#and that when I flick back into it- it's probably like... because I've been triggered or some shit and am having too many feelings so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raz-writes-the-thing · 3 months

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Anything You Need (Supernatural One-Shot)

Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester x GN!Reader (no Wincest) / requests are open

Summary: The boys discover you've been having some... unpleasant thoughts.

Fic type: emotional hurt/comfort

Potential Triggers: mentions of suicidal thoughts and regret over not having perished to the MOTW

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Not that many things made you cry these days. You'd seen some shit, that's for sure. Mothers pinned to the ceiling in flames, vampires being beheaded, babies crying out for family members that wouldn't come home- and spirits that cried out for company and whose sadness waded through towns like thick, boggy, slimy water.

None of that made you cry.

Almost having the sweet release of death and having it ripped from you by your partners in (quite literal) crime, however? That. That made you cry.

The boys, they chalked it up to you having a near-death experience and copping a few new badass scars in the process. They thought it was shock at first. And it probably was. At first.

But the hours ticked by and you were ushered back into the safety of the Impala and, well, the shock wore off. You'd almost died. You would have been grateful for it, to be quite honest, but no. They took that away.

"Come on, sweetheart," Dean said, leaning over the back of the front seat to look at you, curled up and watching the window with a fairly dead-inside expression on your face. "You can't still be upset. We almost die every damn week- so tell us what's up, huh?"

Your eyes shifted from the window to the door handle. If you pulled it you'd fall out onto the road and get flattened like a pancake by that semi crawling up the Impala's ass.

"I'm fine," you replied thickly, not making eye contact.

"All due respect but that's a load of crap," Dean said, scoffing to himself. You could see Sam watching you in the rearview mirror as he drove along the highway. He knew something serious was up. It was only a matter of time before he pulled over and sat you down for a big long chat about your feelings.

"All due respect but I don't care," you replied back before the words had registered in your head. You regretted them as soon as they left your mouth and the clenching of his jaw and flash of hurt in his eyes as he looked to his brother for help just lodged that heavy stone of guilt further into your gut.

"Sorry. I'm- I've not been myself lately," you sighed, not wanting to get into this but not feeling as though you had much of a choice now. "You-you ever just... wanna die? Like, not actually die, but you just feel like it sometimes?"

Dean was quiet, looking at your knee as he processed the words. Sam's eyes flicked to yours in the mirror again.

"Yeah, I've felt that before," Sam said after a beat, avoiding his brother's piercing stare. "I get why you didn't, but you could have told us."

You dropped your head onto the car door, huffing out a grunt because to be honest- that was all you could muster right now.

"Fuck, I didn't know I was living with the Downers' Club," Dean said, scratching at the back of his head. He didn't mean anything by it, of course. Humour was his coping mechanism. He was quiet for another moment. "Shit, I- you know I'm not good with the whole words thing. Hang on-"

Then Dean set down his father's notebook and clambered over the back of the seat, landing unceremoniously next to you with a grunt, mumbling something about mud on the leather.

"Wh-Dean-" you said, moving to make room for him. He just shushed you, set his feet down in the footwell and turned you around so your head was in his lap. You looked up at him, melting into his touch. He put one hand under your head, bracing you and making sure you didn't get a neck-ache, and with the other, caressed your hair, massaging at the scalp.

"No good with words but I'll be damned if I don't know how to play with someone's hair. Sammy used to love it when he was a kid. Used to get these nightmares 'n nothin' would calm him except me touchin' his head. Little weirdo. Got damn good at it, though."

You snorted, but you couldn't deny the magic he was weaving with your nerves, untangling them and braiding them back together. You felt your muscles slowly start to un-tense, and your eyes drift closed with pleasure.

"We're always here for you, darlin'," Sammy said, reaching a hand back and over the seat to brush your cheek comfortingly. It looked like an awkward angle, and it was gone a moment later, back on the wheel.

"Absolutely," Dean said reverently, looking down at you with so much love in his eyes that you could feel it warming you up from the inside even with your own eyes closed. "Anything you need."

#yes i am struggling lmao and yes i am sort of venting #winchester brothers x reader #sam x reader x dean #sam x dean x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #spn fic #spn fanfiction #sam winchester x dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sam winchester x reader #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic

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fandomfluffandfuck · 7 months

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okay, so I know this isn't really your normal ask/request, but I've had this is my brain for so long, and you are such a fantastic writer, I'd like to present it to you anyway:

stevebucky time travel!!

specifically, steve and bucky after the events of the winter soldier (with bucky in any recovery stage) getting somehow transported to brooklyn in the 1930s and meeting the pre-serum, pre-war steve and bucky.

the reaction to the metal arm? steve getting juiced up? the jealousy and admiration pre-serum steve has for post-serum steve? how baby!stucky deal with their counterparts and lovers. how gentle normally-a-firecracker pre-serum steve is with winter soldier bucky and how thirsty but loving pre-serum bucky is with touch-starved, desperate, lost big steve.

feel absolutely free to imagine any kind of beautiful, deliciously hot scenarios as well, that's definitely your usual jam, and I most definitely enjoy it. I just thought I'd add the heartbreaking parts as well.

This is from the requests I got before I closed my writing requests for the school year, I'm no longer taking requests

You're right that this isn't my "normal" request, but I still love it! I do enjoy writing angst and fluff along with smut <3 So, I'm gonna take this prompt as an excuse to go with the things I don't write as much! Meaning, surprisingly, there's no ✨️spice✨️ in this drabble, lol, just pain

Get ready... </3

The immediate thought I had with this prompt was actually about post-serum Steve rather than recovering Bucky...

When modern Steve and modern Bucky find themselves back before the war--when the days seemed longer and hotter than any of the days after, they share a silent exchange, their eyes boring into each other in the middle of the cracked sidewalk, swapping emotions. Nostalgia. Good and bad nostalgia. Then, as they're ducking into a back alley, quick to jump from sight before they're spotted, tall and large and certainly not dressed for the time, Steve reaches for Bucky's hand.

Their fingertips brush.

And, instantly, they both jolt.

Now clothed in shadows, their eyes meet once more. Steve's eyes flick sharply down to their entangled fingers. Flesh and metal.

It hardly takes a moment for the ingrained memory to take over and their flirting fingertips part ways.

They can't risk touching in public, not when they already are liable to contract attention. They don't need to be arrested in the past. But the shake-up runs deeper than that, too.

Bucky has just gotten to the point where he feels comfortable enough venturing into public without a glove. Long sleeves are typically still a must, but not always gloves.

Steve finds his jaw clenching, not because he's upset with Bucky for not having a glove on him to better hide them. No, of course, not. But because...

What else are they going to do--stranded in the past with no way home until the timeline hiccup decides to resolve itself--but find their past selves? And when they find their younger counterparts, there will be no way to explain a completely different arm in any way that isn't devastating.

Guaranteed, it will petrify younger, past Bucky, and it will make younger, past Steve ache for his lover and fill with fire in pure, justified rage against a Nazi organization that (probably) doesn't even exist yet. Plus, it could trigger modern Bucky. Explaining it himself... maybe even hearing it from modern Steve... it won't do Bucky good. This isn't a good time or place for Bucky to have a panic attack or worse.

Blinking, Steve realizes that they're just staring at each other. Silently hovering around each other, wanting physical comfort, the luxury they've been spoiled with in the 21st century, but being unable to take it.

"It'll be okay," Steve hardens his voice and squares his shoulders, "we just have to--" that's it! His shoulders! He has a jacket on. One of his tan leather jackets. Quickly, he shrugs it off and hands it over to Bucky.

Bucky slips into it, jamming his shaking hands into the pockets. He exhales shakily.

Risking a friendly, pal-ish pat on the shoulder that melts into a more intimate back rub, Steve hopes to a God he doesn't believe much in anymore that this doesn't set Bucky back when they get to the future. He just started to be comfortable with his metal arm! Apparently, being back in the time and place where he was swamped by religion puts the religion back in the forefront of his mind.

"We have to find us," Steve finishes his earlier thought.

Bucky nods tightly.

Steve can tell by the way he looks at the floor he's desperately wishing he has wearing a baseball cap when they were transported back, too. More to hide under. No matter if it would be out of place here.

"Okay, okay," Steve races through his thoughts, "where would, where would we be on a Thursday afternoon in, whatever, whatever year it is now..."

Bucky's eyebrows draw together, "home?"

Steve considers it, tipping his head side to side, "maybe, yeah. I--shit. Do you think we're back far enough that we were still living with our, our parents?"

Shit.

For two reasons.

1) If they're each still in their family homes, it means even more people to explain the situation to.

2) If they're in their family homes... it means Sarah Rogers is still alive. And Steve, Steve doesn't know--

Just thinking about it--

Steve feels his lips quiver, a stone dropping onto the back of his tongue so heavily that it triggers the edge of his gag reflex. Thick, wet salt coming up the back of his throat, pooling in his mouth, a warning that he might vomit.

Steve doesn't know if he will be able to handle that.

He's thought a thousand, million different times about what he would say, what he would do if he could see his Ma again. He's dreamed about it. He's cried about it. He's screamed about it to that God that didn't ever seem to hear him. The unfairness.

If--

If it comes to that, being able to calm Bucky, being able to help Bucky through a triggering situation, will be the exact opposite of Steve's worry. It will be Bucky desperately working to hold him together instead.

Fuck.

Thankfully(?), regretfully(?) that doesn't turn out to be the situation.

The situation of past, younger Steve and Bucky is their cold water walk up. Their first (and only) apartment together before the war. It's in that sweet spot (if you ignore the glaring, awful hardships of the Depression) after Steve had steadied himself, floating above the grief over his Ma and before the war started, before Bucky's draft number was drawn.

Okay.

Steve can deal with this.

It's gonna hurt. It's gonna tear him apart, and he'll be licking his wounds for weeks (at least) when they return to the future... to the present? But at least it's not--

Not that.

Steve and Bucky slip up the worn, bowed stairs to their apartment, decide against knocking discreetly, and instead jimmy the handle just right to let themselves inside. They are spared no mercy as immediately, they come face to face with their younger selves.

It feels like--

Like an out of body experience in a fun house. Pure insanity. The mirror image of themselves is warped and changed and standing toe-to-toe with them. Too close. Familiar but separate. They are the same, and they are opposites. The beginning and somewhere near the end, except, wait--the younger versions of themselves are young adults, and the older versions of themselves, themselves, are just adults. So... perhaps not a beginning and an end but middles. Middles staring at each other.

Nebulous and totally discombobulating.

No one makes a sound.

Then--

"What the fuck."

The sound of Steve's own voice echoes back through his ears with his mouth having moved at all. It's jarring. Bewildering because he spoke, but he didn't speak. But it's also bewildering as hell because... holy shit it's weird to hear such a little guy possess such a deep voice. He's never known himself from this angle. He's never--

"Of course it'd be you," Bucky turns to him, his lips curling at one corner.

