So, safe to assume you’re a friend of Steve’s from college,” she continued to make conversation with me as she filled a glass with water, then came to join me on the couch while Steve finished with the groceries. “Do you prefer to be called James? Or whatever it was he called you? Buck?”

“James. Buck. Bucky,” I shrugged. “Either works. I’m not that picky.”

“Why Buck?”

“Middle name’s Buchanan.”

“Oh, a middle name after a president, just like Steve.”

“Y/N,” Steve said in a warning. “Don’t you have studying to do?”

“Don’t you have a fight to get into?”

“Y/N?” I asked with a slight smile, liking how her name sounded on my tongue.

She glowered at Steve, not liking that he’d given her the one edge she had over me. “Yes,” she said begrudgingly.

“Pretty.”

Over the course of my afternoon spent in the apartment, I learned a great deal about the girl with the pretty name. For one, she wasn’t just Steve’s sister, but actually his twin, and she hated how adamant he was about the fact that he was still technically older. And the chip in her shoulder was just as justified as the one in her brother’s. They had a rough go of it after their father had passed a few years prior, and with the economic situation being what it was, and their mother falling ill herself it was crazy to me that they still had their education as a priority. But as someone who valued education myself, it was a trait I greatly admired.

The longer the afternoon dragged on, the more I liked her, and the more she seemed to warm up to me. Although I was uncertain if she was warming up to me because she was as equally infatuated with me as I was with her, or if it was strictly a means of stirring annoyance in her brother. Either way, I had her attention, and I wasn’t complaining.

And when the evening did draw to a close, while I wasn’t brave enough to ask her out directly, I was brave enough to suggest my interest in her.

“Bucky, can I ask something of you?” she asked, pulling the front door shut behind her to allow for a brief moment of privacy between us.

“Of course,” I asked, trying not to take too much glee in how she said my name.

“Well, I suppose it’s not really a question. But more of a request to take what I said about caring about my brother quicker seriously. He has a strong tendency, as I’m sure you’ve witnessed, of doing what he thinks is right, without stopping to think about the consequences. And he doesn’t have the… erm…” heat colored her cheeks as she fought to find the right words, “physique like you do to defend himself, despite his best intentions. So if you could be a bit quicker with that ‘I protect those I care about’ bit you were mentioning earlier, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Did she just admit she found me attractive? “That would require me to be around your brother a lot more, you know that, right?”

“It’s a good thing you two are friends then, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I meant that it would mean I would probably be around more if I were to do that. Which I can do, no problem. Steve’s a great friend. But I would hate for my presence to ever make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would your presence make me feel uncomfortable?”

“Well, you didn’t seem all that keen on me. And if I’m being honest, I still can’t really figure out what your opinion of me is. I’m hoping it’s favorable.”

“In my defense, I came home to find my brother with a bloody face, and you with bruised knuckles. All the same, I do apologize if my original assumption made me come across as cold. Because it’s become clear to me that my brother holds you in a high regard as his friend, and I’ve never known Steve to be a bad judge of character.”

“Well, if being around Steve more for the sake of getting him out of fights quicker means I can see more of you, consider your request granted. G’night, Y/N.”

“G’night, Bucky.”

~~~

“So my sister, huh?” Steve asked when I saw him a few days later.

“What about her?” I asked, playing dumb.

“You’re smitten with her, aren’t you?”

I sighed, opting for honesty rather than something that would be an obvious lie. “Do I find her to be beautiful and charming? Yes. But would I go so far as to say I’m smitten with her? We barely know each other.”

“But you want to know her?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” was all he said.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’re my best friend, and she’s your sister.”

“You’re both adults. And it’s Y/N. She’d go out with you just to spite me if I was stupid enough to warn her away from you. Which I have no reason to do anyway.”

“So if I did want to ask her out, I’d have your blessing?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Buck. I’m simply saying I wouldn’t be mad about it. But if you do ask her out, which I don’t recommend doing anytime soon because she has a lot on her plate as is, she likes roses and dancing.

~~~

I was there when their mother passed away a few months later. I sat with them in the kitchen while they tearfully planned a funeral, offering to make the necessary phone calls that left their own words choked and stuck. And I stood between them when they buried her, one hand resting firmly on Steve’s shoulder, the other hanging limply at my side, fingers begging to stretch out and pull her hand into mine.

When Steve excused himself to talk with the minister, Y/N sighed deeply next to me. “He’s all I got left,” she murmured with sad finality. “I mean, we always used to joke that it was just me and him. And I knew this would happen eventually. But… I’m not ready for it. I’m not ready for Steve to be the only family I have left.”

“He’s not,” I told her. “You have me, too.”

She blinked up at me. “I do?”

Heat colored my cheeks, and I rubbed at hand at the back of my neck as my nerves kicked in. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m friends with Steve. I have no interest in ending that friendship. So you can count on me to be around if that’s something you want to count on.”

“Steve, yes. So a relationship with each other via proxy? Seems like quite the investment on your end.”

“Well, I’d hardly say our relationship with each other is strictly via proxy of your brother. I like to think we’ve become at least friendly with each other, if not friends directly.”

“And is that what you would like? A friendship?”

I hesitated. There was no way of answering her without condemning myself one way or another. If I said yes, then that’s all I would ever be to her. But if I answered no, I risked losing her before I had her. Either by her thinking I was insulting her by not wanting a friendship, or scaring her off if she interpreted what I said as being too forward too soon. “I’ve told you that I protect those I care about. Which means if you need me, for anything, I’ll be there.”

“And do you care for me simply because I’m your friend’s sister? Or do you care for me because you genuinely care for me?”

