#or maybe it was because the bad weather bothered him and he needed more energy i dunno

[ryukatters]

it's your fault for loving me — y. okkotsu ⁺˚⋆｡°✩

⟡ pairing: yuuta okkotsu x fem!reader

⟡ cw: /DARK CONTENT, /yandere! yuuta, /dubcon, /NONCON, ex-bf!yuuta, stalking, he breaks into your apartment, he /manhandles you (he’s strong), /implied babytrapping, /possessiveness, MINORS DNI

⟡ wc: 2.9k (someone sedate me)

⟡ song inspo: language by brent faiyaz

⟡ summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks into your apartment. What do you mean he needs to leave? He’s staying right here.

The slow, muffled drag of your feet ricochet off the hallway walls as you trudge along to your apartment. You fumble with your keys for a little bit, but find no resistance as you insert it into the slot. 

“Huh, that’s odd…I could’ve sworn I locked it.”

You chalk it up to exhaustion. You're only practically ever home to sleep due to the way you've been throwing yourself onto mission after mission. Even now, sleep is a luxury you can barely afford. You kick off your shoes lazily, not bothering putting them in their rightful place on the shoe rack. 

Maybe before, you would have cared more about keeping the house tidy. Or maybe before, your loving boyfriend would pamper and coddle you the minute you opened the front door, so you never had to worry about the little details like putting your shoes in the right place.

You were exhausted. 

You wanted nothing more than to wash up and plop down onto your soft, soft bed. You don’t even make it to your bedroom door before you pause, anxiety prickling your nerves. 

You sense him before you see him. Yuuta’s cursed energy has always had a tendency to seep out whenever he was around you. Whether it’s a testament to how he’s able to fully relax in your presence or a display of raw power, you’re not sure. 

"You're home," a certain black-haired sorcerer chirps. "How was your mission?"

In the past, simply hearing Yuuta’s voice would be enough to melt away the pent up stress from a hard day of exorcizing curses. It’d soothe your aching muscles and tired soul as you let yourself be enveloped by the weight of his affection. But right now, it did everything except that. 

The shiver of excitement that used to run down your spine is replaced by trepidation caused by the only person who used to be able to comfort you. 

You know better than to ask how he knew you were on a mission, much less ask how he managed to break into your apartment. It seems he's been in here for a while, with the way he seems to have made himself at home on your bed, much like the way he used to before. 

"Why are you here?"

The question makes him sit up. 

“Because I missed you. Is that so bad?”

You want to laugh. The whole situation is all sorts of fucked up, and the two of you are talking about it the same way one would the weather.

“Yuuta, we broke up 2 months ago,” you press, vexation lacing your words. You could never imagine yourself using that tone on him. Yuuta’s always been so meticulous in loving you, in making sure you were happy.  He’s never given you a reason to be upset with him. But that was then, and this was now. 

You could say whatever you wanted to say. You were tired and definitely not in the mood to deal with a supposed burglar that happens to be in the form of your ex-boyfriend.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he says simply.

“You walked out on me!”

“Because I thought you needed some space. And now I’m back. But I never said we were breaking up.” 

Space was an extremely generous term for what Yuuta gave you. If you could consider watching your every move from a distance, keeping tabs on who you talk to, and making sure you stay out of trouble secretly, “space.” He would never let you know that though. It’s too much, too soon.

He couldn't help it, not when his precious baby could get hurt. He’d never forgive himself if that happened.

“Come and sit, my love. You look so tired.” He pats the space next to him. You will your heart not to flutter at the familiar nickname. 

Your body moves before your brain can catch up. It’s almost like listening to him was muscle memory. You pause in your step, cross your arms, and glare at him. 

“Leave, Yuuta. I don’t want to see you.” The words rise from the very depths of your soul and spill out of your mouth like bile, burning and spiteful. It hurts to speak to him like this, even after he’d abandoned you with no hopes of return. 

“Sit, love.” A little more demanding this time. “I’m not repeating myself again.” 

The tension in the air is palpable, so thick you can cut it with a knife.

You take a seat. Yuuta doesn’t miss a beat before he has his hands on you. 

“Missed you,” his hand reaches out to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing against the plushness of your cheek. 

You’ve always been so soft, it’s one of the things Yuuta loves the most about you. 

You flinch. Blame it on the adrenaline coursing through your body like wildfire. Your fight or flight response is shot. Yuuta’s touch seems to rewrite everything that’s been hardwired into your brain. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before moving down to kiss the tip of your nose, and both of your cheeks. Each press of his lips leaves feels like it’s being seared into your flesh, a metaphorical branding iron of sorts— to show that you’re Yuuta’s and Yuuta’s only. 

Your mind goes blank when he sucks a kiss into the side of your neck, whimpering pathetically as he grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin. 

“We can’t do this,” you assert, but the words get stuck in your throat, so it comes out more as a whiny sigh. Your body seems to have a tendency to betray you when it comes to him.

“But we can,” Yuuta coos, pushing you down until your back is flat against the mattress. He takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up until they’re above your head, effectively pinning you in place. “We’re doing it right now, aren’t we?” 

Yuuta can appear pretty unassuming to outsiders. He’s quiet, reserved, almost meek. If one were to take a closer look, however, they’d realize that beneath that unostentatious front was a more commanding aura, one that forces you to submit to his whims with his sweet tongue and sensuous touches. Perfectly calculated, perfectly executed. 

"I fucking hate you,” you spit, thrashing against his hold, but to no avail. 

"No you don't,” Yuuta shuts you down with conviction. Like it’s the absolute truth— the kind that can’t be twisted or broken. It almost feels like he’s chastising you for thinking otherwise. “Take that back right now.”

To be honest, hearing those words stung more than any physical blow you could have ever landed on him. Has he not shown you enough love? Or have you already forgotten? 

Isn’t what you have pure love? 

A hand wraps around your neck, lithe fingers inching up before they grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.  “I said,” blunt fingernails digging into your skin, “take it back.”

You sputter out an apology with teary eyes, an odd mix of humiliation and regret seeping into your bones, stomach swirling with shame and to your horror, a tinge of anticipation. 

It’s pathetic, really, how easily you give in. 

“Now give me a kiss, sweetheart.” Yuuta bridges the gap between the two of you. He presses his already throbbing bulge against your clothed pussy, moaning into your mouth appreciatively.

You feel so dizzy you think you might explode. 

Yuuta makes quick work of the buttons on your uniform, releasing your wrists so he can throw the offending garment and all your underthings beneath it to some random corner of the room. 

Calloused hands roam your body, squeezing and groping, as if to map out the cartography of your flesh, committing each peak and valley to memory. He watches in fascination how your skin bristles with goosebumps in the wake of his touch. 

He ignores your pleading cries and attempts to push him off. Yuuta is being driven by pure instinct alone. That sick, twisted voice in his head that he’s always tried to suppress whispers. It goads him on to take what he wants, to make sure you remember that you’re his, and his alone. 

He knows that you haven’t been seeing anyone. You were always so loyal, even when you were upset with him. Anyone who did try was taken care of the minute they left your sight. 

It’s been far too long since he’s had you. His desire fills him with a sort of quiet rage, one that metamorphoses into something darker, more sinister and morose the longer he goes without you. Almost like a curse that’s gone far too long without feeding. 

Yuuta Okkotsu loves you to the point of madness.

He thinks he might literally implode in on himself any second longer without you.

It’s almost laughable how different the two of you are. An ethereal beauty too good for this world, yet here you were in between the legs of a cursed man with too much love than he knows what to do with. 

“Yuuta, please,” you cry out. You flail your legs in an attempt to kick Yuuta off. He catches both with ease, throwing them over his shoulder to slide your bottoms off, leaving you completely bare. 

He can’t suppress the groan that tumbles past his lips. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers. 

You’re dewy eyed and gasping, nails clawing at his forearms and beating at his chest in a last ditch effort to stand your ground. Nothing can deter him. 

Yuuta could easily heal himself if he wanted to. But the angry red welts and blossoming hues of purple on his pale skin are a badge of honor of the utmost prestige. It’s undeniable proof that you’re real, that his love for you isn’t just a fragment of his imagination, and that none of this was just some pipe dream. He could take a little pain if that meant you got to be his. 

He’s always been yours without any reservations. 

“You can cry if you want, if it helps,” he says genuinely, but the gleam in his eyes shifts into something predatory. “But you should know you’re really fucking wet.” As if to prove a point, he slowly fucks his middle finger into your weeping hole, then his index, then his ring. They curl up to rub against that spongy spot just the way you like. 

You let out a sharp gasp, spine arching off the mattress. 

You tried to ignore him—detach yourself from the whole situation, let him get his fill, and be done with this whole ordeal. But it’s Yuuta— the man has a grasp on both the corporal and spiritual parts of you that you can’t bring yourself to understand. It seems like he knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. And right now, he’s managed to make a home in all five of your senses. There’s no escape. He's made sure of that. 

He pulls out his fingers with a lewd squelch. A clear sheen of liquid coats every digit, stringy as he parts them to show you. He smiles knowingly.

“You keep fighting me, but it turns out you want it after all, sweetheart.” 

Your cheeks burn in humiliation. Whether it’s from the situation at hand or the truth behind his words, you’re not too sure. 

“Don’t you know?” Yuuta rasps, fingers going back to work their way inside you rhythmically, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice, paying special attention to how you try to mask how your face contorts in pleasure. 

He presses his forehead against yours, willing you to look at him wordlessly. “I know what’s best for you. I know what you want. And right now, this little pussy wants to be fucked. Isn’t that right, my love?” 

He’s met with a breathless moan. You’re so close. Tears threaten to fall as your chest heaves in exertion, trying not to teeter off the edge too soon. 

You look so pathetic it’s insane. Yuuta swears he can feel his mouth water in anticipation for what’s bound to come next. He thrusts his fingers with calculating speed and precision, the heel of his palm slapping against your neglected clit just right. 

He leans down right when you cum, lips catching yours as you moan into his mouth. Satisfaction swells in his chest as your slick drips down his wrist. 

“You’re ready.” 

Yuuta unbuttons his pants, pulling it down just enough for his cock to spring free, tip slapping his abdomen as it leaks with precum. He fists it, jerking his hand up and down his length. He slaps it against your clit once, twice, and a third time before he slips it inside your weeping hole. 

Your walls spasm around his cock to accommodate his sheer size and girth, struggling a bit more than usual. You feel so full. It’s been far too long since he’s fucked you. You claw at his lower abdomen, trying to make space between the two of you. It’s all too much, all at once. Yuuta won’t have it. He slips his hands under your sweaty thighs, pinning your ankles on either side of your head, effectively folding you in half. You cry out at the stretch.

“Always take me so well, angel.” 

He sets a steady pace, dragging his cock in, pulling out, and then back in with an absurd amount of force. The sound of skin on skin ricochets against your bedroom walls like a sort of cacophonous symphony. You don’t get the luxury of the sweet, slow thrusts he usually blesses you with, while he coos about how good you are for him. 

“Where’s all that attitude from earlier? Am I making you feel that good?” 

You glower, refusing to acknowledge the fact that your body betrays your mind— that Yuuta’s bringing you closer and closer to nirvana the further he drags you down into hell. 

He slides his hand down your tummy, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Yuuta—!” You clench around his length, hurtling towards your second orgasm quickly. 

“You’re so greedy. Cumming again already?” 

He’s met with silence. He’ll forgive your transgressions this time around. He’ll just have to teach you how to be his good girl again. 

A particularly rough thrust has you choking back a moan.

“Thought so. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

Your peak hits you like a crashing wave. Your body tenses, leaving you gasping for air as you clench around Yuuta’s cock. You cry out deliriously, falling apart as Yuuta continues to pound into you. It’s too much, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. You’re stuck.

“I’m the only one that can make you feel this way, understand?” He grits his teeth, staving off his release just a little longer. He fucks you through your orgasm thoroughly as he chases his own. 

He presses all of his body weight on top of you, your legs on either side of his head as he folds you into a mating press. He groans at the change in position, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper. 

Realization cuts through your cloudy judgment like a sword. 

“Yuuta— Yuuta, please. Pull out–!” 

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. He’s rambling now, intoxicated by all you have to offer, yet you’re the one paying the price. The effects of overstimulation are taking over now, your body twitching involuntarily with each thrust. 

“I’m not leaving you, ever. It’s just you and me.” 

You shake your head in objection, mind too hazy to voice out any resistance. Tears well up, threatening to spill from your lash line. 

Yuuta nods with a grin, canines glinting, just like a predator that’s caught its prey. “It’s true, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it. Say I’m it for you. That I’m the only one.” 

“Say it.” 

“You’re it for me, Yu. The only one.” You babble, tears streaming freely now. 

You feel the moment he reaches his plateau— the way his dick twitches inside of you right before your walls are being painted white with splashes of Yuuta’s hot cum. 

Your fate’s been sealed. 

He fucks into you a few more times, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he rides out his orgasm. A white ring wraps around the base of his cock, the copious amounts of seed he’s poured into you threatening to leak out. 

Yuuta doesn’t bother pulling out. In a quick show of dexterity and freak strength, he manages to flip the both of you so that your positions are switched, with you lying on top of Yuuta’s chest. The steady beat of his heart fills your mind. 

Your entire body is on fire. You feel numb. You let yourself be carried away by the prospect of sleep, hoping that you’ll wake up to find that this was all just some wild fragment of your imagination.  

He presses a hand against your head, like he was afraid you’d pull away and ruin whatever fantasy he’s deluded himself into believing. 

The simple truth is– Yuuta Okkotsu loves you. And he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that no one else gets in the way of that. 

He runs his hand up and down your bare back lovingly, admiring your spent form. You’ve always been so soft. So pliant, so willing to give in to his desires. 