It's on the tip of his tongue to murmur, "you remember?" But he... he can't. Not in front of them. He needn't reveal memory issues when they don't even know--

Fuck.

Why didn't they just loiter in that alley for a few hours? Waiting for the timeline to snap back.

Why did they come here?

He doesn't want--

He's looking at his younger self and he knows he'd hate him for wanting to protect him; he's looking at the younger version of Bucky with puppy fat clinging to his face and chin and belly and he looks so fucking sweet and soft and Steve feels poised to bend him out of shape in the same violent way you ruin a smooth lump of fresh clay by punching it with your fist.

Fuck. Hot pressure builds behind Steve's eyes. He is poised for destruction. And there is nothing he can do about it. So...

Steve clears his throat.

Where does he begin?

Where does he end?

The whole time that he explains, painting with the broadest brush and the most diluted paint possible, Steve is preparing himself for their younger versions to deservingly fuss over his Bucky. So, when his younger, much, much smaller self steps forward, uncrosses his arms over his thin chest, and extends a hand to his forearm, feathering his fingers against the bunched muscle and whispers, a raw edge to his voice, "why don't you come sit down then, you look exhausted," it hurts.

It hits Steve so hard.

Steve is talking to him. He's not talking to Bucky and him. He's talking to Steve alone. Staring him right in the eyes. Knowing.

He was--

He was waiting for rage from himself. He was waiting for terror and grief and numbness from the past Bucky. He was waiting for pretend-detached, monotone, vague answers from his Bucky who came from the future (the present?) with him.

He wasn't--

He was not expecting his younger self to see through it all as if he's transparent and prod one of his boney fingers right into the hole inside him. He was never scared to go up against anyone, though, no matter if they're twice his size or bigger. So, maybe he shouldn't be surprised. It doesn't mean it doesn't make his legs feel more sturdy, though.

Steve doesn't recognize until he sits down on their worn, mostly springs and flattened, shitty cushioning couch with a metallic squeak that neither of the Buckys followed them. It's just the two of them. Him. Steve and Steve. Younger and smaller and older and bigger. What an odd pair.

Peering over his shoulder, Steve sees them in the kitchen, looking at each other. The younger, shorter Bucky is stuck in place, and his Bucky is reaching forward, lifting his hand. His metal hand. He's offering. He's unhesitatant and steady as he slips out of his leather jacket and rolls up the fabric of his long sleeve so the younger Bucky can see. A swirl of pride curls through Steve, warm and budding--a spring flower.

A throat clears.

Steve.

Steve swings his head back to face... himself.

God.

It's still weird.

It's nothing like walking into a room that smells bad and relaxing into it, going blind to the stench after you acclimate. It's still fucking strange. Shivers crawl up his spine, leaving his hair with no choice but to stand on end. Hyper-aware.

His younger self hasn't had a seat on the broken, thread-bear armchair or on the practically decaying couch beside him. Instead, he steps closer and closer, one surprisingly large foot in front of the other over loose, rickety floorboards. He looms into his space, presence much larger than seems possible for his small, sickly frame.

"How are you?" He asks, bushy eyebrows drawn together.

The look on Steve's face must convey his thoughts, shouldn't I be asking you that?

"Don't you know?" Younger Steve answers his mute inquiry, "you were--" he frowns "--you were a version of me."

Steve nods emptily, "I guess."

The pale sounds of the Buckys conversing in the kitchen fills the space between them like static until... younger Steve floats his hand into the gap, the empty space, reaching and reaching toward him, giving him plenty of time to flinch, anticipating that Steve will scowl and move out of the way, still allergic to being babied. But Steve doesn't move.

It is impossible to twitch, to move, to dodge. His muscles have turned to stone--at any other time, it would be funny; he recalls Bucky's shock the first time he saw him in this body, proclaiming he must be a Greek or Roman statue.

He feels like a statue.

A statue that melts the moment his younger self's fingertips grace his forehead. This version of himself from this past echoes himself from earlier, "you seem tired," his cold, poor-circulation touch draws the strands hair swept against his face back into his more modern, brushed back style.

Steve sighs with the weight pressing on his shoulders. It feels even heavier than usual.

Maybe... maybe he should've expected this.

He remembers the fatigue that pulled at his bones, tugging until he was slogged down into the mud and could hardly move; his heart struggling to beat, his thoughts fighting their way to conference-y, his mood dampening to constant exhaustion. If anyone can read the weight on his shoulders through the lines on his forehead and the slump of his back, of course, it would be his younger self.

The weight of his illnesses have been gone for years at this point, but they've been replaced and doubled by the weight of a moniker, which means nothing to this version of himself.

Suddenly, there is no point pretending.

Was it really so long ago that he was this version of himself? Was he really so young when he was made the face of the war? How young was he when he awoke to be the face of a new effort? A new team? How young is he now?

Steve barely stifles a sudden, chest-squeezing sound. A sob?

His younger self says nothing. He only steps in closer. Close enough for Steve to bury his face in the concave, hard plane of his stomach, and ring his hands around his boney, thin hips. His entire waist fits in the circle of Steve's index fingers and thumbs. Two hands. He feels each clumsy beat of his heart. He feels the stutter of his uneven breaths. He feels how cool he is, even right here at his core. How is he standing? How is he taking his weight? Steve may be tired, but his younger self must be exhausted. He can't--

How could he burden his y--

"Nope," his younger self holds his shoulders in both hands. Fingers digging in sharply, intent on getting his message across and not afraid to be mean about it. "You're not going anywhere."

This time, Steve does sob. Audibly. He is tired. He's so tired.

To conclude:

I have lots of emotions about post-serum Steve and the world taking advantage of his strength.

Thank you for the request!

P.S. I kept listening to this while I was writing:

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #Spotify #angst #hurt/comfort

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waywardwizzard · 3 months

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Wash flicked a few random switches before standing up and stretching, his back cracking.

"I'm gonna go and make some tea. You want some?" he asked, glancing at Simon who was sitting in the co-pilot chair, fiddling with what was beginning to look like an origami dinosaur.

Simon hummed distractedly, carefully folding a corner back over.

Shaking his head with a fond smile, the pilot clattered down to the galley, whistling a song that's been stuck in his head for the past week.

He put on the kettle and pulled an old battered tea tin out of the cupboard, riffling through the large selection of teas Inara had bought last time they were on planet.

Plopping bags of Rooibos tea into two chipped mugs, he absent-mindedly put the empty packets in his pocket, running a finger over the beautifully embossed front. Simon could probably fold something out of them.

Just before the kettle could go off, Wash pulled it off the stove and poured the boiling water into the mugs, cursing quietly when some of it splashed on him, burning him.

There was a clang on the metal grill behind him and he turned, the mugs held carefully in front of him.

"Don't worry, doc', I'm almost-"

He looked up and into the barrel of a gun.

"-done. Ta ma de."

The gun holder stalked closer, a handkerchief hiding most of her face.

"Uhm, hi?" Wash said awkwardly, holding the mugs out in front of him, "Oh and, just so by the way, who the diyu are you? And what are you doing on my ship?"

"Where are they?" she asked, her eyes hard.

"They who?" He brightened. "The Captain? Bad luck, they just left-"

"The fugitives."

She pointed the gun at his chest, her finger on the trigger and murder in her eyes and Wash did the only thing he could think of.

Throwing the very full mugs of extremely hot tea at her, Wash grabbed the half full kettle, ignoring her scream, and swung at her. She fell to the floor, hitting her head on the counter on the way down. The bounty hunter was dead before she even hit the floor.

Wash put the dented kettle down, his heart beating in his throat and only one thought on his mind, the song forgotten.

Running to the cockpit, hoping she had been the only one, he barely made it out of the galley before something hit him from behind and everything went black.

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Author's note-

I love writing Wash & Simon friendship fics so I hope y'all enjoyed this one. The origami thing is a mini headcanon + longer fic I'm working (if you want to know more please let me know!)

And I'm sorry that this is late and that it's not really well written, I've written it in about 30 minutes without obsessively going over it about 20 times because things have been hectic lately.

Love you all and thanks for all the likes/reblogs so far <3 You Browncoats have really been making my month so far

#firefly #serenity #browncoats #space western #browncoats unite #firefly fanfiction #sci fi #simon tam #hoban washburne #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday10 #tw: burns #tw: breaking in #browncoat for life #whump #whump fic #killing in self defense

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paintedscales · 2 months

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By contrast, what was the moment that first made their ~heart~ Soft for the other person? Not necessarily a conscious realization of “I love this person,” but a moment that had them like “Oh...I adore them...”

Good evening, Vasheden! Thank you so much for the ask. I don't think this one comes from a prompt list, which thank you! I really appreciate the interest! ; w ; /

I wanted to answer something that's been sitting in my inbox for a while at this point before I went to bed tonight. :'D This one has been on my radar for a while.

So...in my writings that I've been off and on working on, it was Estinien who got smitten first. After everything, and after their time meeting and understanding that they both buried the hatchet on the Steppe, it was Ghimlyt Dark for him. The way I have it framed in one of the drabbles I wrote is that he found Nomin having collapsed due to the Exarch's meddling at an inopportune time, and when he went to defend and whisk her from the battlefield, he was just...

Hm...

He understood that, as the Warrior of Light, losing her would have been detrimental to everyone. But as he was bringing her back to safety, he started having other thoughts. Like what if it wasn't just because she's the Warrior of Light? I'm saving someone who has just as much experience as I do, and can relate to the same things that I do... There was kinship on the Steppe, and then I think Ghimlyt and being so close to losing her in that moment was just that little click for him that was just, "oh...I don't want to lose her because I'll lose someone who understands me better than anyone else."

From there, for him, it just starts to grow. Not that he ever speaks up on it. I think Aymeric probably picked up on it when Estinien brought Nomin to him, though. Maybe. Not sure yet. I haven't really explored how I want to go about that.

As for Nomin...

It was while she was on the First. After remembering what little fragments and moments of delirium in Estinien's hold during Ghimlyt, and also being told that she was rushed into Aymeric's care thanks to him, Estinien lived in her head rent free.

Much like how I imagine Estinien, Nomin has also experienced the fact that she did reconcile and come to understandings enough with Estinien on the Steppe that it felt apt to call him a decent enough friend. It was a lot of dancing around similar trauma bonding, but bonding nonetheless.

On the First, she thought of him, she thought of him so much. Remembering being held by him and feeling grateful that he rescued her from getting killed by Elidibus. So when she came back from the First and she met with him again, just seeing him triggered that happy response. That tail flick. When that happened, she realized, "oh...oh... I actually do want to be with him. I want him at my side as much as I want to be at his."

