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fizzyxcustard · 10 months

Text

Why Did I Trust You?

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Robin Hood

Pairings: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sadness, angst, betrayal (sort of!), depression mention, fluff

Comments/Notes: Requested by @puggledy-huggledy-is-not-a-pig who is the biggest Guy fan that I know. From the prompt "They told me not to trust you but I didn't listen."

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Everyone kept telling you how Guy had always been taken with Marian, and that his heart still belonged to her. No one could get over lost love that easy. She had disappeared into Sherwood Forest with her lover, Robin Hood. Leaving Guy to pick up the pieces of a shattered heart. You had never met this Marian woman, but had heard plenty about her from the locals.

You had travelled to Nottingham in high hopes of better income, and thankfully, you had been given a roof over your head, alongside the work, for all for your trouble. Guy had sorted that out for you. After all, he knew your father, who worked as a fellow tax collector in the next town over and often visited Nottingham to report to the Sheriff.

Being a newcomer also meant that everyone was suspicious of you. And you had become aware of the rumours that people were spinning behind your back, despite being polite to your face. Snakes, all of them. Most days when you walked through the courtyard of the castle, heading in for your day of work, you’d see people gently shoulder each other. You’d see this action out of the corner of your eye, but as soon as they saw you’d noticed them, they would smile. Vipers!

By the time you had been there six months, you knew it was time to move on. Nottingham was not quite the charming place that you had been told by your old townsfolk. Maybe the stories had been spun from those assuming that due to Nottingham being a central stronghold for finances, that the streets were paved with gold. That couldn’t have been any further from the truth. Only the Sheriff’s personal chambers were lined with gold; everywhere else was run down and full of squalor.

The last arrangements were in place, and the following day, you were ready to return home. It would take you about a day to walk to your meeting point with your father, who was coming by horse and cart to collect you. Messenger pigeons had been flying between you and your father for the last month, as your depression had gotten deeper and beckoned you home.

The only good thing about the place was Guy. In fact, he was the only friend you had in this horrible place. The thought of leaving him was hitting you hard, and as you cleaned the larger chambers of the castle, you kept Guy’s until last.

Upon stepping inside the room, you saw the seat that you sat in most evenings, where you would share dinner with him. You would watch the candlelight dance across his pointed features, highlighting the sadness in his ice blue eyes. Was the sadness remnants of an unrequited love?

Tears kept threatening to fall down your cheeks as you cleaned the surfaces with a rag. At his bedside table, you moved the vase of flowers you had placed there three days ago, sweeping the dust beneath it. All you could feel was the painful, burning sensation of something lodged in your throat.

Don’t you cry. Don’t you dare cry!

As you made the bed and took one last sniff of his pillow, you realised that you had nothing of his. And you couldn’t leave Nottingham without at least one token from him, even if he had not given it you freely.

There was a jewellery box which you knew Guy kept in his wardrobe, just behind his boots, on the floor. You could remember him telling you about it, where he explained that no one else knew of its existence, but you.

Your hands were shaking as you approached the wardrobe, and slowly you opened the door, listening to it creak. The box was simple, with no inscription at all. It didn’t matter what it was that you took, as long as it was Guy’s; something to remember him by. Not that you could ever forget him in a hurry.

Blood was thumping in your ears as you opened the box and looked upon two gold rings inside. That was all the box held, these two gold rings. The first one was a simple band, with no jewels or inscriptions. The other was gold, but had a simple green stone upon broad shoulders. You snatched the ring with the green stone and slipped it into your apron pocket.

“What are you doing?” a deep voice came.

You gasped, stepping back at the sight of Guy. When had he come into the room? “P…please, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, I know it was exactly what it looked like. You stealing one of my grandmother’s rings.” His eyes were so wide now, and you couldn’t help but swallow hard, feeling a rod of ice shoot down your spine. Guy was terrifying when angry, a trait that many a person had seen who lived in Nottingham. This was your first time of seeing his anger directed at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. You pulled the ring back out of your pocket and placed it down on the table next to you. “It really is not what it looks like.”

Guy turned on his heel. “They told me not to trust you, but I didn’t listen.”

“Guy, please,” you pleaded, touching his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” he growled. “I let you in. I offer my vulnerability to you, and I offer you so much, and this is how you value our relationship? By stealing from me?”

Tears fell down your cheeks. Your heart thundered, shattering even more with each beat. “I wanted something of yours, to remember you by.”

“Remember me by? What do you mean?” Guy asked, his voice less hostile now. Slowly, he turned back to face you.

Tears had begun to form in his eyes. His gaze was intense, and locked on you.

“I would never have betrayed your trust, Guy. Believe me. I value you more than you realise.”

“Yet you still plan to leave?”

Of course he knew what you had meant. “You have no idea how it’s pained me to complete my duties today, knowing it will be the last time we stand face to face.”

“Am I not enough to stay for?” The words only just came out of his mouth, broken by the breath that was struggling to get out. “I’m never enough.” Those words were despaired whisper.

“Guy, no!” you exclaimed. “Never think that.”

“But you’re leaving!” His voice had re-gained its power, and he stared at you. “I’ve been beside you in everything since you came here. Why am I not enough?”

You reached out and took Guy’s leather-clad hand. “You are enough. Why don’t you think you are? Is it because of Marian?”

Guy closed his eyes for a second and sighed. Then he focused his gaze back on you. “I see the townsfolk enjoy talking about me.”

“Don’t blame them. You’ve mentioned her before, and I guessed she’s the woman you love.”

“She isn’t. Not anymore. I did love her once and she left. Every woman I grow to love leaves me.”

Did that mean…? Breath caught in your throat, but you tried not to get above yourself in your want of him. “So other women before her have left?”

Guy smirked. “Don’t deny what’s right in front of you.” He whispered your name and came closer, his body so close to yours. He looked down from his taller height.

You placed both of your hands on his chest, wanting so much to feel his bare skin beneath the leather. Your gaze met his and you leaned up, placing a gentle kiss against his lips.

Guy opened his eyes, seeing uncertainty in your face. And gathering his confidence and love, he wound his arms around your waist and kissed you.

The kiss was full of love, passion and desperation. Your tongues met, and within a few more seconds, Guy’s lips were on your neck. He was panting, and you whimpering.

As you both slowed down, your breaths harsh, you embraced Guy.

“Is this now enough to make you stay?” he asked.

You looked up from his chest, and smiled. “What do you think?”

“And maybe I have more reason.” Guy reached across to the ring you had placed on his table and held it to you. “I want you to have this…and be my wife.”

***

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#Robin Hood #BBC Robin Hood #Guy of Gisborne #Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader #Guy of Gisborne x Female Reader #Guy of Gisborne x You #Request #puggledly huggledy is not a pig #Richard Armitage

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caramel1mochi · 7 days

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One Hazy Winter [Iso x F! Reader] [5]

[ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 ]

Genre: Angst, fluff ‎

TW: Heavy depression ‎ ‎

Words: 4k ‎

Synopsis: One winter before his disappearance, you told your boyfriend Yu about a question you’ve had for so long; one even he could hardly respond to. It took many more hopeless winters for you to finally have your answer.‎

Note: Please don't copy or steal my work and pass it off as your own! If you'd like to use one of my headcanons or something, I'd love it if you tagged or asked. SIDENOTE did anyone see how Clove speaks? Who would've thought vehemently studying Irish slang 8 months ago would come back to help me like this??? Writing them is gonna be such a breeze fr hint wink wink nudge nudge nudge

‎

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

Winter, present day

‎ ‎

You wanted to call yourself stupid for not catching on. How wasn’t it obvious?

There was a gun in his bedroom and a medallion with a symbol that you've never seen before, even after relentlessly googling around. Purple eyes, mysterious disappearances, owning a house with undisclosed memories that he was just willing to abandon for your apartment, and… other than his grandma? Yeah, no family.

You sighed and pushed open the wooden doors to the café, allowing the bell above to announce your arrival on this boring and slow Monday. Yesterday was spent entirely at Yu’s house. Not only to tend to the trees you planted a winter ago, but to also keep searching for that gun. And, alas, there was nothing. Maybe he took it before he disappeared. Maybe he…

Ugh.

‎ ‎

You stepped behind the counter and pocketed your headphones. Only now did you hear Ying’s muffled voice way behind you inside her room, drowned out by the music. You were sure that she was speaking to someone on the phone, considering your co-worker called out at the last minute. Who, however, would remain a mystery. Not that you cared.

Then, the door swung open, and you heard the clicks of her shoes as she walked down the corridor, phone in hand.

‎ ‎

“I made sure to check it before I left.” She explained. “Around March, last I heard. That’s the only day– Y/N!”

‎ ‎

Ying’s previously quiet voice shot up a few decibels upon noticing you. But before you even realised it, your mind had prepared itself for the sudden incoming hug it really didn’t want.

‎ ‎

“Oh my God, I was so worried!”

‎ ‎

Her arms found their place tightly wrapped around you, completely ignoring the seemingly important call, as she had tossed her phone on the counter behind her in favour of this embrace. You placed one hand on her back in a weak attempt to reciprocate it. However, all you could notice was how cold her silky black ponytail was as it fell on her back. ‎ ‎

“I missed one day, Ying.”

‎ ‎

“I thought something happened to you!” She pulled away, her hands still on your shoulders. “You should’ve told me– where were you?”

‎ ‎

“At Yu’s.”

‎ ‎

Her posture immediately relaxed with that answer, and a wide grin painted her features.

‎ ‎

“Ah, is that so? And how are the lemons? I trust they’re in excellent condition.”

‎ ‎

You would’ve groaned at how she referred to a bunch of seeds underground as if they were babies being taken care of. But after that tangent, maybe that comparison was… Well, apt wasn’t the word, but, you know. Something like that.

‎ ‎

“Still acclimating. They require less maintenance in the winter, but…”

‎ ‎

Your words were lodged in your throat, and you were rendered unable to tell her exactly what you were thinking. But Ying somehow didn’t notice. Instead, she began taking a few steps back to close the call she’d abandoned, another idea popping up in her mind.

‎ ‎

“How large was his backyard again? Why don’t you plant more seeds there? Something that can withstand this weather?”

‎ ‎

“When’s the last time you’ve been to his house, Ying?”

‎ ‎

She placed one hand on her hip.

‎ ‎

“I visited Iso’s house a few times before, Y/N. I even recall mentioning the absurd size of his backyard. Ah, I think I used the word ridiculous, too… That might’ve offended him.”

‎ ‎

Ying explained thoughtfully with a finger on her chin. And from her dreamy tone, it was easy for you to infer that she was just about to go off on another tangent should you let her keep talking.

She promptly moved towards the register with this memory in mind. But before she could say anything, you interrupted her.

‎ ‎

“Who’s Iso?”

‎ ‎

…

‎ ‎

“Iso?”

‎ ‎

Ying stayed silent for a moment.

Then, she tittered,

‎ ‎

“I– I must’ve misspoken; I meant to say Yu.”

‎ ‎

You crossed your arms.

‎ ‎

“Who’s Iso, Ying?”

‎ ‎

“Ah, it– it’s just a character from a book I’m currently reading. It’s not anything important.” Ying fanned herself with her hand as she spoke, presumably from a bout of anxiety. “Anywho, as I was saying– would you like me to come along with you? We’ll find new spots for you to plant in!”

‎ ‎

…

You ran your fingers through your hair, leaning on the counter behind you.

Ying only had two Meyer lemons that day, and you managed to scoop out a combined amount of nine seeds. A lot, but compared to a normal lemon that had at least ten–fifteen seeds in one fruit, it was nothing. And what worried you was the prospect of you failing or only managing to get a few trees out of those.

It couldn’t hurt to have a few… backup fruits, right? If the lemons failed, you’d maybe have… something else. Besides, the cashier from that one shop seemed fond of you when you bought the garden ready passion fruit. You could purchase another orange and strike up a conversation with her. Besides, you needed to work on mentally desensitising yourself to being in his house.

‎ ‎

“I'll take care of it myself, I could use some alone time.”

‎ ‎

Even though every second of your life was composed of ‘alone time’ to the point that it was concerning. But Ying didn’t really want to mention that. Not when your mood seemed to be substantially improving with it.

She flashed you her familiar grin in response.

‎ ‎

“Well, if you’d like any help, I’m one–”

‎ ‎

“One text away, got it. Weren’t you talking to someone?”

‎ ‎

You gestured at the phone she set on the counter a while ago, referencing the call she’d abandoned in favour of this conversation. And you swore you could see buffering in her eyes before she caught on.

‎ ‎

“Oh! Right, thank you, I’d almost forgotten about her.”

‎ ‎

She quickly grabbed the phone and waved goodbye before disappearing into her office for the day. And by then, you had already known that customers made their way inside. You didn’t even need to look back to know. Not when that repetitive jingle gave it away, and the sounds of them snickering and gossiping to each other.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair, preparing to serve the group.

‎ ‎

❤ฺ·。

‎ ‎

You were still thinking about that gun even after it’d been a whole year since you visited his house. However, when you passed by his bedroom, the thoughts took over your mind like a virus. The urge to peer through his drawers once more grew unbearable, even after you’d done it a few dozen times. And each time, it wouldn’t change; there was simply no gun anymore. This weapon only raised more questions in your mind. None of them were new, except for one:

Was Yu dead?

Was that the reason for his disappearance? Maybe the hourglass medallion was related to it. Maybe they were a… an organisation? A group, something like that. Maybe he’d gotten into a fight with these people, or maybe they sent someone out to kill him. But why?

You thought of at least a hundred possibilities as to how he would’ve died, but none of it made sense because of one thing, how did someone like Yu get involved with people like this? The only reason you entertained it was because of his eyes, his nonexistent parents, and the bloody house you were in. There’s no way a barista with the same salary as you would be able to buy all of this.

But you never doubted him; you trusted him. You trusted his decision to keep it all vague. You trusted that, one day, he would tell you.

Maybe that was a mistake.

‎ ‎

Oh, screw it, you thought as you pushed the doors to his backyard open. Ignoring the familiar cold sensation that wrapped itself around your exposed face and neck was an easy task, especially when you were finally taking in the sight before you.

Six trees. But you already saw that before. What grabbed your attention were the white flowers scattered around the deep green leaves, like fairies that had sprinkled dust during the night. Once you’d reached it, you meticulously cupped one flower in your gloved hands and observed the shape, but all of it was healthy. All it needed was one more year to finally bear fruit.

The pearly white tint of the flower beautifully stood out against your black gloves; its thin petals curving in a manner so purposeful, you swore it was sculpted by the gods. They also needed pruning, you mused before going back to grab a tool you left behind. But you’d get to it after you watered them.

Incidentally, it was February; Winter was finally coming to an end. And this meant that the snow that coated the ground was starting to melt off, patches of dull grass sneaking through any opening they could in an effort to get some air. This made the shovel you were about to use somewhat redundant when it came to shovelling the snow.