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. Surely you can answer that for yourself.”

~~~

1937

“Steve,” I groaned as he dragged me through the streets of Brooklyn towards his place with a grin on his face. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday.”

“I know. And that’s what I told Y/N, but you know she doesn’t listen to me.”

I groaned louder. “What did she do?”

“It’s just cake,” he promised. “So even by Y/N’s terms, this is very tame. But, you have to act surprised because she’ll kill me if she knows I told you.”

“Alright, alright,” I relented with a laugh.

“Close your eyes,” he said as we bounded up the stairs to the apartment.

“Is that part necessary?” I asked, closing my eyes anyway and letting him push me inside.

“Surprise!” both him and Y/N yelled, and I opened my eyes to see a small banner hanging up on the wall with the words “Happy Birthday,” sprawled across it, and a small cake waiting on the kitchen table. “We know it’s not much,” she went on, “but we wanted to do something.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “But you didn’t have to.”

“I know we didn’t have to. But we wanted to. Turning twenty is something special, Bucky.”

“Well again, thank you,” I told her as I took a seat at the table, noticing a small parcel wrapped neatly. “What’s this?”

Her eyes went wide. “That,” she said, snatching it off the table, and hiding it behind her back, “is for later.”

This time, it was Steve who groaned. “Y/N, we agreed on no presents. Now I look like an ass.”

“This is what makes you look like an ass?” she questioned.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned humorlessly. “You’re hilarious.”

“Okay, this you really didn’t have to do,” I told her with a chuckle.

“Bucky? Shut up, and make a wish.” With that, she grabbed a small lighter, lighting the candles on the cake.

While she and Steve sang “Happy Birthday” I thought about what wish I wanted to make, no matter how silly the notion seemed. But my mind couldn’t think of anything to wish for. I already had everything I wanted. So ultimately, I decided to wish for things to stay the same as I blew out the candles with a huff of breath.

“Okay,” she said, setting the small parcel in front of me, after we’d eaten the cake and Steve excused himself. “Now, you can have this.”

Carefully I tore at the paper, revealing a hardcover book, the words “The Hobbit” etched across the front cover. “Wow,” I breathed, running my fingers across the cover.

“The lady at the bookstore said it was popular. But if you end up not liking it… Well, I kept the receipt, so we can return it for something you would like,” she offered as explanation, a soft embarrassed mumble

We. “No,” I said quickly. “No, I love it. This is great, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky,” she smiled back. “And uh, if you don’t mind, when you’re finished with it, I’d like to borrow it. Didn’t have enough to buy two copies.”

“Or,” I suggested, a thought coming to me, “we could read it together.”

She tilted her head to the side in confusion. “How would we do that exactly?”

“I could read it to you. We could… make an afternoon of it. Or a few afternoons of it.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re proposing a date.”

“And if I was?”

“I think I’d like that.”

I grinned. “How’s Saturday, then?”

~~~

“This is going to sound stupid,” Y/N interjected when I paused in my reading.

“What’s going to sound stupid?” I asked, looking at her over the top of the book. She looked cute, resting on her stomach, her elbows propped up as she cradled her chin in her hands. Her hair blew softly with the light spring breeze, and her eyes held a dreamy look to them. Okay, she looked way more than just cute.

“I like the way you read,” she said. “Your voice… it’s nice in general. But there’s a certain flow to how you read. Your voice does this thing where it rises and falls with what you’re reading. It’s… animated. Very engaging.”

“Well, I can easily say that’s the first time someone ever complimented my voice,” I said with a chuckle.

Her cheeks turned pink. “I told you it was going to sound stupid.”

I tucked a scrap of paper in the book, marking our spot before setting it aside. “It’s not stupid. It’s a nice compliment. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her eyes flickered from me to the book. “Are we done for the day?”

“No, I can keep reading if you want me to,” I said, picking up the book and opening it.

She smiled up at me, and then, in a move I wasn’t expecting, she rolled over onto her back and then shifted her body perpendicular to mine, resting her head on my outstretched leg. I stiffened at the sudden intimacy of the contact. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” I choked out with a cough, forcing myself to relax. “Yeah, it’s, uh, fine.”

She gave a small giggle. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you get shy, Bucky.”

“You’re pretty cute all of the time,” I mumbled back.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said you’re pretty cute all of the time,” I said again, this time without mumbling, but glad I had the book in my hand to block my face from her view.

Her hand gently pulled mine down, the book closing once more. “Bucky, if I ask you something, do you promise to be honest with me?”

“Course,” I nodded.

“Do you like me? Romantically that is.”

I swallowed thickly, nodding. “And if you want the whole truth, it’s the ‘I’m falling in love with you’ kind of like. And that terrifies me.”

“Why does that terrify you?”

“Because it means I have more to lose.”

She let out a soft “oh,” as she pushed herself to sit upwards, a timid hand stroking up the length of my arm. “You’ll never lose me, Bucky.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t hold back. I shifted to lean towards her, my hands going to cradle her face. And then my lips were on hers, and it was sweet and powerful. And my thumbs were brushing along her cheek bones as the rest of my fingers bunched up in her hair. And her own hands were looping around my neck, her fingers tugging lightly at my hair. The air came rushing out of my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t dare break the kiss, savoring every sensation.