And that was fun (not)! Because Nomin didn't actually know what to do with those emotions. I don't think Estinien did, either. So...I think both of them just shelved those emotions for later. Fast forward to Endwalker before traveling to Ultima Thule where they both confess to one another. :p

#questions and answers #user: vasheden #thank you ♥#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #estinien varlineau #estinien x wol #wolstinien #cinnamon ship

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thelaughtercafe · 2 months

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New Discoveries*

Tea Type: Half and Half with a lemon

Potential Triggers: Poly if that isn't your thing, lil bit of consensual bondage, premise revolves around accidentally messaging your friends about your tickle kink and confessing, no full nsft but definitely suggestive! Characters are all aged up and in college, of course.

Pairing: Rindo/F! Reader/Shoka

Length: 2.6+

Summary: You text your two best friends an embarrassing confession thinking you've ruined everything, but...perhaps they're not quite as horrified as you thought.

You really hadn't meant to send it. You were kicking yourself 20 times over. God. You were never drinking again. You'd be sober the rest of your life. It was a miracle you hadn't accidentally added anyone else- but deep down you knew you never would have. No-one else made you feel like they did.

You'd known for months that you wanted Rindo and Shoka to wreck you senseless. How could you not? They were both so damn attractive and when Rindo's face lit up in amusement, and he laughed at you while you went 50 shades of red thanks to tripping right into him? Of course you were smitten. And let's not even talk about Shoka's nails; the way she'd cooed at Rindo while styling his hair and accidentally brushing his neck haunted you.

"Ticklish baby?"

You shuddered.

Your phone rang and you ignored it, face heating even more as you groaned and buried your face in your arms. You couldn't do this. Gods, you'd ruined two of your strongest friendships all because you couldn't keep your drunk neediness to yourself. They probably didn't even like you that way!

You thought back to when you'd first met them, working at the movie theater. It had been hectic; Avengers: Endgame was in full swing and you'd been running around like crazy when you accidentally ran right into Rindo, spilling popcorn everywhere in your rush to deliver it to an impatient customer. You'd apologized profusely, but he'd merely laughed and helped you to your feet, his hands stronger than they looked.

He was fairly tall, at 5'10 and you gaped up at him like an idiot.

"You alright there? You didn't hit your head right? I'm Rindo, what's your name?"

He looked panicked, brown eyes widening in worry and you gathered yourself enough to shake your head, and give him your name so he didn't think you were a complete moron.

"No, no worries here! I'm so sorry about that sir just-um-is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

You were so frazzled you couldn't even think of an option so you opted to let him set how you could make it right.

He hummed for a moment, looked you up and down, making his blond hair, with dyed red tips bounce before he smirked.

"Alright then, you can take a break and get some food with me."

"What? B-But it's so busy! My managers-"

"-will settle down if you explain a customer asked you to and left happy and saying he'd come back again. Right?"

He suddenly turned a little pink, burying one of his hands in his black hoodie pockets and flicking his eyes skyward.

"O-Only if you want to though. You just really look like you need a break, and you've been working hard, clearly. I'd say you've more than earned it."

After that you'd shyly acquiesced and headed over to concessions, grabbing some of the food there and using your employee status to quickly pay on a rare vacant register, before you headed outside, following him to his car.

Imagine your surprise when you see a girl in the passenger seat, glaring at the blond.

"Where the Hell were you? I've been waiting here for-"

Her gaze turned to you and you stopped breathing and literally froze like a deer in headlights.

She didn't react as you expected though, merely raising an eyebrow at you, sharing a glance with Rindo and motioning for you to come in the car.

"...Um, are you gonna close the door or what, loser? Unless you want us to freeze to death."

"R-right sorry!"

You rushed to do as she said and if you were blushing before you were positive you were a mess now.

She was much shorter than Rindo, and around your height. But her eyes were striking. Like your cats' they just cut right to your soul.

"Here's your food, Shoka. I ran into a fellow overworked employee and couldn't help but want to give her some space to breathe."

"Uh, yeah I gathered dumbass. She's wearing a work uniform."

Despite the cursing, her tone was fond. Rindo's had deepened somewhat and you could tell he felt completely relaxed, casually unpacking the food and chatting.

"You said fellow, where do you work, sir?"

Shoka almost spat out her drink with how hard she suddenly laughed and you squirmed uncomfortably as Rindo rolled his eyes and pouted.

"It's not that funny."

"Sure it is! Her calling you sir!? Shit sweetheart, you just made my week. I needed that. You can call me Mommy if you like~"

She winked at you and you're pretty sure you were going to spontaneously combust from blushing any second now.

Luckily Rindo came to your rescue and nudged Shoka.

"Alright, babe enough. You're gonna make the poor girl run away before we can even get to know her at this rate."

He turned to smile kindly at you and your heart skipped.

"Please, call me Rindo. I work at the music store on 5th; not many left but it's really quiet and admittedly it's a treat to get to pick the store's soundtrack every week."

You nodded and gradually began to open up, becoming more animated as you all found subjects you related to. Shoka and you shared a love of horror movies that Rindo loathed, same for haunted houses, while Rindo and you both liked different arts. You created playlists for just about everything, and wrote while he preferred the music side of composing and producing, and dabbled in drawing.

You all shared a fondness for gaming, but preferred different genres as your all time faves. You loved turn-based RPG's with strong stories and characters, Rindo enjoyed action games, and the occasional shooter while Shoka liked more chill games like Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley. Luckily you all shared a love for FFXIV and by the time you realized you'd been talking for an hour and had to rush off, they had your phone number and FFXIV username.

You'd grown to be close from that; you and Rindo even attended the same college; although for different subjects. You went to school for Nursing, while Rindo went for Music Production. You gradually hung out more and more the three of you…and you couldn't deny that feelings bloomed quickly. But they were already dating each other. They weren't obvious with PDA or anything, but you could tell. It was the way Rindo's hand lingered when she dropped his hand after helping her up, the way Shoka innately could tell Rindo wasn't feeling well or was upset at the slightest change in expression. If that wasn't enough the rare moments of direct affection proved it. Rindo cradling Shoka's face and kissing her forehead when she won a fashion designing competition; Shoka stealing pecks on the cheeks to continuously fluster Rindo enough to give chase and catch her around the middle before attacking her with kisses of his own until she laughed.

It made you ache in want…but now they knew. There was no going back. And even worse; you'd led with your kink like a complete weirdo - what if they thought you were a total freak?

You sighed heavily and braced yourself as you turned over you phone, ringing once again. Ignoring the missed calls and texts icon you answered and as you inhaled; were cut off.

"Hel-"

"Open the door."

You squawked.

"You're here!? But I-"

"Did I fucking stutter? Hey, wait Shok-"

Rindo was cut off and there was a rustle as Shoka grabbed the phone.

"Open the door or I'll pick the lock and then you'll really be in trouble. 'Kay?"

She didn't wait for you to answer before hanging up, leaving you gaping at your phone like a fish.

You gulped, trembling but made your way to the door. They sounded mad. Really mad. God- there was no time to theorize about their feelings because you were opening the lock. The second the door opened you were already being cornered by an anything but angry Shoka. She was grinning.

…In hindsight, That's was probably scarier.

You backed up as she advanced on you and you were quickly reduced to giggles and yelps as you jerked at every poke she delivered as she switched between tickle spots as easily as breathing. She finally cornered you against the wall as you took her pokes, jerking and hugging yourself in a weak attempt at protection.

"You. stupid. idiot. why. wouldn't. you. ask. this. sooner!?!"

She glared at you but the pout on her lips made you breathe again.

"You're…not mad?"

You squeaked out.

She crossed her arms and huffed but her eyes softened and you found yourself pulled into a hug you quickly reciprocated.

"Of course not dummy. We wouldn't be here to fulfill your adorable request otherwise."

"And Rin-?"

Your breath hitched and you blushed at the smirk on his face, and his dominant body language as he leaned with one leg up against the door, watching Shoka pet your hair in knowing amusement.

"'Bout time you asked for what you wanted. I've known for months. Filled Shoka in about a month ago. I noticed how you'd run off and hide any time I tickled her, or she me. At first I thought it was discomfort. But then, when we were here and you felt a little safer? You didn't run. You stayed and I got to see you actually wanted us to do that to you ."

His grin widened and became mean enough you hid in the shoulder of Shoka's Gatto Nero hoodie. Didn't stop you from hearing his words though.

"For someone who enjoys acting you sure suck at masking your reactions when with us. You go red as a damn firetruck and scramble for words if we so much as give you a smolder. Either of us. That was how we first figured out you liked us just like how we liked you."

You peeked out at him, vulnerability but a strong sense of trust in your gaze.

"Really? You promise?"

Shoka pulled back to smile gently at you, and you flushed as she pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, swooning all over again.

"We'd never lie about this or lead you on. We wanted you to make the first move because while we were 99% sure- we didn't want to pressure you if you really just saw us as friends and we were misinterpreting your affection and shyness as romantic interest."

"I see…and the other thing…"

You fidgeted uncomfortably, your nervous tics jumping out in anxiety as you averted their gazes.

"You really don't think I'm some kinda freak for liking th-that?

Rindo's lips quirked up teasingly and his tone matched.

"Oh your thing for being tickled? Of course not."

Shoka scoffed, rolling her eyes as she pulled away, grabbing your hand to pull you towards your bedroom.

"Like I said loser; we wouldn't be here otherwise now, would we? Now, are you sure you really want to be wrecked by us? I believe your exact words involved "being made to laugh yourself hoarse and still ask for more."

Her grey eyes twinkled in amusement as she sat you down and you groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

"I'm never drinking again. I was just in such a bad lee mood it slipped out."

"Lee mood?"

Rindo's inquisitive tone made you glance up, and you smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah. Lee as in t-ticklee. Short for someone who likes b-being-y'know."

You gestured and they both giggled.

"Could you get any cuter? God. Can I kiss you?"

Rindo's voice had lowered in want and you took a deep breath before nodding.

His lips met yours and you quickly kissed back. You'd never seen this side of Rindo before. Truth be told you'd always assume him to be the submissive one between him and Shoka…but you should've guessed with your luck they'd just be different types of dominant.

The kiss became more heated and you started before relaxing as you felt Shoka's hands glide underneath your shirt, her nails grazing your stomach and making you smile against Rindo's lips, heart beating faster.

Shoka giggled and Rindo pulled back reluctantly as she helped you discard your shirt, leaving you in your bra. Her hands free to roam, they skimmed along your bare skin making you jerk and giggle into Rindo's neck.

"You're really ticklish, huh?"

At your shy nod Rindo chuckled, and pushed your hair behind your ear.

"No need to be embarrassed. It's really sweet you like this so much. Let us take care of you, hm?"