Nevertheless, once you’d picked an empty spot in his spacious backyard, you slid the blade of your shovel under the thin mound of melting snow. Then, once you scooped up most of it, you tossed it aside and cleared the area.

‎ ‎

‘Why do you plant things in the winter? Why not summer?’

‎ ‎

Yu suddenly questioned from behind as he rested on the staircase after he’d done shovelling all of the snow. Since he’d volunteered and successfully done most of the gruelling work for you, you had enough space to finally plant the germinated lemon seeds once you were done spacing them out.

And to him, his inquiry made sense. Winter was the season of death, and even his optimism wouldn’t stop him from admitting that. So why would you pursue a hobby that sprouted life at that time?

You continued shovelling the snow out of the way as you remembered what you told him that dreadful day. And this time, you didn’t block your brain from pulling these annoying conversations from the depths of your mind – not when you wanted to remember the answer.

‎ ‎

‘Planting things in the winter helps them bear fruit faster. Moreover, the seeds I'm planting are winter fruit.’

‎ ‎

Despite sitting behind you, you could easily tell that Yu immediately perked up at the foreign term.

‎ ‎

‘Winter fruit?’

‎ ‎

‘Yes. It's exactly what it sounds like.’

‎ ‎

Whenever he learned something new from you, he would just have the cutest look on his face. If only you could see it now, you mulled. But that privilege was revoked years ago, and you weren’t in the mood to mourn right now. Not after all of your impressive progress so far.

‎ ‎

‘Lemons are a winter fruit?’

‎ ‎

You nodded.

‎ ‎

‘...What about oranges?’

‎ ‎

He noted the abundance of oranges you had at the time, and your silent plans to have them planted, if only it didn’t take years for the blasted trees to bear fruit. This question, however, made you pause at the time.

‎ ‎

‘They... are.’

‎ ‎

‘I see. And why oranges specifically?’

‎ ‎

Seemingly oblivious to the pause in your answer, Yu continued pressing on, unaware of the consequences of asking such a question.

Once the snow was out of the way and you’d cleared the grass, you moved back towards the doors and grabbed the nearby rake, ready to make space for your orange trees.

‎ ‎

‘They were my dad's favourite.’

‎ ‎

The answer came solemnly; the shift in topic immediately souring both his and your mood. And Yu quickly caught on to his mistake since he immediately rushed to apologise,

‎ ‎

‘Oh, I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…’

‎ ‎

You pushed a plentiful amount of dirt out of the way with only a few repetitive movements. And though they were few, you still felt the sweat form. The thick jacket you wore started to weigh heavily on you. That, and just about everything else, but were you really going to work in a tank top out here?

‎ ‎

‘No, it's okay.’

‎ ‎

Yu watched you stand up once you were done, dusting off your hands. Yet he noted how weak your movements were. How much hesitance was involved in just getting the dirt off of your fingers, or even holding yourself up.

How easily upset you were at the mention of your deceased parents.

At the time.

‎ ‎

‘Can we leave? I'll... I'll check on the trees afterwards.’

‎ ‎

He immediately stood up and took off his glove to pull you closer to him.

‎ ‎

‘Of course. You deserve a break, after all. Where would you like to go?’

‎ ‎

‘Do you remember the bridge I told you about? I heard it looks better in the spring; but we should go tomorrow.’

‎ ‎

Yu beamed at this, his fingers interlocking with yours, and his thumb had already begun outlining the lines on your palm. It sounded like an innocent suggestion.

‎ ‎

‘Tomorrow? Okay, but you'll have to send me the location in advance.’

‎ ‎

You remembered both of you leaving for the bridge that day and what came afterwards. You remembered the dread that followed you throughout the entire trip. Not to mention the gloom, all because you remembered your father. And it’s not like any of it was to be missed. You didn’t miss having your whole day ruined at the mention of one person.

You stood back and stared at the hole you’d dug with the shovel, measuring its width compared to the tree you were about to put in its place.

Perfect, you thought. It was all perfect.

‎ ‎

❤ฺ·。

‎ ‎

Summer passed by like a breeze, and Ying was beyond delighted at the harvest you brought back and immediately got to work with the others to turn them into delicious treats to sell. Luckily for you (or her), they sold like hotcakes, and today, once winter finally arrived, the moment you walked through the doors and heard the jingle from above, you already saw the results of your hard work.

Ying stood deep within the dining area in front of the wall that used to be empty for so long; now, however, it carried the large, expensive painting she had yearned for the past few years. And just like she predicted, it looked absolutely stunning. The colours perfectly complemented the warm colour palette of the general area, and the ladies and their surroundings bounced off of the previously dull flora she’d decorated the area with. That, and, you know, it was just a pretty painting to look at.

You approached and pocketed your headphones, but Ying needn’t look back to know you were there. The crunch of the ice under your boots was loud enough. All thanks to the strong snowfall outside.

‎ ‎

“Isn’t this amazing? It feels like I renovated the whole area, Y/N!”

‎ ‎

She said excitedly as she clasped her hands together, meeting your gaze. Did you even want to ask how long she spent staring at the painting? Not that it was a bad thing.

‎ ‎

“I admit. It does look impressive.”

‎ ‎

“And I couldn’t have done it without you! Speaking of which, you look happy today. Did something happen?”

‎ ‎

Ying asked with a tilt of her head, and your smile only widened at this despite your futile attempts to keep a straight face.

‎ ‎

“The lady at the nursery suggested I sell some of my plants there with her. I’m still considering it.”

‎ ‎

She didn’t know who she was, so you didn’t really bother telling Ying the name of this new friend you made. But her face still beamed at this.

‎ ‎

“Why not? You mentioned your apartment being cramped a while ago. Is that still the case?”

‎ ‎

“It is.”

‎ ‎

Of course she’d remember an off-handed comment from months ago. Besides, all anyone needed to know something like this was to simply glance at any of your windows, and they’d see the potted trees pressed up against them.

‎ ‎

“I’ll still have to wait until the weather clears up.”

‎ ‎

“I see. Good call.”

‎ ‎

She didn’t need to look out the windows to see the thick fog outside. The way to work was difficult enough for her since she had to avoid the black ice and check the weather for any potential storms. Nevertheless, despite how subtle it was, Ying immediately picked up on the wistfulness that bled into your previously content tone.

‎ ‎

“Is… something wrong?”

‎ ‎

Your smile slowly fell as you carefully leaned on the table behind you.

Don’t quote me on this comparison, I hate Chemistry. But despite solitude being bound to you like protons to a nucleus at this point, and vice versa, you’d been keeping this question to yourself, and it felt like it was driving you mad. For once, you needed to ask someone, and who better than Ying? And you weren’t in the mood to be subtle or to ease her into it.

Might as well lay it all out.

‎ ‎

“Is Yu dead?”

‎ ‎

She seemed incredibly caught off guard by the question.

‎ ‎

“Dead? That– that’s a… ah, a bold assumption… Why would you ever say that?”

‎ ‎

Should you even tell her about the gun and the hourglass medallion? Even though you were still pissed at Yu for keeping so many things hidden from you, you still felt it disrespectful to air out his laundry behind his back. Well, if he was alive, that is.

Besides, it’s not like she was innocent either. She had a mysteriously large sum of money herself, despite being a humble café owner. Speaking of… why didn’t she just buy the painting with that instead of waiting for your harvest? Maybe you shouldn’t ask everything.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair.

‎ ‎

“Just a thought.”

‎ ‎

“No, don’t say that. You’re doing so well, Y/N; don’t let the pessimism get to you!”

‎ ‎

You smiled in amusement at her words. Was the change in your appearance and attitude that drastic? You could’ve sworn one of the positive things about your genes was the lack of dark circles under your eyes. Ying, however, only kept going.

‎ ‎

“How about we visit his grandmother? I know both of you used to do that a lot. Are those lemons done growing?”

‎ ‎

“They are. I should be able to harvest them on Sunday if the weather gets better.”

‎ ‎

It’s been a while since you visited her. And honestly, you may or may not have missed her delighted smile and hug whenever she’d see you come in with freshly baked goods for her to enjoy. Shame this all stopped when Yu disappeared. If you took it this horribly, you couldn’t even imagine what she was going through.

‎ ‎

“Sunday? That’s great! Would you like me to come with you? I’ll bring the baskets!”

‎ ‎

For once, the offer sounded enticing. Hauling baskets around in a bus also sounded like a terrible idea. So…

You nodded.

‎ ‎

“I don’t mind.”

‎ ‎

“Wonderful! So, what do you always bring her? Was it lemon bars, or…”

‎ ‎

Ying started spitballing ideas as she walked you to the counter, attempting to come up with a list of lemon desserts for you both to bring. Sweets and baking weren’t her forte, but it was really fun to watch her ramble on about something she really enjoyed. It wasn’t that hard to tell that she never got to have a casual conversation with someone outside of work, anyway.

And so you let her talk, instead opting to listen to her in silence and only chiming in when she was out of words.

‎ ‎

❤ฺ·。

‎ ‎

Both of you settled on lemon pie. It was a nice change compared to the usual pound cakes you’d always bring her. And besides, you needed to bring something special after not visiting her for years, or however long it’s been. Not like you were one to keep track of time.

Nevertheless, a week had passed since that conversation, and things only continued to improve. Mentally, that is.

You were way too exhausted from tending to what felt like a few hundred trees all day. The work felt like it was never ending. It’s not like you were able to go outside anyway; the fog never let up since then. Even the buses were starting to reroute, and your path to work was getting more and more hazy.

Thankfully for you, it was Saturday; you’ve been up since the crack of dawn, and you’ve just finished your housework at two in the afternoon. Pruning, fertilising, watering and fending off fungal infections and diseases. Even though it was winter, an abundance of dormant plants still equaled a considerable amount of work. Sure, as Ying said, the air was fresher in here, but you needed to sell all of these plants. It was quite literally a forest at this point. That wasn’t to mention the ones at Yu’s house that you still haven’t tended to, the ones you were going to harvest tomorrow had the weather improved.

Once you set down your shears and gave your fingers the relief of rest after spending the past hour pruning your kiwi tree, it felt like they were just one wrong move away from falling off your body. And maybe that was the time for you to actually stop working.

‎ ‎

You walked back inside to your hotter bedroom and slammed the door to the balcony shut, taking a deep breath of the fresh air to isolate a specific scent. And it didn’t take long for you to spot it – the scent of hot chocolate. You’d just made it for breakfast and had completely forgotten about it whilst waiting for it to cool off.

Huh. Instead of drinking it in bed, maybe you should try something Ying would probably do.

You ran your stiff fingers through your hair and moved towards the kitchen, grabbed the lukewarm cup and headed for the living room. Once you sat down on the couch, the remote immediately made its way into your hand and the television was turned on. Yu’s blankets were still there. You washed and tossed them back there, since there was no reason for you to move them. Not like you felt ill when you looked at them. They were pretty warm.

Besides, you were more concerned with the television and whether or not it would work after being unused for so long.

And… Yeah. It was kind of boring. Scratch that; it was very boring. Ying was probably just way too old-fashioned for you.

You surfed through the channels for a few more minutes. And with every channel you passed, you were only further reminded as to why this blasted thing was never used. You surfed and surfed and surfed, eventually landing on whatever channel it was once you’d gotten bored enough and instead picked up the phone to scroll through social media. Maybe you really should hit up your landlord and stop funding this useless thing mounted on your wall, you mused.

Your train of thought, however, was immediately derailed once your ringtone blasted in your ears. Ying had suddenly called you. And despite your annoyance, you accepted it without thought, holding the phone up to your ear.

‎ ‎

“Y/N! Good afternoon, how are you?”

‎ ‎

“Hi. Do you need something?”

‎ ‎

She tittered, and you could feel her anxiously fan herself from the other side of the phone.

‎ ‎

“What if I just wanted to check in on my friend?”

‎ ‎

“So you… don’t need anything.”

‎ ‎

“No, I do. Are you free this March?”

‎ ‎

You sighed and instead looked out the window, your eyes locking on the rapid snowfall that only helped further coat the ground in tonnes of snow. Sidewalks, houses, dead trees, balconies… Well, the uncovered ones, of course. Your balcony was safe.

‎ ‎

“Possibly. Why?”

‎ ‎

This question was weird to ask, to say the least. Especially to someone who lived their life with no planning and went with the flow. But you did understand why she’d ask since she planned months and months ahead.

‎ ‎

“There’s something I must do, but it’s highly likely that I’d end up needing your assistance with it. Do you recall a few years ago, when you…”

‎ ‎

Then, the word ‘storm’ caught your attention, your eyes immediately darted back to the television as your brain tuned out Ying’s words. Turns out that the channel you’d stopped at was the weather forecast, and the woman was explaining an incoming catastrophic storm headed towards…

Crap.

‎ ‎

“I– I have to go; I need to leave.”

‎ ‎

“Where? What’s happening?”

‎ ‎

Without thought, you stood up and rushed towards the thick jacket you had hung up on the coat rack right next to the door.

‎ ‎

“Ying, there’s a blizzard. It’s headed right around the neighbourhood where Yu’s house is!”

‎ ‎

You slipped on your boots and grabbed your keys, stuffing whatever remaining essentials there were in your pocket.

‎ ‎

“What?! Y/N, wait, don’t tell me you’re–”

‎ ‎

“I’m going, Ying!”

‎ ‎

“Don’t! Don’t, just wait for me, I–”

‎ ‎

You slammed the door shut, haphazardly holding the scarf over your nose, and rushed down the flight of stairs.

‎ ‎

Ying failed to convince you not to go before you closed the phone and shifted all of your focus back on your path, and she especially failed to get you to understand what was truly happening through your skull. To her, you either didn’t notice the magnitude of the situation, or you just outright didn’t care. Rushing into a blizzard just to keep a few trees safe was something no sane person would do, even with how much those trees meant to you.

And despite the thick haze that blocked you from seeing only a few feet in front of you, the people rushing to get home as soon as possible, and the rapid snowfall, none of it mattered. You clutched the ice-cold pole inside the bus and leaned your head against it, its temperature seeping through your thick black gloves and stinging your skin.

Your eyes locked on the windows as you watched the driver struggle to make his way through the fog, and your heart raced fast enough that it nearly constituted a heart attack. People around you were scared. The children huddled with their parents like scared birds, and you swore you could hear a few of them reassure their kids that they were going to make it home just fine. But you tuned it all out in favour of what was important to you.

All you needed to do was get to his house. Get to his house at the very least, and it’ll all be okay.

Those trees will be okay. You’ll make sure of it.