There was a sharp intake of air and I wasn’t sure which one of us had done it, because our lips stayed locked, and I had to drop one of my hands to brace myself as the kiss grew hungry and she moved in closer, practically on top of me. I moved the hand that was still holding her face to wrap tightly around her back, needing her more than I’d ever needed anybody else before.

~~~

1939

“Whoa, slow down there, doll,” I chuckled, pulling the glass away from her lips.

“But it tastes like juice!” she told me, her eyes big with excitement.

“I know, but those drinks have a lot more alcohol in them. And if I bring you home drunk, Steve will kill me.”

“He can try,” she scoffed, grabbing the glass from me and taking another big drink. “And neither one of you can get mad at me drinking, because you both do it too,” she half sang.

“Again, your drinks have a lot more alcohol in them than our drinks do. And for another, I’m a lot bigger than you. My body can handle more.”

She set the glass down, scowling over the rim at me. “You’re no fun.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have your drink, doll. I’m just asking you to slow down.”

“Well, can you order me another one? This one’s almost empty.”

“Of course,” I said, kissing her forehead before going back over to the bar to get us each another drink. I could feel the eyes of other girls on me as I drummed my fingers across the tabletop of the bar while I waited, but they didn’t bother me. I already had the girl I wanted staring at me like they did, and she did a whole lot more than just stare. When I turned with the drinks, I saw the way other guys in the bar were looking at Y/N back in the booth. Now, that made my skin prickle. So I squared my shoulders and slid in next to her placing a heated and heavy kiss on her cheek, smirking in triumphant as the looks dropped. “A-are you growling?” I asked with another chuckle, becoming aware of the low rumble in her throat.

“I hate the way they stare at you,” she whispered with disdain.

“Jealous?” I teased lightheartedly.

She scoffed into her drink. “Me? Jealous? Please…”

“Good. Because if anyone should be jealous, it’s me. You have the attention of every man in this bar.”

She scoffed more. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“You,” I said, kissing her cheek again. “Are the most beautiful girl in here, and everyone knows it. And I’m the lucky son of a gun that gets to take you home.”

Her eyes went wide, and a grin broke out across her face. “Take me home, Bucky.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I held her steady as I let her into my apartment, and she blinked in her surroundings. “This isn’t… Where are we?”

“We’re at my place. Steve would kill me if I brought you home like this.”

“I-” her face flushed. “Bucky, I’ve never…”

“We’re not,” I said softly. “I’m going to help you into bed, and then sleep on the couch.”

“Oh.” It was a simple utterance both of understanding and… was that disappointment that nothing would come of the night besides her safely sleeping her intoxicated state away?

I gave her one of my shirts to sleep in, turning my back to give her privacy, before helping her into bed. “G’night, doll,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

“Wait,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to grab me by my shirt. “Can you stay?”

I looked down at her, the blanket pulled up tightly around her. My bed had never looked more inviting. And what was the harm in sleeping? I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can stay.” I stepped out of my pants before joining her on the bed, but staying on top of the covers. “G’night, doll,” I whispered, clicking off the light.

“You don’t want to marry me, do you?” she asked me, her voice filled with sorrow.

“What gave you that idea?”

“You can’t even share the covers with me!” was the wailed explanation of despair.

“I-” I sputtered, shocked at whatever had caused this outburst. “C’mere,” I coaxed, lifting up my arm for her to curl into me. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“So you want me?”

“Of course I want you, doll.”

“Then how come you haven’t asked me to marry you?”

“I- You’re the most independent woman I know. I didn’t know you wanted to become a wife.”

“I don’t want to become a wife. I want to become your wife.”

“You’re gonna need to give me time to buy a ring.”

“But you’ll ask?”

“Until I’m blue in the face,” I promised.

“And we can have a house, and kids? Not an obnoxiously big house, but not a tiny one either.”

“We can have a medium-sized house, and fill it with as many kids as you want. And you can teach, and Steve and I can open up a mechanic shop. And every night,” I said, shifting to get under the blankets and pull her closer, “we can fall asleep just like this.”

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” she breathed in content.

“I love you too, Y/N Y/M/N Rogers.”

“It’s Rogers-Barnes.”

~~~

1943

“Why do you keep fiddling with your pockets?” Y/N asked as we walked through Central Park, one of her hands holding mine, the other clutched holding a picnic basket with the flowers I’d bought her poking out the top.

“I’m not,” I lied, feeling the small box drop as I pulled my hand out of my pocket and waved it in her face. “See?”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re plotting something.”

“If by plotting, you mean enjoying a nice picnic with you, then ya got me. And it’s hardly plotting if you already knew.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, as we came to a stop underneath a large tree by the lake’s edge. “And what are we reading today?” she asked as I busied myself with laying out the blanket for us.

“Steinbeck.”

“Oh, I love him,” she marveled, kneeling on the blanket and pulling out our lunch.

“I know you do.”

With her head resting in my lap, and between bites of sandwich, I read from the small paperback novel. Our lazy Saturday tradition that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I only stopped reading when I heard the soft sigh as she started to doze off like she usually did. “You still with me?” I asked with a small laugh, tracing her cheek with one of my thumbs.

“Mhm,” she murmured like she always did, keeping her eyes closed. “Just thinking.”

I frowned. Her normal answer was “Keep reading.” “What are you thinking about?”

“How much I’m gonna miss this when you’re gone. How much I’m gonna miss you.”

My heart sank as I thought about the draft papers sitting on my kitchen table. “It’s just basic training. Couple weeks and I’ll be back. And I’ll only be in Jersey.”

“Ugh… Jersey…” She opened her eyes to roll them.

“I’ll be so bad at being a soldier, my sergeant will yell at me and ship me back home to you,” I laughed.

“You will do no such thing. You’ll do what you have to at camp, and then you’ll come home to me,” she told me, sitting up. “And then…” Her voice broke off, not wanting to finish the rest. After camp came Europe. And that was more than either of us were willing to think about. Camp. Camp was first. Camp had clear dates we could work with. 3 measly months. And what came after didn’t matter.

“And then,” I said, slowly pulling the box out of my pocket.

“No!” she interrupted, sternly. “James Buchanan Barnes, if you say one damned word about Europe, I will drown you in the lake,” came the threat.

“Y/N!” I laughed. “Can I tell you what happens after I get back from camp, or not?”

“Bucky…” she whined.

“Please? I really think you’re gonna like it.”

“What could I possibly like about what you coming back from camp means?”

“Because it means you’ll be my wife,” I told her, presenting her the box, snapping the top open to reveal a small gold band. “Marry me, doll.”

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bubble-tea-bunny · 3 years

Text

i could make you care

[saiki kusuo x reader]

author’s note: i tried to incorporate as many characters into this as possible to make it feel like an actual episode and i got overwhelmed so fast lol i haven’t written this many characters in a story in a long time. in any case hope i did them justice and that you enjoy :’)

word count: 3,029

Today’s morning is bright, and Saiki’s walk is quiet. Typically this would be no cause for concern. A quiet walk to school is few and far between, difficult to come by given the company he keeps. (He’d much prefer a calmer bunch, if he were granted the chance to choose, but that is neither here nor there.) Don’t misunderstand: he’d bask in this brief peace, guaranteed to be broken the moment he passes through the gates of PK Academy, if the reason for this uncharacteristic period of silence comes about because of the absence of one particular person—someone who, if one could hardly believe it, Saiki actually prefers to have around more often than not.