It’s the thing that Yuuta loves most about you. 

a/n: i had to reupload bc this hellsite sucks. hopefully this shows up in the tags now

tagging @princess-okkotsu again hehe

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

I’m having a lot of thoughts about super protective Steve right now, but I’m also having a lot of writer’s block so I don’t have the energy to actually set the whole scene.

I need Billy and Steve delivering pizzas and snacks to The Party (including the Corroded Coffin guys) to wherever they’re holding their campaign. Maybe somewhere in the woods because it’s aesthetic and the weather is nice, like out by Castle Byers.

The kids are fine with Harringroveson for the most part by now, though a couple of them (namely Dustin) don’t always get along the best with Billy. He tries really hard so it’s getting better, but progress is slow. He’s still detested by the Corroded Coffin guys (namely Gareth).

I love the misunderstood character trope for some reason. I love the idea of other characters hating Billy’s image, the idea of him, but when they get to know him as more than the asshole jock they peg him as, they realize he isn’t all that bad.

Maybe Gareth makes one too many comments about not wanting Billy there. Calls him an asshole and provokes him with the intention of validating his own perception of the blond. Maybe even goes as far as to insinuate that the only reason Eddie or Steve are with him is because of his looks. Something mean that’s said in a teasing tone, but hits just as hard despite it.

Billy doesn’t react with white hot rage like everyone’s expecting. He turns away and walks through the woods back to the car with a look of shame on his face, and Steve immediately jogs to catch up with him, lacing their fingers together as they weave through the trees.

Eddie stands there anxiously, wondering if he should follow them or if it’ll overwhelm his already upset boyfriend. He turns back to the group and looks pointedly at Gareth. Not angry. Just disappointed.

Which some could argue is worse.

“C’mon, man,” he sighs, gesturing vaguely. “You couldn’t be cordial until they left? He didn’t even do anything.”

“Made ‘em leave faster, didn’t it?”

Gareth’s tone is less sure than before, because after all, he isn’t a malicious person at his core. He’s clearly at odds with himself about hurting Billy’s feelings — he didn’t even think it was something that could happen.

Eddie just shakes his head and sighs.

“Well, you’ve poked the bear, so now shit’s gonna get testy.”

“What, like—“ Gareth gulps and his eyes blow wide. “Like Hargrove’s gonna kick my ass or something?”

At the words, Eddie laughs. Crosses his arms and sobers when he hears twigs crunch in the distance, a set of footsteps approaching once again.

“Not Billy,” Eddie whispers.

As if on queue, Steve emerges from between the trees. His jaw is clenched and his shoulders are squared. He gets eyes on Gareth before anything else, which has him scurrying up out of his seat on the floor. Ready to bolt.

Steve stops beside Eddie. Shrugs his hand off of his shoulder when Eddie sets it there and points an accusatory finger at Gareth. The movement makes him flinch even though he’s still a handful of feet away.

“I dunno what your fucking problem is, but you don’t say shit like that about my boyfriend when I’m around, you hear me?” Steve seethes. He eyes Gareth up and down like he’s sizing him up before he simply tsks and shakes his head. “You can find your way home in the dark for all I care, so don’t bother asking for a ride when the game’s over.”

He stares until Gareth nods, at which point some of the rage relaxes out of him. Only slightly.

Then he turns to Eddie.

“Get on the radio when you’re done?” he says much more softly. “I’m gonna go ahead and take him home.”

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, but you know how he is.”

Eddie nods and cracks a smile.

“Big ol’ softie.”

“Mhmm.”

Steve mirrors his expression. Leans in for a quick kiss, then casts Gareth a final glare before he takes his leave.

Once he’s gone, Eddie huffs a laugh and intertwines his fingers over the back of his head.

“Jesus. Give him a while, he’ll get over it,” he dismisses. Glances over at Gareth, who looks about as startled as a mouse that’s been dropped into a snake pit. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I dunno, you could probably speed up the process by making Billy a cake or something.” When Gareth furrows his eyebrows, Eddie shrugs and laughs again. “I’ve never pissed Steve off that bad, but I have hurt Billy’s feelings before. My boy loves him some chocolate cake.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then two.

They wind up having to wrap the game up faster than they anticipated, because the nice weather becomes a drizzle which becomes a pour.

Steve goes against his word and gives Gareth a ride home.

The next day, he’s standing on their porch with a Tupperware container full of chocolate cupcakes that say srry 4 b-ing an a-hole in blue icing on top.

Billy immediately shoves one into his mouth and Steve reluctantly forgives Gareth, meanwhile Eddie is laughing his ass off because he didn’t really expect him to take his suggestion seriously.

[imaginaryari]

Charged

The thunder is deafening as Relay5154 waits on the building’s roof for what always follows. He’s tired and soaked, been so for a while now but the sensation no longer bothers him, actually makes his purpose up here faster.

He could just go to a power plant, or siphon it from folks hoarding it. But he rather the storm, and siphoning is illegal. “It tastes better and lasts longer” is how he justifies it and as long as he’s not seen no one will know his true nature.

See, Relay5154 looks like anyone else. Average height, maybe some interesting tattoos, cropped copper hair to prevent oil and debris from clinging to him more than it needs to. No one would know he’s a battery on first or second glance.

The bolt strikes the metal pole he’s leaning on just right and he’s engulfed in burning white light. He savors the energy coursing through his veins and feels the most alive he’s been in weeks. Finally awake and alert, he stays on the roof a bit longer waiting for his body to dim. He prefers that no one knows what he is and the white light from a recent recharge is very damning.

As he waits, soaked and electrified, he surveys the rooftops again. As usual no one is around because it would be insane to leave the house in a storm this bad. Still, he can’t be too careful. The windows on the neighboring buildings are covered, the roofs remain clear, there’s barely any traffic on the roads.

And yet, he catches a flash, one he might have imagined in the wind and rain. A bird? no. something toppling in the storm? most likely. Someone hiding? he hopes not.

He doesn’t worry about it, now dimmed and ready to dry off and go back for his daily task of fixing tiny bots.

Soaked and high off the adrenaline of a successful run, Ayame trails Cannon as they seek refuge from the rain. They’re both stifling laughter after tricking the security drone on the train they’ve just hopped. Lightning catches Ayame’s attention and she looks, up towards the building it’s struck.

There’s a man on the roof, standing right where the lighting hit. She gasps as he glows bright white, confused and fascinated.

“Aya?” Cannon asks, breaking her transfixed glare.

She looks to him, “There’s a man up there!” She say pointing, but as she turns back, the glowing man is gone leaving the roof empty.

“Oh, he’s gone.”

“I would hope so,” Cannon says, “It’s crazy to be out in this weather.”

Ayame rolls her eyes at him but looks back one more time hoping for one more glance.

Thunder roars, and she follows Cannon to safety.

[hungersauce]

need more on that monster attracted to death benry au STAT. it's so good actually

Firefox fucking crashed while I was typing this the first time im going to kill god. Tysm but god typing all this out again WOOF.

Okay so it starts here with “I use au's and shipping to explore concepts/characterization that I feel is overlooked/unexplored in canon” and Benry already has a lot of associations with death to me (the skeletons, his explicit dying whereas everyone else has other explanations, his 'song of death', “there are no predetermined deaths”, him being a inscrutable and inevitable force that is only your enemy if you make him so)

this is a horror-aligned thing so uh body horror and other violence under the cut

I have other stories with benry that explore his relationship with death as well, this is just the one where Benry understands how fucking bad it is for Gordon in the first place and it's more of an interpersonal conflict than one of misunderstandings. They still do misunderstand each other but like.

Anyways most of the basic stuff also goes for how I generally interpret Benry; he's a simulacrum of human life basically. He's always been dead, he's never been dead, he's always been alive and he's currently living. I made a thing a while back out of cut up wiki pages to try and explain what I think of him better but never got around to prettying it up.

Anyways. He's something like that one interpretation of a changeling to me; something that's usurped the body and eaten it from the inside out, until all that's left is him. Partially this is a plural thing to me. Old host chipped away over time until it's something else entirely. Whoever he was before doesn't exist anymore. There is only Benry. (what is benry? well, he is.)

And so uh, Deathry specifically is the horse edition of this. He actually looks human most of the time but it's fun to draw him as silly little beasts. Deathry as established is drawn to death; he feeds from this somehow (the horror hunger enjoyer in me said so) but i'm not sure yet if it's a physical sort of eating or more of an energy-based one. Leaning to both, like a vampire.

I tried making him as compatible with canon as possible on the mechanical level at first. Something that's drawn to the doomed and the damned? Well, we all know what the rescas was like. I think he's just so desensitized to death that he does understand the gravity of it on a deeper level but nobody cared when HE died so why bother.

The story itself isn't compatible though because I was listening to my fucked up and evil music and thought to myself “well if two guys were out hiking alone in the woods and one tried to kill the other with an axe would that be fucked up or what” and now that's thoroughly lodged in my head. and uhhhh the personal drama of it all.

Listen. I am a gay man. I think about frenrey and think about them choking each other to death and I giggle and swing my feet. I love when they are violence and killing.

But also I am a gay man and thinking about a literal embodiment of the condition of death sitting in a tent as the guy he personally cut the arm off of (yes, him, personally!) is slowly succumbing to the cold; wrapping Gordon in his jacket, quietly laying on top of Gordon as the weather gets worse through the night, unsure of what else he can do... comparing Gordon's blackened frostbitten fingers interlaced with his own skeletal black hands, Gordon's slowly crawling pulse to his maybe one heartbeat a minute, Gordon's once loud and comprehensive speech slowly descending to confused muttering, becoming more like him. More like dead. The rituals are intricate okay.

And uh something that makes me crazy is that Benry in canon was explicitly the thing that was holding the rift between worlds open and he didn't even. Notice. With Deathry that sheer power manifests as freak weather events, flocks of birds dropping dead mid-flight, interrupting radio signals, making compasses go crazy. That sort of shit.

Deathry also takes pictures in places he ends up. Gordon is fucking flabbergasted at the underwater caves, dive bells from the outside, impossible angles on known landmarks, but it makes sense to him later. Gordon's probably more riled up by all the random shit Benry's collected over the years - what do you mean you don't want this coat covered in decomp?? aren't you cold??

Anyway. Au is also a fun excuse to think about frenrey shenanigans. Turns up in a hospital after being missing for 3 months raving about a guy who defies all physics with wounds that are only a few days old. Thinks about him for the next month until he randomly shows the fuck up with photos of Gordon bleeding in the snow with benry posed with the axe in front of him like they're having a fun girls night out

[cryptidsurveys]

Tuesday, July 9th, 2024.

How do you feel right now? Drained. I was planning on going to I Heart Mac & Cheese for lunch after the animal shelter because they're doing this thing where they'll give 20% of the cost of your order as a shelter donation, but I could already tell this morning that my energy levels probably wouldn't allow for it, and…yep. I've got a bit of a pre-migraine thing going on and I just want to sit around and do nothing. I'm also just feeling a bit socially burned out, like I need some time to just exist by myself.

Are you sleepy? Yeah.

Have you ever cut yourself? A long time ago.

Who do you dream about most? People at the animal shelter, past friends and partners, my family.

What do you want more than anything right now? For my apartment voucher to come through so I can finally move into my own place. It was supposed to happen around the beginning of June, but I'm not exactly clear as to what happened. Someone somewhere released the vouchers before it was time or they were supposed to go somewhere else or…idk; like I said, I'm not really sure, so I'm just in waiting mode for the moment. It was such a huge lift up and let down, though. Like, I had about two days of feeling super excited about things moving forward, and then…ugh. I feel bad for the guy at the resource center because he had to call like 150 people and tell them, sorry, shit's fvcked. That had to be a terrible time.

Do you have something you want to say, but never could? Nothing serious. That's just social interaction in general for me. With people I know well (such as my dad, my therapist, and to some extent my mom), it's fine. I can talk their ears off. But when it comes to people at the animal shelter, I feel like a bumbling fool.

Where is your favourite place to be? Home, the animal shelter, and out in nature.

What makes you happy? Volunteering, hiking/camping, rainy or snowy weather, the holiday season, eating my favorite foods, listening to an interesting podcast/video, accomplishing things I never thought I could, making art, a good cup of coffee, updating my autumn Tumblr, driving when there's little to no traffic, realizing some things no longer bother me as much as they once did, etc.

Who makes you happy? My mom + dad, best friend, therapist, my favorite cashiers/greeters at the grocery store…oh, and my cats, ofc.

When are you happiest? When I'm around people I love + doing the things I love. When I feel a sense of purpose or belonging. In nature.

What is the funniest thing you have ever done? I have no idea.

What is the funniest movie you have ever seen? Idk.

What candy/drink makes you most hyper? Nothing really makes me hyper.

Do you talk to yourself? Yeah.

Do you have to sing those catchy jingles on TV commercials every time? Sometimes they just get stuck in my head and…yeah. It's either sing or go crazy.

Do you have more than 5 celebrity crushes? I don't have any celebrity crushes.

Do you find joy in making other people mad? No.

Do you answer the phone by saying anything besides ‘Hello’? Maybe sometimes, but I typically just say "hello."

Do you get mad easily? More like annoyed/frustrated, but even that's not as bad as it used to be.

Do you get jealous often? I don't really have anything to be jealous over. Envy, though…I do feel that way from time to time, but I just try to redirect and focus on my own life.

Are there any people that often make you mad? Not mad. Just disappointed. ;D

Do your friends comfort you when you’re angry? No. But I don't go to him when I'm angry. He probably would, though. Or at least try to.

Do you like to cause drama? No. Sometimes there's drama or gossip at the animal shelter and I'm just like…wow, that's wild. I try to refrain from engaging and just offer simple platitudes. I mean, sometimes it does liven things up a little (there is this diehard part of me that lives for the drama, unfortunately), but other times it's just exhausting. Like, I just want to be around nice people and help animals, but as it turns out...it's not that simple. People are people wherever you go!

Where did you go today? Animal shelter.