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frierengf · 7 months

Text

drabble collection — gojo satoru x reader

The five stages of falling in Love

— Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression & Acceptance. You hate Gojo Satoru, without a doubt. The flutter in your stomach, the heat on your face, the way you can barely speak around him. There can’t be any other explanation. You love Gojo Satoru, without a doubt.

wc : 100 - 250 x5 [1.1k] | ao3 [tags & notes]

— Denial (2017) ”I’m not in love with him Shoko, I hate his guts! You know this!” Shoko meets your gaze with doubting eyes, eyebrows raised. You roll closer to her, dragging your chair across the floor with your feet, before grasping her hands between yours. ”Gojo Satoru has been my nemesis for years, and that isn’t gonna stop anytime soon,” you say, as earnest as physically possible. ”Sure,” is what she replies, more doubting than you’ve ever heard before. ”You suck Shoko,” you mutter. ”You owe me dinner when you finally figure it out.” ”Which will be never!” ”Uh huh, sure. Shoko stands up, pulling her hands from your grasp. You lean back, looking up at her. She walks over to her desk and pulls out a few files before sitting down on the table, facing you. ”It’s fine y’know? To like him.” You flinch, looking to the side, down at the floor, at your hands. Anywhere but Shokos knowing gaze. ”Yeah, well, I don’t. So it’s fine. Even if I did like him, it’s not like he would like me back. He’s been nothing but a pain in my ass since the first time we met. Is he even capable of liking people like that?” Shoko just sighs. You look at your watch. ”I gotta go now. Class in 5,” you say, looking back at her. ”Let’s go out to dinner tonight. My treat, even though I’ll hate Gojo forever.” ”Deal.” —————— — Anger (2005) ”It’s unfair as hell! How is Kyoto meant to win anything with those two on the opposing team!” Gojo Satoru stares you down with the smuggest grin you could ever fathom. Geto Suguru looks slightly remorseful. You’re sure you look murderous. Gakuganji pats your shoulder. You frown at your principal. ”I won’t deny that it is unfair, but I have faith in all of you,” he says, adressing your classmates and upperclassmen. You roll your eyes. ”Sorry, but I doubt faith is going to do anything against two special grades. And the six eyes.” ”Sorcery won’t be your only weapon. Use your wits, your strength, your motivation.” ”They wiped the floor with us last year,” Utahime says, slight grimace on her face. ”But we can definetly outsmart them. I have a plan.” You grin before looking across the courtyard to meet eyes with Gojo once more. His smile widens and yours turns to a frown. You stick out your tounge at him, and you think he laughs. You break eyecontact. He’s annoying as hell. Tokyo wipes the floor with Kyoto for the second year in a row. You’re pissed. Utahime is holding back tears, apologizing for failing her underclassmen. You hug her and she sniffs into the crook of your shoulder. Only one thing is on your mind. I hate Gojo Satoru. —————— — Bargaining (2015) ”Nothing can be worth having to work with Gojo Satoru.” ”Not even a 100% pay increase?” You frown at Gakuganji, but his expression is unmoving. ”Are you messing with me? If this is just to piss off Gojo I’m not going to accept that offer.” He sighs, turning his head to the side before looking back at you. ”You’ve undoubtedly been a great asset to the Kyoto school for these past five years you’ve worked here, that is something I won’t deny. But alas, the Tokyo school recently let us know that they are in need of a teacher for their third years, and I couldn’t help but recommend you.” You frown, leaning forward to rest your elbows against the table. ”And this would give me double my current income?” ”Yes.” ”And Gojo teaches first years, correct?” ”That is correct, yes.” You lean back in your seat, crossing your arms. Gakuganji keeps looking at you, analyzing, scrutinizing. ”When would I be starting?” ”As soon as you’re able. For now the other Tokyo teachers are taking turns with the third year classes, but they’d appreciate you there within the week.” You frown and tilt your head to the side. A lot of pros, but one major con. Is it really worth it? You love Kyoto, your coworkers, your students, the city. But… money is also nice, is it not? Tokyo is nice. Everyone at the Tokyo school is nice, if you exclude one certain person. ”Fine, I accept,” you say, standing up and brushing over your clothes. ”I’ll start packing right away.” ——————

— Depression (2018) ”What do you mean he isn’t here?” Ijichi falters under your gaze. You take a step closer. ”He just isn’t here anymore? What does that mean?” ”The… um… the prison realm. He’s been sealed,” Ijichi mutters, and you swear you hear your mind shatter into pieces like a crystal ball. You swallow. A drop of sweat runs down your temple. Another runs down your cheek. And then one on your other cheek. Ah. I’m crying. ”Hm. I see.” The husk of you walks in to Shibuya station, not caring about coming back. You run. You exorcise. You fight. Muscle memory. Auto pilot. Why do I feel like this? I hate him. Don’t I? Even if I hate him, he’s still my colleauge. He’s still my friend. The carnage of Shibuya station overwhelms you. You fall to your knees, dryheaving. Tears are running down your face, uncontrollable and chaotic. How are we supposed to do this without Gojo? Screams of civillians ring in your ears. The wet, sticky feel of blood and the taste of your tears cut through it all. How am I supposed to do this without Satoru here? —————— — Acceptance (2019) ”I never hated you y’know?” You and Gojo sit next to each other, sun setting over the lake, feet skimming the waters surface. You lay down against the wooden dock before looking up at his silhouette. ”I didn’t know,” you mumble. He turns and looks at you. ”Now you do then,” he says, turning back to the lake. ”I guess I do,” you reply. The wind plays with his hair as the golden sun shines through it. He’s gorgeous. Your heart beats, pumping blood through your body, rushing through your ears. The sound of the lake, the crickets, the birds, all dulled. You pull your feet out of the lake before crawling to lay down next to him. He looks down at you, azure eyes gleaming. ”Maybe I don’t hate you either,” you say. He smiles that stupid smug smile that pissed you off so many years ago. ”Oh?” ”Mm. Just maybe though, so don’t push it.” ”Ah, I wouldn’t dare.” You smile up at him, and his turns tender, matching yours. ”Maybe it was love all along?” he asks. You laugh. ”Didn’t you just say you wouldn’t push it?” ”Can’t help it when it comes to you babe.” ”Ugh shut up, I hate you.” ”No you don’t.” ”Mm, I don’t.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader

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hawkshadowwrites · 10 months

Text

best thing that’s ever been mine

vegaspete, 2.8k

one shot, complete, rated G

Tags: Fluff, Professional Cuddling AU, Cuddling & Snuggling, therapy dogs, mentions of anxiety and depression, Vegas is going through it, pete is very very cute, allusions to pet play (kink), pete is a puppy (fluff)

Vegas shows up to pet some therapy dogs and finds Pete instead:

ATTACHED ART BY @kiiyuq !!!

read below or read on ao3

🐶🐶🐶

Vegas loves dogs. Always has.

Growing up he always wanted one of his own, a puppy that was his. One that could sleep in his bed next to him, that he could take on walks, that he could feed and cuddle. A dog that would love him no matter what. A dog that would always love him.

His father refused, said animals were for vagrants and common folk, that people like them in upper society don’t have dogs. They don’t have pets.

His father also had a lot of opinions on propper animals, instructing him to take care of some hedgehogs as he was younger only to berate and scold Vegas when they died off one by one.

His father had opinions on a lot of things, really.

Like that Vegas isn’t living up to expectations, isn’t following the path set for him, isn’t bringing honor to the family. It doesn’t matter that Vegas is unfathomably intelligent, managing a double major in record time with near perfect grades. It doesn’t matter that he has done every single thing his father has asked of him, the fact that he still has the audacity to pursue something like an English degree is unforgivable.

Vegas is on his own now, after all of that. Working part time to supplement his income — as his father refuses to pay for a single textbook — and works twice as hard to finish his degree.

He didn’t even really pay attention to the fact that he was stressed, or depressed, or anxious. All of those things are a baseline for him. Why would he point out that he feels hopeless and worthless and broken? That’s just who he is.

Apparently, though, normal people don’t feel those things. And all of this is perfectly normal, that it’s just brain chemistry, that lots of people face these problems, which Vegas finds ridiculously contradictory according to the previous point that normal people aren’t feeling miserable from the moment they wake up to the moment they go to sleep.

At least, these are things the college therapist explained to him, gently, as if Vegas might crawl over the desk and strangle them with his bare hands.

It crossed his mind, at least.

Vegas would rather gouge out his own eyes than submit to the mortifying ordeal of being perceived, of being forced to talk about things that upset him, to talk about his feelings. Even though it was nice to have a space with someone who actually listened to him, and who he felt didn’t look down on him or want to use him for something. Someone who wasn’t constantly comparing him to his cousin.

Still, his sessions haven’t been as productive for his overall mood as the therapist would have liked, so now Vegas is given a new task.

Visit the campus therapy dogs.

Apparently, once a week, a mental health organization comes on campus with trained service dogs, designed to help people with depression and anxiety and other mood disorders. That they can help bring joy and help relieve stress. Vegas thinks this is a weird concept but he isn’t going to complain, not when he can picture a gray Pitbull with wide eyes, head in his lap. Or maybe a black lab, fur soft under his fingers and tail thumping against the ground as Vegas scratches its head.

It’s just a fact that Vegas loves dogs, so what does he have to lose?

He writes down the date and time on a paper and takes it with him, noting that the soonest is a few days from today. He at least will be able to move through the mountain of homework he has, call Macau, go to the store and meal prep, do laundry, and perhaps finish reading his book.

Just a usual days list of tasks.

Vegas tries to forget about it, not wanting to waste all of his time and energy on something still so far away, but he fails. Once the idea has been placed in his mind he can’t stop thinking about it. He wonders what it would be like to actually gain a service animal. Is that allowed? To have with him, always.

It doesn’t matter anymore that his father wouldn’t allow it, the school campus refuses and his off campus housing also prohibits pets. But service animals are an exception to that rule, right?

The days pass slow and fast, all at once and not at all. But finally the day comes and Vegas feels a flutter of excitement in his stomach. He shouldn’t be this nervous, or have this much anticipation. It’s just a normal thing.

But the thing is, it’s not.

Because when he gets to the room that the event is supposed to take place, when he opens the door expecting to find the dogs, all he sees is a cute boy with a collar and dog ears, in an oversized sweater, staring back at him.

The room is almost set up with a large cage along the wall — fully stocked with comfortable looking pillows and blankets — some toys surrounding the cage, and a few extra large dog beds in the middle.

Vegas blinks, sure he is just hallucinating, but no, it seems to be not a delusion caused from undue stress and lack of sleep, but in fact, an actual guy dressed like a dog surrounded by dog toys.

“I’m sorry,” Vegas says slowly. “I must have gotten the wrong room.”

He didn’t. He knows he didn’t. He double and triple checked it.

The guy smiles and Vegas is first and foremost almost knocked over by his dimples. Dimples.

“Are you Vegas?”

Vegas nods, a little taken aback that the guy knows his name. Vegas takes the opportunity to examine him, noting that the cuffs of his sweater are extra long, over his fingers that he has curled at the ends. The sweater looks soft, a material that invites touch. It’s big on him, slipping off one shoulder to expose a collarbone and Vegas feels very overwhelmed in a lot of reasons.

“I’m Pete,” he explains. “I’m going to be your therapy dog for today.”

“My… what?”

Pete just smiles up at him and something about the warm brown of his eyes and the way his dimples dip into his cheeks has Vegas’s skin flushing. This has to be some type of joke.

“Did my therapist put you up to this? Is this a prank?”

“No, absolutely not.” Pete brings one hand up to adjust the puppy ears on his head before dropping them in his lap. “I help out with the other dogs, train them and volunteer when they are here. But there are times they can’t make it and usually don’t schedule themselves to come if there’s only one or two people signed up. So that’s where I come in.”

Vegas shifts on his feet and thinks about where to shove his hands; on his hips? Clasped behind his back? In his pockets? Crossing his arms? Why don’t people think about this? Is he over thinking this?

Pete makes a soft nose and Vegas snaps back to attention on him, trying to ignore the blush on his cheeks. “You can start by taking off your shoes, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Vegas wants to snap that nothing would make him more comfortable, but he leans down to pull off his shoes anyway. He’s grateful he’s wearing his normal black socks today, and not any of the embarrassing ones that he only gets away with when he’s wearing boots.

He really should leave.

This is really fucking weird.

“Who are you?” Vegas asks instead.

“I’m a biology major, but I also participate in a lot of the drama productions. I just like being a puppy sometimes, and find a lot of people need more hugs than they think they do.” Pete doesn’t move closer to Vegas but the longer he is standing with Pete sitting the more uncomfortable he gets.

He’s in jeans though, and a blouse that is extremely wrinkleable. He also has no idea what he is allowed to do or supposed to do.

“Come a little closer to me,” Pete suggests softly.

Vegas wonders how often he does this. Wonders who else has seen Pete like this in a sweater and black athletic shorts and fluffy socks, smiling at him like he is the best thing he’s seen all day.

Vegas knows for a fact that can’t be true. He is usually the worst part of someone’s day.

But he pads forward anyway, socks quiet on the rug, feeling his stomach flip as Pete looks up at him with an unfairly soft expression.

Vegas can’t remember the last time he was hugged by someone, and he really can’t ever remember a time that someone looked at him like that. People don’t look at him like that. Vegas is the asshole, the jerk, the black sheep. No one ever wants to be with just him, without the Theerapanyakul name or the money.

He gets in close enough that he is standing almost directly above Pete, and he is irritatingly, even cuter up close.

“I won’t bite,” Pete laughs softly. “I’m here to do whatever is most comfortable for you.”

“I’m very, deeply, extremely uncomfortable.”

“I can see that.” Pete slides his thumb along the ridges of his knuckles, still covered by the cuffs of his sweater. “Do you want to maybe sit down and I can put my head in your lap? Some people like that. Or I can start by a simple hug?”

Vegas tenses. He doesn’t mean to, but he hasn’t been held in so long that the idea scares him. What if he’s a bad hugger? What if Pete thinks he is weird? What if he makes Pete uncomfortable and he fucks this up too?

He sits anyway. This is all about trying new things, after all. He looks over at Pete who hasn’t moved, clearly waiting for Vegas to tell him what is okay to do.

Vegas looks down at his hands in his lap and twirls the ornate family ring around his finger a few times. Pete’s hair does look really soft, and the idea of Pete laying with his head in his lap is… nice.

“The first one,” Vegas mumbles, scared to admit it. This is weird, right? This is weird. He shouldn’t want this. He shouldn’t be this nervous or out of sorts with physical contact with someone. If this goes poorly he never has to come back, so there’s nothing stopping him from allowing something silly.

Pete must be used to this because he nods and shifts around, dropping down on his back and gently rests his head against Vegas’s thigh.

Vegas would prefer to kill everyone he could before admitting it, but the moment Pete rests the weight of his head on his thigh, he feels better. He is warm, but solid. Something tangible and real.

“Can—” Vegas starts but wrenches his jaw shut. He is already embarrassing himself enough, he doesn’t need to do more.

Pete, though, once again seems to understand. He turns his head just slightly so that he is looking up at Vegas and smiles that disarming smile again. “You’re allowed to touch me. That’s kind of the whole point.”