Shoka's nails crawled up your back and you squealed, pulling back to raise your shoulders protectively. She smiled in amusement, eyes twinkling in a way that made your stomach flip.

"Tonight is all about you, so you have to tell us what you want. Bondage or no bondage? Any tools you especially like? That kind of thing."

You flushed but took a breath to steady yourself.

"Yes to bondage. I'm…flexible with tools."

It felt odd to finally be able to talk openly about it after hiding it for so long. A glance up to both of them let you see them both contemplative.

"Well…I'd prefer we take it slow. It's all of our first time with this. Shoka and I have more experience in the bedroom of course, but the tickling is new. Maybe we'll focus on that and slowly work you up that way? We'll stick with our hands this time. Is that okay?"

Rindo inquired seriously and you nodded.

"That's fine. I'm good with any kind of pace. I know it's out there so don't feel pressured-"

You yelped as Shoka squeezed your side.

"Stop putting yourself down for liking this. We want to. Stop framing it like it's some big inconvenience. We love you dummy."

Despite her words her tone was fond and soft and she leaned down to softly kiss you as well. Her lips were softer then Rindo's and she took her time. It helped you lose your tension and get comfortable again after being honest about your wants.

You felt Rindo gently guide your wrist to the bed post, first one, and then the other and then Shoka straddled your waist, Rindo helping you discard your pants in the meantime.

You had no time to dwell on the added vulnerability as Shoka squeezed at your inner thighs, making you gasp and throw your head back in laughter.

"No fhahahahir!!"

"Oh, it's plenty fair. You asked for this, remember? We're just giving you what you want."

Rindo's voice was playful as he gently bound your ankles as well and you squealed, clenching your toes as he ran a finger up your foot.

Your smile was shy but giddy as you pulled lightly at your bonds. Rindo had very intentionally not tied them too tight. Seeing you struggle Shoka shot you a smirk, her nails scribbling mercilessly at your ribs.

"We couldn't tie you too tight, now could we? Besides-"

She pecked your forehead before leaning over to blow air in your ear.

"It's too fun to watch you struggle. It's cute you think you have any chance of escape~"

Rindo snickered at that eagerly wiggling his fingers between your toes to make you squeal.

"You're all ours."

Needless to say, your night was filled with laughter. The two worked in perfect unison to make you crumble and had you begging much faster than you thought you would.

Oh well, maybe you’d last longer next time.

#tlc: nsft #tlc: tickle fics #tlc: half and half with a lemon #female reader #rindo x reader #rindo x you #shoka x you #shoka x reader #neo the world ends with you #neo twewy #tw nsft #lee!reader #ler!shoka #ler!rindo

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reckless-snd-brave · 2 years

Text

E. Munson | Sweetheart

Trigger Warning ⚠️: pigs blood, bullying

You used to love Hawkins. When you were younger and didn't know any better. But as you got older you realized what a shit place it was. Not only was the town fucking cursed, but you also felt cursed. No matter what you did, you were condemned for it.

You walked down the hall trying to keep your head down so no one targeted you. But that would be too easy, wouldn't it? Jason Carver and his group started oinking as soon as they saw you.

You heard their laughter and harsh taunts as you made it to your locker. Grabbing your books and slamming your locker shut, you turned and came face to face with Jason and his group.

That stupid cocky blonde. His evil smirk as he eyed you up and down. "Hey piggy." He greeted.

You rolled your eyes. "You would think after all these years you would come up with something better." You scoffed.

You moved to get past him but he put his arm on the locker, trapping you in with his buddies on the other side.

"Aww you don't like it? I think it suits you. Would you prefer whale?" He asked.

"I would prefer if you fucking moved, you incompetent asshole." You spat, stomping on his foot

He cursed and moved back. "You fat bitch!" He yelled.

You moved away from them, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing the hurt on your face. It probably wasn't the best idea to fight back, but after years of torment you were fed up.

---

Eddie watched Jason laugh with his group as one of them held a bucket. He couldn't tell what was in it, but he knew whatever was going on wasn't good. Usually he expected to be the target, but it was obvious today it wasn't him.

The whole table watched as Y/N walked into the lunchroom. Jason had a devious smirk on his face as he spoke to them.

"No, I'm serious. I'm sorry I was such a jerk." Carver went on to say. "I want to make it up to you."

But Y/N wasn't buying it. They narrowed their eyes at him. "Eat shit Carver."

It happened too fast for Eddie to react, the bucket being dumped over their and red liquid poured over them. It looked like blood. The whole lunchroom laughed but his group. He went to get up to help when he saw Y/N flick the liquid at him.

That's when he heard Y/N laugh, a dark and humorless laugh. "Thought I'd share, Carver."

They were quiet when they left, didn't run. Just walked right out. But Eddie knew that had to hurt. He also knew how pissed Jason looked with red splattered over him.

He got up from his seat and chased after Y/N. He made it to the woods behind the school, seeing them sitting on the bench. He could hear sobbing and his heart sunk.

You looked up when hearing his footsteps. He had caught you off guard. He held his hands up. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." He said softly.

You didn't say anything, just looked away and sat still. So he took a seat next to you. "Jasons a dick." He told you. "I'm sorry he did this to you."

You shook your head. "It's probably pigs blood. He thinks it's clever because he calls me piggy." You told him. "He's been calling me that for years."

Eddie shook his head. He didn't think there was anything wrong with how you looked, although he didn't really judge anyone.

"You want to get cleaned up? I can take you home." He offered. His voice soft and gentle.

You shook your head. "I appreciate that. But I don't want to go home. My family will make this a big deal." You told him. "I've got spare clothes in my locker."

"Well if you don't want to stay here, I can take you to my place. You can shower so you aren't covered in red goop all day." He suggested. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

You looked at him, studying his featured for a moment. "Okay. I'd rather be clean. Are you sure this is okay? You'll be skipping and I don't want you to get in trouble."

Eddie flashed you a smile. "Can't leave someone as pretty as you in distress. It'll be fine. One day isn't going to kill me." He promised you.

A small smile spread over your face and he thought it was cute. He was relieved you weren't crying anymore.

Eddie waited in his room while you showered. He had seen you in the halls, but he never talked to you before. You seemed so closed off, kept to yourself. You were a sophomore and he was a junior, so it made sense you never really talked.

He still thought you were pretty. You came into his room, hair wet. He smiled at you and sat up. He could tell you felt better after a shower.

"You feel any better?" He asked, watching your face for any sign of discomfort.

You nodded, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Yeah, thank you again. You really saved me from more embarrassment."

He waved it off. "Anytime sweetheart."

He could see you blush as you turned away from him. That was extremely cute. He would definitely have to make you blush more.

#imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie my beloved #eddie munson #x reader #joesph quinn

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peripherys · 9 months

Text

∘₊✧💖✨💕✧₊∘

hi there! i'm han elliott (they/them), and i'm an artist, composer, and lover of stories. here's where you can find my work!

💖 tags:

my art ✧ my music

✨ links:

twitter ✧ instagram ✧ soundcloud ✧ cohost

thanks for visiting! have a nice day.

∘₊✧💖✨💕✧₊∘

🌈 random trivia:

✧ i’m nonbinary (leaning towards nonbinary transmasc? i call it Non-binary With Left Beef) and pansexual, but if we’re being real, i’m whatever gender or sexuality that works best for the bit

✧ i'm autistic, and some of my special interests are: animation & the industry, queer representation, psychology, digital fusion & jazz music (particularly hiromi!), the psychology of parasocial relationships, animal crossing, aaand many more things.

✧ speaking of animal crossing: i've been playing since New Leaf in 2013. my favorite villager is Diana, and my favorite NPCs are Isabelle & Flick.

✧ i've been playing piano since 2013, and it's the first/only instrument i've played! i first started learning because i saw the overly-embellished and complicated anime OP covers that animenz posted on youtube, and (ratherly naively) thought to myself: "yeah, i can do that".

✧ music is a big part of my life! i started composing in 2013 as well, when i figured out i could change the chords of the boring practice songs i was learning, by changing the positions of my hands. how fun! some of my favorite composers/inspirations aaare: joe hisaishi, hiromi, aivi & surasshu, ryuichi sakamoto, louie zong, dave malloy, kazumi totaka, fiona apple, snarky puppy, aaand many more. if you give me jazz chords, a lot of 4ths, some bleeps and boops, and it sounds Gay��️, i will probably like it.

✧ i watch way too much youtube. i love video essays, commentary, and comedy videos! my current favorite is anything Trixie & Katya. i have just about every monologue from them memorized. i can recite the Paul Hollywood monologue front to back. for better, or for worse...

✧ sadly, as expected from everything else here, i am also... a weeb. my favorite studios are ghibli, science saru, trigger, and kyoto animation. i love anything that's Gay™️. some of my favorites are: kiki's delivery service, whisper of the heart, keep your hands off eizouken!, yuri on ice, chihayafuru, great pretender, kids on the slope, skip to loafer, mob pyscho 100, mushishi, aaand... the list goes on.

✧ i love autobiographical comics & manga! some personal favorites: spinning by tillie walden, my lesbian experience with loneliness by kabi nagata, and blank canvas by akiko higashimura.

✧ i've been drawing since i could pick up a pencil, and while the quantity of art i make waxes and wanes over the years, i will never stop!

#pinned post #introduction

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writtenbyme-c · 2 years

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I have an exr writing prompt for you! Beauty and the Beast but it's reversed from what is expected - E is the Beast, cursed for his pride, and R is the 'beauty' who stumbles drunk into his home.

When you sent this it made my brain go !!!! but then I had to go to sleep, and so the next day was spent with me just staring at my laptop hoping that whatever it was I had thought of would come back. I'm not too sure if it did, but I'm happy with the result.

Short fic (about 2k) under the cut! Will be cross-posted on AO3 at some point in the future probably.

Potential Trigger Warnings: - drunkenness & vague references to alcohol abuse - protest violence - there's deffo some kind of fear of abandonment thing going on

(Please let me know if I've missed any and I'll add them)

Beauty and the Beast

Combeferre had made sure Enjolras knew just how much he had fucked up this time. He hadn’t listened to the others when they said to leave the anti-protest protesters alone, instead he charged head-first into an argument that escalated to the point that Bahorel needed to intervene. Bahorel, who was now in hospital, because one of those assholes had a metal pipe.

Enjolras had sat, staring at his shoes where they were streaking mud on the hospital waiting-room linoleum, and let himself be berated, torn to shreds, picked apart by his best friend in the entire world, his brother. When Combeferre had finished, with tears streaking over his face, mixing with the blood from the cut on his cheek, he’d pointed to the door and without a word managed to tell Enjolras to get the fuck out.