How late do you usually sleep in? I rarely ever sleep in. Even on my days off, I'm typically up by ~6:00am.

Do you like traveling? No. I like to BE places, and there are definitely destinations I would like to visit, but traveling…yuck.

Are more of your friends girls or guys? I have one guy friend.

What is your favourite song right now? I don't really have a single favorite… One day, I'll compile some sort of list.

What do you want to do right now? Get in bed and listen to YT, but I think I'm going to vacuum the living room/dining room first.

[vickyvicarious]

As I was talking about the Demeter today, I decided to make a graph for anyone else who has been having trouble visualizing just how bad these attacks are.

Not only is the time between attacks getting shorter each time, but the number of crew available to actually sail the ship is getting drastically smaller.

There's also a second graph under the cut with spoilers for the entire journey, if anyone's interested:

(The ship doesn't wash ashore for several more days, so I just set the captain's death the day after his last entry. It's definitely possible he stayed alive a day or two more, though, and just stayed lashed to the wheel and didn't write anything else.)

[badmuni]

↝ yang jungwon a to z analysis : SFW (!)

A : affection — very affectionate, but not necessarily physical. he's affectionate the most with the way he talks and treats his partner.

B : best friend — as a best friend jungwon is very considerate and easy going. he likes to keep his friends close and not lose contact with them, so he's always present in their lives.

C : cuddles — he likes to cuddle. he would initiate it sometimes but he prefers his partner to do it. usually when the weather is calm and there's nothing bothering around, he would jump over his partner and never let them go.

D : domestic — he's clean, but honestly, he just do the basic. he doesn't like disorganization but also he's not crazy over it.

E : ending — he wouldn't handle a break up very well because his emotionally side would be very affected if he and his partner were no longer together. he would overthink a lot his actions and took a time to get over it.

F : fiance(e) — he has some expectations about commitment. he thinks about marriage and have that as a goal, but there's no way he's hasty about it.

G : gentle — he's very gentle and nurturing. he pays attention to his partner feelings and wants them to rely on him.

H : hugs — he do it often, he doesn't care give hugs in public too as long as it's not exaggerated. his hugs are warm and comforting, he usually hugs his partner when he's feeling happy so then he can load them with his happiness.

I : i love you — give him one month. i think one month (or maybe two?) of dating would be enough for him. he would say it often though...

J : jealousy — he get jealous easily but he manages it well. you can notice by his body language his jealousy, but he wouldn't confront his partner or someone else about anything unless he feels it's necessary.

K : kisses — he likes to kiss his partner on their cheeks or neck, usually where they have tickles the most so he do it in a way to tease them.

L : little ones — so apparently he likes kids and he's very good with them because of his soft yet energetic energy.

M : morning — mornings with him are calm, he's not very talkative at this time. it takes a while for him to get out of bed since he likes to be close to his partner.

N : night — at night he's the most energetic. he can stay up until dawn, doing anything just to enjoy his partner company.

O : open — it takes a while for him to open up. he is protective of his own feelings and he is more used to listening people than talking about him. he starts reveling things about him slowly with time.

P : patience — he's very much patient but there are specific things that makes him angry so you never know.

Q : quizzes — he almost never forgets about things. he is very good at remembering details, be it moments or facts. he would know his partner very well; their taste, their favorite things, their little stories.

R : remember — his favorite moment was when he felt needed by his partner, when they looked up for him. he loves to feel like this, necessary.

S : security — he's very protective of his partner. he likes to guide them and he wouldn't let anyone say something bad to them.

T : try — he doesn't plan the dates since he likes it to be spontaneous. i think he would spoil his person a lot though, giving them gifts and paying for things.

U : ugly — he has this bad habit where he sounds authoritative sometimes, or kinda selfish with his point of view.

V : vanity — he's confident about himself and likes to look pretty. he puts effort on his appearance but he likes to make it look like he doesn't care.

W : whole — he feels kind of anxious when his partner is not around.

X : xtra — he texts his partner when wakes up and before sleep because they're on his mind since the start of day until the end.

Y : yuck — he doesn't like when his partner is being too reckless or precipitate over things.

Z : zzz — he sleeps quietly, not moving too much. loud noises can wake him up easily.

# masterlist

a/n: so yk, i'm trying write new things, and i gotta be honest, this one was so fun to do ! i'm happy about it. hope you like it too 😳

[dodo-begone]

Beware the Beast

Pairing: Yandere!Philza x Reader

Request: Maybe some yandere!philza headcanons? You don’t have to!

Word Count: 2k

Warning: yandere, swearing, talk about kidnapping, depression (kinda detailed on that aspect)

A/n: I accidentally turned this into a story- i really need to stop doing that. But I just couldn't resist! Also sorry if Phil is OOC. And this isn't proofread. We die like men here. Can be perceived as platonic or romantic.

This man has lived many years, lost so many loved ones. He’s getting tired of this cycle. It’s truly exhausting. You start to care about the world less. After a while, you start to see too many similarities in things, making it hard to look at. So he starts to close his heart to others. It’s just easier that way, for both parties. Saves him from the heartbreak and them from… well, him. He also stops caring for himself. After all, he’s literally immortal. Nothing can kill this man, so neglecting some self care routines every once in a while wouldn’t hurt…

But this becomes such a bad habit of his. He barely cares for himself after a while. It’s hard to find the energy when it isn’t going to matter in the end. Nothing matters anyways. Every action will always prove fruitless in the end. So what’s the point in doing something so... small if it takes this much energy? If a past version of himself saw Phil now, they’d be disgusted. Telling him to just get up and care for himself. Come on, you’re immortal. Nothing can kill you. Just do this.

He’s a mess when you two meet. His platinum-blonde hair was mostly neat, a little shaggy. It was obvious that he just got himself cleaned up a bit. One can only do so much about deep eyebags, dull hair, and lifeless eyes on such short notice.

You were introduced to him through Ghostbur. Phil was overjoyed that Ghostbur was making more friends. Though much less pleased when Ghostbur insisted that he’d bring his new friend over to meet Phil. Oh come on Phil, you’d just love them. They’re so nice! What tortured Philza more than his first interaction with you? His conversations with Ghostbur about you. He’d just prattle on about things you and him did, about how much fun you two had and how nice you were. Always nice.

And you were nice, an absolute sweetheart. But much too perky for Philza’s liking. You two had been chatting for quite a while when Ghostbur silently leaves you two together. Well, you’re chatting. Phil is just listening to you, hoping that you’d leave at any moment. Some topics were brought up; they were mostly some small icebreakers to get acquainted more.

When your past was brought up, you’d always paint this fucking picture-perfect past. So peaceful. God, the envy he had of you, of the peace you experienced in your life- He felt bad for it, honestly, he did. But he just wished he could’ve had even a fraction of the prosperity you spoke about. For someone living in the DSMP, you had a relatively easy and steady life. No war, no major or sudden loss or anything of that sort. A perfect life.

After that, you just kept coming back. Why? Why are you coming back? Are you here to taunt him for the life he lived? For the life he’ll never have? Is some god sending you as a punishment? A living example of everything he gave up, had to leave behind. That’s what he believed, anyways.

That was far from your intentions. You saw how he was in your first meeting; jumpy yet dissociating from reality. An oppressive, glum aura seemed to just emanate him. So downtrodden and dead inside, yet so obviously alive on the outside. It hurt to see him like that, as you went through something similar. You had no idea how long he’d been like that, but you decided that you’d help him in any way that you could.

You tried to make it a daily thing. Everyday you’d go to Phil’s house around midday to afternoon. You two would talk for a bit, but you’d couldn’t help sprinkling your questions in. Have you eaten yet, mr. Philza? Have you had water today, mr. Philza? Have you preened your feathers, mr. Philza? Have you bathed today, mr. Philza?

Your questions irked Phil. Everyday, without fail, you’d come and talk to him. It’d be small talk at first; what the weather was up to that day, some light politics, Tubbo’s new adopted son. Small. Yet you’d always bring up his self care. He was a fcking grown man. He could take care of himself. What’s worse? You’d pester him to care for himself in that instant if he even showed a small sign of negligence. And you’d stay the entire time, making sure he did everything. And then you’d always add “mr. Philza” on the end. It was a sign of respect, yet it upset him so much. But he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was.

Though it was annoying, it got him in the habit of caring for himself. It was only to stop your pesting! That’s the reasoning. The only reason. It wasn’t because you’re congratulating and giving him treats when he remembered to care for himself. Or you petting his wings… Those were only bonuses! He swears!

It becomes more steady as time goes on; you go and visit Phil, you talk with Phil and see if he’s caring for himself, and if he was, you’d reveal a delicious treat from within your enderchest. You two would talk while munching on the food, having fun sharing what your pasts were like. Well, more like yours. Phil didn’t really talk about his.

But he still seems so cold, disinterested. Even with how long you’ve been going over for. Like he’s only listening to what you’re telling him. If he’s even listening. And seeing how he interacted with others like Techno and Ranboo, it really disheartened you. He was so much more lively with them, more natural. Loud laughing and silly little antics. It only took a few small, insignificant depression episodes for your self doubt to finally debilitate you. Though it only really affected your contact with Phil; he was a big insecurity of yours.

So you start to distance yourself. You were hurting and saw yourself as a bother to Philza. It would’ve been better if you just didn’t try to talk to him anymore. He’d be so much happier without you bugging him all the time. All of this sudden, open time gives you much more empty hours. There was nothing to do. So you did what you could; you went out to make or strengthen friendships. It was so nice. You never realized how everyone on the smp was so nice. Maybe they weren’t as bad as Phil was making them all out to be…

Philza was upset the first day you weren’t there. You were such a steady element of his day. You were like the very air he breathed; it was extremely hard to live without you. He never noticed before how much he needed you. Yes, he knew that he really enjoyed you, saw that you were a pillar, a constant in his life. He came to enjoy your visits, but hadn’t realized how dependent he became because of them. It was day three when Phil started to worry about you. Why hadn’t you come to talk with him, like usual? He’s taking care of himself, just for you, just like you kept insisting he do. And he made you some cake.

He knew he was acting odd, lovesick even. His love for you was toxic, extremely so. It wasn’t healthy, yet he couldn’t care less anymore. You were like his nicotine to a smoker; he couldn't live without you being in his life. His everyday life. So after some debating, he finally went out to look for you.

Traversing the nether wasn’t too bad, but still a tedious walk. He was stuck in his mind the entire trip there, wondering where you could be and what you could be doing. Maybe you got caught up in making something. A redstone project? That’d be pretty cool. Or maybe moving? No, if you were, you’d have told him. But that didn’t stop him from speeding up just a wee bit. Just to make sure you were actually still on the smp.

His mind was racing, thinking of any possibility of what you were doing. And his mind eventually hit something that absolutely terrified him; you could be sick, injured, or dying. It felt like the world just fucking stopped. This was a sudden loss of contact and you still hadn’t come to talk with him. So that… that means there’s a high probability of you being in danger.

He ran the rest of the way to the main part of the smp. When he came out of the portal, he frantically looked around for any sign of you. For your house. Then it hit him; he had no idea where you lived. You only mentioned it being cold where you lived, just like where he lived. So that most likely meant Snowchester. He started running toward the cold nation

On his way to Snowchester, he observed his surroundings. A little bit. He had to get to you, keep his eye on the prize. And he was glad that he looked around. There you were, on another part of the prime path.

He was overjoyed to see you, especially doing so well. Soon he came to a stop. Just floored by the fact you were there, in front of him. Frantically he tried to view you as best he could, looking for any sign of injury or illness.

Now he couldn’t come across as clingy or desperate. That wasn’t how you knew him. You know him as Philza; the kind but a mild social recluse. Not really going out to others unless he needed something or he was needed.

So he walked over to you, trying his best to look nonchalant. Like he wasn’t just desperately searching for you a moment ago. He called out to you and guess what happened? You started to walk away. He was stunned. Did you just ignore him? No, you must not have heard him. It was kinda windy out at the moment.

Logically he did the best option, following you. He had no clue where your destination could be. You were going to a different area of the smp than he had been. My how the smp changed since the destruction of L’manberg. He knew it changed, but it seemed so much bigger than what you described.

He didn’t exactly pay attention to where you were indirectly leading him. That was until a flash of movement caught his attention. Snapping out of it, he looked to see what could’ve been going on. Who could’ve been there. And what he saw before him was a terrible sight.

Quackity stood by your side, animatedly chatting with you. Phil was confused as to why you were talking to Quackity of all people. You two recently talked about how Quackity was problematic and arrogant. If you knew that, then why were you talking to him?

Awkwardly he watched you. Not within earshot, but where he could keep an eye on you and Quackity. And Quackity was looking at Phil too. His eyes spoke volumes; Quackity wasn’t pleased that Phil was there. Boy was that sentiment shared. It was tense between the two, yet you still seemed oblivious to what was going on.

Then Quackity said something, putting his hand on your shoulder and leading you somewhere else. But gave one last look at Phil, one that just spoke “fuck off”. Phil wished he could’ve told Quackity the same. To get him away for you.

Quackity’s action sparked a thought in him. A reason as to why you hadn’t come to talk to Phil; Quackity must’ve kidnapped you! Yes, that’s why you hadn’t come. It makes so much sense. Quackity knows you and most likely knows you talk to Phil.

With how easily you tell Phil of the people you’re talking to, he doubts that the behavior would just change. But that’s what must’ve gotten you in so much trouble; you were too trusting, too kind-hearted. You gave Quackity a chance and he was stealing you away, imprisoning you. You needn’t worry dear, he’ll rescue you from that foul man.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Your so great at writing omg- so could you do a part two of the yandere techno and philza?

And other idea for a different request!

Maybe ghostbur? 👀 With florist reader? And someone burned down there shop so they are very upset so ghostbur comforts them and helps build then a new one?

Again please take as long as you need.

- Your beloved Moosh ( platonically! :3)

Moosh, darling! Hello! How are you doing today? Part two of the yandere Tech and Phil chapter is up! Thank you for your requests, your ideas are just chefs kiss!