Vegas swallows back the thought of doing more than just touching, that Pete shouldn’t say such things because now Vegas is thinking about a host of inappropriate scenarios. He shakes it off and lifts one hand and hesitantly places it on Pete’s chest.

The swear is as soft as it looks and Vegas can’t help but slide his hand down to feel the texture. Pete is warm. So warm, and so firm. Firm in the way a body holds weight, that it exists and takes up space and is real. But he also feels soft.

He looks fit and trim, but Vegas can feel that he has this softness to himself that wraps him in a layer of comfort. Pete releases a small breathy sigh and curls closer into Vegas.

His heart jumps into his throat and Vegas wants to never let him go. He can’t help it, really, not with how attached he is already. Slowly he lifts his other hand to Pete’s forehead and brushes some of the bangs off his face and Vegas is dismayed to find out that his hair is just as soft as he thought it would be.

He wonders what else Pete does, if Pete enjoys playing puppy full time. That if this is just some silly joke for him or if he would look at Vegas with wide dark eyes if Vegas called him puppy.

He wants to know, but doesn’t.

He wonders what it would be like to hold Pete in other ways, to lay his head on his tummy and hide his face and maybe Pete could tell him softly that he is good. That he is doing a good job.

Vegas aches with it.

He feels tongue tied and out of sorts, feels like he wants more more more more more. More.

Pete makes another sound as Vegas combs his fingers through his hair again and Vegas wants to try something out.

“Pretty puppy,” Vegas says softly, scratching behind Pete’s ears, careful not to dislodge the actual puppy ears Pete is wearing. Vegas isn’t really sure what he was expecting but it is not Pete emitting a breathy moan.

Vegas freezes as Pete flushes but doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t try to deny what happened, or play it off as something else.

“Does my puppy like that?” Vegas does it again, this time massaging his fingers into the nape of Pete’s neck and the back of his head. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Vegas is only marginally prepared for Pete’s moan this time, and when he continues to apply pressure against Pete’s skin, Pete makes another desperate sound.

He has a feeling that this is not included in the standard service, that whatever Pete does with other people, it’s not this. Vegas feels a little insane, frankly, and isn’t sure how to possibly address this feeling. He wants to make Pete moan again, and again, and again. Make him moan as he becomes — and stays — desperate for him. He also realizes all in a rush that he is half hard, quickly in danger of becoming fully hard.

“I don’t normally do this,” Pete says softly, shifting to look up at Vegas. “And even though this is free and not anything paid, I need you to know that I don’t… I’m not inappropriate with people.”

Vegas suddenly feels like shit. Of course he doesn’t do this, and Vegas is being absolutely pathetic by getting hard with the smallest amount of physical contact. He thinks he should apologize, but the words are stuck in his throat.

“But,” Pete says again, soft enough that Vegas has to strain to hear him. “What I do on my own time…”

This is a dream, surely. Things like this don’t happen to Vegas. He doesn’t randomly meet cute boys with dimples that moan when he calls them puppy, who make his heart flutter in his chest with what feels like genuine joy. This is just too good to be true.

Vegas must not have said anything or reacted in time because Pete suddenly looks anxious, not fully pulling away but trying to create a little bit of distance.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god. I think I missed read the situation. This is really inappropriate and weird and awful. I am really so sorry.”

Vegas thinks about cutting him off but he is distracted by what is clearly present signs of arousal through the crotch of Pete’s pants. Looks like Vegas isn’t the only one feeling things after all.

“Easy puppy,” Vegas chides, allowing the urge to rise up in him and fall out. He wants to take care of Pete so bad. In so many ways. “I didn’t say no, now did I?”

Pete shakes his head, but doesn’t respond.

“I’ve always wanted a dog, you know,” Vegas hums thoughtfully. “But I guess a puppy like you is just as good. Better, even.”

Vegas is overcome with the need to feed him, to crawl into his bed at his apartment and pull Pete in his arms and wrap all of his limbs around him.

Pete just watches him, silent and waiting.

“So what do you say puppy, do you want to come home with me?”

Pete smiles, and it cuts through Vegas’s heart in a way he knows he will never be the same again. “Yeah. Yeah I’d love that.”

###

Vegas discovers many things that night. One, that Pete is a phenomenal cuddler. Two, he really, really loves being called puppy. Three, he is incredibly eager to eat food out of Vegas’s hand. Four, his tummy is as soft as expected. Five, he is profoundly easy to talk to.

And six, that Pete cuddles just as well without clothes than he does with them.

And seven, when he wakes up in Vegas’s arms in the mornings, Vegas thinks that he might finally be able to be happy.

He has a dog now, after all.

/fin

ART BELOW DRAWN BY @kiiyuq !!

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king-krisu · 7 months

Note

You have a good imagination, less original but would you have some prompt ideas for bojere too ?

I am... shaking. Thank you for this ohmygod. Incoming some chaotically listed prompts:

So as Bojan himself said today on Alessandra's live, laughter should be a part of love. SO take that as you will, either silly boys goofing around like they did with the CCC dancing during Tavastia weekend, OR laughter during sex, bcs you know it would happen lol

Bojan being unable to cook to save his life and some funny/fluffy moments around that

Because these boys are long distance, I feel like there's a CRIMINAL lack of phone sex fics in the tag. Realistically this would be both funny AND horny bcs we've obviously heard Jere's english lmao

THE MOST IMPORTANT OF THEM ALL in the smut department is: Them arguing over who's the top. That's all. You know it would happen

NOBODY HAS WRITTEN ABOUT THEM GOING TO THE ZOO TO SEE THEIR BABY SEAL ??????? So that

Just a general note but if I read one more miscommunication fic then I'm gonna riot

A mutual just yelled "Bojan and his raging choking and praise kink" so yeah idk thats smth

Jere visiting Slovenia and funny band practice moments maybe?

Jere wanting to dethrone Bojan as languag George and learning Slovenian for him but it goes horribly wrong, but Bojan is just proud he's even trying

SINCE NACE AND BOJAN ACTUALLY ARE GYM BUDDIES APPARENTLY, some Bojere + Nace gym moments that ends up with them almost injuring themselves due to goofing around, and Nace having to babysit them more than workout himself 😭

Some angst but since Jere hates winter I feel like him going through some seasonal depression now that it's getting darker here, and escaping to Slovenia to get to the sun (and Bojan lol) would be interesting

Again, please don't feel pressured to do anything about this haha. If anyone else wants to take note of this then please feel free to do so! <3

#käärijä #jere pöyhönen #bojan cvjetićanin

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maydaysims · 5 months

Text

Edgar Allan Poe Legacy Challenge created by @maydaysims

Hi! I’m maydayplays and this is the first Sims challenge I’ve ever written. I’d love your feedback and to answer any questions you have. I’d also adore being tagged in your stories if you’re playing this challenge. Ask questions here.

Welcome to the Edgar Allan Poe Legacy Challenge! I took his macabre, melancholy, and tormenting work and devised this challenge across ten generations. If you prefer the google doc version, click here!

This challenge is to be a guide or starting point for your storytelling but I encourage you to adapt your play as you see fit! Don’t beat yourself up for missing a generation’s goals or having your story deviate. That’s part of the fun.

Trigger Warnings

Please keep this mind that this is a Rated R legacy challenge. Poe’s work is a reflection of the tragedies in his life as well as the rejections he’s experienced and the addictions he struggled with.

I have also tried my best to note triggers before each generation but I’m human. There will always be triggers that are missed.

Mods (completely optional):

Basemental Drugs fits the vibe because Poe was known for his alcoholism and substance abuse.

MCCC is a mod that allows you to manipulate aspects of the Sims such as no occult, having pregnancies happen, etc. I often use it to move my plot along or improve quality of life.

Wonderful Whims enhances storytelling by giving Sims “first impressions” and noting whether they find another Sim attractive or not. It also includes menstrual cycles, polyamorous relationships, disabling jealousy, and much much more. If you want the smut, you can try Wicked Whims instead.

Control Any Sim allows you to turn household Sims into “household NPC’s” if you don’t like playing multiple Sims in a household.

Generation One: "The Raven"

Triggers: heartbreak, isolation, depression

While the other kids played in the sun and splashed in the mud, you spent your time happily clacking away on your typewriter and playing sonnets on your violin. Your parents worried that you weren’t socializing so they encouraged play dates.

You begrudgingly went to them until one day, you met Lenore, your raven-haired muse. (You don’t have to stick to the name Lenore).

Love blossomed quickly for you, until Lenore was suddenly gone from your life. This manifested your parent’s worst fear: you no longer socialized. They tried their hardest to get you to leave your room but they were met with haunting violin songs and frantic typing. As soon as you could, you moved out from their home to have even more isolation.

Aspiration: Bestselling Author Traits: Gloomy, Creative, and Loner Skills: Writing. At least level 4 in Painting and Violin.

Start off in a grungy, dirty home. The only item you’re allowed to cheat is your computer so you can start writing.

Get a computer and join the Freelancer (Fighting Words) career as your sole source of income. Even odd jobs should be avoided unless you can do them from home. Remember, you want as little interaction with other people as possible.

Buy the Creative Visionary reward.

Write at least one book named after Lenore in some way.

Marry someone who reminds you of Lenore (doesn’t have to be the negative/sad/depressing parts- unless you want it to be!) Get creative with how you meet them.

Have only one child (unless you get twins, etc.)

If you use cc’s, you can decorate your home raven-themed.

Generation Two: "Annabel Lee"

Triggers: emotionally distant parent(s)

You learned how to love your (Gen 1) unconditionally, even if it meant being the parent of your parent at a young age. When you began to have romantic relationships, you always wore your heart on your sleeve. After graduating high school, you kissed your parents goodbye because you couldn’t deal with the gloom and doom of your childhood home anymore.

You can inherit money from your Gen 1 depending on how Gen 1 did with the writing career.

Aspiration: Soulmate Traits: Romantic, choose/randomize the other two. Skills: Parenting and Charisma.

Have several relationships throughout your teenage and young adult life. They can be as casual/loving/serious/etc. as you’d like.

Your career is completely up to you.

Meet the love of your life and move to somewhere by the sea.

Have at least two children. Be as present as you can in their lives, throwing incredible birthday parties, reading them to bed, and showering them with love.

Have your partner pass away before your first child reaches young adulthood.

Have a bedroom specifically dedicated to your Annabel Lee that no one is allowed to go in but you. You can leave the urn there if you’d like.

If you remarry, they cannot know about the secret room.

Generation Three: "The Tell-Tale Heart"

Triggers: elderly abuse and murder

You grew up with a parent who wore their heart on their sleeve. You saw it as a blind spot that you could take advantage of. It started off with tiny white lies and as you got more confident, you began to steal from your family and then your neighbors. When people asked about what you wanted to be when you “grew up,” you always made something up. The truth is, you have no idea.

Aspiration: Public Enemy Traits: Kleptomaniac, Paranoid, choose/randomize the third. If you don’t have Paranoid, you can use Genius. Skills: Mischief and Charisma. Anything that’s required for your aspiration/career.

Join the Criminal or Secret Agent career depending on how you want to play your character. You can choose whichever branch you’d like!

When your charisma is high enough, ask to borrow money from at least 3 Sims. It’s up to you if you’d like to pay them back or not.

Have no more than one child. You don’t have to marry the other parent.

Achieve notoriety and become at least a three-star celebrity with a bad reputation.

Optional: Move an Elder Sim into your basement or a room in your home. Leave them there with no way of letting them out. Keep them a secret from your family.

Generation Four: "The Cask of Amontillado"

Triggers: a really messed-up way to kill someone, sociopathy

You were never sure what exactly your parent did for a living but you knew that you always got what you wanted. All you had to do was ask. Your parent made sure you were cultured, a little piano here, a little art there. You felt contempt for anything not to your standards.

Aspiration: Master Mixologist Traits: Snob, Perfectionist, and choose/randomize the third. Skills: Mixology. At least level 5 in Cooking. Anything that’s required for your aspiration/career.

Join the Culinary career and the Mixologist branch.

Marry someone who is of high society, whether they are extremely wealthy or at least 3-stars famous or both!

Brew a unique Amontillado drink.

Buy Money Tree reward to continue generational wealth.

Become mortal enemies with another mixologist whether they’re plain annoying or a threat to your business, get creative!

Create a wall in your bar with no exit. Put your mortal enemy in there and let them die in the wall.

Be extra petty by leaving your signature drink in the wall with them.

Be at least a three-star celebrity, famous for your Amontillado.

Generation Five: "The Masque of the Red Death"

Triggers: murder, mass murder, murder-suicide

You grew up being that kid who always had an endless supply of booze, thanks to your Mixologist parent. You were free to do as you wanted so naturally, you drank, you partied, and you spent money like it was your job. Everyone either wanted you to wanted to be with you. You feel immortal and that you can get away with anything.

Aspiration: Party Animal Traits: Outgoing, Noncommittal, and choose/randomize the third. If you have Get Together, you can sub one of those out for Dance Machine. Skills: Dancing.

Join whichever career you’d like OR switch it up and live off of your family fortune (inherit OR use the money cheat).

Throw the most extravagant parties complete with a caterer, entertainer, and mixologist! There’s no such thing as doing too much so have as much food, drinks, and gluttony as you’d like.

Always wear red to parties and have at least one outfit with a red mask.

Have a black room in your party house that no one is allowed to go into but you and whomever you invite. Murder them in that room but don’t forget your red mask!

Have random kids with random Sims.

Buy Seldom Sleepy reward.

Optional: For the full masque of red death experience, lock yourself and your party guests inside during a party. Don’t have any food, bathrooms, or any means of staying alive. Die together. You can also use a house fire for this.

Generation Six: "The Black Cat"

Triggers: emotional neglect

You were raised by other people (nanny/grandparents/foster/etc.) because your parents were never around. The person/people who raised you gifted you a kitten and you immediately fell in love with it. For once, you felt like you had someone. You two were inseparable. But as you neared adulthood, the cat passed away of old age. This drove you a bit mad and to fill the hole in your heart, you got more and more cats. But none of them were your first cat.

Due to Gen 5, change this Sim’s last name to Usher to protect them from Gen 5’s scandals.

Aspiration: Animal Affection Traits: Gloomy, choose/randomize the second and third trait. Skills: All skills required for your career and aspiration

Join the Detective career.

Marry as a young adult.

Have a cat named Pluto that is an all-black cat.

Always have the maximum amount of cats.

Keep all the urns from every cat that’s passed away and put them all over the house. Never release any of the cats to the netherworld.

Have a distant relationship with your child(ren). They remind you too much of your childhood and you prefer the company of cats.

Buy the Independent reward trait. Because cats are independent!

Generation Seven: "The Pit and the Pendulum"

Triggers: PTSD, disassociation

You learned from an early age that (Gen 6) wasn’t going to be around. It made you sad that they loved their cat(s) more than you but as you got older, you just felt bad for them. To get away, you made friends on the internet through gaming tournaments and chat rooms. You also entered the world of logic and puzzles. But this also meant that you prioritized escapism and often found yourself disassociating.