So he had. He’d left, like a fucking coward, because he couldn’t face the disappointment of his friends. And now he was back home, in his grey-walled apartment, with nothing to do but worry, stew, and regret every choice that had led him to that moment.

Enjolras was very aware that he could be a bit prideful sometimes. It used to be something his parents had praised him for; they raised him to take pride in the house, his looks, their money. Then he turned fifteen, Combeferre had moved to town, and he realised just how much his parents – and himself – were privileged assholes. It had taken a while for him to un-learn the way he spoke to people (although Courfeyrac always says he never lost his charm even when the slime slipped away), and how he viewed the world and his possessions. He’d never thought he was better than anyone, but he had been under the impression that his privilege meant people should instantly respect him. It had been a difficult journey, a hard habit to break, but he had broken it. He was better now; compassionate, understanding, helpful.

Except for when people tried to get in the way of that. Sometimes, even now, eight years after he’d had the epiphany and six since he was disowned, he forgets that he doesn’t have his parents’ money to hide behind, to fall back on. He jumps head-first into fights, both literally and figuratively, and, yeah, part of him still thinks he’s indestructible, untouchable. But when his friends get hurt because of it… well it doesn’t make him feel good; it makes him uncomfortably aware of all the learning and un-learning he still has to do.

“Ah, fuck.”

Enjolras whipped his head around at the voice, not having heard the door open while he was brooding.

“Who’s there?” He asked, standing up from his couch to squint at the person in the doorway; it was too dark to see them clearly, the apartment having darkened around Enjolras since he’d returned home. They were leaning heavily against the doorframe, and Enjolras sighed. “Grantaire. What are you doing here?”

Grantaire hiccupped. “Came to see our mighty leader, of course.”

“Why?” Enjolras sat back down on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest then immediately uncrossing them when he realised how juvenile it looked.

Grantaire flicked the switch and flinched at the light before closing the door behind him and stepping into the apartment. He bumped into the bookshelf again on the way – the same bookshelf that made him hiss the expletive that knocked Enjolras out of his reverie.

“When did you move your bookshelf?” Grantaire said, flopping down onto the couch beside him and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. His head was at the same level as Enjolras’ shoulder, he was slouching so much.

Enjolras scoffed. “I didn’t, you just can’t walk in a straight line.”

“Hm, checks out,” Grantaire said, nodding. He lifted a hand and poked at Enjolras’ thigh. “Why so glum, chum?”

“Bahorel is in the hospital,” Enjolras said, all too aware of his incredulous tone.

“Eh, he’s fine.”

“How can you say that?” Enjolras sat up straighter, voice rising. “How can you be so calm? How could you have gotten drunk when our friend is in need? How could-”

Grantaire interrupted him by literally putting his hand over Enjolras’ mouth. “You gonna get off that high-horse or do I need to get you a helmet?” Enjolras glared at him but said nothing, so Grantaire let go. “First of all I was drunk before I was told about Bahorel.”

“Weren’t you at the protest?” Enjolras knew that Grantaire hadn’t been at the protest because he’d spent the first thirty minutes trying to discretely look for him. Although, by the looks Courfeyrac kept sending him, he wasn’t being discrete about it at all.

“You know I wasn’t, or you wouldn’t have got into a fight,” Grantaire said, and even though it was slurred he did have a very good point. Enjolras could always count on Grantaire to pull him back before things got rough. He just wished he could do the same for the drunk. “Anyway.” Another hiccup. “Baz is fine.”

“He was unconscious-”

“Yeah, two hours ago. He’s fine now. They did scans or something. Barely a bruised rib.”

Enjolras blinked. “Two hours?”

Grantaire nodded, then yawned. He burrowed into the couch a bit more and folded his arms over his chest. “I’m gonna sleep now.”

Enjolras lightly smacked his arms until he squinted his eyes open.

“What?”

“Bahorel has been awake for two hours? Why didn’t anyone call me?”

Grantaire sighed heavily. “I tried; it went to voicemail. Feuilly tried as well but I don’t think it got past two rings before Combeferre banned anyone from contacting you.”

Enjolras paled. “He what?”

“Said you needed time or something, I don’t know,” Grantaire closed his eyes again as he spoke, his words barely stringing together by the end. Enjolras hit him again. “I’m awake!”

“Barely. You need water.” Enjolras stood, making his way to the kitchen.

“What I need is sleep,” Grantaire called after him, but even so, he sat up and turn on the TV.

Enjolras let his kitchen door swing shut behind him, the gentle woosh of it going back and forth in the doorframe helped to ebb away leftover tension from before. He turned the tap on and leaned against the sink, watching it fill up for a couple of seconds before hitting the switch for the food disposer and getting rid of whatever it was that was blocking the drain. He grabbed a glass off the draining board, triple checked it for water spots, then held it under the stream of water.

Combeferre had stopped Feuilly from contacting him. It shocked Enjolras, he’d admit. No matter how far things had gone in the past, no matter what consequences his actions had had, Combeferre had never cut off communication with him. He didn’t know what made this time so different – perhaps it was the emotion of the moment, or Ferre was having a bad day, or maybe it was just the final straw.

He’d been pushing his luck lately and he knew it. Mouthing off to police at protests, calling out politicians on Twitter with too many expletives, taking over tasks that he’d been forced to delegate in the first place. He’d always maintained that he didn’t want to be the leader of Les Amis, that every member was equal, but he struggled to trust people to get things done to the standard he would do it himself. Sure a lot of them were dependable, capable, but others (namely the one currently in his living room), not so much.

The water started spilling over Enjolras’ hand, so he stopped the tap and poured a little bit out the top. When he returned to the living room, Grantaire was sitting forward on the couch, staring at the TV in awe. Enjolras glanced at the screen, expecting some sort of nature documentary, but it was just on the TV Guide.

“Are you cross-faded right now?” Enjolras asked, taking every ounce of willpower to hold back a disappointed sigh.

Grantaire simply grinned at him and took the glass of water. He gulped down about half of it then set the glass on the coffee table. Enjolras sat back down, fingers twisting in his lap.

“You don’t need to worry,” Grantaire said after a few minutes of him attempting to find something to watch. He turned the TV off and threw the remote onto the coffee table. It slid to a stop right before knocking into the glass.

“I’m not worrying,” Enjolras said, not looking up from where he was picking at the skin around his nails.

Grantaire’s hands covered his own. “They still love you.”

Enjolras blinked at the sudden tears that sprung in his eyes. He glanced up at Grantaire through his lashes then quickly looked back down when he saw bright blue already staring back.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire spoke quieter, his face closer, but his words no less slurred, his breath no less bitter from the alcohol, “We’d never leave you.”

Enjolras sniffed. “I don’t understand why. I can be terrible.”

Grantaire sat back but didn’t let go of his hands. “Yes, you can.” He squeezed tightly. “But you’re also incredible. And you care so much.”

Enjolras shrugged.

Grantaire let go and settled back into the sofa again, head close to falling onto Enjolras’ shoulder, arms crossed tightly over his chest as if he was attempting to use them as a blanket. Enjolras looked up slowly, out of the corner of his eye, and when he saw Grantaire’s own eyes closed he let himself look freely.

He hadn’t let himself think about it any more than in passing. A brief thought at the end of a meeting, when Grantaire would be laughing in the back of the room with Eponine and a glass of wine. A fleeting idea as they walked along the Seine after Jehan’s poetry recital, Courfeyrac and Grantaire repeating the words dramatically, with mirth but also unwavering respect and love. A vague wandering when they bumped into each other at the second-hand bookstore on the other side of the city; literally bumping hands as they reached for the same book, so focused on finding the tome that they hadn’t even noticed the other was there.

Grantaire wasn’t the most conventionally attractive person, but that had never been a thing Enjolras cared about anyway. Despite his drunkenness and his tendency to be chronically late to everything even remotely important, Grantaire was someone who had caught Enjolras’ eye. Or rather, his mind. His heart. It was so fucking sappy – something he’d always thought himself above, even after his un-conditioning. But Grantaire, in between the slurred rambles and barely-spiteful insults, was so clever, so witty and charming and intelligent. Beautiful. Quite frankly, Enjolras couldn’t figure out why it had taken him so long to realise it, they’d known each other for four years. Sure, they spent two and a half of them in near-constant arguments, and then another year with a tenuous, unsteady friendship, but the last six months had been different.

Grantaire hadn’t been drinking quite as much – tonight notwithstanding – and they’d actually spent time together just the two of them. Time that felt like it shifted the air between them, made it something charged, full of potential. Enjolras had always been aware, in the back of his mind, that Grantaire had more-than-platonic feelings for him, but for so long he’d disregarded them as nothing more than a silly crush, undue reverence. In the last six months, he’d realised it was something else, something more. It scared him, a little bit.

Enjolras didn’t really know where they stood – wasn’t even sure he wanted anything more while Grantaire was so unstable – but he couldn’t help how he felt. (He let his eyes trail across the profile of Grantaire’s face; felt his heart flip and land somewhere in his stomach). And he felt a lot.

“Why are you here Grantaire?” Enjolras whispered, not expecting a response.

Grantaire kept his eyes closed but gave a crooked smirk, one that looked resigned but hopeful, as if he’d been so used to one way of life that he couldn’t quite believe another was available to him. He reached a hand out blindly but still managed to find Enjolras’.

“I care too.”

#hope you like it <3 #fanfic #enjolras #grantaire #enjoltaire #les mis #les miserables #les amis de l'abc #exr #prompt fill #fic prompt

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rains-inky-mind · 2 years

Note

Hello, hello and happy sts to you ^^

What's some things about your writing that you're proud of? A technique you use, a character you've done, a specific scene, the way you write a certain emotion, anything like that ^^

Hi, Ren!! Happy STS! Thank you for the ask!! ♡

Okay, I'm going to show you what I'm proud of. However, it's a pretty much a whole scene except for the begging of it is missing. It's also got a TW, so I'm going to tell you why I'm proud of it before I put the scene under the cut.

I'm proud of this piece of writing not because it's the best thing I've ever written or because I think it's a great scene. I'm proud of this piece for what it made me feel when I wrote it. The way I felt about my own self dealing with those things had shifted. I was comfortable to write about those things without being triggered. I felt stronger and progressed in my personal development. Plus, I didn't think the scene was particularly bad either. And the next scene was the turning point of the book. The scene ended up taking a "lighter" turn than I'd originally planned—but hey, the character control the book, right?

**THIS SNIPPET CONTAINS A TRIGGER WARNING!! SUICIDAL INTENTIONS!!**

THIS POST DOES NOT DEPICT SUICIDE, ONLY THE INTENT. THIS IS THE SCENE BEFORE ANDY MEETS HER SISTER AGAIN AFTER A YEAR...

The moonlight seems brighter here. It almost seems to call to light what’s about to take place.