This is a tad bit short. I really really have to get out of the habit of writing 10k+ stories, because then I have no energy to write the other requests that have been waiting for a while <3

Also. This turned out to be angstier than I had hoped...

TW: Depression, emotion repression, large mentions of past Wilbur x Reader

Dead Blue Flowers (C!Ghostbur x GN!Depressed!Reader)

How...? How did this happen?

You tried so hard to remain neutral in this war, even going as far as to avoid telling people your opinions on things. Wasn't raising your tax weekly back when Schlatt was in control enough?

You just gave people flowers, for god's sake! Why did they have to burn the shop to nothing but cinders?!

Standing in front of the charred frame of your shop that had once been your prized possession. Every dollar you had raised, every smile that appeared on the faces of people you gave flowers to... You remembered the genuine smile on Wilbur's face when he gave you this plot of land to build whatever store you wanted...

Now it was all ashes that slipped through the cracks between your fingers...

"(Y/n)?" An echoing and airy voice echoed through your ears and you glanced up slightly to see a pair of shoes levitating a few inches off the ground, "What happened to your shop- Oh, you're crying, here. Take some blue. Calm yourself."

Crying?

While the levitating figure dug around, trying to find this so-called blue, you rose your hands up and touched your cheeks to find them slightly damp. When you pulled your hands away, a small cold pouch of blue dye was carefully placed in your hands, causing a small shiver to crawl down your spine, "Thanks, Bur..." You whispered softly, trying to smile to calm him down, but you just found your eyes welling up with more tears, so you put your head down in an attempt to hide them from your ghost friend.

"Did it not work? Perhaps that blue was broken..." Ghostbur reached into his small bag with his dye-stained fingers, digging around for a pouch of dye that wasn't 'broken'. You could feel a faint bit of panic in his voice as he mumbled about how blue always worked for him, so he didn't know why it wasn't working for you.

"No, Bur... It's just... I don't know what to do. My shop is gone. It was my pride and joy. Now I don't have anything left..." You murmured, holding the, now two, dye-filled packages in your cupped hands, "Even the cornflower seeds I used to make the blue flowers I gave you... They're nothing now... His mem- I'm nothing now..."

Ghostbur was panicking and the blue clutched in his hands was evident of that, "No, no! Don't say things like that! Come, come-" He gave a few coughs, his negative emotions seeming to affect him physically as well as emotionally.

You slowly pushed yourself up into a standing position, rubbing your eyes with your sleeves as your fingertips were tainted with dye. While you didn't feel much happier, despite Ghostbur's best efforts, you knew that emotionally he couldn't handle your sadness, "Thanks, Bur. I do feel much happier thanks to your blue. I'm gonna head home now." You gave him your best smile, watching as the sweater-wearing spirit studied your eyes to see if you were lying.

"Oh, okay!" The ghost perked up slightly, but his smile looked a tad bit hollow in your eyes. Guess you were in no place to judge, you did just give your best friend a smile to get him to stop panicking... Was this emotion suppression? Probably. Yeah. Ah well... As long as he's happy now. "I'm gonna go see Phil now, maybe you should come to visit sometime soon. He makes really good tea and biscuits."

"Yeah... I'll hop by his place sometime soon." You gave him the empty promise, knowing very well you didn't want anything to do with social interactions for quite a while until you found something else to put your time towards.

Over the next few days, Ghostbur would wait outside your house for you to come out and walk with you to your flower shop, but he then began to realize that you had nothing to walk to. Hell, you didn't have a reason to leave your house anymore... There was no point in coming outside. After standing under the awning above your front door for a few moments, he got an idea in his head, so he set off towards the house of Alivebur's father.

"Phiiiiiil?" He called softly, opening the front door to see the injured avian sitting in his chair in front of the fireplace, "Ah, Philza! Just the man I wanted to see!"

"Hey mate," The blond greeted softly, setting his cup of tea down on the table before getting up to properly interact with the ghost of his son, "What do ya' need from me?"

For a few seconds, hesitance filled Ghostbur's veins. He hadn't completely thought through this idea and didn't even know how you or Phil would react to it, "My ange- best friend, (Y/n)... Well, they were very very important to Alivebur, and I still have many happy memories of them... But they aren't happy now because someone burnt down their flower shop... They haven't left their house in a few days, and I'm getting a really bad feeling, Phil!" Despite the fact that a pouch of blue was tightly grasped in his hands, the ghost didn't seem to be feeling any calmer, ultimately chalking it up to the flowers he had made the dye out of must've been from a bad place.

Philza grabbed onto the ghost of his son, giving a faint hiss of pain at the icy buzz that attacked his palms, but ignored it and kept his hands on his son's shoulders. Or what was left of the son he killed, "Wil- Ghostbur. Calm down. I want you to go visit them and make sure they're still okay-"

"But I think they'll only be okay if their shop is built! I want to rebuild it for them!" Ghostbur whined softly, not exactly understanding why he felt so strongly towards you, "Alivebur really really cared about them, which means I care about them. And they're sad, even with the blue I gave them..."

Phil pursed his lips together, trying to keep quiet about exactly why Wilbur cared about you so much, "Okay, okay... I want you to go visit them and find the blueprints of their shop... If-If you can't, then I'm sure we can build something similar... Just please, make sure they're alive, eating and taking care of themselves..."

"Alive? Of course they're alive- right? right, Phil?" Ghostbur hiccuped slightly, bringing up his dye-stained fingers to his mouth in shock when the avian hesitated, "Phil?"

"Just, go check on them Wil... Please."

Without another word, the ghost hurried out the door and looked up at the rapidly darkening sky, as he floated towards the person his alive self adored so greatly. "(Y/n)... Why did Alivebur care for you so much? Why did he want you in his life so bad?" When the transparent male arrived at your door, he hurriedly pounded his fists on the door before pressing himself against it to hide under the awning as rain began to sprinkle down from the sky, "(Y/n)! Please, it's raining!" He cried, not wanting to melt.

There was a few seconds of silence before there was a rushing sound of footsteps coming from the inside of the house. Before the ghost could react, the door flew open, causing him to tumble onto the floor inside the house, "Bur! You should've checked the weather!"

He looked up at his saviour... And gave the softest smile he's ever worn. Even it had only been a few days, he began to realize just how much you meant to him as well, not just Alivebur. You were a guardian angel... A saviour from reality...

"Y-yeah, I know..." You murmured, trying to flatten down your unbrushed hair before shrinking away from your friend's gaze and into your oversized sweater that had once been Wilbur's, "I haven't really bothered to... Uhm... manage my appearance..."

"No worries, angel..." He blurted out, causing you to flinch as you stared at him. He didn't even know why he called you that to be completely honest, but he pushed himself off of your floor and dusted himself free of invisible dust, "Why haven't you been coming outside? I've been waiting outside for you every day... Phil was also worried about you losing a life in here alone!"

Pursing your lips together, you couldn't help but avoid the gaze of the ghost as you shut the door, "Sorry Bur, I've just been really tired..." You gave him a tired smile, but this time it didn't work on the poor ghost.

"I- I uhm... I know I'm forgetful, I know I'm an amnesiac, but I still feel this... I still feel things, and I try my best to make sure no one else feels it... But it's not working for helping you." He nervously grabbed onto a pouch of blue in his messenger bag, gritting his teeth together for a moment, "I figured out why that shop means so much to you... It's because it was a gift from Alivebur... Your lover... And now you feel like you have nothing left to hold his memory."

He watched as your eyes went wide and beginning to fill with tears before he went to his bag, going to grab some blue for you, but he paused upon seeing something else. A cornflower, one that never got turned into a dye, but it was withered and dead from being in the bag for so long, "Wil-Gho... Bur..." You hiccuped, trying to form words to create an apology, but your throat felt like it was tied in knots.

"That's also why you call me Bur... Because you don't want to accept that Aliv-... Wilbur... Is now a ghost..." He walked closer to you and put his hand on your arms, thankfully you were wearing a sweater to prevent frostbite from attacking your skin, "And that's okay! It's okay, (Y/n), you loved him... And he loved you, which means I love you... but I know you need time to cope with Al- Wilbur's... Death..." He carefully reached up and took your wrist, bringing your hand up into view so he could press the dead cold cornflower into your palm, "Until then, I'll stay by your side as your best friend..."

You slowly reached up and put your hand against his cheek, even though the contact burned your fingertips and he hardly felt solid... He was there... "Thank you... Ghostbur." You lowered your hand and smiled down at the dead flower in your palm.

"Now, come on, let's get you cleaned up! Me and Phil will help you rebuild your flower shop... When the rain lets up of course!"

[lasquadrasfuckhouse]

hello I am back with a request if that’s ok with you q w q ) for la squadra with scenario-hc’s with their s/o taking care of them ( can go nsfw if you’d like but for now sfw thoughts ) as much as I love them taking care of their s/o I love when the roles are switched. Can be injured or other— but the goal is to make them feel safe and loved for as much as possible, like my other ask tender emotional moments are my jam. If find the muse for it 💖 if not that’s completely ok too. Pls & thnk u 🥰

ALWAYS OKAY W/ ME I LOVE SEEING U IN MY ASKBOX!!!! it's tendie hours 😍

taking care of la squadra 😌

risotto ✂️

it isn't easy to get risotto to relax, he's a workaholic. sit on him and give him a Look that you're not moving and neither is he, and he'll be so charmed that he'll relent.

he's also more used to taking care of people than being taken care of, so it's a bit of an adjustment to sit on his ass for a few days until he's recovered from the worst of whatever injury/illness he's got, but he finds himself getting like, quietly kind of emotional about it. he hasn't allowed himself to be cared for in a long time and he expresses that to you, and how much he appreciates and loves you.

he finds he really enjoys the opportunity to relax, cause yeah he's under the weather but at least he can chill for a bit. and he'd very much love to chill with you if you have the time. quiet cuddles or existing comfortably in the same space will have him feeling very cozy, loved, and rested. kiss him on the forehead to remind him that he is soft and precious and he'll want to snuggle you all day with a little smile on his face.

prosciutto 🚬

also not used to being taken care of. he'll be grumpy and try to micromanage the house from his bed at first (and you probably banished him to bed because he wasn't getting any rest on the couch). he relaxes when he wants to!!!! remind him that he needs time to recover and he's only human, and you promise the house won't fall apart without him. not only is he soft for you but he trusts you completely, so he relaxes.

he might be a bit restless, but set him up with a book and he'll be good. you may even take on prosciutto-like mannerisms in his place, like shushing the others if they're being too noisy. if he overhears you insisting on peace and quiet so he can rest, he'll smile to himself.

what really gets him and lets him know he's loved is taking over what he usually does while he rests, like folding his laundry and putting it away in the order he likes. and if you initiate the classic forehead touch with a smile and tell him to chill so he can get better, he'll gladly lay around all day thinking of you.

pesci 🎣

he tries to power through it but no honey you need to rest. give him puppy eyes and say you really want him to relax and get better, and he'll do it for you. he will get SO better for his babe just u see!!!!

he's also kind of glad for the chance to have downtime tho, even tho he's typically eager to help and stuff. he just wishes he didn't feel like ass. cheer him up with lots of cuddles and quiet relaxing things u can do together and he'll feel loads better!!!

he may feel kind of bad at first like oh no he doesn't want to bother u. but reassure him that he is never a bother, u love him and love being with him and that doesn't change when he's under the weather. he will accept that and thank u wholeheartedly for taking care of him

formaggio 🧀

milks it for all its worth. OOOH BABE IM IN SO MUCH PAAAIN PLEASE HOLD MEEE 😩 if he's feeling like shit at least he's gonna get cuddles out of it

would love nothing more than to snuggle up and watch stupid movies with you all day. he may just cling to you if you try to get up and insists that someone else can fetch you both dinner/blankets/etc instead. you're his best medicine!!! his comfort!!!! do not seperate!!!!!

but he is a sucker for a home cooked meal. even if you go for a bit, if you come back with something u made urself, even if it's not the most amazing display of chef skills, he'll be falling all over himself with how much he loves you because you put love and effort into something to make him feel better

illuso ✨

one of the WORST when he gets sick or injured because he just complains and lays on the pity party even more than formaggio. everything sucks!!! woe is illuso!!!! he needs ur healing kisses!!!!!

he definitely goes into the mirror world to rest b/c he needs peace and quiet or he'll get cranky. but he will bring u ofc. not just to be pampered either he's just cozy and happy in ur company

lavishing him in attention aside, what will REALLY tug on his heart is taking initiative to take care of him, like asking first how he's feeling, bringing an extra blanket cause you know he likes to have a pile of them, offering to very gently brush his hair. just like, little genuine attentive things. it may get him blushing

melone 🍈

very practical about it, there's that whole thing of 'people with medical backgrounds are the worst patients for one reason or another' but he doesn't try to take shortcuts with the rest he knows he needs and he's very polite and patient with asking for/instructing on what he needs

he's great at finding ways to entertain himself so no worries in that regard. if he's worried about getting you sick he may actually discourage cuddles for once in his life but otherwise he'd love to snuggle up to his babe all day

he'd honestly just feel really comforted if you told him all about your day and shared cool things with him or the classic 'i saw this and thought of you' he'll be 😍

ghiaccio ❄️

EXTRA grumpy when he's uncomfortable or in pain and unable to work his energy out. he's very active, so his body (or you) making him sit on his ass when he doesn't want to will leave him very prickly even though logically he knows it's for the best.

he'll generally want his space but then have bouts of feeling very cuddly. picture him cocooned in blankets with only the top half of his face visible and his general grumpy glower relaxes as u massage his scalp like calming an angry cat.

he'll be very thankful for everything you do, including kissing his cheeks or leaving him to chill with some water and a book or shushing the others if they're being too rowdy. but he'll be extra super thankful and soft if you bundle him up and go for a walk with him around the block just to stretch his legs and get some fresh air cause you know how much he hates sitting around.

sorbet and gelato 🔪🍦

if one of them is under the weather, the house gets a brief respite from their antics cause you and the other one are there to entertain them and curb their restlessness. if they're both sick/injured, good fucking luck because their boredom will feed off each other and it will be a nightmare.

sorbet likes to chill but he always needs new surroundings. he'll want to stay on the couch to at least observe the house's regular chaos but if you (and maybe gelato) see that he's not getting enough rest you will have to literally drag him into your bedroom because 1) he's not letting go of his entertainment that easily 2) it's fun to watch you struggle. he is devising every way to cause problems on purpose without moving around too much

gelato HATES sitting still so he is slowly going insane and he will let you know it. get him a big stack of movies, let him have free reign of the tv, play cards with him etc if you know what's good for the whole house because otherwise he won't stay in bed or he'll do shit like scream for help just to see you rush in and then grin and be like oh nvm babe im fine :)

you thought they were a handful together regularly? HAH. when they're sick or injured together they enable each other even more than usual. you are the only one capable of placating them, enjoy being squished between your two extremely cuddly boyfriends.

cuddles and kisses and loving attention always make them feel better, a surefire way to get them to actually rest is by snuggling them. but even if you do go for a bit, what brightens them up is hearing about all the new happenings on base or this cute dog you saw or if you bring them new snacks every day or try making something different for dinner. like, not just to placate them, but cause you know they're bored and uncomfortable and you want to cheer them up, that's what gets them. and then they'll pull you down and hold you for the rest of the night.