Aspiration: Nerd Brain Traits: Loner, Genius or Ambitious, choose/randomize the third. Skills: Video gaming. Logic level 5.

Graduate high school early or as an A student.

Join any tech-based career (esports, tech guru, etc)

Marry someone who shares your genius or ambition (they don’t need to have the trait, only the personality!) in a passion of your/their choice.

Buy the Needs No One reward trait.

Don’t have cats. Just the idea of it triggers your childhood experience.

Help your children with homework and encourage them to follow your logic-based path.

Never let your children meet your parents (at least, the Gen 6).

Generation Eight: "The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether"

Triggers: malpractice

Your (Gen 7) never talked about your family history. You were able to trace your lineage back to (Gen 6) but it cuts off. There’s no more Ushers before that. You think there was a scandal in your family history but you had no way of proving it. If only your family was more open and self-aware, perhaps things would’ve been different. Instead, (Gen 7) spent their time lost in videogames and being semi present. You learned to find inner peace to get through your childhood, which set you in the direction of wanting to work in wellness… but maybe you’re a bit too passionate about it.

Aspiration: Zen Guru Traits: Good, Erratic, and choose/randomize the third trait. Skills: Up to your career. Logic level 5 (from Gen 7 upbringing).

Fall in love with one of your wellness clients or someone who found inner peace through you.

Have a non-traditional family.

Have one extreme way of practicing wellness that can be considered malpractice. Perhaps you lock other Sims in a sauna to detox them? Make them starve too long as a form of fasting?

Have as many or as few children as you’d like with as many or as few Sims as you like. You like to live life to the fullest with minimal restrictions!

Buy the Carefree reward trait.

Generation Nine: "Hop-Frog"

Triggers: bullying

Your (Gen 8) was… eccentric, to say the least. You had a happy childhood, but as you grew up, you learned that your family dynamic was different. It made you insecure. As a teenager, you coped through making jokes and writing material. When you made people laugh, they stopped judging you… or did they?

Aspiration: Joke Star Traits: Socially Awkward, Vengeful, choose/randomize the third trait. Skills: Comedy. Mischief level 2.

Join the Entertainer career.

Achieve at least three-star celebrity status.

Marry someone who is “out of your league”. Up to you whether they are “using” your Sim or if it’s a legit love.

Have either twins or two children back to back who are close enough in age to be considered twins. No more than those two.

Your friends are also in the entertainment industry or celebrities of sorts… but they don’t get you.

Make constant jokes and prank others because that’s the only way you know how to show affection.

Buy the Money Tree reward and make as much money as you can to give to your heir(s).

Beat up one of the people who bullied you.

Generation Ten: "The Fall of the House of Usher"

Triggers: manipulation and potential abuse

This story is about twins. You can choose to play the “solo heir” mode or the “twin heirs” mode.

You (Gen 9) had no idea but you and your twin were snooping when (Gen 9) beat that bully up! To be honest, this was the first time either of you respected them. You grew up watching that parent be a pushover, unaware that everyone was always laughing. You and your twin vowed to never let anyone treat them that way. With the wealth you inherited, your charisma, and your twin’s observant and cutthroat nature, you and your twin set off to be the most powerful family in the world.

This is the last generation. Per the Fall of the House of Usher story, there are no heirs but if you want to play a looser story, go for it!

Twin 1 (based on the story, this would be the “official” heir):

Aspiration: Mansion Baron Traits: Social, Workaholic, choose/randomize the third trait. Skills: Charisma.

Spend your time making as much money as you can, however you can.

Make friends with as many celebrities as you can and throw lavish social parties.

Start a retail business of your choice. This is what you and your twin want to build up.

Meet the love of your life as a Teen or Young Adult. Lose them because you chose money over them.

“Get rid” of any Sim that gets in your way– but don’t get caught!

Buy the Money Tree reward trait.

Make friends with all the powerful and influential families.

Twin 2:

You always thought (Gen 9) was pitiful, even when your twin was compassionate about them. But when you saw them put their fists at one of their bullies, you felt a sense of satisfaction. This is what the Usher name should be about. You swore that people would shake in fear every time they heard the Usher name.

Do not have any heirs, for whatever reason that fits your story.

Aspiration: Mansion Baron (same for both twins) Traits: Perfectionist, Evil, choose/randomize the third trait. Skills: Mixology (because she’s always watching and observant)

Never marry. You don’t have time for that.

Black Widow any romantic partners you have. Keep a memento to remember each one.

Whenever your twin runs into trouble, whether with people disrespecting them or getting in their way, take care of the problem– be creative!

Rub shoulders with the elites of elites but always stay one step ahead.

Never get drunk or impair your judgment.

Buy the Brave reward trait.

Optional for your grand finale:

Move into Generation One’s lot. Decorate with eerie paintings.

Have a private room from Twin 2’s victims. (from Generation Two).

Kill at least three Sims and steal their money (from Generation Three).

Eat and drink only the finest– you both deserve it (from Generation Four).

Have a black room for activities of your choosing (from Generation Five).

Have at least one black cat (from Generation Six).

If your last name changed at all during the generations, change it back to Usher (from Generation Seven).

Have a hobby irrelevant to wealth (from Generation Eight).

Avenge the Usher name (from Generation Nine).

For the Epilogue, check the google doc.

#simblr #sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 legacy #legacy challenge #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 simblr #sims4 #legacy #the sims 4 #poe challenge #new simmer #sims challenge

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sadurbanwerewolf · 27 days

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Welcome Stranger

Hi, I'm Yan and this is a blog for posting art/lore for my oc Duncan. Please read the rules before you follow or send an ask. Note that english is not my first language, so there might be some spelling mistakes.

THE RULES/WARNINGS

This blog is 18+. Even though it probably won't be often or explicit, some nsfw content will be featured on this blog. By nsfw I mean sexual references and some kink content. So if you’re a minor or uncomfortable with this stuff, block me (respectfully).

No discrimination of any kind. Transphobia, homophobia, racism, ableism and other kinds of hate speech or discrimination are not welcome here.

Be respectful towards me and others. Please understand that I am a real person behind the screen and I have other obligations beside this blog. Don’t start fights with me or people in the comment section.

I am a stranger to you. Please understand that I don’t know you personally. Please don’t send me “friendly” rude messages, trauma dumps, vents, rants about how much you hate/love something/someone or ask me for irl advice.

Don’t be too vulgar. Even though slight nsfw is allowed, explicit stuff is crossing the line. I don’t want to see porn of any kind or hear how much you want to impregnate my character. I also don’t like when people swear too much.

Don't send romantic/sexual asks about Duncan's beast form. Base and hybrid are fine but flirting with a dog is a bit too much for me.

This is not an omegaverse blog.

OOC or // means out of character.

Don’t repost my art. Reblogs are totally welcome, but reposting my art without credit, claiming it’s yours, using it for nft/ai, using it to harass others is not allowed.

Put warnings in tags when making fanart. I get uncomfortable too, so if your art includes things that are upsetting for me, please include appropriate tags. If you don’t want your art to be reblogged by me, please put something like ‘Yan/Duncan don’t reblog’ in the tags.

I will update the rules if needed, so check them from time to time.

Things that make me uncomfortable: self harm, suicide, verbal abuse, pregnancy, cannibalism, explicit gore

About the world

The world is inspired by the game series Coffee Talk, you can feel free to ask questions that reference the games. It takes place in a modern day nonspecific European country (I like the aesthetic of romanticized pictures of NYC or LA but I’m European so I don’t know a lot about America).

About Duncan

Duncan Caddel

25, he/him, incubus/werewolf, bisexual, single

He initially was a DnD/Pathfinder character but I much prefer this modern au. I still will post art of him as a fantasy Barbarian.

Ref sheet:

Hybrid and Beast forms

Personality traits: sad, sweet, soft, playful, kind, affectionate, patient

Background:

Duncan lives alone in an apartment that once belonged to his mother. She moved in with her boyfriend and left the place for Duncan to inhabit. His income mainly comes from his work as a barista at a rock bar. He also releases his music on streaming platforms and produces pornography of himself for subscription service. He has a passion for music, especially rock, metal and indie stuff. He has several friends from college with whom he still keeps contact. They sometimes gather together to play ttrpgs or party. However, gatherings like that are seldom, so he feels pretty lonely since he spends most of his time with customers or by himself. When going outside, he likes to dress in a gothic-esque maner. At home, he wears whatever is clean in his closet, and of course, he dresses formally for his barista job. He is fond of cooking and tries to eat healthy. He very rarely consumes meat, but he does eat fish and sea products regularly. Duncan struggles with depression, however he’s getting better since he started his medication. He has a pretty good grip on how to control his transformations, but when he gets overwhelmed by emotions it’s much harder for him to control it. He only transforms into his beast form outside of the town.

In short: lives alone, barista/musician/sex worker, lonely, likes cooking, pescetarian, depressed.

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maydaysimsold · 6 months

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Edgar Allan Poe Legacy Challenge

Welcome to the Edgar Allan Poe Legacy Challenge! I took his macabre, melancholy, and tormenting work and devised this challenge across ten generations. Here is the link.

I tried my best to note triggers prior to each generation. If you're playing this challenge, please tag me!!

Generation One: "The Raven"

Triggers: infidelity, heartbreak, isolation, depression

You begrudgingly went to them until one day, you met Lenore, your raven-haired muse. (You don’t have to stick to the name Lenore).

Aspiration: Bestselling Author

Traits: Gloomy, Creative, and Loner

Skills: Writing. At least level 4 in Painting and Violin.

Buy the Creative Visionary reward.

Write at least one book named after Lenore in some way.

Marry someone who reminds you of Lenore (doesn’t have to be the negative/sad/depressing parts- unless you want it to be!) Get creative with how you meet them. Have only one child (unless you get twins, etc.)

Optional: Start off in a grungy, dirty home. The only item you’re allowed to cheat is your computer so you can start writing.

If you use cc’s, you can decorate your home raven-themed.

Bring home random lovers who you call Lenore in bed. Have your spouse walk in on you cheating as much as you can.

Die of unnatural causes either a few days before or when your heir becomes a young adult.

Generation Two: "Annabel Lee"

Triggers: loss of spouse/parent

Your parents didn’t have the perfect marriage but it didn’t sour your understanding of love. You learned how to love them unconditionally, even if it meant being the parent of your parents at a young age. When you began to have romantic relationships, you always wore your heart on your sleeve. After graduating high school, you kissed your parents goodbye because you couldn’t deal with the gloom and doom of your childhood home anymore.

Aspiration: Soulmate

Traits: Romantic, choose/randomize the other two.

Skills: Parenting and Charisma.

Have several relationships throughout your teenage and young adult life. They can be as casual/loving/serious/etc. as you’d like.

Your career is completely up to you.

Meet the love of your life and move to somewhere by the sea.

Have at least two children. Be as present as you can in their lives, throwing incredible birthday parties, reading them to bed, and showering them with love.

Have your partner pass away before your first child reaches young adulthood.

Optional: Since your father was an acclaimed writer, you can start with a little extra money.

Have a bedroom specifically dedicated to your Annabel Lee that no one is allowed to go in but you. You can leave the urn there if you’d like.

If you remarry, they cannot know about the secret room.

Due to the graphic nature of the upcoming generations, I rather not post them on Tumblr. Instead, read the rest here.

This is my first ever challenge! Any comments, suggestions, and love notes are welcome in the askbox.

P.S. Please don't share this as your own or edit it to distribute as your own. I worked hard on this challenge and I hope that my wishes could be respected. Thank you, mayday 🌹

#sims 4 #edgar allan poe legacy #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 simblr #the sims #the sims community

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skrunklybf-archived · 2 years

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armin arlert x f!reader

good girls get good grades; one of the many expectations your parents pressed into you from an early age. a fierce people pleaser, you wanted nothing more than the thick haze of burnout to lift from your shoulders, before you have to run home with your tail between your legs in defeat. good thing your sociology class holds a fellow overachiever.

tags: college au, academic rivals, depression, angst, toxic family dynamics, slow burn romance, multi chapter fic, unclear feelings, reader is an unreliable narrator, eventual fluff

wc: 2.5k

notes: wheeeewwww y'all. WHEEEWWWW. i couldn't decide how to approach this chapter so it's gone through several transformations.....hhhh..... anyways, hope you enjoy eren briefly checking out your ass ♡ love you all

chapters: 01 | 02 | 03

Chapter Three: Flattery

"You looked great up there."

Armin's habit of suddenly appearing behind you was already getting old. Stilling the erratic rhythm in your chest, you slowed your stride a bit to let him catch up.

"Will you stop sneaking up on me?" A small smile betrayed your stern tone. "And... thanks, my grade almost ate shit. I owe you one." The weekend came with a sense of fleeting relief, like holding ice in a burned hand. Time to rinse and repeat, right?

Armin fell into step at your side. He thought about how rarely you actually stop to talk. Always moving, as if your schedule was tightly packed, or poorly planned. He reckoned it could be either at this point.

"Any time. Y'know, it wouldn't be a bad idea to study together more often." The blonde held a sunny aura, something that you wished was more contagious. "I like the way that you think." You knew it was a compliment, but pride didn't swell at his words like it should've. Instead, you peeked at the boy suspiciously from your peripheral.

Shoving your hands in your jacket pockets, you looked thoughtful for a moment. Would that be... weird? What does he mean by that? A chime from your phone called your attention away before you could reply. "Uh, hold on, Armin." Dread squeezed the air from your lungs upon reading the contact name.

Incoming Call

Dad

You stopped walking. Unaware, Armin stopped a few steps ahead of you. It was almost impressive how fast your thumb automatically moved to answer the call despite the blood draining from your face.

"Hi, Dad."

Armin sealed his lips together.

He couldn't pretend to understand the nature of your relationship with your family. Over the few days and several hours you spent next to each other, the blonde watched you ease so slowly back into the familiar rhythm you used to move in, almost as if invisible weights were being dropped from your ankles. It was refreshing. It was interesting. He held a sneaking suspicion whatever icy visage you threw over yourself publicly was just that -- a show, an act. Smiles on your lips weren't as rare as he once thought. Whenever your family was mentioned, though, you were a deer caught in headlights.

"Yeah, I'm finished for the day. I did well on my presentation for soc," eavesdropping is rude, he reminded himself, so Armin angled his body away and pretended to busy himself with his phone as you spoke, "marks should be posted by the end of the night."

How deeply did they monitor you? The blonde chewed his cheek. Something in your voice sounded so artificial and plastic. It seemed glue stuck your feet in place but ignored your hands, thumb flicking over fingertips in a repetitive motion he could only pin as a nervous habit.

Armin caught shade falling down your face. "I know, I was... studying, with my tutor. The library closed and the diner was still a public place, so..."