He walks past the street which leads to your home, his pace never slowing because he expects you’ll join him, as you do every morning. You’ll wait for him on the corner and smile widely like you haven’t seen him in weeks then skip towards him, falling in step easily. He’ll remain nonplussed as you hug his arm, give it a brief squeeze as you greet him—Good morning, Kusuo!—and then promptly let go because you understand he likes his space but you just can’t help but indulge a little bit.

However, none of the aforementioned events play out this Friday. You’re not on the street corner, not there to smile and fall in step with him. There’s no arm hugging or a bubbly greeting Saiki pretends he isn’t affected by. But the truth is that he is, the routine coming somewhat as a comfort, even at the price of sacrificing some of his beloved personal space. So when you’re nowhere to be found his brows furrow and he wonders where you are.

His steps slow until he comes to a complete stop. He wants to check up on you, sooner rather than later. There isn’t much time to delay if he wants to make it to school before the first bell, but this won’t take long. He crosses his eyes, activating his clairvoyance, and he centers in on you immediately. You’re still at home. You’re at home, and you’re sick.

A box of tissues rests on your nightstand and you’ve pulled your small trash can right next to it from where it usually stands by your door. You toss used tissues into it before nestling beneath your blankets, pulling it up to just below your chin and hugging it close in order to retain heat. Your breath evens out quickly and he can tell you’re asleep. Your body must be exhausted dealing with your cold, and he’s confident this is the way you will be the rest of the day—drifting in and out of sleep, dealing with the sniffles and congestion.

He blinks and loses sight of you and now he’s staring once more down the road. Readjusting his bag on his shoulder with a sigh, he resumes walking and thinks about his plans for the day. As it was the last day of the school week, he’d planned to go to Cafe Mami for coffee jelly to celebrate. But now that he’s learned you’re sick in bed, he’d have to make adjustments. Momentarily he debates if that’s really necessary. You probably wouldn’t want visitors in the state you’re in, and knowing you, you’d tell him to go to the cafe without you to enjoy himself anyway. The thought is tempting, truly, yet he can’t shake the urge to check on you.

It feels less like an obligation and more like a simple desire of his own to make sure you’re okay. Saiki shakes his head, more amused than frustrated. There’s no one else for whom he would so willingly do this, or much else, for, and he doesn’t think he’d ever tell you because you’ll tease him the way you are wont to do whenever his facade cracks and he’ll let you have your fun because when you ask if you’re really so different as to make him act this way, the answer is, well, yes. You are.

He imagines this scenario and the corner of his lips lifts in a small smile. Good grief. You could be quite the handful.

“Hey, Saiki!”

Nendo’s voice is entirely too loud for the morning and Saiki heaves another sigh, one that sounds as though it belongs at the end of the day and not the beginning. Nendo is joined close behind by Kaidou and Kuboyasu, and they easily fill the silence with discussions about going to get ramen after class and the latest movements of the Dark Reunion. Saiki really only picks up words here and there that allude to the topic of conversation but it doesn’t require his full attention. It’s the same song and dance every morning.

The commotion once he arrives at school is much the same. During lectures he is afforded the temporary reprieve from having his ears talked off, since the only one speaking is the teacher, but at breaks, the noise resumes, and though he always stays sitting at his desk, in hopes the others will get the hint that he’s uninterested in chatting, they inevitably crowd themselves around it, until he is right in the middle.

Hairo has outlined a new workout regimen and in his louder than normal volume of speaking he shares it. He’s going to start it today, and if anyone wants to join, they’re more than welcome. It doesn’t look like anyone wants to take the offer, which is expected. Hairo’s exercise routines were… a little extreme.

In any case, Hairo is nonplussed by the lack of enthusiasm from everyone else and remarks he can’t wait for the end of the school day.

“I think I’ve been losing muscle tone,” he laments, and he complements this statement with a casual flex of his arm, more so to point out the specific areas he thinks are getting soft rather than to show off, but even if he isn’t trying, his biceps are bulging and if his sleeves hadn’t been rolled up, they would have torn.

Saiki’s brow raises. Yeah… I don’t think that’s an issue for you, Hairo.

“I’ve just finished installing an indoor gym at my home, you know.”

Everyone turns to find Saiko has entered into the circle, a smug smirk on his face. When had he gotten here? Really it’s only Hairo who has any sort of reaction to this, eyes practically sparkling imagining the machines and equipment (or maybe that’s just the glare from the fluorescent classroom lights). All the same, Saiko relishes the attention, boasting of the privacy and space and how really, it’s so much easier to be productive if there’s no one else there but Saiki can only wonder if Saiko even works out at all. He doesn’t remember that being mentioned, and Saiki is nothing if not detail oriented.

Saiki doesn’t have long to ponder over this (not that it would’ve continued much longer because he doesn’t actually care about whether Saiko exercises or just set up a gym in his house to brag) before Nendo asks where you are.

Had he just noticed? You always join them on their walk in the morning. But Saiki can’t say he’s surprised it took this long. What he is surprised about is that Nendo had noticed in the first place.

“Oh that’s right,” Kuboyasu adds. “I thought she just went ahead of us today.”

Yumehara informs them of your whereabouts before Saiki does. “She texted me this morning she wasn’t feeling well so she stayed home.” Her phone dings with a new message and she glances at it, then looks back up. “But she says she’s a little more awake now!”

“It’s the Dark Reunion.” Kaidou’s sudden interjection draws everyone’s attention. He clenches his right fist, staring at the bandages wrapped around it. “They’re trying to get to me by going after my friends!”

Saiki remains expressionless but if he didn’t have such good control he would’ve rolled his eyes. Or maybe she just has a cold.

Upon Kaidou’s claim that a secret society is responsible for your illness, Saiki picks up Yumehara’s thoughts: I wish I was the one Kaidou was so worried about! Maybe if I got sick he’d worry about me too! Getting sick to grab Kaidou’s attention? That’s… going overboard, but Saiki can’t find it in him to be shocked, considering from whose mind this speculation has sprung.