If my mind wasn’t so full, this would probably be a very peaceful place. The cool December wind whips against my face. The rustling leaves are the only sound that I can make out. The ground seems alive with energy, which I guess is pretty ironic considering.

I squat down in front of Gwen’s stone. A sob that I didn’t know I was holding back brings me to my knees. I place my hand against the frigid stone. The letters feel sharp under my fingertips.

Gwenevire Amara Wesley

December 10, 2002 - January 17, 2020

Sister

Daughter

Friend

Sister. I run my thumb over the word.

“Gwen, I wish that you were here,” I cry. The breeze seems to carry my voice off into the night. “Dad is getting married soon. He’s gonna be okay. I just—I need you to forgive me for this, okay?”

I pull the small, repeatedly sharpened pocketknife from my pocket. It’s warm in my hands. My body is suddenly freezing as if the metal has stolen all of my body heat. A deep shiver runs up my spine.

“It’s all just too much. I can’t do this anymore.” I flick the knife open. “No matter what happens—just know that I did try to make it work here. I tried.”

My hand tightens around the knife as another shudder cripples me into her stone. I finally allow myself to let go. I fall apart completely. My cries are loud and if I weren’t so lost, I might care to try and quiet myself. I lean my head up against the cool concrete—all that’s left of my sister.

“I—I can’t! It’s too hard to keep fighting through every single day.” I cough against the tears. My sobs are turning to heaving. Hot tears sting when the breeze freezes them to my cheeks. “I’m so—so sorry, Gwen.” Another cough sends me to my knees. I cough harshly. The cold air burns my lungs. “It—It should’ve been—me.”

The coughing takes over. Each breath is like a rake down my throat. I fight hard to keep the bile down. I gasp when the gagging subsides. My breathing is too fast. I’m not getting enough oxygen into my lungs. My head pounds and tingles at the same time.

#tw after the cut #trigger warning #rain posts #twfa #answering asks #ren #snippet

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snowieluna · 6 months

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Random post popped up reminding me that Viibryd exists and I used to take it. The brain zaps were hell, and my doctor didn't believe that was a side effect 🙃

Life is weird. Last week I freaked out because JR is moving to the lab. Body had a "our powers combined" moment of shitty things that led to me crying in the bathroom at work, then continuing to cry at my station while trying to hide it. Period was early, I made a small mistake not cleaning the pill counter sooner, JR pointing that out triggered rejection sensitivity, and Daylight Savings seemed to be bringing on seasonal depression.

So when I found out he was going, I panicked. I got attached super quick and didn't want him to go. Also felt a little conflicted because I had decided to stay in filling rather than pursue moving to the lab partly because of him. I thought he was pretty cool and I wanted to get to know him better. But I learned that he's been wanting to move to the lab for months, and it feels shitty not being happy for him. But him leaving brought up a bunch of memories from CR leaving at the last job. How I had to go outside so I could cry in peace and try to breathe. That bad pain in your chest from being abandoned again. (Yeah dramatic brain is dramatic.)

So when I was back at my station and trying to calm down, I was failing. Because I'm partly focused on trying to breathe, trying to fill testosterone orders, and trying to not be super obvious with my current breakdown. So I'm breaking boxes from packing syringes when my brain goes to "I could cut myself with my box cutter. It could look like an accident. It might help. It'd be logical to be crying from a bad cut. And maybe I'd feel better. The pain is a little shock. And I deserve it, right? I'm a shitty friend for not being happy for him." But I pushed past the thought. And honestly later on, he kind of made me feel better. I'm not sure if he noticed that I was off, but he got me talking about music and it helped.

So onto this week. I went in, depressed that he was probably not going to be there, but he was still in filling. I heard bits of him talking to the others in Spanish, that he might be staying until our other coworker gets back from vacation. (Which tbh I kinda thought would happen. It doesn't make sense to have us down two people at night.) But he was kinda in an off mood, besides me still being in depression mode, so the vibes have been weird.

Now another coworker from the day shift has moved to nights, so that helps with us being short. So now JR is gonna start lab stuff on Friday. I've been trying to be less reliant on him this week. Bugging him less for help. A different coworker from the day shift joked that I should be asking JR for help when I couldn't reach something today, and I kinda shot back "Well he's leaving me, so..." So later on when I carried a bunch of meds downstairs, he was like "Hey! You're good. You don't even need me." It still kinda hurt, like no dude, I'm still gonna miss you.

Finally got the courage to be like "So I've had something I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to freak you out." Cue our coworker popping back up to drop off the pill counter. Yo my heart was pounding. Like damn I've been psyching myself the past ten minutes 😭 After she went back downstairs, I continued. "So you remember I said I was in an open relationship? Well, is that something you'd be interested in?" And he said right now, no, but it's nothing he'd freak out about. I said something like "That's fine. I had to ask, though. You're really cute." 🙈 He said he appreciated the directness, and we both agreed that signals are hard to read. He seemed a tiny bit flustered after, but we went to visit the pharmacist's bulldog downstairs. Then I babbled about cosplay, and it felt comfortable again.

Like obviously I'm bummed I won't get to do anything with him. Hell, he accidentally flicked me with his hair earlier when he turned quick and I was more like 😳 than annoyed I got hit in the face. He's still gonna give me the doki dokis tomorrow, but I'm glad I got to ask, and not keep thinking "what if." Plus he knows how I feel and if he changes his mind, I'm here 😆

So I guess that's the end of that? I'm hoping we still get to catch up more on breaks sometimes.

#text #work crush

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doktordismemberment · 1 year

Text

Roundup #6: Roguelike Mustard Adventure/ Cringesanity

Blah Blah:

Not a whole lot to report this week. Really just that tomorrow is my wife's birthday so we're probably gonna hang out, eat pierogis, and play Shredder's Revenge.

Other than that? I dunno... Still chipping away at learning music theory so things might be a bit quiet on the music front until I get that figured out.

Oh yeah, the grocery store I've been going to for the past seven years completely reshuffled all their aisles so it just took me almost half an hour of dungeon crawling to find mustard.

Muzak:

Heretical Sect - Picked this up without knowing much about the band 'cos I thought the album cover was cool and man it's good... Crusty doom/ death that sounds like "IVth Crusade" era Bolt Thrower covering "Through Silver in Blood."

Forn - Funeral doom leaning heavily in the direction of death metal. Manages to be both achingly sad and totally fucking crushing, often at the same time.

Isole - Like I said when I wrote about these guys the other day: I always had it in my head that Isole sounded like Nightwish but it turns out I was wrong and they're more along the lines of Solstice or early Candlemass which makes me feel extremely stupid for not checking them out sooner.

Thy Catafalque - Super proggy black metal from Hungary. In a weird way they kind of remind of Galloping Coroners crossed with Emperor or Arcturus.

Heilung - Super hypnotic "viking folk" music that is pretty similar to something like Garmarna I guess.

Gotta be honest and say I'm a little bit skeptical of these guys 'cos paganism/ heathenry comes with a lot of sketchy baggage, and over the top theatricality is not usually my thing, but they definitely scratch an itch when I want to zone out.

Second song on this newest album is really good.

Video Games:

Fire Pro Wrestling World - I really liked the Fire Pro game that was on PS2 back in the day so I've been wanting to pick up the new one for a while now. Just saw it on sale for $9 and that was enough of a discount that I finally pulled the trigger. So far it's exactly what I expected and you can play as Jushin Thunder Liger, so yeah... two thumbs up from me.

Xenoblade Chronicles - It took a while but the combat is finally making sense and I'm honestly really enjoying the story which is essentially: "Progressive Death Metal Album Cover: The Anime".

Reading:

I stalled out on my book but my iPad is charging and I swear I'm gonna finish the fucking thing this week.

Up next: Probably Red Harvest by Dasheill Hammett

Tube:

A bunch of the 90's/ 00's era Godzilla flicks.

Hakaider

Burst City

Devil's Rain

This weirdo Christian doomsday cult indoctrination DVD we found at a used bookstore for $2.

That 2000s era live-action Casshern flick that is kind of an over the top CGI nightmare, but stylized enough to be pretty cool as far as anime adaptations go... I went into this not expecting much but probably liked it better than any of the Matrix films.

Dragon Ball Evolution I was aware this existed but only sought it out after hearing it was one of the worst films ever made because I kind of collect worst films ever made.

A weird live action video game/ anime/ horror movie fan-film rabbit hole which I must say is a rich vein of hilarious cringe/ insanity (cringesanity?).

youtube

#Roundup #Youtube #Bandcamp

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cuddles-and-kisses · 3 years

Text

So The Cat's Out Of The Bag,,,

Another fanfic for Agapito (an OC that belongs to @yandereaffections) The story starts under the cut. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,908 Trigger Warnings: Subtle yandereness, I can't think of any others

It’s 11 pm. I’ve been avoiding schoolwork all day and I’m in no rush to fix it. I've been writing fanfiction, of sorts, for the past 3 hours. On the bright side, the first draft is done! My back hurts from sitting so long while my butt hurts because I’ve sat on a wooden stool this long. I need to take a break but what to do? Oh, what to do? My weekly planner is wide open on a bookstand to my right. I could be productive, or I could keep avoiding them... So the planner is closed now. I’ve reorganized pens in a pen cup for the seventh time. Is there a limit to how many times a person can adjust a desk lamp before going insane? There has to be something else to do but what? As if on cue, my phone lights up with a text from my Baby. We’ve been official for 6 months so our dates are a lot more casual nowadays.

“Angel, I want attention. Unlock the back door” I’m aware it doesn’t seem like it but this is how he asks to come over. He won’t come over until I respond giving the green light. “Bold of you to assume I’m home and not partying at a random frat house” We both know I’m not doing jack at 11 pm on a Friday. Nonetheless, it’s fun to pretend I have a flourishing social life. “That’s cute. Back door please” Alright, now to get up and- ow, fuck, ouchie, ok, hold on. *POP* There we go!

I should probably pick my room up real quick. I made my bed earlier today so that’s not a problem. The svallerup rug from Ikea collects dirt a lot faster than I expected. Although would he really notice? It’s not bright in here. My dresser by the door looks fine. The futon is in couch mode, so there’s not much left I don’t have to clean up for him. In reality, I’m not cleaning for him, I just like having a clean room. The last thing I do is turn on the fairy lights above my head then light a vanilla candle. I know he’s coming over to cuddle or really do anything involving him getting affection. I might as well make my bedroom reflect that, right?

I half-jog upstairs to unlock our back door. Why the back door? It’s not because I love Jesus. Let me explain. The living room floor creaks way too loud. Also, my parent’s bedroom is right next to that door. The side door alerts our dogs to start pitching a fit. How can they hear it from the opposite side of our house? I may never be able to understand. Moonlight drifts halfway across the backroom. Sparse nightlights cover the remaining needed light. I flick on the backdoor lights followed by opening a few blinds to let more light in. Their orange glow overpowers the moonlight near the backdoor.