[sagittariuswritings]

Your Touch

TFATWS EPISODE 4 SPOILERS Pairing: Helmut Zemo x f!reader Summary: Y/n was dragged along Sam and Bucky’s “Zemo mission” by Bucky. She’s a mutant herself, an empath to be exact. After the blip, Bucky became her new neighbor. They became good friends, and got to know each other, and he offered to teach her self defense. When he asked for her help, she never knew she’d catch feelings for a criminal. Warnings: Language, angst, soft!zemo, fluff, and h*nd h*lding Word count: 2.3k+ A/N: I know I know I posted a screenshot of this days ago but I’ve been really busy at the barn lately and I always have to go to bed before midnight and I’m typically busy until 8pm so I’ve been really meaning to finish this!! AO3 link (not my gif)

The new plan was for Sam to try and talk to Karli. Of course, Y/n didn’t expect Zemo to actually go through with that. Zemo called Karli a supremacist, which just about earned him a punch across the nose from her, but she held herself back - more like Bucky caught what she was about to do and he grabbed her by the elbow to drag her away like a child.

Y/n wore gloves nearly all the time, in all weather. With her empathic powers, and no one to guide her with them, she didn’t know how to control them or contain them, so she resulted in wearing gloves instead. Sure, it sucked when summer came, but in her mind it was worth it in the end.

Of course, John Walker himself had to butt in. The four of them (Sam, Bucky, Zemo, and Y/n) were on their way to Donya’s funeral, and low and behold John Walker’s been tracking them down. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.”

“Ah great - How’d you find us now?” Bucky immediately spoke up when they rounded the corner to fully see John and Lemar.

“Come on, man, you really think two avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Started Lemar, but then John butted in. “No more keeping us in the dark. You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.”

“Technically speaking, he did that himself-” Y/n started, but John cut her off.

“And who the hell is she?” He turned, looking at Sam and Bucky while jabbing a thumb in her direction.

“She can very well speak for herself, off-brand Captain America.” She said with her arms going over her chest. She couldn’t stand the guy already. Her and Bucky were together to watch his little football game thing, and she could practically see the steam coming out of Bucky’s ears. She could feel the anger, too. “I’m simply an acquaintance helping my friends, none of your concern.”

“None of my-” “Yes, none of your business. I know where Karli is.” Zemo interrupted him, starting to push past John, but he stopped him. “Well where?” Sam spoke up for Zemo, “All we know is, it’s a memorial, so we’re gonna intercept her there.” Lemar said something about being careful due to civilians, but Zemo, Y/n, and Bucky were already starting to walk off.

John tried explaining his quote on quote plan and that of course led to bickering between him, Sam, and Lemar. All Y/n could do was roll her eyes and earned a small chuckle from Zemo beside her. “What?” “Oh, nothing, it is just entertaining is all.” “What? Me getting frustrated or them bickering like children?” Zemo paused. “Both.”

John, yet again, tried stopping them, and having already been around their bickering, Y/n was getting fed up. This time, it was Zemo who held her back. He gently wrapped his hand around her elbow before she could speak up, and she reluctantly listened to him, letting the rest of them deal with his bullshit.

“I’ll deal with you later.” John pointed at Zemo. “Yeah, sure you will.” She mumbled, and before John could snap back, Zemo spoke up. “My associate is just up ahead.” And with that, they were finally moving again. Y/n figured there would be a trick or two up Zemo’s sleeve, but using a child to show him to the funeral was the last thing she expected him to do. As he gave her the money, she couldn’t help but smile a little. It was nice to see a man that looked extremely closed-off do something good. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

Before Zemo could even speak, John cuffed him to a piece of machinery. “You’ve got ten minutes, then we’re doing things my way.” He told Sam over his shoulder after cuffing Zemo.

“Aggressive. But I get it.” In all honesty, Y/n wasn’t against this. More often than not her gut feelings were correct, and she certainly had a gut feeling that Zemo was going to do something either stupid or bad within the next hour or so.

Y/n sat down beside Lemar, bringing one knee up to her chest and letting her other leg hang off the edge of this machinery. She didn’t hate Lemar the way she hated John. Lemar seemed to have a good heart, one that was set in the right way and that wouldn’t change no matter what. He wasn’t like his associate, and Y/n could feel it. John had an aggressive and arrogant type of energy, meanwhile Lemar had a passionate and determined energy. There wasn’t a dangerous edge to the man.

The entire ten minutes - well, at this point it hadn’t even been eight let alone ten -, John paced nonstop and was driving her and Bucky insane. Her and Bucky seemed to make eye contact out of frustration nearly every time John would pace. And Zemo just stood with a grimace on his face the entire time. “Do you ever stop?” She finally said. “Stop what?” “Trying so fucking hard to be the hero of every situation.” “Excuse me?” That seemed to irritate him because he stopped pacing and came up to her, barely leaving much space between them.

“Y/n.” Bucky spoke, his tone a warning. “Leave it be.”

“No, I’m not going to leave it be. Not when I can’t hear my own thoughts over this guy making a trench in the concrete.” She sat up as she defended herself, not even bothering to look up at John when she talked to Bucky. “You try so hard to be the good guy. You have this mindset that you’re in control of everything just because you gave yourself the label Captain America. You think just because you’ve been labeled as Captain America, you can just go about bossing everyone around. You’re a spitting image of your average American, however.” With that, she got to her feet. She was smaller than him, but that didn’t stop her from continuing. “You’re a rich white man with beautiful blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, but you think because you’re a rich white man that you can control everything. You’re one spitting image of the American Government: Fucked up and corrupt.”

You could hear a pin drop. It was so silent. Y/n could feel the pure anger in John begin to bubble up, and right when she thought he was going to hit her, all he said was “I’m going in.” She was left standing there as Lemar jogged after John, just her and Zemo being the only ones left in the room.

“That was… Impressive.” Zemo ended up speaking first. Y/n snapped her head over at him, and there were tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t normally get like this. The energy in the room was tense and her emotions got caught in the tension. “It wasn’t.” She mumbled, a sniffle following her words as she made her way over to Zemo. “I don’t exactly trust you but,” She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair. “This is a bit much.” It took her a second, but she was able to unlock the handcuffs.

Zemo seemed to stare at the cuffs for a moment while he rubbed his wrist, his eyes meeting her own. “Thank you.” “It’s nothing. Just go do your thing and I’ll be your babysitter.”

-

The large metal door slammed before Y/n could follow Zemo into the boiling room, and she heard him shove things in front of the door. “Zemo?” Silence. “Zemo what the fuck, let me in!” She shoved her shoulder against the door, but it didn’t budge. “It’s for your own safety.” She scoffed. “My safety? You better be worried about your own safety if I get my fucking hands on you after this, open the door.” She heard his footsteps retreating and she slammed her fist against the door out of anger, probably bruising her hand in the process because god that hurt.

Gunshots went off. She didn’t want to leave the spot in fear of getting lost, and within minutes Bucky was jogging down the hallway. “Zemo locked me out and I just heard gunshots-” Before she could continue, bucky managed to get the door open by kicking it, then he just had to push it open. By the time they got in the room, Lemar entered from across the room and upon looking down, Zemo’s unconscious body was in the center of the room while John stood some feet away from him. “What the hell happened-?” Y/n breathed out, running down the stairs and dropping to her knees by Zemo’s body, her fingers instantly going to his pulse beneath his jaw. There was a very obvious pulse, but she was still shaken up.

Why was she shaken up? He was a bad man. He was a criminal. He used Bucky to destroy people’s lives. He was supposed to be her enemy, so why was she worried about whether or not he had a pulse?

“Karli got him.” John came up behind her, but she stood up immediately. “Would you just back the fuck off? You don’t need to butt in on everything or be involved in everything. Get it through your stupid fucking helmet to your brain.” He started talking but she turned around and got back to Zemo’s side. She lightly hit his cheek with her gloved hand, and when he didn’t budge for a moment, she muttered a sorry before slapping him. That seemed to wake him up. His head lifted off the concrete, and his eyes fluttered open to meet her own.

“Oh, good, you’re alive. Let’s go back to your home now. Bucky?” She looked up at him, a soft pleading look in her eyes that said help. Reluctantly, he wandered over and helped her get Zemo to his feet.

-

Bucky and Sam had left to find somewhere for food, and left Y/n alone with Zemo in his home. She didn’t mind, if anything it was her suggestion. While the pair left the building, she guided him to his couch. He originally sat up but she put a hand on his chest and gently put pressure on his chest to ease him into a lying position. “I’ll get you some ice.” She quietly said, making her way to the kitchen.

“A cold cloth, please. Not a fan of ice over my eyes.” Zemo managed to speak up, his voice drifting to the kitchen. “As long as you’re sure.” She answered, grabbing a washcloth from one of the many drawers of his kitchen.

Quietly, Y/n stepped into the living room. “Lift your head.” She ordered. “Feisty.” Was his response. She rolled her eyes and sat where he had lifted his head. “Lay back.” She ordered again. Reluctantly, he lowered the back of his head onto her lap. “Close your eyes.” “I like the sound of that.” He muttered, his lips forming into a smirk. “Keep it up and I’ll make your headache ten times worse.” She quipped, gently laying the cloth over his closed eyes. “Now open your hand for a glass.” And she gently placed a shot glass of one of his strongest alcohols in his hand. “Do you want any pain meds or anything?” She asked, looking down at him. “Your touch would be enough, mein liebling.” His voice was quiet.

Of course, Y/n wore gloves solely to not have any physical contact with anyone. She feared feeling others’ emotions, seeing as she didn’t have a clue of how to control them. She’d told Zemo that she just had sensitive skin to certain material, which she figured he didn’t buy it, but he never said anything else.

With hesitation, she removed her gloves and placed them on the coffee table to her left. “Alright.” She spoke, her voice barely above a whisper as she reached for his right hand with her own. When she placed her hand in his, she felt him flinch. “You didn’t have to take your gloves off if you didn’t want to-” She cut him off. “It’s okay, Zemo.” “Helmut.” “Pardon?” “Call me Helmut. It’s my first name. Zemo isn’t my first.” Her brows raised in surprise, but she nodded.

Within moments of her slipping her hand in his, he intertwined his fingers with her own. A soft shade of pink settled onto her cheeks, and she was thankful that he couldn’t see her.

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel anything she’d feared when she touched his skin. She could feel faint pain and sadness from the past, but she also felt kindness. “You have a kind heart, you know. You put on a stone cold expression, but you’re kind.. I can feel it.”

With that, he placed his glass on the table and very quickly removed the cloth from his eyes, even though it hurt him to move his head too much. “I knew it.” She looked at him, a brow raised to toy with him. “Knew what?” “You’re an empath.” There it was. She knew he knew. “I am.”

“Am I… Hurting you?” Her heart nearly exploded at how soft his voice was. Very quickly, she shook her head. “No, no you’re not. I promise.” She smiled down at him and her eyes softened when she saw that look on his face. He was like a completely different person. He was touch starved. It was clearer than a crystal.

“Rest, Helmut… You need it.” She whispered, leaning over to gently press a kiss to his now cold forehead.

“You don’t need to tell me twice when you’re lulling me to sleep.” He snuck a smirk in before she laughed softly and covered his eyes with the cloth once more.

[rawmeknockout]

Raoul/Reader/Tracks

Cars beep and rush by on the street in front of you, wheels kicking up rapidly-filling puddles. People all around oblivious to what a horrible, no-good situation you were in.

You curl into yourself, fuss and pull at your clean dress shirt, rain droplets making the cheap polyester blend cling to your skin. The forecast had been the same all day and you knew you were pushing your luck with not bringing an umbrella, but you rushed off to work without one, anyway. Just your luck, as you were setting off for home at the end of the day, the sky decided to open up on top of you. There was just enough coverage in front of a shitty little Subway to take shelter in, but you still idled from foot to foot. No point standing and waiting for it to stop raining. The weather hadn't let up once since it started.

That doesn't mean you are thrilled to rush out in the downpour, your shoes squeak around your wet socks as you try to muster up the wherewithal to finally head home.

You think Raoul must live in some shitty rom-com fantasy, because who else would pull up on the curb and offer you a ride. It's not that you don't like him; in fact, Raoul is quite charming in a rugged, straight-laced rebel sort of way. It's cute. You just don't know if cute is enough to want to date him. Not that he hasn't asked. You're just too busy and waiting for... Something. Someone to sweep you off your feet. You're just not sure who you're looking for.