Ah, right. He still felt awful about the late hour he kept you out the night before. Still, even if you were with him out of pure necessity, Armin found himself enjoying the company. Was it selfish of him? Maybe. It still felt nice to imagine that you didn't hate him as much as he thought.

A separate, familiar voice called to him from across the lawn, dragging him from his thoughts. Eren jogged himself over, messy brunette bun bobbing with each long step. Armin watched you turn and meander a short distance away with your phone pressed firmly against your ear. The two boys exchanged loose greetings ending with Eren shoving a thumb in your general direction, "who's this? Are you waiting for her?" Armin pocketed the phone he only used as a distraction, watching warily as Eren let his eyes wander over you. Why did he say it like that? The blonde looked to you too, facing away and combing a hand through your hair as you talked.

Armin remembered being taken aback by the shift in your appearance that day. Lately your body all but swam in hoodies and sweaters far too big for you, coupled with plain dark jeans and sleepless bags under your eyes. You looked tired, and rightfully so. But that day, Armin could guess what Eren was so non discretely gazing at; his eyes fell down your back, to the curve of your ass, beautifully shaped in a pencil skirt.

He shoved the brunette, the tips of his ears flushing as he tore his eyes away from you. Eren barely budged, chuckling playfully at his friend and muttering "relax, relax" in the air between them.

"I'm walking her home," Armin started, "then we can head to Jean's." A certain brass clung to his words without permission. He wasn't entirely sure where it came from, but he felt a tad grateful for it regardless.

Eren snorted in reply, "why don't you just bring her with?"

"[Y/N] has more important things to do than get drunk with a bunch of random guys."

"Not random," the taller friend interjected, "she'll know both of us, right?"

Both of us?

A rubber band pulled taught in Armin's chest at the implication. Eren Jaeger, his best friend for the majority of his life, the man who never stuttered or faltered when talking -- especially to women. He was a cocktail of confidence and charisma jam packed into a six foot frame, topped with a scrunchie to hold back his mane of dark hair. Armin felt so utterly flat and nondescript in comparison. He felt a flicker of annoyance clench his throat as you turned, eyes landing on the friend in question.

You had pocketed your phone, the jacket wrapped around you doing little for warmth but pulling the look together nicely. Clean, simple, almost professional. "Hey, sorry about that," sighing, your hands found themselves under your bag's strap as you approached them, "anyways, what were you saying, Armin?"

Eren prodded the blonde's side, a shit eating grin spread wide on his face. "I think he was just going to introduce us, right, Armin?"

How interesting. In a logical sense, Armin knew you were the day-and-night opposite of the type of girl Eren usually chased. You were brilliant, determined, ambitious -- wrapped in a very pretty bow and tight lipped smile that he couldn't help but think of when you weren't around. Despite this, that rubber band grew ever tighter as he begrudgingly gave in to his best friend, as per tradition.

The familiar swirl of brain fog and restlessness continued to plague your days and nights. Time in the classroom felt like a physical battle to hold your brain above swampy water. Cerulean eyes watched the slow flicks of your fingers, the steam slowly rising from your ears. The sound of your voice became a rare song during school hours.

Armin found himself missing your roundabout squabbles.

He still sent texts. Sometimes he would be lucky enough to receive a reply. More often than not, they'd be opened hours or even days later, left to sit along the wall of other abandoned 'hello's and 'how are you feeling?'s. Part of him wondered if he was being a nuisance.

Every once in a while, though, you'd send him a message. Always out of the blue, almost never with any sort of context -- just a random question.

[Y/N]: the mountains or the beach?

Sometimes he'd wait to even open it, wondering meekly if you meant to send it to someone else, but Armin would always reply.

Armin: the beach, easy (:

These questions usually came late at night, when you were supposed to be sleeping. When he was supposed to be sleeping. The pattern was slight, but traceable, and sometimes he'd stay up a little longer than he should, hoping to hear the familiar chime.

[Y/N]: when's the last time you went?

Armin: probably last year, with Eren and his ex

And sometimes, sometimes, he'd be rewarded with a pearl of wisdom for his tiresome efforts.

[Y/N]: i've never seen the ocean in person before

[Y/N]: just in documentaries /:

[Y/N]: maybe we could go some time

Maybe he wasn't a nuisance. Maybe the lawyer's daughter was just a bit of a puzzle, one he hadn't quite figured out yet.

Armin: just say the word and i'm there

He wouldn't push. Whatever was pulling you under water wasn't his battle to fight, he thought, and the last thing he wanted was to paint himself as another obstacle. Armin, for reasons he couldn't quite wrap his head around, wanted to be useful to you. He wanted to see the weight lift from your shoulders again.

Though traces of you could be found around campus or online, the realization hit him like a bus one day -- where were your friends? Nobody to chatter at between classes, nobody to discretely text during a lecture. He wondered what you did when you tucked yourself away in your room for the night.

He wondered if you felt lonely, like him.

"Would you say you're satisfied with your accomplishments?"

"I mean... I feel like I should be, but I rarely feel it."

The hum that followed felt hollow. A bit of iron tipped your tongue as nervous energy worked along your jaw, nibbling away at your soft lip skin. Therapy was supposed to be good for you. Why did it feel like a prison sentence?

"Do you think you'd find them more note worthy if they were from a friend or loved one instead?" Julia, the young woman encompassing your laptop screen, tapped a pen to her chin.

Your cuticles were a mess. Picking aimlessly, a sigh dropped your shoulders. "I don't know, I guess so. There's a guy in a few of my classes that... I was jealous of, for a long time. I still kind of am. I wanted to be like him-- want to, be like him," the words quietly swelled over your lips, "I am proud of his work. His... intelligence, his drive. He doesn't have to work so hard to be perfect. Maybe if I can just imitate him a little, things won't be so hard."

The half hour sessions dragged painfully every Sunday afternoon. Somehow the insight was supposed to be comforting, enlightening, and sometimes they were; mostly, though, you'd close your laptop along with your jabbering mouth and take a deep breath. A ring of silence hung over your head like a halo.

Ding!

... for a moment, anyway.

Armin: feel like some pie, on me this time?

Armin: 1 image attachment

A familiar restaurant, coupled with a familiar reflection in the window. Armin and two others -- Eren, (right?) with a taller brunette at his side, smoking a cigarette.

Armin: p.s. there's no cinnamon apple today ): but blueberry's better anyway

A smile tugged at your lips.

[Y/N]: dessert at 2 in the afternoon? how daring and crazy of you

Armin: [Y/N], you of all people should know innovation begins with a crazy idea and the drive to see it through

Running a hand through tangled hair, you found yourself standing and slipping into a less lived-in outfit.

[Y/N]: asinine

[Y/N]: i'll be there soon

A friend, you thought about Julia's question on your way out the door; a friend, and your first thought was the blonde who used to make you want to grit your teeth to dust. The one offering to buy you (supposedly superior) blueberry pie.

Should it be so strange, seeing Armin without a mountain of books sitting between you? Without the laptop screens hiding half of your faces, bathing them in an ominous glow? And his friends -- Eren and... whoever the taller one was -- were they like Armin? Somewhat reserved, witty, and... interesting?

Mulling over the decision you already set in stone, anxiety began to gnaw at the empty pit of your stomach. The diner was in view. Next, it was down the street. And finally, right in front of you.

Warm rays of light pooled across the sidewalk from large windows, dancing and shifting as patrons moved. You felt like a ghost; watching, peering into friendly company from the safety of an invisible barrier. After an eternity and a half, your feet dragged you inside the last place you laughed and felt excitement swim under your skin.

The trio wasn't hard to find in such a small room. Animated chatter and chuckles flowed so easily from their table, tinted with colorful language and the occasional mocking tone. Unwilling to blatantly interrupt, you found yourself quickly squeezing into the empty seat beside Armin, who nearly jumped out of his skin when your elbow bumped his.

Eren met your widened gaze first, flashing a bright smile. The man on his side promptly wiped the crumbs from his mouth and nudged his head in your direction.

"Oh hey, she's real!"

"I told you! You owe me twenty bucks." Eren smacked the table in excitement, making you jolt just the slightest bit.

"Nah nah nah, listen. Blink twice if you're a paid actor."

Thoroughly entertained, you watched the brunettes squint at you from across the table, waiting eagerly for an answer. Armin huffed instead, tossing a straw wrapper that bounced off of the taller boy's forehead. "That's Jean. Don't listen to him, he's on a bit of a sugar rush."

You snorted, "well, I'm not an actor, but I was bribed with free pie."

Jean clicked his tongue a few times and leaned back in the booth. "Very sneaky Arlert. Are you gonna pay for me too, since you just lost me twenty bucks?"

"Why don't you ask Eren? I hear he just won twenty bucks." Armin replied with a grin, turning to you once the brunettes began bickering amongst themselves. "You hungry, [Y/N]? The bribe extends past a slice of pie, y'know."

Something about the air circling around your four heads felt familiar. Warm. You found yourself smiling on your own, eyebrow popping upward.

"So, like, the whole pie?"

Armin chuckled.

"How daring and crazy of you," he mimicked quietly.

"What can I say? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

#armin x reader #aot x reader #armin arlert #attack on titan #reader insert #something gained

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succubusphan · 9 months

Text

Two Man Team - Chapter 5

Summary: This is the story of two struggling friends who after many trials and tribulations find their way back to each other and build the life they've always dreamed of.

Or how Phil changed his life by talking to random strangers on the internet.

Rating: E

Tags/warnings: Friends to lovers, Friends with benefits, mental health issues (mainly anxiety), Slow burn, Dan is a psych student. Canon divergence (the timeline is altered and some things never happened), Slutty Phil, Angst with a happy ending. The fic spans many years.

Author's Note: Written for the OSPBB 2023 @oldschoolpbb. Thank you @effingmeteors for being my life saviour and beta as usual and to my artist Lin @anironsidh.

Edits and the art will be added at some point, we are busy bees.

POSTING EVERY DAY UNTIL IT'S COMPLETED.

Total Word Count: 75k ish

Read on Ao3

CHAPTER 5: La Vie en Rose

The next few months were a haze. Their channels started to grow by the thousands and they had become YouTube partners, meaning that they could actually make money from doing videos! On the other hand, Phil’s family was supportive of his creativity but not of his lack of a stable income. He was desperate to make his YouTube career work, he knew that he could do it, that they could do it, but he needed a little help.

After much whining and begging their parents for support, both Dan and Phil decided to give YouTube a shot and actually make it a priority in their lives by having filming schedules, collaborating with other youtubers on the regular and going to conventions. Things were getting pretty wild.

Phil suggested that they move in together to have a better filming space but Dan was hesitant to move away from campus. It hurt Phil’s feelings a bit, especially when he could feel Dan pulling away from him at times, but on the other hand, he understood. Dan was very set in becoming a therapist and helping kids just like him, giving them a safe space to talk like the one he wished he’d had back in high school.

While their “careers” were taking off, both of their mental health started to… decay, for lack of a better word. Dan was shutting himself in, trying to cram while also filming his videos in the confines of his dorm, not socialising with anyone other than Phil. Phil, on the other hand, was experiencing an insane amount of feelings and pains and aches at all times; he often felt like he was going to be sick or pass out or like he was actually losing his mind.

After a particularly bad week and hours of ranting to Dan, he sent Phil a link to a questionnaire he learned to use in one of his classes. It went into some hard topics such as the urge to not be alive anymore and, to be honest, that crossed Phil’s mind fairly often. The end result was clear: 98% depression.

Phil frowned. He had never considered himself depressed, but Dan stopped him right there. He said it was actually anxiety, like really bad anxiety. Having a lot of context to Phil’s replies helped him to reach a more accurate diagnosis, not that Dan was qualified yet, but it was a start.

He recommended therapy and a brand of natural sedatives you could buy without a prescription, but Phil snapped and yelled at Dan like he had never yelled at him before.

He was not crazy, he didn’t need therapy, right?

He mulled over the thought, but he was not crazy, he didn’t need therapy at all so he was not going to waste money he could be saving on something he didn’t need. The sedatives… those were a different matter. At first, he had rejected that idea as well, but when visiting his own parents became too much for him, he relented - they were crushed flowers after all.

Phil approached the pills as a sort of experiment, he just wanted to try them out and see if they helped at all, as Dan had suggested. After reading the leaflet several times over and making sure that he wasn’t taking too many, he took the first dose. It was weird, they took the edge of anxiety and put him to sleep, at least at first, his body too exhausted after being so tense for months at a time, but they weren’t a magical solution, by night, the nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach would come back to haunt him.

Eventually, he started to get used to them and instead of putting him to sleep, they helped him cope a bit better by taking the edge off his anxiety.

Apparently, what he’d been experiencing on the regular were not panic attacks, according to Dan, because he didn’t believe he was dying during them, but anxiety attacks. The sedatives held them back for the most part. Although Phil had to admit that he took more than the dosage on occasion, feeling emboldened by the fact that the O.D. amount was like 4 full boxes and he couldn’t even afford that many anyway, not with his YouTube earnings.

Dan was happy with the progress he was making, even if it was not a lot and Mark said that he looked less dead since he started taking them, and he would know, since they had moved in together after Dan’s rejection.

Dan was in therapy and into some weird forms of meditation that had nothing to do with science, like reiki, but he was still having trouble with his mental health himself so Phil really tried and failed to not burden him with his issues but at least he repaid the favour quite often. Sometimes Dan would call him in the middle of the night to talk and Phil always stayed up with him, trying to unravel whatever was eating away at Dan’s mind, talking about everything and nothing at all and Phil kind of loved it.

It was a difficult dynamic all around. After that week in December, Dan had never offered Phil sex, even when he’d stayed over and slept on the same bed, but he still behaved overly territorial about him in public. Dan seemed to be jealous of Mark as well, although Phil didn’t understand if it was because of their friendship or the benefits that came with it.

The sexual part of his friendship with Mark had settled a bit anyway. Mark and Phil still had sporadic sex if they both felt too desperate, but the excitement was out of the equation, it was more out of familiarity and as a way to comfort each other. Ever since Phil’s interest had shifted to Dan, Mark and Phil’s friendship had blossomed into something more stable and almost brotherly. The emotional connection was still there, but there was nothing else muddying it.

As roommates, they woke up together, cooked together, cleaned their flat and Mark even helped him film sometimes - just behind the camera.

---

June 2011

Phil went out of his way to throw a little birthday party for Dan since he had mentioned wanting to finally celebrate the occasion this year because he now had good friends to keep him company, but the party almost didn’t happen.

As it turned out, Dan was feeling quite overwhelmed with his newfound fame. The fans had started recognising him out and about, taking pictures of him without his consent and the shippers that constantly teased him about being gay. Dan still hadn’t come out as gay or bisexual to his fans, so this was quite rude and Phil could tell that it was really taking its toll on him. But with everything going on, Phil hadn’t expected Dan to plan a trip to Whockingham with a new friend he’d made at uni. A friend that he had admitted having a crush on.