For whatever reason, the moon is far brighter tonight. Or my pupils are hella dilated because I’m thinking about my Baby. Either way, moonlight dusts over parts of the backroom and kitchen ahead of me. One last light to turn on. An LED light above our kitchen sink smashes through most surrounding darkness, making it almost impossible to see into the living room. White cabinets outline our kitchen. None of the cabinets match each other in this house. It’s as if this house was built in parts instead of planned out from the start. The counter is occupied with things you’d expect; a bread box, knife set, fruit basket, coffee pot, and an air fryer. Yet, there's evidence real people live here. Crumbs from a snack, mail by the fruit basket, half-empty coffee pot, as well as children’s toys forgotten all about

Everyone else is snuggled up in warm beds, sleeping. I can pick out each person’s snoring pattern when they poke through tonight’s ambiance. There are moments where quiet feels like serenity, others where it feels like emptiness. I can’t decide which one I’m feeling because I realize I’m about to have a visitor. A cup of coffee sounds like the perfect way to waste a few minutes while waiting for my lover.

Coffee cup out of the overhead cabinet. A coffee spoon from beside the coffee pot. Fake sugar off the shelves. Room temperature coffee in the pot from this morning. French vanilla coffee creamer out of the fridge. And just like that, a proper cup of coffee is served. Light reflects off the glossy coating painted over our pale coffee cups. Mom considers it a priority to have everything match or look cohesive. Appearing put together is a source of pride for her. A cup is a cup however matching cups make her happy. My ears perk up at hearing his tires pulling into the driveway. My coffee creamer swirls in the cup as he walks up the driveway. The coffee spoon clings against the inside of my coffee cup simultaneously with the creak of our back gate. All that’s left is to wash off this week’s coffee spoon then put it back. I have only a few more seconds until my Love is with me again. I’m a sappy and hopeful romantic for him, get off my back. He’s learned how to silently open the back door and if I didn’t have good peripheral vision, I would’ve yelped.

Intimate hands snake around my hips as a tender kiss is pressed against my neck. I can feel the tender smile tugging at his lips after the kiss, he had a really good day? His body is pressed against mine as he murmurs “Honey, I’m home~” behind my ear; earning a soft chuckle from me. I turn to face him, wrap my arms around his neck, and greet him with a deep kiss. This time on the lips. “Welcome home, my Love.” He’s so close to me, I can smell the cigarette he had on his way over here. The absence of alcohol or weed stench affirms he didn’t have a bad day at work. I can’t wait until these interactions become a daily occurrence. This man is breathtaking under normal circumstances; but, under the glimmer of moonlight,,, I can’t form a single thought while looking at him. The raw admiration and love this man holds in his eyes? Who could stand a chance against him? Not me. Wrong choice.

His hands linger along the sides of my hips. I hold his arms in an attempt to keep him close to me, just a little longer. “I brought you a few things. I’ll go set them on your desk.” He knows gifts aren’t my thing in spite of that he claims I deserve the entire universe. I breathed out, “Ok, I’ll be down in a minute,” then started moving to get my coffee cup, as well as a few snacks to bring downstairs. He starts heading downstairs content with how flustered I am. WAIT A FLUFFING MINUTE THE FANFICTION IS ABOUT HIM!! I whisper yell ‘Baby’ until his head pops back around the corner. I threaten him to not touch or look at my laptop. It was a pathetic attempt considering what he does for a living. In my defense, I tried. I forgot he’s in essence an overgrown teenager who will do the exact opposite of what he’s told. Wanna know what he does? Grin. I’m so fucked.

Agapito dashes downstairs and leaves me in unadulterated fear. I’m frozen in place, trying to come to terms with my fate as his footsteps fade. It’s not smut or anything, just a simple night and morning routine imagining that we lived together. This is going to be so embarrassing. Please spare me this treacherous fate and undying embarrassment. Deep breaths, just take deep breaths. Get your coffee then snacks then, simply, accept what’s just happened.

With arms full of snacks, I shut my bedroom door as gingerly as I can. Setting the cup on the dresser right by the door to make this a little easier. He’s standing at my computer, reading through the last page. Oh hey, he brought me Rolo’s as well as 3 Musketeers. Nice! Oh wait, he’s done reading. His shoulders aren’t tense; his breathing hasn’t changed; all the same, he’s just standing there. “Why did you write this out instead of doing it?” That’s a good question tbh. My Baby’s voice sounds hurt, despite that, he’s trying to hide it. Ok, he needs a hug. Now to throw the snack on the bed. He needs a rib-crushing hug and you bet your butt I’ll be the one to deliver. I tug at his elbow so he’ll face me then pull him into me. His shoulders are right under my chin when we’re facing each other. I bury my face in his neck while my arms hug him as tight as I can. Except why is he upset about this?

His love for me is nothing to scoff at. He loves me the same way he wanted to be loved when he was younger. We’ve figured out he’s catching up from his pre-teen years and onward. So about 13 years without a stable romantic relationship. When he was trying to court me I had to call him out all the time for manipulation. I know he’s terrified I’ll think he’s not good enough. He has episodes of frantic attempts to meet all of my needs, even if it’s not asked for or needed. What is going through his head? Does he feel like he’s not good enough? That he’s not loving me enough so I have to turn to a fictional version of him? Does he think he’s not good enough for me to do this stuff with him? None of those are true, obviously. I explicitly stated that in the story he just read. It doesn’t mean he won’t get stuck inside his head. I need to tell him the truth. Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn’t, he’s a finely-tuned human lie detector. One more deep breath. Squeeze him a little tighter. Look him in his eyes and come clean.

“The reason I didn’t just act these out is because, I didn’t know how to ask for it.” His expression shifts from confused hurt to understanding. I start rambling, “I want to have these experiences with you. I’d give anything to have that life with you but we've only been dating for 6 months and I just, wasn’t sure, how to phrase it.” I’m choking on my own pulse from emotions. I realize I was shifting my weight left to right when he pulls me in for another hug and kisses my forehead. We stand there in each other’s embrace for a few moments before he suggests I come to his house tomorrow night. We both know what he’s suggesting. I can’t help but adamantly agree. Excitement zips through my body thinking about tomorrow night. A smile pulls at my lips as I ask, “Do you mind if I wear this shirt tomorrow night?”

Tonight is about Netflix, snacks, and rediscovering the curves and contours of each other’s bodies. Though, not before I mess up his hair while calling him a butthead. It’s evident his insecurities are still tugging at him. Funny enough, his insecurities forgot they’re fighting against me for his attention.

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jjk-anime-horray · 3 years

Text

Catching some Criminals?

Dazai Osamu x Reader x Oda Sakunosuke

Series Summary: While Dazai finally gets over the death of his friend and moves on with his life, he has to watch him unnaturally return into the would, and now he has to watch him turn twisted and into everything he hated in a way.

Chapter Summary: Finally being able too apprehend some on the culprits of the gala incident, everyone gains more information about the after some interrogations.

Trigger Warnings: Emotional trauma, mentions of extreme violence, mentions of emotional distress, mentions of illegal activities, and strong language.

Previous Chapter: The Ghosts

After hearing the screams that came from the room down the hall, you weren't overly surprised that the two men Oda and Chuuya were able too track down spilled the beans on there group and some of it's members. Why were there screams? Well, the agency needed answers and Yosano needed to release some anger after dealing with a particularly sexist man. Convenience at it's finest.

You also weren't surprised when yosano came out into the main office covered in blood, I mean she did do what people asked her too.

"I got some good news and bad news y/n, pick what you wanna hear first."

"Good news I guess."

"I was able too get a lot of information out of the two men."

"The bad news."

"You're not going to like the news I got, Dazai's not going to like it either."

"Hit me with it." but you were internally groaning because this was probably going to become a major pain in your ass.

"While the second leader of the group is known, the first one is a former international government assassin named Hauno Sarisaki, he is the user with the ability to raise the dead. While the rest of them are pretty miscellaneous, the third in command as you will is Arthur Rimaud."

"Rando-" Was all that came out of Dazai's mouth as he entered the room, while rubbing his wavy hair on his head in distaste of the words that came out of the doctor's mouth. "His ability is quite problematic, i'll probably have to go with Chuuya to deal with that, what a pain." Then his almond eyes met your as he looked up from rubbing his head. "How are you feeling Y/N is your head getting better?"

"Yeah it's fine, plus I had Yosano treated me........unfortunately, it's alright, but you seem tired Dazai why might that be?"

"It's just that while Odasaku is helping us a lot with the new criminal group problem, he's also has been going on a bit of a vigilante-ish rampage, and while he's been helping, but also he's making a big mess while doing it." He said while rubbing the back of his neck as a signal for a sort of bashfullness while talking about his friend but it faded as he thought to the massacre he create at the beginning of his purging.

"Yeah I've noticed that as well, his new persona has also made the news a couple of times, lucky is was for his more benevolent round ups of criminals." But if they covered his first parade before he calmed down he would have been painted as a terrorist you thought. "What was he like before, you know, the accident?"

Dazai froze a bit, only a little bit, but you could then tell it was a question that he wasn't expecting to hear.

"I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable I just-"

"He wanted to be a writer." Dazai answered cutting you off, but in they way to make sure that you weren't beating yourself up about asking your question. "He was really compassionate and really cared about the kids he took in, but he was still always on the quieter side."

Dazai eyes gazed out in front of him, eyes glowing with the sense of endearingment he felt in the past from his friend causing the edges of his mouth to perk up slightly under his thick brown bangs.

Then his almond orbs danced up to look you in your eyes glinting from the rooms light. He stopped there then kept peering into your orbs with the same look he had before. Realizing what he just did he flicked his gaze and head towards one of the office window.

"You know I wasn't all that surprised that he was willing to help us out (Y/N), but i'll have too admit that I didn't think he was going to nurse you back to health.

You nodded in agreement, after your first conversation with the former hitman you realized that even though he could be extreme he wasn't bad.

"I had this feeling wash over me when I saw him taking care of you I can't really explain, and even thinking about it confuses me to why."

"You probably were just worried about (Y/N) Dazai, I know I would have been worried if I had to go pick up a friend that just got blown up."

The two of you snapped your heads over to the doctor who now was cleaned of blood, neither of you noticed that she had left, or when she arrived for that matter, so when she made her presence known to the both of you it caught you two by surprise.

"Yeah you're totally right Yosano of course I was just worried about them." He babbled on while he waved his hand once in a affirmative manner, but the red starting to mingle across his hears and face told a slightly different story and was about something else. You all were detectives after all.