You slide into the passenger seat of his car, stamping down the urge to ask him how the hell he got his hands on such a nice vehicle. Best not to ask Raoul what he does in his free time. You know well enough, through your apartment neighbors gossiping, that he's had a few rough run-ins with people. You don't need to bother him about something so private.

And it's not as if you haven't seen his flashy car before; beautiful, shining rims and fresh polish. He obviously cares a great deal about it. You could only compare it to the way you take care of your cat, but you know that even you do not have something you are that passionate about. You try very hard to remember being that passionate ever.

The interior smells nice, at least, and the car rumbles quietly under you. It's obviously a new car, one that doesn't squeak when it turns or make grinding noises when it goes too fast. You feel envy form tight in your chest. You haven't had your own car in years and you haven't ever had one as new or as nice as this.

Raoul tries to be suave, stumbles only slightly over his words, flashes you a grin that would make you weak if you were younger. As it is, you only just appreciate him silently as you tell him about your day and your no-good luck. You let your fingers caress the fine leather of the seats, admiring the shine of the door. Not a sign of wear on the car anywhere.

You would almost be boiling with jealousy if you weren't so... Oddly proud of Raoul. Which is not a feeling you were expecting. Clearly he has more going for him than you thought at first glance.

You cast your eyes over to your chauffeur for the evening, letting the energy of the day pass over you and leave you in the sleepy lull of his car's engine. He is handsome. Jawline sharp, face holding so much bright youth. Different from all the tired faces you're used to seeing. Raoul is so optimistic, he knows how to turn a bad day around. Something you wish you had learned.

Maybe romance doesn't have to be something passionate, flaring in your chest and lighting your loins. Maybe it's just this comfort. Being inside his car on a rainy night, knowing Raoul wouldn't hurt you. Doesn't mean anything else when he just wants to help you. Has no ulterior motives besides being close to you. Raoul is safe, waiting for love, when the rest of the world flashes by and would leave you behind in it's excitement.

He pulls into your apartment complex so soon, too soon. He's about to say something when you're on him, mouth pressing wet lips to his jaw, his cheeks, his mouth. Your hands skitter like crazed bugs up his chest, to his shoulders. Raoul is slow to respond, lost in the feeling of your skin on his, but he grabs your waist with a jittery touch. He's nervous, not used to kissing, touching. You'll hold him so tight.

Just as you're about to hop over into his lap, press your still wet body against him, you stop.

You hesitate, just for a moment, waiting for... Something. Raoul to get cold feet, maybe, or for someone, anyone, to tell you two to knock it off. But nobody says anything and the strange sensation passes before your mouth is on Raoul's again, pushing him back into his seat as you hop over the console to straddle his lap.

The still-running engine makes a strange hiccupy sound you almost don't catch before it returns to quiet idling. It slightly shakes and shivers the cab of the car while you feel at Raoul's chest under his shirt, run your hands over barely-there muscles, feel how his body tenses and surges up into your hands. He already looks like he's out of his own body, watching you with lovesick eyes, and it almost makes you consider backing out. Almost. You're lonely, too.

Raoul bucks his hips into you, almost knocking your head into the roof of the car, but you duck your head down to kiss and nip at his neck. He seems hesitant to let his hands roam up your shirt, so you help him by untucking it from your work trousers and unbuttoning it with shaky hands. His beautiful hands seem so rough, so large, when you grab them to lead his touch over your bare skin. Guiding him to touch anywhere, everywhere. Breathing out ragged breaths in your excitement. He's sweet, leans in to kiss you again as he feels you over him, grabs your hips to pull you tight to his chest.

Everything is just intoxicating sensation, moving so fast and so eagerly. Before you know it you are pulling him from his hastily pulled down jeans, feeling his cock twitch in your grip as he moans and nearly ruts into your grip right there. It's nice how sensitive he is, you decide, how he is happy for just a touch. Just a little feeling. Anything at all you would be willing to give him. You like how he sits at attention, waiting for you with adoring eyes and a content smile. You shuck off your own pants quickly, kicking off your stiff office-appropriate shoes along the way.

Before you let yourself have him, you lean in close again, trailing soft kisses along his neck. Whisper reverently about how sweet he is, how good he is for you, how kind. He is a good man and you tell him as much. Raoul is less tense, less jittery when you are done, face still holding that warm something you don't think you've ever had directed your way.

You don't notice how the car stutters again, nearly sighs as it relaxes on it's wheels, when you finally sink down on Raoul's warm cock. You're too busy focusing on the rush of blood in your veins and how your muscles tense with finally having what you want. The car is muffling noises that get drowned out in the rain. You're listening for Raoul's moans so intently you don't notice anything at all. Raoul still has his hands on your hips as he guides you to grind on him, roll your body into his lap in a way that has his eyes snapped shut and mouth hanging open. You press your smiling mouth to the corner of his lips, hands gripping his worn white shirt.

It's strange to you, how the sex is neither rough nor fast as you're used to, but you feel... More fulfilled. Raoul's skin on your own feels right. The way he twitches and grips onto your hips, lets you lead and bounce on his lap, feels like it was meant to be. You lean your head into his neck, wrap your arms around him, and move your body against him. Raoul smiles into your hair, holding you close, as you squeeze around him and gasp with an involuntary buck of his hips. The atmosphere in his car is heavy, full of a pleasant energy you can't explain. It fills you and leaves you with a wonderful warmth in your chest.

It isn't long before you are coming undone on top of him, feeling his cock press into places that are always too hidden for you to reach on your own. It's not the most thunderous orgasm you've ever had, but it's enough that you move just a bit quicker over him. Happy to chase that feeling for a moment longer, pull Raoul into his own release with a drawn out moan that gets lost against your skin.

You just sit on his lap, breathing heavy and face still pressed to his warm neck. It feels right. The car huffs. And that you finally do catch. You suppose it's best not to leave a flashy sports car running for to long. Who knows what problems could crop up from leaving it to just idle in the rain. But you are reluctant to pull away. Raoul is stroking your back, letting his nails graze over your skin in a way that is just too good to pass up.

"Come inside?" Your voice is soft and a little more desperate than you intended. How could Raoul possibly say no? He just hopes Tracks isn't too miffed about not being invited, too.

[officialscaramouche]

Hanahaki — a gift for @ambers-glider

Pairing: Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

Summary: Scaramouche caught a love sickness that could only be cured by mutual love.

AN: please read @ambers-glider ‘s part one and two before reading this so that it makes sense :)

Warnings: language

Word count: 1,691

Scaramouche felt bad for you. It was by pure coincidence that he saw you when you caught sight of Victor and his girlfriend. He saw the way your face dropped when she clung to his arm and he sympathized for you. But it was your fault anyway. Everyone knew Victor had a girlfriend, but since you were always cooped up in your office I guess it couldn’t be helped.

Noticing the way your personality had changed, Scaramouche actually kind of liked it. You weren’t annoyingly upbeat and overly friendly like before, so he found himself visiting your office more. He enjoyed the silence the two of you shared, even if he wasn’t always welcomed.

Childe would unfortunately come in every now and then to check in on you especially after finding out that Scaramouche often hung out in your office. And when he did, the two of you would talk briefly about mindless things. Scaramouche didn’t understand why it mattered to talk about stupid things like the weather, or what you were having for lunch.

Scaramouche walked into your room a little more forcefully than normal. At first he didn’t say anything, especially after you told him you wanted to be alone. But after sitting on the couch there for a while, reading the book he brought to work, he broke the silence. “What are your plans for today?” He asked casually, not taking his eyes off his book.

You looked at him incredulously. Was he seriously trying to have small talk with you? “...Nothing. After work, I have to do laundry.”

It was silent once more, this time a bit more awkward than it usually was. He shut his book and hummed, standing to stare at you from the other side of your desk. “Would you like to join me at Third Round Knockout?”

You leaned back in your chair to look up at him closely. What was his deal? What point does he want to make with bothering you for lunch? At least he asked you now, after getting over your sickness, rather than before when you would’ve jumped at the idea. You couldn’t deny your curiosity, however. “Are you paying?”

Scaramouche scowled. “I guess I am.”

It was weird sitting at an intimately small table with your boss. But it also had been a while since anyone had taken you out. Scaramouche didn’t eat out much, but it was your favorite restaurant. He asked for your opinion on some foods, but once the waiter took your orders, it was challenging to find something to talk about. You stared out a window until he finally broke the silence. “It’s good that you’re feeling better,” he said plainly.

“Thanks, I guess,” you responded curtly.

The both of you decided that instead of forcing conversation, you’d just sit in uncomfortable silence. After a while, Scaramouche coughed awkwardly into a fist and excused himself from the table. On the way there, the itch in his throat began to grow itchier and itchier until he slammed the bathroom door open and hung his head over the sink, his fingers grasping desperately at the edges. He scratched at his throat as he continued to hack, tears beginning to well in his eyes as he struggled to find relief in his coughs. Finally, whatever was caught in his throat came up and he spat it into the sink, the purple petal coated in his saliva falling helplessly before him. “You’ve gotta be fucking with me— ackh!” His cough grew more and more persistent as petals came spilling from his lips. He slapped his hands onto his cheeks and screamed. “What the fuck!!”

His shout was heard by the entire restaurant. People looked around nervously, some of them at you remembering that he was with you. You laughed in embarrassment, tentatively walking to the bathrooms to make sure he was okay.

A couple of men scrambled out of the restroom as you approached, making side comments about Scaramouche. “What the hell is his problem?” One of them mutters.

You knock before entering, announcing yourself as you push the door open. “Sir, it’s me, are you okay?”

He stared at himself in the mirror, hunched over the sink, with spit dribbling down his chin. “Get out.” He spits, a couple of weak coughs puffing out of his cheeks.

“Oh,” you breathe, noticing the sink full of petals. “Oh, sir I’m sorry,” you walk over to him and begin washing the petals down the sink. “We need to get you looked at quickly!”

“No!” He shoved you away, hating to admit that his heart was pounding when your hands held his shoulders. “I don’t want to be fucking operated on!”

“It’s okay!” You reassure, pulling him up from the sink. “The reason why...I was so upset about Victor is because he made me fall in love with him. To get over someone else…” Scaramouche closed his eyes to focus on curving the coughs. ...And to listen to your voice. “I know I’m not the best to look at, but I can try to help.”

Scaramouche couldn’t help but to smile at your innocence. How were you going to help? You were the problem! “...You’re right you’re not attractive at all.” You furrowed your brows and put your hands to your hips. He laughed at your expression. “Fine. You can try to help me.”

He was setting himself up for failure, he knew that. But seeing you try so hard to figure out the type of person he liked was amusing to him. One day you were doting, cooking for him and making sure he drank water. But then the next you were neglectful, thinking that maybe he didn’t like someone who doted on him. You tried being clingy, you tried playing hard to get. You tried cleaning his house, you tried making it filthy. Nothing seemed to be working since he coughed up more and more petals everyday, but as he lay there feeling the life drain out of him with every cough, he seemed to feel pretty happy in his final days.

Soon enough, he was too weak to even open his eyes. You tucked the blanket snugly around him and exchanged the cool towel on his forehead. “Please let me tell Childe,” you whispered.

He scowled, amazingly mustering enough energy to do so, and coughed. “No,” he said weakly. “I don’t want— ackh— anyone to cut me open.”

“I’ll cut you open myself!” You joked, pulling at the shirt he wore.

“I’d let you,” he smiled. He figured that if he was to die today, he might as well tell you how he felt. “You’re so dumb, [Y/N]. But that’s what I like about you. You work so hard no matter what you’re doing. Whether it’s paperwork or watching over me...you give it your all.” You blinked at him, trying to process his words. “Maybe if I had been a little nicer to you...I wouldn’t be lying here dying. Maybe we’d actually have been in love.”

“What are you saying?” You ask dumbfoundedly, your hands shaking where they lay on the bed.

“These stupid petals, [Y/N], they’re for you.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was saying so clearly as day. The man you had nearly died for, now lay dying for you. You spent almost two months suffering because he had not cared about you and now he spent these last two months suffering. But you suffered alone. This time, Scaramouche was suffering with you right by his side.

“I...I don’t know what to say.” You said finally.

Scaramouche turned over to lay on his side, facing his back toward you. “That’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know, that way I would die without regret.”

“No, sir, you don’t understand.” You swallowed the lump in your throat to muster up the courage.

Scaramouche began to feel relief as he lay there. These are my last few minutes, he thought to himself. His body grew too weak to cough. At least, he figured, he’d die without coughing his lungs out.

You fiddle with your fingers and hyped yourself up to admit why you were sick in the first place. “Scaramouche...the reason I was sick...was because I loved you.”

Scaramouche was too weak to cough. So he should’ve been too weak to sit up. He sat up with such vigor, turning to look at you. He had been laying in bed for four days now, unable to sit up. Yet here he was, looking at you. The itch in his throat ceased. He didn’t stop coughing because he was weak. He stopped coughing because you returned his feelings.

Soon, the pink in his lips began to reappear. The color in his cheeks flushed, and his body aches seemingly disappeared. He tentatively reached forward, afraid that he had died and gone to celestia. This was a dream, this wasn’t real.

He cupped your cheek and caressed the skin there with his thumb. You held the hand on your face and leaned into the contact. All these months you had been suppressing your love for Scaramouche.

You didn’t want to be sick again. You forced your love onto Victor and latched on intensely so as to move on. But you didn’t know that while you were loving Victor, Scaramouche had been loving you. Watching you laugh and cling to Victor made him jealous. Jealous and possessive. When you recovered he wanted to spend as much time with you as he could. He wanted to learn more about you, talk to you, see the smile you used to give Victor. He wanted to see that smile and he wanted to make you his.

“You love me?” He asked barely over a whisper.

“I don't know why, but yes,” you joked with a laugh, a bright smile spread across your lips.