To be perfectly honest, Phil was jealous, and admittedly frustrated because he didn’t know much about this person or their intentions, and Dan was very tight-lipped about them. All Phil knew was their name: Sam. He didn’t even know if it was a Sam or a Samantha. His stomach turned when he heard about Dan’s plans but he didn’t want to ruin them so he didn’t mention it. Still, Dan noticed that something was wrong and pushed until Phil fessed up about the party. He tried to wave Dan off and let him do his own thing, but his eyes were quickly filling with tears just thinking how easy it was for Dan to dismiss his efforts and still want to leave.

Dan thankfully put his foot down and said that he could take Sam home to meet his parents the following week; he had just forgotten Phil had mentioned something about them celebrating together.

He’d forgotten… Phil shook his head and put on a brave smile. It was fine, Dan had decided to stay after Phil mentioned it and that had to mean something, right?

Phil let out a sigh of relief at the thought and Mark was happy enough to help him set out the place, even offering to stay at a friend’s and give them privacy, but Phil didn’t want to consider the possibility that Dan would want to have sex with him again, it was probably a lost cause at this point - even if he sometimes did things that confused Phil.

Sam hadn't arrived with Dan for his party and Dan hadn't even mentioned them once, which confused Phil even though he hadn't mentioned inviting Sam either. It just came as a shock to see Dan walk in alone, making Phil realise that he had been half expecting Dan to bring Sam along, and he didn't quite know what to do with that information. In the end, the party consisted of just them three, video games, an endless supply of Malibu and movies.

At one point the doorbell rang while they were watching the conjuring and Phil managed to pour an entire bowl of popcorn onto the floor. Still laughing, Dan stumbled to the door and opened it before letting out a high pitched scream as Sarah and Anja pulled him into a hug, not that Dan knew who they were before they pulled Dan’s ears 20 times in honour of his birthday.

“Happy birthday, Dan!” Yelled Anja.

“Yeahhh, happy birthday little man!” Sarah said and patted Dan’s back a bit too hard before dragging him back to the sofa. “I’m Sarah, Phil’s old roomie, by the way. Sorry about that, we got a bit carried away,” she said and plopped down next to Dan. This is Anja, I’m sure Phil mentioned her.”

Dan nodded. “I was wondering if we would ever meet. Every time we see your group you guys never come! I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” he laughed.

“Nah,” said Sarah, waving him off. “You know how it is with new relationships, we were spending most of our time at home.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Dan blinked repeatedly. “I didn’t know you guys were together.”

“Phil didn’t tell you? Cheeky bugger!” She said, popping some popcorn into her mouth. She looked at Anja. “Uh, it’s only been, how long?”

“Five months next Tuesday!” Anja said. “We met over the phone a few years ago and I was with someone else at the time, but when I came to visit Phil in January of this year I was free and I asked her out even though I didn’t know if she was a lesbian or not. Luckily she said yes.”

“Wow,” Dan said, grabbing his drink from the coffee table and giving Phil a side-eye. “You make a cute couple! I didn’t even know Sarah was gay.”

“I’m bi actually,” said Sarah. “I didn’t know until I met Anja either. I gave her a shot and it’s honestly been the best relationship I’ve had so far. The more you know, right?”

“Do you guys want to come to a gay party tonight?” Anja said. “We’ve only stopped for a bit because we’re heading there.”

“Uuhh,” Dan said. “No, I don’t think I can do that, but you guys enjoy it.”

Sarah gave him a knowing look. “I understand,” she said. “So what are we watching?”

“The conjuring!” Mark said. “Phil likes to torture us.”

Anja groaned. “Oh, Sarah will keep us here until it ends.”

Sarah nodded. “Just this one! It’s halfway through as well so it won’t be that long.”

Mark shook his head with a small smile and handed them drinks.

Anja grabbed the crisps and rested her head on Sarah’s shoulder.

When the movie was over, the girls started to say their goodbyes and Dan was well past the point of being tipsy, so he asked everyone for a kiss on the lips and as good friends that they were, they all obliged. Phil was overthinking things once again, making it in his mind as if Dan had taken way more time kissing him than the others, but he shut that inner monologue down and poured himself another drink instead.

Mark walked the girls out and once they were alone Dan turned to Phil. “You didn’t tell me they were together,” Dan said with a frown.

“Who?” Phil asked absentmindedly, his mind a bit clouded by alcohol.

“Sarah and Anja. I didn’t even know they had met.”

Mark walked in and raised his eyebrows at Phil but said nothing, grabbing his drink from the table and taking a sip instead.

“I didn’t know you wanted to be kept up to date with my other friends’ lives. Sorry,” Phil said, taken aback. That had come out a bit rude and he didn’t even know why. He was a bit upset about Dan’s sudden mood change and questioning.

“I don’t know, you used to tell me everything and I feel like you don’t anymore,” Dan retorted with an icy tone.

“Why are you trying to start a fight? I made this party for you, I introduced you to my friends, I always try to make you feel included, and no, I don’t keep things from you. When you talk to me I talk to you, you have just been talking to other people more.” There, he’d said it. The thing he shouldn’t have said. He was being a bad friend, he was being needy and he hated himself for it. He shouldn’t have drunk at all, now he couldn’t take his sedatives and his anxiety was just trying to crawl out of him.

Dan frowned and lowered his head. “Shit, I’m sorry. I ruin everything.”

Phil rubbed at his forehead, letting out a deep sigh and shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m sorry too. Things happen, people get busy. You’re not a bad friend because you are doing other things now.”

“But you feel neglected,” Dan said, finally meeting his eyes.

Phil shook his head again. “My feelings are not your responsibility. We both know I can get upset about the craziest of things. I will handle it.”

“I want to be there for you, like you are always there for me.��

“You are,” Phil tried.

“Here,” Mark said, giving a drink each. “I will leave you guys to talk this out,” he smiled reassuringly.

“That’s not n-” Phil started but Dan cut him off.

“Thank you, Mark!” Dan said with a tentative smile and extended his hand towards Phil.

Phil accepted the offer and let himself be guided to the balcony, grabbing one of the garden chairs and sitting outside.

“Actually, give me a sec,” Dan said and ran back inside to turn all of the lights and the TV off before returning and sitting at Phil’s side. “There. The stars are so beautiful, I like to sit outside and stargaze when I’m struggling.”

“I remember. You must spend a lot of time outside at night,” Phil joked.

“I do. Every time I call you in the middle of the night I’m out, just looking up and trying to figure things out.”

“You’re going to get stabbed one day, this is Manchester, not Whockingham,” Phil commented, taking another sip of his Malibu. “What have you been struggling with lately? You seem so far away sometimes.”

“Myself, my identity, what I want from life. I don’t know. Do I want to continue doing skits on YouTube? Do I want to become a therapist? I don’t think those two are compatible, who would take me seriously? And most importantly, what I’m always struggling with: the meaning of my life. Why do things matter? I don’t think anything matters at all.”

Neither of them mentioned Sam or what they were supposed to be 'figuring out', but Phil couldn't have cared less at that moment. He placed his hand on Dan’s and squeezed lightly. “I think you matter a lot, Dan.”

“I don’t, I’m a nobody.” Dan looked away into the night.

“You matter a lot, to me. You’re my best friend,” Phil clarified. “You have been my friend for… six years now. You’re twenty and more mature than I am at twenty-four. You have it all more figured out than I do, you just don’t know it.”

“Do you think so?” Dan asked, finally looking into Phil’s eyes.

“I do,” Phil said. “I am so proud of you and who you have become.”

Dan frowned. “What if it’s all just an illusion and I’m pretending to be this way? What if it’s all a mask?”

“I don’t think you could pretend with me. I know you, Dan. I know literally all of your secrets.”

Dan paused for a moment, as if considering that statement and nodded. “Actually, you do. Nobody else knows me better than you. Thank you.”

“Any time.”

Phil’s alarm went off. It was midnight and Dan was officially twenty. “Happy birthday,” he said, raising his glass for a toast.

“Thank you,” Dan smiled and raised his glass as well, knocking it to Phil’s a bit too hard.

“Go get the cake from the fridge.”

“But it’s my birthday and I’m comfy,” Dan whined, in that squeaky voice that Phil loved.

“Stop complaining, I’ll get the candle so you can get your wish.”

They both groaned like eighty year olds as they got up and went to get the cake and candle. It was a bit silly to be the only one singing for Dan but they were no strangers to silliness and the bright smile Dan gave him made it all worth it a million times over. Fuck, Phil would kill to see that smile every day.

Dan blew the candle and turned towards Phil, taking a step forward and getting into his space. He looked down at Phil’s lips for only a second, making him breathless, making him want to do something stupid.

Phil cleared his throat. “What did you wish for?”

Dan shook his head and ran his nose on Phil’s, looking into his eyes, searching for something, Phil didn’t know what, but after only a second, Dan smiled and kissed him deeply. They kissed and kissed and talked and laughed until they fell asleep on Phil’s bed still fully clothed.

---

Things were sort of back to normal after that. They were friendly, and often flirty, but nothing more.

All of Phil’s friends knew of Dan even if Phil didn’t want to go into detail; they had all gotten the impression that if they were not dating, at least, Dan was a good friend and therefore welcomed him accordingly. In fact, Ian invited them up north to meet his baby and it was one of the best trips they had ever taken together. Dan felt completely at ease with Ian and his wife and he was obsessed with their little girl. Phil snapped a pic of her taking a nap on Dan’s lap, one of his favourite memories of the trip, and later shared it with the internet.

Ian was still a good friend. Even if their life choices had been very different and he had gone and gotten a whole wife and kid, he was still very much a part of Phil’s life and invited him over as often as he could, not minding that Phil hardly ever said yes. He didn’t judge Phil for his sexuality, his Youtube career or his lack of achievements; he was just happy that Phil was happy. He even helped Dan and him set up a liveshow in his living room and allowed them to show the cute baby, which made everyone lose their minds.

It was a fun trip. Phil felt at ease watching Dan chatting and connecting with his friends, slotting perfectly into his group and even exchanging memes with Richard and when the guys suggested a repeat as soon as they all could in Manchester, he didn’t hesitate to say yes.

For a moment Phil allowed himself to think that their issues were resolved and they could move forward whether they got together or not. They could still be friends and have a clear separation between their friendship and the unresolved sexual tension/flirting, but he was proved wrong shortly after.

Dan routinely asked him for help to get into Sam’s pants and Phil didn’t want to be a bad friend, so he advised him as best as he could while also calling out the clear red flags Sam displayed, like when Sam constantly flirted with Dan even though they had a girlfriend.

In fact, Dan didn’t even know if Sam was out or not, or if they were even bi, maybe they just wanted someone to do their uni work for them and Dan was quite good with his papers. As it turned out, Sam was a non-binary person, which had taken Dan long enough to figure out and this was perhaps, their most intriguing quality, what caught Dan’s eye. In his own words, the androgyny of this person allowed Dan to be attracted to them and he didn’t know what that meant.

A few weeks after their trip, Phil almost got green with envy seeing pics of Dan and Sam spending lots of time with Dan’s family. He even took them to his nana’s house, and Phil had not been to hers. It seemed that Dan felt more comfortable sharing Sam with his family, taking pictures of his mum with them and showing them around, unlike Phil who barely got to see Dan’s room 90% of the time. Phil wondered if they had shared a bed but he drew the line at asking. That would’ve been too low, even for him.

In October they filmed the third instalment in what was now a series, Pinof, and the fans went crazy about it. It was exciting but nerve wracking because Phil had no idea if the format would work a third time without people getting bored of it, but luckily, it did. By December Phil was burned out, he was constantly exhausted but he couldn’t sleep at all even with the sedatives, so Dan offered to send him Reiki from his dorm.

Phil had a very vague understanding of what it was, but he trusted Dan enough to let him do his thing. If Dan said it would help him, he figured there was no hurt in trying. So after a particularly exhausting filming day, Phil went to bed as instructed and tried to sleep but it was useless, until-

He started to feel tingles all over his body and shut his eyes, feeling himself relax, all worries leaving him, at least for the time being, and before he knew it, he was asleep.

The following day was insane for many reasons. First, he asked Dan if he’d started the thing at 9 pm which was when he felt the tingles and Dan confirmed that yes, that was the time.

“You are possessed and I’m scared of you,” Dan said over Skype.

Phil laughed. “What do you mean?”

“You know how my dorm is full of pigeon nests and they are always hanging out on our windows?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been here for over a year and I’ve never seen anything like it. When I started sending you reiki, the pigeons went wild and one of them crashed into my fucking window like it was trying to kill me!”

“Oh my god! What does that mean?” Phil asked, still laughing. That was so creepy but it made him weirdly proud. If anyone was to be a demon child, it made sense that it was him.

“I don’t know, but animals dying while trying to kill me for sending you good vibes is mental. I think you need to call the Vatican, mate.”

“Yeah… but can you do it again in a few weeks? It was good.”

Dan laughed. “Maybe, if you’re good.” He winked.

----

December 1st 2011

Phil looked out the window and let out a tired sigh. The storm raging outside reminded him of his own mood.

“Life is hard sometimes,” he said, looking into Dan’s eyes through the screen.

“I know, but things can always be worse,” Dan said with a cheeky smile. He always did that, find comfort in sarcasm.

“True, but I still feel upset sometimes. Yesterday I watched my favourite movie again and I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. But I guess that’s normal, I can never watch it without crying.”

“Oh, what movie is that?” Dan asked, suddenly sitting up straight.

Phil blinked, realising that he had never mentioned it to Dan which was odd since they had watched so many films together. “What dreams may come, with Robin Williams.”

“Why does it make you cry?”

“It’s very sad, most of his family dies and he’s just lonely, but it has a good ending,” he said, trying not to spoil the main plot point.

Dan hummed. “Would you recommend it to me?”

Phil considered it and shook his head. The way one of the characters died... better not send Dan that kind of thing. “No, I don’t think it would be good for you. It’s too sad.”

“My favourite movie is sad too.” Dan shrugged. “Do you know Edith Piaf?”

“Uh, the singer?”

“Yeah, ‘La Vie En Rose’ is a movie about her life, and she had an awful life. She was a very strong woman.”

Phil swayed side to side, considering if he was curious enough about Dan’s tastes to watch another sad movie so soon. “Should I watch it?”

“Absolutely, it’s a beautiful movie.”

Phil flinched as thunder hit way too close for comfort and decided to call it a night. “I’ll watch it tonight then. Better go to bed before something explodes here.”

“Yeah. Let me know what you thought.”

“Alright, good night!”

“Night, Philly!” Dan said before disconnecting the call.

It took some time for Phil to get snacks and find a semi-decent website to watch the movie for free, but he eventually did and settled down under the covers before pressing play.

The movie started sad, truly sad, more than Dan had let on, but things eventually started to pick up for Edith. She pulled herself out of poverty and a horrible living situation with her talent alone and found a modicum of success in time, which was amazing, but she struggled to find love for the longest time.