“Poor [Name],” Teruhashi says, kind as always. She sets an index finger on her chin, gaze momentarily aimed upwards as she thinks. “I was about to suggest we all go to the cafe after school today and I wish she could join.”

This gives Saiki pause. Wait. The cafe?

“That sounds like a great idea!” Yumehara declares. Again Saiki hears her thoughts: If we go, I need to do my best sit next to Kaidou!

Whether a visit to Cafe Mami comes across as a good idea because it’s a fun way to celebrate the end of the school week or simply because Teruhashi suggested it, Saiki doesn’t know, but one by one the murmurs of assent resound through the group and he barely contains a relieved huff. He’d already changed his own plans from visiting the cafe to seeing you instead, and it’s a good thing too since it’s apparent his alone time would’ve been ruined. Now he has an excuse not to stick around.

Once the final bell rings, they begin their walk into town towards the cafe. The sidewalk feels crowded with all of them on it, and they have to split into pairs to keep the opposite side of the sidewalk free for people going the other way. Among comments from everyone else about how hungry they are, Saiki makes known his intention to just pick up food before leaving. There’s somewhere he needs to be.

“You’re going to go make sure [Name] is doing okay!” Teruhashi exclaims. It’s a statement, not a question. “That’s sweet of you.”

Saiki shrugs. “Sweet” is not the first word he would associate with his actions. It just seems like common sense to check on you. You’d looked miserable this morning, but he takes your message to Yumehara earlier as a good sign that you’re improving, slowly and surely. Still, he’d be more comfortable seeing you himself. He hadn’t gotten any other chances today to use his clairvoyance, but at least it wouldn’t be long now until he’d be heading to your house.

Chisato is working today and she seats everyone. Saiki goes directly to the counter to place his order—coffee jelly for him and strawberry mochi for you—and he stands off to the side while waiting for the treats to be packed. The others are sitting on the far side of the cafe (in his peripherals he sees Yumehara has taken a seat right next to Kaidou) but he can hear them clear as day discussing what food they should order. Yes, he’s certainly glad he won’t be sticking around. Spending Friday in the midst of that noise is far from ideal.

Holding the bag of coffee jelly and mochi in one hand, Saiki uses the other to push open the door, the bell jingling gently, and someone, Nendo it sounds like, raises their voice to shout across the room: Seeya later, Saiki! Then the door closes behind him, and all he can hear is the footsteps of other pedestrians and the low whoosh of cars.

He exhales slowly. Peace at last. He proceeds in the direction of your home, and when he thinks to himself that any longer and his ears might’ve begun to bleed, he’s only half joking.

In the neighborhood it’s much quieter, the only person he passes being someone walking their dog, and only a couple of cars drive past. He knocks on the door and he assumes you’re in your room and so it will take some time for you to open it, but you’re there faster than he expects. You open it just wide enough to stand in the gap, and immediately he notices the fatigue in your eyes. When you realize it’s him, they light up, and the fatigue fails to take away from the brightness of your smile as you open the door wider.

“Kusuo!”

Inside, he sees you’ve moved downstairs to the living room. That’s why you’d answered the door so quickly. There’s a pile of blankets on the couch and a tissue box on the coffee table. The television is on and playing an animation. He doesn’t recognize it, but it must be one of the new ones you mentioned wanting to watch. However, you’re not interested in it now that he's here and you grab the remote to turn down the volume.

“I thought you were going to the cafe today,” you state, head tilting.

Saiki shakes his head. Change of plans. Instead I brought the cafe to us. He holds up the bag of food and doesn’t have to tell you what’s in it. You squeal in delight that he’s come bearing treats, but the sound is a little raspy and awkward due to your sore throat. It’s still easier on Saiki’s ears than the earlier commotion he’d been surrounded with and, if he’s honest, it’s cute.

You plop down on the couch and wait as he joins you. He unties the bag and opens the box, first taking out the packaged pink mochi and handing it to you. Then he grabs his coffee jelly and the plastic spoon it came with before settling back against the cushions.

You sit cross-legged facing him and bite into your soft and squishy treat, humming delightedly. “Thanks, Kusuo.”

Saiki chews a mouthful of coffee jelly and glances at you.

You grin and hold up the mochi. “For the snack and for coming to see me.”

He shrugs because it’s no big deal. Or, well, he tries to play it off like it’s no big deal. But you know him better than that, better than most others do, and don’t brush it off so quickly. You breathe out dramatically and set a hand on your chest.

“What must I have done for Kusuo Saiki to give up his quiet time for me?” Then you giggle, and it’s punctuated at the end by a sniffle.

He tells you there would’ve been no quiet time at the cafe since the others had also decided to go, and that you’re much better company. Even when I’m sneezy? you ask him, and he chuckles. Yes, even when you’re sneezy.

His remark about coming to see you because he’d prefer to be here and not at the cafe with the rest of your friends is merely part of the truth. The rest of it is that he did genuinely want to check on you to make sure you were okay. Though to give this a voice felt like too much for someone typically so reserved in his feelings, but you understand perfectly fine as you smile softly. You’re appreciative of his actions, and it would seem Teruhashi had been right about them, for you murmur that he reminds you of the mochi you’re eating: You’re so sweet!

Grabbing your mug from the coffee table, you frown when you see it’s empty. “I ran out of tea.”

Saiki sets the spoon and now empty container back in the box then holds his hand out. You blink, momentarily confused, but when it registers what he’s doing, you give him the mug. As he stands to make his way into the kitchen, you call after him.

“Thank you!”

Having been to your house a number of times already, he knows where everything is and starts brewing a fresh cup of tea. You’ve turned the volume up on the television again, but you have to rewind to return of the spot you were at before he’d arrived. Once he comes back with a filled mug, instead of allowing it to continue to play, you pause your show.

You’d snuggled beneath the blankets and have to finagle your arms out of the multiple layers to take the mug from him. You say thanks again and blow gently at the tendrils of steam floating from it. The ceramic is warm in the palms of your hands and you sigh contentedly.