Scaramouche smiled too, albeit very little, but still a smile. The harbinger, and now your new boyfriend, promised himself that he’d protect that smile. Especially from Victor. “Good. You’re all mine.”

[space-mermaid-writing]

House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1: New Home

It's just before midnight when you finally get off work. You really like your job, but the hours are murder. Being a chef at one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Philadelphia has its price. You take off your apron, which has hardly any stains from the last few hours on it, and throw it in the wash. The white jacket goes neatly into your locker and is replaced by a cardigan and a scarf. It’s a cool night. With a last good bye to your colleagues, who are still putting the dishes into the dishwashers, you make your way home.

The night is dark, but the streets are lit by lanterns and the windows of closed stores. Even if it had been pitch black, it wouldn't have worried you to have to walk alone through the empty alleys. Last year a guy had tried to rob you and threatened you with a knife. You had given him a broken nose and several stab wounds in the shoulder. After all, you had been trained at Shield. But the poor guy didn’t know that.

Half an hour later you arrive at your apartment. It's more functional than nicely furnished, and everything is a bit of a pick 'n' mix. But you don't mind it, because you spend most of your time at work anyway. At home you don't feel such great importance to culinary variety when it comes to your own food. A pizza or French fries with ketchup were always welcome. After all, you've been standing at the stove long enough at work. Tired, you decide to wait until breakfast for your next meal and, after a quick change of clothes, just fall into bed.

Fortunately, the next day is your day off. You make good use of it and sleep in. Afterwards you have an nice brunch with eggs, bacon and toast and after a short shower you go into town to do some errands. The sun is shining warmly from the sky and it's a beautiful spring day. If this holds up until the weekend, maybe you'd visit the weekly market and see what exotic and rare foods you can grab there. You love these little trips, even if you rarely find the time.

About two hours later and with three full shopping bags, you re-enter your apartment. It's on the second floor of a rather nondescript building, but the interior is very modern, with pastel-colored, high walls. You put everything in the kitchen cabinets and then brew yourself a tea/coffee, with which you make yourself comfortable on the couch and turn on the TV. It's time to relax a little. So you zap through the programs, watch the rest of an episode of your favorite series and then decide to watch a reality series, which is not exactly known for its quality but is entertaining. So the noon goes by until suddenly the doorbell rings. You get up to see if it's the mailman or a neighbor with a package. But a look through the peephole shows you that it is neither. Surprised, you open the door "Nat!" Natasha Romanoff is a friend of you and your brother, as well as the godmother of his children. But due to her job you rarely see each other. "Hey," she greets you with a small smile. "Can I come in?" "Sure." You lead her into the living room, where you turn off the TV. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee, milkshake?" "Coffee is fine." You disappear into the kitchen for a moment as she sits down in the armchair. Natasha was a rare visitor. Mostly she came with some news from Clint. You see him even less because he spends what little free time he has mostly with his wife and the two kids. Understandable. You don't hold it against him and try to visit them on holidays or for birthdays at her farm.

It doesn't take long until you return to the Russian woman with a new cup and some pastries and sit down on the couch again. "Well," you ask her curiously. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Natasha reaches for her cup. "It’s rather inconvenience. But first tell me if you’ve observed anything unusual lately." Questioningly, you look at her. "What do you mean?" "Nothing weird? You sure?", she asks. "Tell me what I'm supposed to have seen, please," you prompt her, both impatient and confused. Natasha gets right to the point. "You're being monitored." "By Shield?" "By Hydra." Stunned by this news, you remain silent. Natasha uses this pause to drink her coffee. "Oh, this is really good." But you don't listen to her at all, because various thoughts are circling in your head. And again you try to remember if you have noticed anything: same people you met, vehicles, anything. But you got pretty used to your life and didn't pay attention at these things. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. For your own safety it’s best if you stay with us for a while," Natasha finally breaks the silence and you look up. "What could Hydra possibly want from me? I don't know any internal secrets anymore. There are better to kidnap than me." "That's what we're trying to figure out right now." "Well, the danger doesn't seem to be acute", you note. "If they wanted to grab me, I wouldn't be sitting here by now. Thanks, but I decline and prefer to stay here. I have my job and the apartment." And now that you know what's going on, you can pay attention and take the necessary precautions, too. "Thanks for warning me." Natasha, on the other hand, doesn't look like she gives you a choice. "You know Shield has its ways to convince you?", she reminds you, but you shrug. Why would such a large organization bother with a single civilian like you? "What does my dear brother say about this matter?", you ask instead. "He hasn't been informed yet." Ergo, they deliberately leave him out of it so that he can't protest. You know this kind of approach of Shield.

Clint understands and supports you in your civilian life, even though he protested the loudest back when you announced your exit. "How’s he?", you want to know from Natasha, who is now finishing her coffee. "He's alive." That can mean just about anything from being happy and healthy to badly hurt but breathing. Better than being dead, you guess. "He's out in Africa with Steve right now." "Busy, huh?" "As usual." She stands up as a sign that she has nothing more to say for the day, and you walk her to the door, where you bid her farewell. "We'll talk again soon," she promises, but admittedly you have little desire to do so right now. "Sure," you reply and close the door behind her.

Well, that were some news. You put her empty cup in the sink and pause thoughtfully by the window. How could you have missed Hydra's agent, you ask yourself while glancing out. Your new life made you too comfortable. But it also takes up a lot of time and energy. And anyway, you dropped out because you didn't want to be cautiousness all the time anymore. You wanted a normal life with a normal job and normal problems. Away from agents, assassinations and super powers. You didn't want to check every day on your way to work if you were being followed, secretly monitored or if someone else was out to get you. That's why you’ve chosen this life. With a sigh, you sit back down on the couch. The past never leaves you alone, you guess. But tomorrow would be a long day even without these new old worries.

~~

The advantage of being a chef is usually that you don't have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. Most Restaurants open at noon, some even in the evening. So does the one where you work. There are preparations to be made before opening time, but you can still sleep through the morning, do some housework, and then head to the restaurant in the sunny afternoon. That's where the trouble starts, though. Just as you're about to open your locker to change your clothes, someone taps you on the shoulder. It's your boss, who hands you a letter. You can tell immediately from his serious expression that something is wrong. And when you open the envelope, you discover your resignation. You look up, perplexed, but you lose out in the following discussion. You don't even get a decent explanation, and that’s what annoys you the most. You're pretty sure your skills aren’t the issue, neither is the way you work. Nor the way you treat your colleagues, with whom you get along very well, even if the tone among cooks is a bit rough. You go back to your apartment, now in a bad mood. It‘s unbelievable! The sunny weather seems like a mockery to you now, and the people you meet along the way are in far too good a mood, in your opinion. It will be hell to find another good job as this was.

Arriving back home you immediately get more bad news: your landlord put a notice on your apartment door. The bathrooms in the building will get completely renovated soon and will be unusable for several weeks. Plus the heavy construction noise during the day. And the water would be turned off. It would be best to find temporary substitute apartment, so they recommend. "Haha...ha..." You laugh dryly and unlock the door. Was that a coincidence? When Natasha had been here yesterday? Probably not. You know Shield's methods and that it’s easy for them to take away your job and your apartment just to get their way. You have two options: either you accept the offer before Shield gets any more stupid ideas, or you run away and try to hide. With a sigh you go into your bedroom and throw a suitcase on the bed, in which you pack clothes, the most important documents and some things from the kitchen you need for work. Not everything fits, so you add a second travel bag. Meanwhile, you think about who you could complain to. Your brother was a favorite target of yours, but he a) had nothing to do with this matter and b) was not in the country. Which’s a shame, because you'd really like to have him by your side right now. If you wanted to complain to Shield directly, Fury would probably be the best person to do it. But you hold too much respect for him to vent your anger to him. Maybe just the next Shield agent who would come to you on this matter would have to step in. You know someone would definitely get back to you. With one last look around your apartment, you leave it and lock the door. Then you shoulder your bag and make your way out.

Just as you're thinking about getting a large coffee from Starbucks down the street, a red sports car pulls up to the side of the road. Natasha at the wheel. "Hmph..." You walk over to her and throw your luggage in the back seat. Then you take a seat in the passenger seat yourself. "Just for the record, I'm not happy with this." "I can see that." She tries to give a sympathetic smile, but you know this is just a job to her. "Well then, off to the Bat Cave, Wayne." "Does that make you Robin?", the Russian asks, driving off. "I guess", you reply snippy, not interested in keeping the conversation going. Fortunately, Natasha wasn't exactly the talkative sort either, so you have some peace and quiet to get your thoughts in order.

It takes you just under two hours to drive from Philadelphia to New York with city traffic slowing you down a bit. Otherwise, you would have arrived earlier at the former Stark Tower. It's been the Avenger Tower for some time now, but that doesn't make much difference, except that Tony Stark seems to be too lazy to put the remaining letters back on it.

Natasha parks in the private underground garage and you take the elevator up to the grand lobby. She tells you about the current residents here. There’s the usual staff, who are of course always present. Of all the Avengers, Bruce Banner is living here permanently. "He actually hardly ever leaves the lab," the Russian explains. "I'm currently living here, too. Every now and then Thor stops by, but mostly he prefers to explore the world. And his brother Loki is here. There have been some...problems with him and he's sort of under supervision here. Tony trusts technology more than Asgard. The owner of the house, by the way, is out visiting an outpost right now." "There are even Avengers outposts?" Natasha nods as she walks you down the halls to the living area. "But don't tell Hydra." "Sure", you promise unfazed. "Speaking of which, if I want to go out to visit someone, do I need a key or how does this work?" "It's better if you stay here in the house for now. It's for your safety, after all." "For how long?", you want to know. The answer is short. "As long as necessary." "So I'm sort of locked in here”, you state. That's typical Shield. As soon as there's any problem, an agent is sent in to put everything in solitary arrest or quarantine. As long as it’s shielded from the rest of the world. Natasha stops in front of a door that is now yours, but doesn't look directly at you, which as much of an answer as you get. "I'll be fine on my own now, thanks," you smile politely but not genuinely at her, and after she assures you that you're free to move around inside the building, you head off with your luggage in your new apartment.

[tommybaholland]

Hello, I have a request that's been eating at me. I read a lot of fics where the reader is afraid of thunderstorms, but I really can't relate. My family used to sit on the porch and watch the lightning like I was looking at fireworks, the rumbles lull me to sleep. I was also one of those kids who rain outside in heavy rain. Can I request some Shouto, Izuku, Kaachan and Kaminari heacanons with an S/O who looooves thunderstorms and heavy rains please?

s/o who loves thunderstorms 

featuring: todoroki, midoriya, bakugo, and kaminari

the older i get the more i appreciate the sounds of heavy nature. i also like the idea of flipping concepts and doing something different! thank you and enjoy. x

todoroki

he also enjoys the soothing sound of thunder and heavy rain

he’s already a pretty sleepy boy so staying up and watching storms with you is almost out of the question

he’ll do it if you want but he’ll most likely be fast asleep in about ten minutes 

and you’ll know when his head starts to lean into your shoulder 

he prefers falling asleep with you during a storm

he finds the sentiment very comforting and the way you snuggle up to him makes him feel all warm and cozy

he’s not a huge fan of you running outside in the rain but he can’t complain if it makes you happy, he’s happy to watch you from a drier spot

one time you asked him if his quirk would work during a storm 

like if he could freeze the rain or if he could even use his fire side at all

that got him thinking and he became curious about it too because he didn’t know either

he did have preconceived notions about it like that his fire side would be particularly useless during a heavy rainstorm

and that he could only make ice itself and wasn’t so sure that he could freeze moving rain

you thought that maybe this could be a new revelation for his power and that he could combine the two quirks and create steam or something

although he was doubtful, he tried anyway but the rain was still affecting his ability mostly to produce heat 

“it looks like i’ll have to try it another time when it’s not raining. now, we should get inside before you get sick, my love.”

he makes sure you’re all showered and dry and comfy before getting relaxed with him under a blanket 

at this point you’re glued to his left side because of how warm he is 

he’ll even raise the temperature a little higher so it feels like the blanket just came out of the dryer and you feel so comfortable 

it makes you fully relax as you doze off on him with the soothing sound of rain hitting the building in the background

he sees you struggling to stay awake, “you can fall asleep on me if you like, baby.”

he rubs your back with his warm hand and kisses your head, effectively making you succumb to sleep 

midoriya

he seems like someone who would be spooked by thunder and lightning claps

so you’d most likely be the one comforting him during a storm

and he definitely doesn’t like you going outside in that kind of weather

he’s afraid you’ll get struck by lightning

however, he wants to beat this fear of storms because he might have to fight a villain during one and he wants to be prepared for anything 

so he starts practicing kicks outside whenever it rains 

more like every time it rains 

and he’ll be out there for a while, just trying to improve his mobility in the rain 

which is not out of character for him

even before you started dating, you knew that he was persistent and didn’t give up so easily 

it’s both a good and bad quality to have 

the bad being that he doesn’t know when to quit, even when his body is telling him to do so

you felt a little hypocritical about dragging him out of the rain like he’s done to you 

but this wasn’t so much about the rain than about what he’s doing to himself 

once you finally get him inside and make sure a hot shower, warm clothes, and some tea are in order 

 he’s very grateful for how much you take care of him

“thank you, sweetie. i know i can push it too hard sometimes but i do appreciate what you do for me. you should try training out in the rain too sometime though!”

it’s hard not to smile at his undying enthusiasm

you agree to go out with him next time but for the time being, you’d rather stay inside and listening to the storm with him

even though he trains outside in the rain now, it doesn’t change him getting jumpy from the thunder claps

but luckily, he has you to snuggle into him to look forward to

bakugo

he doesn’t understand your fascination of heavy rain and thunder 

meanwhile he’s literally out like a light during storms

he’s used to loud noises like that given his quirk so it never bothers him

it can keep you up though because you just love to watch it

so he doesn’t love to share a bed with you during a storm as he just wants to sleep 

more like he just wants you to sleep next to him instead of watching some stupid rain 