"Hey Daz, you know if you ever need to talk to me i'm here for you you know. Was there something else you wanted to say?"

You flashed him a subtle smile trying to encourage him to speak his mind at the moment, and hoping he did so.

Meanwhile Dazai's heart was thumping on the ribcage in his chest as a result of your words, threatening to be so loud that one could almost hear them through his tan trench coat.

"Nope."

"Oh okay." You stated slightly disappointed, but even more curious about what was going on in Dazai's head. About to say something else to Dazai you were interrupted by his phone going off in his pocket from a call from the president.

"I have to go, i'll see you guys later." He said in sequence before he left to answer the message.

"Yeah, hope you stay safe" you muttered to yourself.

Dazai had been acting weird around you recently, now, after today, you were going to figure out why.

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hawksugarbaby · 3 years

Text

Deku x reader- Minecraft millionaire

Fluff

A/N: I use Xbox so these are Xbox controlls but feel free to change them as you see fit

Izuku sat on his bed flicking his eye's from the facetime with you to the screen in front of him continuously holding the right trigger on his controller and chewing his lip. "Wait what level do you find diamonds?" he asked glancing at his coordinates in the corner and you jumped around the world trying to escape a creeper "Fuck i'm gonna die! i'm gonna die! please NO!" you yelped and decided it was time to dig a hole in the ground and block it off. "Sorry, what did you ask?" you look at the phone propped up against your laptop and chuckle at Izuku's face scrunched up in concentration "uh, what level do you find diamonds" he repeated not taking his eye off the screen filled with grey stone blocks and dot's of black for coal. "12 to 14, usually 13 is like the best place"

You answered uncovering the hole you had dug in just as a creeper passed over you and fell into your 3 by 1 grave. "NOOO!" you screeched as the green mob flashed white and you tried to jump out of the inescapable hole for a final moments peace but to no avail. The unmistakable sound of a muffled explosion and the respawn screen, lighting your face up red and you let out a fake cry. "Did you die?" he asked despite the obvious answer. "Yeahh" you answered with a heavy sigh and respawned at home, grabbing a spare wooden sword and jumping over to the spot of your death. If nothing else you'd get a lot of dirt?

Izuku muttered about hitting his head off every block and you snickered "I mean at least you learned your lesson about digging straight down" he huffed and flailed his arms creating a cold air around him "it wasn't my fault no one told me I shouldn't dig straight down!" he had a point, yes, but still you had presumed that even he would know such a basic rule "I know, I know" you say nearing the site of the explosion and start sprinting ignoring the band of mobs chasing you.

"HOW IS MY STUFF STILL HERE. IT WAS LITERALLY NEXT TO ME?!" you yelped in surprise but ran around the area gathering your stuff and spammed the Y button, automatically gearing up and switched your sword to your hotbar along with your enchanted pickaxe and cooked chicken.

"Maybe the minecraft gods granted you... something?" Izuku laughed and popped out of his mine running to his furnace and dropping in a stack of Iron. "(y/n) I hear you need some cobblestone" Izuku said running to your house across from his and down the basement to your storage area. You groaned begrudgingly trying to fend off an army of spiders who had made it a personal goal of theirs to off you. "Izuku please don't contribute to the cobble chest. I'm begging you. I don't need more cobble" you whined sprinting away with 5x more Xp than you originally had. "Do you have lapiz?" you asked raking through his chests to find the blue material.

Izuku opened the chest almost full with cobble and finished it off with 12 more stacks, leaving one or himself. The green achievement bar popped up at the bottom of the screen "Chestful of cobblestone" and you clicked your tongue pushing your hands together like a prayer in front of your mouth "IZUKU. I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I'M GOING TO BURN YOUR COBBLE. STOP GIVING ME COBBLE, THAT GOES FOR ALL THE REST OF THE BOYS TOO!" your shouting could be heard throughout the dorm and some of the other minecraft players snickered to themselves.

Anytime, they had a stack or so of cobble, they would put it in one of your chests and it became a running joke for them to go "Hey (y/n) I heard you needed more cobble" and shove it in the chest despite your begging them not to. You had 3 chests of cobble but never got the achievement because you had burned the first 2 chestfulls before they could finish it off.

"Yes I have lapiz just give me a sec" he answered after your threat and jumped over to you. Meeting in front of your pumpkin farm you were jumping on. "If you fall you're gonna trample your crops" he said and you shrugged "that's what I have a diamond hoe for duh" you say in a bragging way as if having a diamond hoe of all things really just showed your wealth. You jumped off the pumpkin successfully not landing on your crops and spun around in front of Izuku as he threw lapiz at you "Is this what it's like to be a stripper" you chuckled and Izuku snorted at your joke. "Okay that's enough" you say, stopping him from throwing anymore and bouncing off to your enchantment table.

"I can't believe you had 4 extra diamonds and you made an enchantment table and a hoe" he sighed grabbing all the iron from his furnace and spinning to the crafting table to make a new pickaxe and a bucket for milk. He was determined to make a cake just as much as getting diamonds but there was a lack of cows due to bakugo's anger issues when he was in the server. "What would you even have done with them!?" "I COULD HAVE BOOTS (y/n)!" he shouted back and you purse your lips. He could have had boots...

"Okay well I'm sorry I'm rich and have full diamonds" you shrug and he looked up from his controller looking straight forward pinching the bridge of his nose "your a bitch" he laughed and started back down his mineshaft complaining about the steps hitting his head again. "You love me really" you chuckle and he rolls his eyes with a smile "yeah I know" you glance at the facetime and smile, 8 hours, 29 minutes 43 seconds you'd been on a call just playing minecraft in the server you ran for "the lads" as it had been dubbed.

"OOH IZUKU I JUST GOT FORTUNE 3 ON MY DIAMOND PICKAXE!" you exclaim, celebrating by jumping up and down. "Sweet! You're gonna have endless coal!" he laughed and you punched the air excitedly "so much Xp!" "we have an Xp farm" he retaliated and you pouted "Let me be exited" you whined and he awed "sorryyy" he said dragging it out for effect and you huffed "better be."

Izuku's inventory quickly filled with cobble, coal, and iron again, the occasional redstone for Xp and fuck gold, gold sucks. He stumbled into a cave, a platform of stone and on each side was a pool of lava. But Izuku's eyes lit up and he gasped "OH MY GOD!" he shouted digging through the wall to get to the prize. "WHAT!" you shouted back, busy breeding the chickens and throwing eggs in the overcrowded pen. "Sorry but some of you guys have gotta go" you muttered brandishing your iron sword, specifically named "the chicken killer" since you didn't want to waste your diamond sword on chickens. "DIAMONDS!" he shouted back building a platform around the edge of the lave he could walk on and building under the diamonds for safety.

"OH OH MY GOD WAIT THERE AND I'LL MINE THEM FOR YOU!" you say abandoning the chickens and jumping over to his house again. "wait why. This is my moment I've literally never found diamonds and you're gonna take them from me" he asked looking at the phone, your face twisted with concentration. "Because I have fortune 3 and I can make 8 diamonds like 24" you said. "can I mine these ones and tell you when I find more instead I want to mine my own first diamonds." you stopped at the entrance jumping up and down in frustration "okay fine"

As Izuku ventured further into the cave earning probably half a new chest worth of cobble he shouted for you. "I found more diamonds." you immediately sprang into life holding the left stick to go down quicker. "Okay yeah this is really inconvenient" you agreed about bumping your head on the way down and landed at his shaft. "Uhh which way am I going" you asked. "Left" he said. You followed the trail of torches and Izuku's name tag that got bigger the closer you were eventually running into the same square as him. "Move back I can't see" you instructed and he scooted backwards.

You swung the enchanted pickaxe collecting the aqua gems and throwing them at izuku. "That's like 20 something," you said, shrugging at the phone and running off back home. "That was 28" he said running after you to finally make his full iron armor and tools "I have 33 in total" he grabbed sticks from his unorganised chests that you despised and for the first time, made diamond armor in minecraft.

"Oh my god he's wearing BLUE! It doesn't match your colour scheme" you cried shielding your eyes and looking away. "Sorry (y/n) let me just dye my diamonds green real quick" he said, throwing an emerald at you and you feigned shock. "A MIRACLE. TRULY"

"Okay I wanna enchant it" he said following you to the enchantment table. "We do have those enchanted books if you want something specific?" you said but he shook his head "nah i'm doing it old fashioned" he said standing at the enchantment table and taking his time going through, enchanting each item with its purple iridescence.

"What did you get?" you asked, jumping around him excitedly and he hovered over each item. "Respiration on the helmet, projectile protection and unbreaking, wait I got unbreaking as well?" he asked looking at you through the facetime "it does that sometimes" you shrugged and he raised his eyebrows and hummed with the newfound knowledge. "Those on chestplate, protection on the jeans-" "leggings" "whatever, and feather falling on the boots" he said putting all his armor back on and going over his tools "efficiency on the pickaxe, efficiency on the axe, unbreaking on the hoe, unbreaking on the shovel, and fire aspect on the sword" he said stabbing a chicken that immediately went up in flames. "Roast chicken for life!" you cheered.

"Okay you have your full diamond now come to the nether" you said standing in the swirling portal and Izuku whined. "Literally what for!" he asked standing next to you despite his disinterest and the loading screen popped up. "For that Xp, gotta get that nether quartz" you said jumping to a clump of nether quartz and letting the green spheres fall on you watching the bar go up. "(y/n) What's the bridge for?" he asked walking over to the bridge ignoring the magma slime jumping toward you.

"What bri- AGH FUCK NO NO YOU CUBE FUCKING BITCH THINK YOU CAN JUMP ON ME LIKE I'M SOME WHORE WHO DO YOU THINK I AM" (A real thing i've said playing minecraft with my friends) he turned around just as the magma divided into 4 then each of those into another 4 until there were none. "Don't go on that bridge you will absolutely die" you warned and he backed up onto the bridge anyway. You were surprised he even made it halfway before a ghast needed to tell him his place and shoot him right into the neon orange below. "YOUR FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT"

Bonus content

Kaminari, bakugo, and kirishima all joined the call loading up minecraft not expecting to get an earful of your abuse to Izuku who was crying into his controller "I FUCKING TOLD YOU NOT TO GO ON THE BRIDGE BECAUSE A GHAST WOULD KNOCK YOU OFF BUT WHAT DID YOU DO. GO ON THE BRIDGE. I LITERALLY JUST GOT YOU THOSE DIAMONDS ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME YOU BROCCOLI. I WASTED MY FORTUNE BUFF ON YOU."

You loved him really. But you would never be taking him to the nether again.

A/n: What is your relationship with Izuku here? That's for you to decide. Also these are all things that have happened to me while in minecraft with my friends.

#bnha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #mha #mha deku #bnha deku #izuku midoria x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader

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