“Sorry I’m a little high maintenance today,” you apologize suddenly. “I’d make the tea myself but I just have such little energy…”

Saiki wishes you wouldn’t apologize because there’s nothing to be sorry for. So he tells you as much. Don’t apologize. Besides, he’d offered to make that tea, and if you wanted soup, he’d offer to make that too. He does understand where you come from, however. You tend to be more independent, opting to do things yourself, and you also know his propensity for being alone and needing space. As such, you’re careful not to be overbearing, and the idea of Saiki doing even little tasks like brewing you tea bothers you.

It’s endearing, the level of care you take to make sure he’s comfortable too, but when he says you’re far from high maintenance, he means it. You immediately understand what he’s implying and laugh before scooting closer and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Okay, point made,” you concede. With a small smile, Saiki grabs the remote you’d tossed down on the couch and presses play.

He would struggle to call you high maintenance on any day considering who your friends are. They’re loud and all over the place, practically bouncing off the walls. Life could hardly be tranquil when around them and their antics. It’s the total opposite of Saiki, who values calm and silence. If they were high maintenance, he was low maintenance. That’s the way he prefers to be, existing in relative quiet and as close to mediocrity as he can muster. But he can't say he’s opposed to the occasional interruption to the otherwise mundane, especially where it concerns you. You’re not to be found on one side or the other, but right in the middle, and to Saiki, you are just right.

#saiki k x reader #saiki k imagine #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo imagine #saiki k #saiki kusuo #the disastrous life of saiki k.#bubble-tea-bunny #queue

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bittydragon · 3 years

Text

The Ant King

Note: Huge thanks to Bittydragon for inspiring me to write this. I’ll be honest, this is the first fic I've ever actually written, as well as the only piece of creative fiction I've written in like two years so… fingers crossed it goes well hahaha.

TW: tight spaces, darkness, uh,,, bugs i guess. Near death experience

There are things you have to know about ants when you get an ant farm. Basic fundamentals. What to feed them, how to keep them alive, what type of ants you have, etcetera. Even if your intentions were… torturous. After all, you need to know what makes something tick in order to make it stop.

One of the more common facts about ants is that every colony has a queen. She orders her ants to keep her alive so she can make more ants. Simple biology, the continuation of a species. Every nest has a queen, or it dies.

Apparently, this colony didn’t get the memo.

These thoughts buzzed in grumpy circles around Wilbur's’ head as he followed his ant companion, Tommy, deeper into the ant-farm. They had been wandering these tunnels for what felt like days now, in the center of the farm so there were no glass barriers to show the outside world. They were deep too. Almost at the bottom of the compound. Wilbur was not one to show fear, but even he was beginning to get claustrophobic.

Tommy, who up until now had been jabbering like a toddler the whole trip through the ant-farm had also gone uncharacteristically silent. The whole trip Wilbur had wanted nothing more than a few seconds of quiet from him, but now he missed the carefree noise.

They were on their way to see the ant King. A type of ant that, as far as Wilbur knew, didn’t exist. So either they were on a wild goose chase, or Will was way out of his depth.

The further they went, the more he was convinced it was the latter.

“Tommy do you-” Wilbur paused, his echoing voice in the tunnel almost felt like a taboo. An affront to the maddening silence that stalked them. He lowered his voice.

“Do you think… Will I ever get back to normal? Will the ant king change me back?” He hated that little quiver in his voice. He hated the uncertainty. The waiting.

Tommy continued to march forward silently, pondering the question.

“I dunno big man, I think you’ve changed heaps since you got here.” He turned his head to flash Wilbur a grin “Then you’ll be out there and all nice n shit. It’ll be poggers.”

The tunnel was dark, but not dark enough to hide the flash of uncertainty in Tommy’s eyes.

Wilbur's heart sank. “Thanks mate.” He mumbled, and they trekked on, once more in silence.

By the time they saw light, it felt like they had been walking for days. Wilbur was almost glad he was about to meet possibly one of the most powerful ants in this colony. They rounded one last bend, and they were there.

Before them stood a huge double door set in the wall. Two vines with some kind of glowing fruit framed the door, shedding light on the small space. In front of the door, leaning on a spear made from a twig was another ant with a pair of large white rimmed goggles.

“Well… This is it I guess.” Wilbur muttered. He cleared his throat “Hey, um. I-i’m here to have an audience with the King? If that's alright.”

The guard ant didn’t respond, continuing to stare at them with no discernible expression.

“H-hello?” Wilbur glanced at Tommy, who shrugged.

“Excuse me? Anyone home?” Wilbur snapped his fingers in front of the ant's face.

He seemed to startle slightly, before slumping down a bit and letting out a loud snore.

“What the fuck” Tommy said.

Before anyone could do much of anything, one of the massive double doors creaked open and a voice came through.

“George, I swear if you fell asleep again, I'm going to rip off your antenna and use them as- oh.”

Another ant entered the room, this one also carried a twig-spear and had a strip of white cloth tied around his forehead. As soon as his gaze landed on Wilbur, his expression soured.

If looks could kill… Wilbur thought nervously

“It’s you” The new ant spat “Took your sweet time getting here Soot. Earthquake slow you down? Didja get a taste of your own medicine from your big pals out there?”

Wilbur pursed his lips, and the ant snorted. “Yeah. Thought so.” He walked forward and gave George a hard shove, sending the other ant sprawling with a startled yelp.

“Sapnap what the hell?!” He snapped, before spotting Wilbur and Tommy. “Oh hey. That guy is here.”

“Yeah he’s here, idiot.” Sapnap smacked George over the head with his spear “And we would have known a lot sooner if you hadn't fallen asleep on duty again!”

“OW! Sapnap stop! Get off me!”

Wilbur cleared his throat, drawing their attention “Sorry to interrupt, but me and my friend have been walking for a long, long time, so could we please have an audience with the King?”

Subpoena glared “Yeah. He’s waiting for you. Against my advice, he wants to see you.”

Oh. That… didn’t sound great.

Wilbur tried not to think about the implications of that statement as he approached the double doors. Tommy moved to follow, but was stopped by the guards.

“Hey!” He groused “Let me through dickheads!”

“I'm afraid the King only wants an audience with the great and powerful Wilbur Soot” Sapnap said with a smirk.