Phil couldn’t help but relate to her and empathise with her and feel the sheer glee she felt when she met the man that had inspired her most popular song and the name of the movie. She was so happy and in love.

It reminded him of how he felt when he met Dan and how happy Dan made him, but that proved to be a double-edged sword when Edith’s love died in a plane accident, shattering her heart and leaving her hopeless and loveless for the rest of his life.

Phil’s eyes welled up with tears; he could relate to that as well. It reminded him of the uncertainty surrounding his situation with Dan, the hopelessness he felt as Dan slipped through his fingers.

Phil cried, he cried for Edith, who only knew love once and lost it and he cried for himself because he got to know real love only for it to be thwarted, confusing, intense and maybe even unattainable. He covered himself up in bed and sobbed until his entire body hurt, hoping to fall asleep soon, but just as he shut his eyes, his phone vibrated. It was a message from Dan.

“How was the movie?”

“Fuck you.”

“I told you it was sad, lol. I watched your movie anyway. I like the concept. It’s like us. I don’t believe in soulmates, but I know I could find you in any world.”

“I hate you.”

Phil knew that Dan didn’t mean it in the way he needed him to and that only made it worse. He wondered if he was destined to die sad and alone like Edith because he too was losing his soulmate.

---

December 25th 2011

Just after 3 am Phil’s phone rang and it was Dan, of course. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Dan said, sounding a bit sad. “How are you doing?”

“Great. Martyn and Cornelia are here being all over each other and that doesn't help to keep our parents off my back about when I’m going to bring someone home.”

Dan laughed humourlessly. “You’ll find someone.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, wanting to argue but knowing that something was wrong with Dan. “Are you alright? You sound a bit off,” he said before Dan could deny it.

“Sam is considering breaking up with their girlfriend because they are having issues. The girlfriend cheated, and she’s honestly not a very good person, but at the same time Sam doesn’t really want to break up after two years together but they keep flirting with me, running their fingers through my hair and they even slept over at my dorm one day when we were cramming. I don’t know, I feel like I’m going crazy. Do you think Sam likes me?”

“Um - If I had to guess, yes. But the signals are not very clear with the whole girlfriend situation. Why does Sam keep flirting with you while they are in a relationship? I can’t find the logic in any of it.” Phil was proud of himself for biting his tongue instead of saying exactly what he thought about Sam.

Dan hummed. “I think their relationship is pretty dead but they are just trying to pretend like it isn’t.”

Phil frowned. “Do you think you should be holding out hope? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Probably not,” Dan admitted and let out a long sigh.

Phil bit his lip and took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know. I think that Sam may be interested in you but flirting while being in a relationship isn’t good. What if you got together and they did the same with someone else? Would you trust them to not do the same?”

“That is actually a good point,” Dan admitted. “I just don’t know if this is a thing. Are they interested in me? Are they just playing? At this point I don’t even know if we are actually good friends or I’ve imagined that all on my own.”

Phil swallowed thick and shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself for what could be the devastating truth. “Are you in love with them?”

“Jesus, Phil!” Dan said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love with anyone, let alone with Sam.”

“So you were never in love with Emilio?” Phil pressed. It was wrong of him to bring Emilio up but he wanted to know.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Dan, sounding very small. “Maybe I just can’t love anyone. I don’t think anyone has loved me either so maybe that’s for the best.”

Phil bit his tongue a bit too hard to stop himself from telling Dan that he loved him. He actually hadn’t thought about it, what kind of feelings he had for his friend, that is. He hadn’t wanted to think about actual love, hoping that avoiding that train of thought would help him keep his emotions at bay, but Phil should have realised that he was awful at that. “Someone will love you. Someone who is good for you, not like Emilio…”

“Not like Sam either?” Dan asked. “That’s what you were thinking, right?”

Phil paused for a bit too long.

“You don’t like Sam for me, do you?” Dan pressed.

“Well… You know about my experience with cheating and Sam sounds like a cheater, if not a physical cheater, Sam is emotionally cheating with you. I don’t like that, but I’m not the person who has to like it, that’s you.”

Dan huffed. “You are not making this any easier,” he snapped.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. What should I say?” Phil mumbled, trying not to let Dan know that his comment hurt.

“Don’t be like that,” Dan pleaded.

“What?” Phil asked, his voice breaking.

“I’m sorry, it’s not your fault,” Dan said. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Ok,” Phil whispered and cleared his throat. “I’m going to sleep now.”

“I’m sorry,” Dan said, sounding a bit more desperate to placate Phil.

“It’s fine, I’m just tired,” Phil tried. “Bye,” he whispered and hung up before Dan could reply. He turned off his phone and got to bed and covered himself up to his head, letting the tears flow freely. The entire situation was shit, he was exhausted, Dan only cared about Sam and talking about Sam and he was getting more distant with Phil when all Phil could do was love him.

Dan sent Phil a Merry Christmas text in the morning, but Phil didn’t reply.

#succubusphan fics #phanfic #phanfiction #dan and phil #phan #ospbb 2023

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ao3feed-narumitsu · 10 months

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Fool Me Once

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/48489682

by petrichor_dandelion

The world slows down when Phoenix Wright picks up his cheap flip phone to answer an incoming call. The world stops once Phoenix Wright arrives at the Prosecutor’s Office to read a note. The world moves on while Phoenix Wright stands with a small gathering of five people and an empty grave. The world forgets Phoenix Wright as he loses himself in the darkness of his house, empty wine bottles and beer cans being his only company.

The world mourns when Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright chooses death.

Or: Phoenix kills himself like a few days before Miles returns to Japanifornia.

Words: 1160, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice.

Fandoms: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major Character Death

Characters: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Ayasato Mayoi | Maya Fey, Itonokogiri Keisuke | Dick Gumshoe

Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright

Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, Suicide Notes, My First Work in This Fandom, My First AO3 Post, POV Alternating, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Phoenix Wright Needs Therapy, Phoenix Wright Needs a Hug, phoenix kills himself, The Author Regrets Nothing, no beta we die like phoenix, Faked Suicide, Major character death - Freeform, Hangover, One Shot, i wrote this at 5 am pls be nice, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, maya is Angry, i cant write, Tags Are Hard, im going to continue this fic but, it can be read as a one shot, POV Third Person Limited, Funeral, Death, there are parts of the story that dont work but idc deal with it, lmk if i need to add more tags, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Miles Edgeworth Needs a Hug, Miles Edgeworth Needs Therapy

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3XBStmP This is an automatic feed of all new stories posted to the Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright tag on AO3. Because of that, it is not guaranteed that Miles and Phoenix are the main characters in the story, nor the only ship. Please verify content upon clicking through to AO3.

#ao3feed #narumitsu #edgewright #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth

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decolonize-the-left · 2 years

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Fuck, just seeing the excuses people make to ignore what's going on in Iran is disgusting tbh. Like, y'all think there aren't mentally ill people over there too, who don't have the privilege to ignore what their own government is doing to them? You (general you) are so spoiled.

& like if having to hear about other people's trauma is truly this distressing then maybe social media isn't the best place right now.

(Again this is not directed at you DeCol but the people complaining about you *daring* to spread the word in fandom tags)

(heavy sarcasm incoming)

But you don't understand. They have a right to be on the internet and have that experience be pleasant.

In fact, the entire GLOBE should bend to that right, even if it costs them their lives and rights. I mean don't you see how forcing Sara Smith to see a post about the Iranian protests is literally ableist oppression since she's depressed? Like you can't say Iranians deserve a voice if you won't Also support Sara ignoring them. Because how is forcing Sara to see protests on Tumblr any different than supporting the fascist governments brutalizing Iranians? Oppression is oppression, you don't need nuance to navigate it.

On a realer note...

....I hate it here.

And the whole "I get theyre in pain, but I shouldn't have to see them so tag your posts appropriately." .... Is giving segregation, tbh

Like I said, people need to be unpacking internalized white supremacy because this shit is out of control.

#asked #answered #decolstw #tw racism #racism

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topperscumslut · 2 years

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‼️PLEASE READ‼️

if i gave y’all the option to start a subscription for my account that you pay for a. would you guys do it and b. what would you want it to be for?

of course i would still post normally on here for everyone to see like i do now, but money has been really tight lately and I’d really like to make some money on here if i can. i’m already a broke college student as i am, and on top of that i just lost my house and my job in the span of a week, as well as my grandpa being essentially on his death bed which has taken a huge toll on not only my mental health but my bank account due to gas to visit him in the hospital. don’t worry tho, i do have a place to live but i did lose my home of 6 years. it’s not like i lost my house because i lost my job and couldn’t pay rent, in fact it’s pretty much the other way around cuz the stress of losing my house contributed to me being tardy and absent at work and getting fired. my landlords abusive grandparents that my mom and i rented from decided to sell our house with three days notice. that was the house i primarily lived at cuz it was closest to my work, school, and my friends and also just the house that felt most like “home” but i had stayed at my stepdad’s house and my dad’s house occasionally as well, but not often, cuz my dad’s house was like 15-20 minutes away and my stepdad’s was about an hour away and i would often get off work late at night as well as the fact that gas is fucking expensive. now i only have my dad’s house and my stepdad’s house to go, which are more than an hour away from each other, and i’ve been going back and forth often. i used an entire tank of gas today alone. on top of that i’m now essentially out of money and have no source of income. my parents still pay for my necessities like food and utilities, and my mom has thankfully been paying for gas for the brief time being until i can get back on my feet, so i can still survive, but she’s running low on money too and it’s like my gas is disappearing as soon as a i get it. TW! on top of that i’ve also been to the hospital for my depression and suicidal thoughts and i just found out my paternal grandpa my only sane grandparent only has a couple days left. it has not been a fun time.

but on a lighter note, what sort of content would you like to see from me if i do make paid subscriptions available? i’ve had a couple ideas, i am a reality shifter so i’ve considered telling shifting stories and stuff like that there but there’s just one problem - i haven’t shifted (yet). i’ve also considered putting priority on subscription holders when it comes to requests and maybe even taking same-day requests because i don’t do very well about getting requests done in a timely manner and especially lately, but i’m not sure if i can handle putting that sort of pressure on myself either. but if you guys have any ideas, please let me know! I’ve been thinking about setting up subscriptions for a while to make money off my work, even when it was just extra money i didn’t really need, but right now i need it more than ever and your support would mean everything to me. if you’re new to my page, i write for many different fandoms including Outer Banks, The Umbrella Academy, Stranger Things, The Hunger Games, and Nicky, Ricky, Dicky, and Dawn (random assortment, i know lol). i mainly write smuts with some fluffs but so far my works have all been character x reader, but i would be open to writing other types of fanfic too.

anyway, thank you guys so fucking much if you’ve read all the way down to here. please let me know what you’d like to see from me!!

tagging some of my faves for engagement:

@wannabestarkeysgirl @babypoguelife @shit-tua-probably-didnt-say @shadowisbored @spookyblazecoffee @google1000 @five-hargreeves-defense-squad @gillybear17 @fiction-is-life @toppersluvr @toppersjeep @toppersbitch @seconds-not-decades @torigrace26

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snoopybutch · 1 year

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I posted 4,272 times in 2022

That's 1,567 more posts than 2021!

100 posts created (2%)

4,172 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dykepilled

@cornsilklesbian

@lipstickleatherdyke

@stinkmole

fairycosmos

I tagged 876 of my posts in 2022

#seinfeldposting - 76 posts

#seinfeld - 71 posts

#jerry seinfeld - 45 posts

#george costanza - 45 posts

#butch - 41 posts

#txf - 40 posts

#the x files - 39 posts

#georgy girl - 39 posts

#the xfiles - 36 posts

#cosmo kramer - 36 posts THIS IS SO FUNNY. Seinfeld brain

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i can drive and i’m great at it i once reversed at least 200 ft in a gravel parking lot that was chock fucking full with nothing but mirrors

My Top Posts in 2022:

“Are you wearing the-“

The 1982 the Thing directed by John Carpenter shirt featuring the tagline “man is the warmest place to hide?” Yeah.

79 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

At work today I most likely sprained (that’s what I’m hoping for) my right ankle. 2 years ago I broke my right leg and right ankle so this has really freaked me out. I just slipped on oil that Just got spilled so hard that my right leg went completely under me and my right shoe cut into my left shin (like literally broke skin through my pants.) Driving home (just over a mile) made me almost dry heave with pain. So if anyone would be open to sliding some extra change or dollars my way I would truly truly appreciate it because I would like to get an x-ray/doctors appointment and I have literally 50 dollars to my name right now. TLDR hurt my weak and full of metal ankle at work today, would genuinely appreciate any donations so I can get it checked out. If anyone wants like proof of me breaking that leg in the past I can send you the scar and x-ray before and after pics. There’s currently a solid bruise forming etc.

Venmo is Diarmuid-Laurion Cashapp is $diarmuidl (that’s an L)

110 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

Ellen Ripley is the best character in the entire world she’s just like yeah don’t do that that’s dumb that’s dangerous I think this and no one listens until it’s too late and then she’s like :| guess it’s time to get shit done !!! Bitch!!!!

268 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

I tested positive for Covid today and can’t work bc of it, working is my only source of income and without a job I can’t eat. I’m a trans butch lesbian living in a not so great area for ppl that are visibly gnc. Grocery delivery is expensive where I am. If anyone has some extra change any little bit helps, if you can’t donate please reblog/spread it. My cashapp is $diarmuidl (lowercase L) and my venmo is @ Diarmuid-Laurion, message me for my PayPal.

370 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Reminiscing on my hysterically butch lesbian childhood. In elementary school during winter I would hold all the girls jackets so when they got hot they wouldn’t get dirty on the ground. I’d hold girls backpacks if they thought it was heavy bc I’m strong! When it was cold I’d have girls holding onto my arms bc I run hysterically warm so I’d be their little heater. In middle school I’d ask girls if I could pick them up and I’d princess carry them for a bit and then put them down.

618 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Depressing that my biggest posts r me asking for help

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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maydaysims · 6 months

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Edgar Allan Poe Legacy Challenge for Sims 4

Edgar Allan Poe Legacy Challengecreated by @maydaysims

Some of the aspirations and traits come from different DLC’s but edit your story to fit the base game/packs you have. I tried to stick to the base game as much as I could.

Remember, this is all about having fun, not restricting the way you play the Sims! There will likely be generations that you do not want to play and that’s totally okay too. Feel free to skip whatever you wish.

Please do not make other versions of this legacy challenge to share with others. While there is no way for me to stop you, I put a lot of work into making a creative legacy challenge and I would love for my work to be respected. Thank you!

Trigger Warnings

That being said, I am not responsible for your health, well-being, or actions you take due to this challenge. By playing this challenge, you assume full responsibility for what happens and how it affects you. I highly encourage you to come into your save file with some form of aftercare planned. For me, I like to have a slice-of-life anime ready to play or to decompress by talking to friends and loved ones.