“hey, dumbass. quit staring out the window and come lay next to me!” 

he literally has to drag you to bed so you don’t stay up too late

he’ll hold you tight against his body to try to get you to relax and go to sleep

but then you’ll start squirming in his hold and feeling those movements against him makes him blush

“why are you so fidgety, you idiot?”

he ends up laying on top of you, which is perfectly fine because it’s one of his favorite ways to cuddle you anyway

he will not, however, run around like an idiot outside in the rain

he also doesn’t even care that midoriya is training outside in the rain because what villain would be dumb enough to attack in a thunderstorm?

he usually has to go out to reign you in at some point 

and one time when he finally caught you by your wrists, he couldn’t help but notice how attractive you were in that moment

your hair drenched was and stuck to your neck 

and he was mesmerized by the droplets of rainwater running down to pool in your heaving collarbones 

he felt the need to pull you in for a kiss with his hands holding either side of your head

he was definitely the stupidest thing he had ever done but the way you looked at him after the heated kiss was all worth it

unfortunately, he got sick after that and blames you for all of it but he feels lucky that you’re there to take care of him

kaminari

he likes them but mostly because he feels “more powerful” due to the lightning

so he’s more of a heat storm person that likes to watch the lightning behind the clouds

he can get a little too overzealous about it, “what if i could bend lightning like in avatar? wouldn’t that be the coolest, babe?” 

you point out that he can already bend lightning but he thinks that ‘electrification’ doesn’t sound as cool

sometimes he attributes your attraction to him to your love of thunderstorms and lightning

you had never really made the connection and you always tell him that he’s just a cute and sweet boy that love you too

he also can get a little jumpy with the thunder because sometimes it’s really loud and you never know when the loud ones are going to hit

he’ll try to keep himself from getting too scared 

but then he sees how midoriya’s s/o is when midoriya gets jumpy with the thunder 

so sometimes he’ll exaggerate his shivers and jumps when you’re cuddling him during a storm so you’ll get even closer to him 

then the warmth and weight of your body against him makes him blush

he’d be the most willing to go out into the rain with you

let’s face it, the real reason you’re dating him is that you’re both idiots

one time he decides to try to bend the lightning from the storm and just caused a huge explosion 

thank god you were with him because he ended up short circuiting and would’ve been left out there alone 

it took a lot of your energy to get him back home and you nearly collapsed once you had returned

he felt really bad after that and apologized profusely for putting you in danger

you also ended up falling ill after that so he made sure that you were well cared for 

he brought you all your favorite snacks and things but made sure you were drinking water 

and he got you a white noise machine that played heavy rain and thunderstorm sounds so that you would get adequate rest 

even if he can’t exactly lightning bend, he still makes you just as happy as storms do

welcome back to bnha night! request some ideas..

[bokettochild]

Fic request! Legend and Ravio being best buds and being there for each other? Or like just them getting along. Platonic cuddling? I love them both.

Slight self projection on this one, but oh well!

I really like writing the dynamic for these two! But i would like to clarify that I write it as being strictly platonic.

Yes, Ravio does kiss Legend on occasion. But Ravio is a toucher, and that's just how he loves! For him, that's normal, that's something you do to those you love, not just in couples :)

Legend isn't great about physical touch, mostly because he's unaccustomed to it. He loves it, he just doesn't know how to ask for it or receive it most of the time.

And with that cleared up, on to the fic!!!

Mr. Hero was acting weird again.

His family had come back to visit again, and while many of them were wrapped in bandages and sporting some rather nasty wound, Mr. Hero seemed to be relatively well off from the fight. He wasn’t untouched, this was Mr. Hero after all, but he wasn’t as poorly as some of the others, which is why it was so odd for Ravio to find him curled up on the couch in their living room when he’d thought that everyone had gone to visit the local village.

They’d talked about it over breakfast. They’d arrived yesterday and hadn’t had time to restock in a while. The worse injuries were a broken arm on Mr. Smithy’s part, and that in no way hampered them from being able to do a run to the village, and it seemed many of Mr. Hero’s family saw visiting towns and villages as something of a treat.

They had been so eager over breakfast, talking over each other while Mr. Hero had rolled his eyes and pushed Tune- Wind back into his seat, scolding the champion for chewing with his mouth open and generally just correcting table manners and keeping people under control during the meal. Typical Mr. Hero, fussing over everything being right but pretending not to care, Ravio wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he sees them all they all eat like they’re in a castle, Mr. Hero’s just the kind of person to subtly train them all to behave lest they be faces with his flashing indigo gaze.

But he really would have thought, what with how everyone had chattered, that Mr. Hero would be with them all, leading them through the village and haggling with shopkeepers on the prices of potions and food. Yet here he sits, curled on their couch with that bulky quilt he likes so much thrown over his shoulders. Mr. Hero hasn’t bothered to fix his hair or tuck it under his cap, and it tumbles down his shoulders in a messy tangle as the Hylian stares unseeing at the far wall.

Ravio pauses in the entryway to the living room, his cup of cider still on one hand, and the book he’d been hoping to read in the other, heart torn over walking back into the kitchen and asking why Mr. Hero isn’t with his family. The slight shudder that runs across Mr. Hero's shoulders is all he needs as an answer and it’s without a second thought that the merchant strides across the room to settle on the couch beside his housemate, eyes bright and smile disarming as he looks over to Mr. Hero.

Dull violet meets his own green as Mr. Hero pauses and sighs, gaze shifting back down to the ground.

Oh. Oh, this is bad.

No snark, no dismissal, no ‘Ravio, I’m not in the mood’. Mr. Hero is at a stage where he is simply accepting things, and that’s never good!

“Why the long face?” He prods gently, settling himself on the couch as Mr. Hero moves slightly to accommodate him.

Okay, that’s even worse. Mr. Hero is being accommodating.

Oh Lolia, is he dying?

“Enervated.” Mr. Hero drawls, and Ravio is now officially freaking out. The big words have come out, the big words that he doesn’t know the definition of. His gaze trails back over to his book.

Most people don’t consider reading a thesaurus a past-time, and Ravio never would have considered it before moving in with Mr. Hero, but if he wants to understand the hero than he needs to know all the words that will crop up in his vocabulary anytime he is especially tired or bored.”

“E-enerv-”

“Tired.” Mr. Hero clarifies, shifting in place and drawing the blanket tighter around is shoulders.

Sharp green eyes watch his movements. It’s autumn and a slight chill has pervaded the air, but there really isn’t any need for the heavy blanket in this weather. Maybe a shawl or afghan of some sort, but the thickest and heaviest blanket in the entire house? That’s just plain overkill!

“Just tired?” He doesn’t even bother pretending to respect Mr. Hero’s space as he reaches out to rest his hand on his housemate’s forehead, gently shifting to touch the vet’s cheek. Rather than shake him off, Mr. Hero gently leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed gently as a breath whistle from his lips. Ravio frowns as he pulls back.

Mr. Hero is warm, but not unhealthily so, and it can probably be blamed on the heavy quilt he’s got throw over his shoulders.

The merchant quirks a brow. “Are you cold?”

Mr. Hero’s face twitches oddly, eyes darting up to meet Ravio’s before drifting back down; blank and tired in a way they often are after a long day. But today has not been a long day, he reminds himself, and Mr. Hero must have been in here since finishing dishes with him this morning.

“Yes.” Mr. Hero murmurs softly, more at the folds of his blanket then at Ravio. “But not...outside?”

And that is... that is confusing.

“I don’t understand.” He half wishes for his hood and robe, but he’d only just finished cleaning and he hasn’t put them on again, so he plucks instead at the edge of his scarf, similar to what Mr. Captain Hero Sir does when he’s anxious.

Mr. Hero huffs a breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Glad you don’t.”

He doesn’t like the blankness of Mr. Hero's face or the heaviness of his words. “Can you explain it to me?”

If there’s one thing that brings light into his friend’s eyes, it’s teaching. Mr. Hero loves to share his knowledge, and Ravio has sat contentedly through a dozen lectures on bee-keeping and orchard work or weapons care and traveling precautions and any number of other things. All he ever needs is a cup of cider and a warm nook to bundle himself away while Mr. Hero talks. Goodness knows he chatters quite a bit himself; Mr. Hero deserves to have an audience on occasion too, and he always has such interesting things to say that Ravio never minds listening.

But Mr. Hero’s eyes don’t light up with that glint of passion and his fingers don’t tap with barely contained energy. Quite the opposite. He curls in closer around himself, eyes clouded as he breaths heavily. “It’s like there’s somethin’ ‘side you that’s cold an’ empty. Like you swallowed ice or somethin’ cold like an’ it won’t melt. You can be toasty warm on the outside and it ne’er goes away, it’s jist-” The pink-haired Hylian’s ears flick as his nose twitches with pent up irritation. “It’s like you’re empty and no matter how much you eat or sleep or keep busy, it ne’er goes away.”

Understanding dawns with a heavy heart and tears pricking in his eyes. “I think that's called loneliness, Mr. Hero.”

Mr. Hero’s eyes glisten as he turns away. “’m not lonely. There’s eight people on my tail on the day to day an’ I can’t lose ‘em even if I tried.”

The tight ball Mr. Hero is curled into could be defensive or self-comforting, and he can’t tell which, but Mr. Hero's grip on his blanket laden shoulders is too tight to be anything short of strained.

“Being with people doesn’t mean you aren’t lonely.” Ravio’s voice comes softer than he means it too.

Mr. Hero once complained that his own voice was trapped in the stage of squeaking and breaking, but Ravio’s could drop low ‘till it was nothing but a deep vibration. He’s teased Mr. Hero about it more than once, but he finds that it’s also effective at making the other boy calm. Mr. Hero loosens so now, eyes still blank as Ravio stares at them, hoping that they’ll turn to meet his gaze. “You can feel lonely in the middle of a full kingdom.”

He knows. He remembers hiding in his big room in the castle and wishing that it wasn’t so cold and empty and that someone would look at him and see something other than a cowardly advisor. He'd wanted someone to look at him and see a friend, or a brother or a loved one. He’d wanted to matter and be safe in the warmth that was a real home.

Mr. Hero gave him that. Mr. Hero’s house, with its big apple tree and buzzing bees, it’s pokey little kitchen and creaky staircase, the blasted rocker and the freaky masks on the wall, all of it makes this house a home that is so distinctly Mr. Hero's, yet somehow also his own.

He can see it in the knitting needles stashed in their basket by the couch. In the mugs that he’s left empty on bookshelves and table tops. He sees himself in the drawing of the curtains to let in sunlight, and the organization of the items on the shelves and the wall.

This is their home, something that is both of them, and it’s always felt warm and fulfilling to him.

He’d never realized that Mr. Hero might not feel the same...

It’s on impulse, and the fact that Mr. Hero doesn’t push him away speaks volumes, but Ravio scoots forwards and pulls the veteran hero over to rest against his chest, his arms wrapping tight around his friend as heavy breaths escape from them both.

“Is this better?” He whispers softly against the pink that curls beneath his chin and the fluttering breath of Mr. Hero.

There’s only a faint grunt from the hero in his arms, non-committal, but Mr. Hero isn’t complaining or pushing him away, so he doesn’t let him go either. Never mind that he’s almost pulled his friend on top of him, Mr. Hero needs a hug, and Lolia danggit! Ravio is going to give him the best one he’s capable of!

Mr. Hero’s breath evens out as he adjusts a few times, shifting but never pulling away, and Ravio takes that as a cue to make himself comfortable.

Short, pale fingers trail up to weave through curling pink locks that are still unbrushed from the night before. It’s silky under his touch, a testament to his friend’s alternate form, and he takes no small amount of pleasure in winding his fingers through it and gently tugging out the tangles. Mr. Hero only sighs under his ministrations.

“It’s okay to ask for hugs you know.” He teases softly, almost disappointed that he can’t see how his housemate blushes and stiffens, but Mr. Hero's ears give him away, red as they are, and a smile tugs across his face when he sees it. “I'm sure Mr. Chosen Hero would love to hug you, he seems like that kind of person. And Mr. Smithy always seems fond of that sort of thing. Why, even-”

“Shup.” Mr. Hero huffs, and Ravio grins as his eyes fall down to where his friend’s arms have wrapped around his waist, a messy head of pink lying against his chest and the full weight of hero and blanket pressing down on him.

He doesn’t respond, but he does go back to running his hands through Mr. Hero’s hair.

A tune comes to mind as he sits there, and he lets the melody drift through the room as he absently strokes Mr. Hero’s long pink hair, the book in his hands capturing his attention until soft squeaking snores begin to sound from the hero on his chest.

No one’s there to see the kiss he presses to the mess of petal pink, and when the others return from their trip, neither of the two bunnies is awake to say anything at all.

The heroes stop in the doorway, surprise and fondness taking over their faces at the sight of both of their hosts stretched out over the couch, Legend lying over the top of Ravio, one of the merchant’s hands still resting on Legend’s head while the other hangs down towards the floor, barely grasping the book he'd been reading (Wind makes a comment about reading a thesaurus being strange, but no one really questions it too much). Legend’s arms are still wrapped tight around Ravio’s waist, his cheek pressed against the merchant's chest as squeaking snores escape through parted lips.

They’ve never seen the veteran so peaceful, Time muses as he removed the book from Ravio’s hand and tucks the quilt tighter around the two, noting with surprise it’s weight. Neither hero nor merchant wake, although Ravio does shift in his sleep at the disturbance, but the two are out cold.

There’s the snap of a shutter and a faint coo as he looks up, single blue eye meeting Wild’s own, the champion smiling sheepishly from behind the slate, the image on the screen of him knelt beside the two boys, tucking them in on the couch. Time smiles at his cub. “I want a copy of that picture, you hear?”

“Yes sir.” The champion whispers in return.