“But I want to go too! Let me in! You stupid ugly bitch ill fight you! You may have a fancy stick but just wait until I pull out my knife-gun!”

“Tommy its fine.” Wilbur interrupted “I’ll be fine mate, promise. Just wait here. I wont leave without saying goodbye.”

The last thing he saw was Tommy’s antenna drooping sadly, before the doors swung closed behind him.

If Wilbur thought the tunnel was dark before, that was nothing compared to the room he was in now. The darkness was so thick, so absolute, that it made no difference if his eyes were open or closed.

“Hello?” Wilbur called “Uh… your majesty? I was told that you wanted to see me.”

His voice echoed slightly in the huge space, but there was no reply.

Wait. What was that? Something rasped ever so slowly across the opposite wall. Something big. As it moved, the moss where it had been standing glowed a dull green.

Bio-luminescence Wilbur reasoned. Trying to distract himself from the fear creeping up his spine. Touch activated, it seems.

He swallowed dryly “L-look, just tell me what you want. I’m not here to cause trouble”

The thing moved again, its raspy scuttle reverberated through the chamber.

“Wilbur Soot, not here to cause any trouble” A thoughtful voice hummed from the dark “Now that’s a first.”

The bio-luminescent moss was lighting up more of the room. If he squinted, Wilbur could make out a... leg. Probably.

Wilbur inches slowly to the side, the moss lighting up his own path. “Okay, I get it, I've done morally questionable things in the past, but I've learned a lot from my time here. I’m sorry.”

“For now” The voice replied. The thing was moving on the other side, matching him step for step. “What's to say you aren't faking remorse to get out of here? And maybe you really are sorry. How can I be sure you wont change your mind the second you're back to normal? It's too much of a risk.”

Wilbur continued to back away nervously “Your majesty-”

“Please, call me Dream. Everyone else does.”

“Right… Dream. I can say with 100% certainty that won't happen. I've seen people die in front of me. That’s enough to change anyone's stance on something.”

“And yet I'm still not convinced.” It was moving faster now, scuttling across the floor, walls and even across the ceiling. Wilbur's head spun with the motion. “And since we’re talking in hypotheticals, riddle me this: Whoever said I was going to let you out anyway? What if I just like to play with my food?”

Dream stopped suddenly, rearing over Wilbur, and with all of the lit up moss, he got his first proper look.

This ant was huge. Twice- no, at least three times the size of Wilbur himself. He looked a bit like a centaur, with a human torso connected to a pure white and thorax and abdomen.He also wore a strange white mask with a blank eyed smiley face drawn on.

Two huge claw arms- similar to those of a praying mantis- extended from Dreams waist and slammed into the dirt either side of Wilbur, startling him enough that he fell onto his ass. The king leaned forward with that lifeless grin, and Will closed his eyes, preparing for the end.

“But…” Dream said thoughtfully “A proper experiment should account and test for all variables, shouldn't it?”

“Y-yeah generally” Wilbur stuttered

“Oh good.” Dream hoisted him roughly to his feet. “I’m glad I asked you. After all, you know all about experiments, don’t you?”

Wilbur chose not to answer, glowering at Dream as the eyes on his mask briefly glowed a dull green.

A moment later, Sapnap and George marched in, dragging a cussing and struggling Tommy behind them.

“YOU STUPID MOTHEFUCKERS!!! Let me go or ill get married in rage!! Fuck you and-! Oh. wow that is a big fella.” Tommy stopped and stared in awe at Dream

“Sapnap, give Wilbur your spear.” Dream ordered.

A flicker of doubt crossed Sapnaps face but he obediently shoved the spear into Wilbur's hands.

“I’ll make you a deal, Wilbur Soot.” Dream purred, circling him. “I will let you go to your old life. You can do whatever you like; kill us, torment us, throw us away… it doesn't matter. All you have to do is kill one ant.” He gestured to Tommy.

“What?” Wilbur whispered.

“WHAT?!” Tommy roared “fuck you! I'm not your dumb-ass pawn, I'm going to kill you! Rrrrrrrrrrr!” he writhed, attempting to bite George who did a surprisingly good job of holding him still.

“Go on.” Dream cooed “It's just one insignificant ant standing between you and freedom. You've killed hundreds. What's one more?”

Spear in hand, Wilbur took a hesitant step forward.

Tommy's gaze snapped up “Wilby?” He asked, his struggling pausing for a moment.

Their eyes met, fear clashing with sorrow. Tommy seemed to see something in Wilbur's expression and hung his head in defeat. As if he had expected Wilbur to betray him.

Oh hell no. Fuck that. Wilbur angrily tossed the spear aside.

“No. I won't.”

“What?” Dream spat

Wilbur rounded on him “No! I won't kill him! Keep me here, kill me, hunt me for sport, whatever! Just leave him out of this! Tommy has been nothing but nice to me since I met him, even though it don't deserve it!” He rubbed his arm. “God knows I don't deserve it.”

“Hmm…” Dream hummed “Are you sure, even if it costs you your life?” One of Dream's massive claw arms grazed his side, a subtle threat.

Wilbur looked over at Tommy, who had a look of hope on his face.

“Yeah.” Will smiled, “I'm sure.”

I probably could have written more, but i wont. I hope you like this fic bitty! Thanks for reading :)

Edit: Fortune, this is amazing! Like, I hadn't really thought about this encounter in a lot of detail, but I honestly like this a lot! And Dream being a big boy since he's the king ant. Just yes. Thank you so much for this.

#submission #fan work #tiny!tommy #tiny!wilbur #tiny!dream #tiny!sapnap #tiny!george #giant!dream?#maybe?#mcyt gt #thank you again!#betmyfortune

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

Note

Companions and their mental health statuses?

(Wrote this while listening to a Spotify playlist named "going absolutely fucking apeshit" anyway- I'm gonna split this up by what I think character wise...and then my experiences with these seggsy bitches in game bc boy, it's been wild)

Cait:

•Sufferer of severe trauma throughout her life.

•Shit just gets worse

•Fights for her life and has a strong love for psycho before a special someone convinced her she is worthy of being loved

•Trust issues out the wazoo..for sadly, good reasons.

•Maybe not the worst on the list, but definitely up there.

In game experience...

•GOD DAMN FALLOUT VERSION OF LYDIA- like seriously? Gtfo the doorway! I'm getting blown up!

•Hates everyone and everything except sole and breaking the law.

Curie:

•Actually not all that bad...except for secret abandonment issues.

•Usually masks it by burying herself in research.

•As far as these poor bastards go, she's probably one of the most mentally stable- which is scary.

In game experience.....

•Sweet Frenchie with asshole pets.

(I don't travel with her often 🥲)

Danse:

Pre-Blind Betrayal-

•Confirmed sufferer of PTSD

•Blames himself for the death of several team members.

•Evidence points towards un-talked about alcoholism.

•Seems to be attracted to power armour..

•Not very good but not the worst on this list..

Post-Blind Betrayal-

•Same as above but add on identity crisis times a thousand and two.

•Will literally kill himself (or let you kill him) if you don’t convince him otherwise.

In game experience....

•Fucking goes apeshit, pre or post BB

•Completely unaware of his surroundings unless it has to do with vertibirds flying over head, then it's time for guerrilla warfare. "Fate has decreed that you must die!"- he speaks, drawing a laser rifle.

•Has been caught on multiple instances doing drugs out of the drug vending machine in Nuka World despite clearly being against them.

Deacon:

•Probably one of the more mentally fucked.

•Lost his wife in front of his own eyes in a notably terrible way.

•Escapes his deep seeded pain through his elaborate schemes, justifying it by telling himself it helps his organization.

•Still feels like shit every waking minute.

•Cant really allow himself to get close to anyone because of his experiences.

In game experiences...

•Asshole

•Jumpscare king, mainly because I didn't know he changed outfits THAT often.

•Doesn't like physical affection??? Shit that actually makes sense..

•Stalker.

Gage:

•He's pretty "meh" on the sanity scale. He's ruthless, but he's entirely stable besides his attachment issues.

•Trusts too easy and hates himself for it...also tries to make himself not be that way and for the most part, it works!

•Problematic raider.

In game experience...

•Makes stupid comments at inappropriate times as though he wishes for the enemies to murder us

•Thinks that walking through walls is entirely possible and gets stuck every time I run with him

Hancock:

•The actual worst on this fine list of mentally messed up individuals.

•Self worth is just nonexistent despite being a pretty all around decent guy

•Uses drugs to cover up terrible trauma to the point of putting himself in the greatest danger just short of dying

•Oh yeah, doesn't mind death actually.

•Doesn't feel worthy of anything deep down.

in game experience...

•Shoots sole for stealing shit in the third rail

•Unhinged

•Sits for hours

Macready:

•Lost his wife in a horrific way

•Only has his son, who he is convinced is going to die sooner than later because of something he can't control

•Willing to do everything if it means caps to send to his sick child

•Doesn't really have a place to call his "home"

•Reckless and unforgiving

In game experience...

•Being nice? How dare you speak such ill language.

•Kleptomaniac

Maxson:

•Does as good as a boy his age with all of the responsibility possibly could.

•Just imagine- your dad died when you were super young. Your mother shipped your ass away. The people you loved like family died all around you. Now you're stuck in foreign land and have no fucking idea where to begin, only that you have to mobilize these fuckers you're in charge of and remain a good leader...

•Still not good enough? Okay, pile on insomnia, alcoholism, and the thought that you have no one alive that truly loves you as more than just the "elder". Oh, but you eventually got to spit out some kids somehow because you're the last of the great "Maxson" line...

•Also not exactly on the "stable" side..

In game experience...

•Stares intently down the Prydwen command deck with his hands behind his back..for hours.

•Never wants to chat :(

•Long winded and short sighted, bad combo..

Nick:

•Has to deal with not only demons that technically aren't even his, but after "reunions"- Kellogg's fucked up self haunts him. He keeps it to himself and suffers silently.

•Deals with the pain of knowing there will never be a place where is truly just himself. He's a man trapped inside of a metal cage..and yet he's not even really "that" man, is he?

•One could easily understand how he has some issues too.

In game experience...

•Cigarettes? Yes.

•Oh, Youre in a fight? Seems like a good time to tighten the bolts in my hand right about now...

•Wields a flamer like a champ.

Piper:

•Surprisingly..has the most sound mental state out of all.

•Is a little obsessive tho

•Has had to adapt to the role of sibling and parent to her younger sister, which isn't easy for anyone.

•Often delves into her work, sort of like curie, to avoid dealing with the pain of her parents no longer being there for her or nat.

In game experience..

•Hey kid, want some Nuka-Cola?

•Mayor McDonough shall die, even if it means execution by the hands of everyone else in Diamond City.

Preston:

•Has canonically admitted to considering suicide.

•Is holding onto the last threads of hope he has with a fucking death grip.

•Definitely not of the best mental state

In game experience...

•Doesn't know how to properly use furniture.

•Can hear sole coming from a mile away and is already getting the map out for the next settlement

X6-88:

•Emotions? Is that a snack?

•Seriously though, he has been "reset" so many times that sometimes-he doesn't even realize it- he doesn't even know what "he" is. Every aspect of who he is..it should be gone, he's a machine and he knows it...why does he still feel like a person?

•Short story, he hates life. He hates being held captive and being used like a damn hound to hunt down those who were smart enough to run- those of which he envied and didn't even realize he did. Hey, he's just a machine though- it's his job and he knows better than to revolt.

•Violence is the freedom he feel he has. He can kill and track in any way he wants, so long as it is successful and what the Institute deem appropriate. It's horrible, but he doesn't realize it- and at this point he doesn't care. The death of another and the way they die by his hand is just his way of expressing who he is deep down.

In game experience...

•Oi, you don't like the institue? FUCK YOU

#fallout 4 #fallout #paladin danse #fo4 companions #fallout companions #danse #elder maxson #fallout shitpost #porter gage #curie #x6 88 #cait #deacon #hancock #fo4 #nick valentine #arthur maxson #brotherhood of steel #macready

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