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shurisneakers · 3 years

Note

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years

Note

Hey there Savi.. could i request a kou,mitsuba and tsukasa x reader where their s/o gets bullied alot?? I've been struggling with it recently and now that school is going to start again im dreading it .. thank you in advance <3

kou minamoto x gn!reader, mitsuba sousuke x gn!reader, tsukasa yugi x gn!reader

a/n: of course!! I’m really sorry that you’ve had experiences like that, but I also genuinely hope that this year will be better! You’ve got this-!! And don’t be afraid to ask for help <3 you’re so so welcome, tho I’m sure schools probably started by now, therefore I’m super sorry for the time this took- and thank you so much for requesting <3

Waaaaaah i’m also sorry if it’s OOC, cos I know Tsukasa’s at least is;;; writer’s block is aaaaaaah-;; I’ve genuinely been writing this since September 19th,,,,

warnings: bullying

word count: 2,044

kou minamoto <3

You glanced at your phone screen, the date flashing up at you. It was depressing. Thoughts of previous years danced in your head, as you shut your phone back off. You currently stood outside of your school, “open house” finally over. School was starting back in just a few days. Your days of freedom could be counted on one hand… this was, by far, one of your least favorite times of the year.

“(Y/N)! Do you still want to walk to the park?” Kou questioned, running up beside you. You nodded, hoping that spending time with your boyfriend would get your mind off of school, and memories related to such. As the two of you began to walk, you could practically feel the question on the tip of Kou’s tongue. He always made himself rather obvious- his hands fidgeted a bit, his gaze lowering to the ground.

“Say, (Y/N)... you seem sad. Is it because school’s starting back?”

You thought for a moment, unsure of how to put it. He certainly wasn’t wrong…

“Yeah, that’s basically it… last year was just… not a good year, haha.”

“Oh? Well, I’m sure this one will be better!! If you want, we can make a list or something? All the bad things about last year can be something we change this year-!”

Despite bitterly knowing that it wasn’t exactly something within your realm of control, you laughed a bit. “That’s… insanely corny, Kou. I didn’t say a terrible idea- just… corny.”

When you glanced up at him, you noticed his red face, as he blurted out an excuse. A moment of fumbling over his words passed, before he gave up, glancing off to the side once more.

“Wh-whatever- I mean, just… like, tell me what’s wrong, if you want to. And I’ll try to help. Alright?”

“It’s really not something either of us can help, Kou.”

“So? I’m your boyfriend,” He seemed a bit embarrassed to say, most likely not used to pulling that sort of card, “If you don’t want to tell me, I can’t make you. But, if you’re alright with telling me, I want to know. Either way, I’m here for you...”

“Ah… I know it, Kou. Honestly, I just… dealt with some bullying last year, so I’m really not looking forward to this year. No matter how much I hear ‘oh, the bully does it to feel better about themself’, it’s just emotionally… hm, awful, you know?”

“Oh… I understand, (Y/N). I do remember some people picking on me, since I have a big brother like Teru- it’s not fun at all. Here!! I’ll stay with you, 24/7! Sit with me during classes, and I’ll hang out with you during free time!” “Thanks, Kou- but we probably won’t have every class together.”

“Then- just tell me if something happens during the class,” He spoke, crossing his arms rather seriously. “I’ll talk with the teacher! Easy peasy!!”

A moment passed, before Kou took your hand, looking at the ground, then back up with you. His eyebrows were furrowed just slightly, his eyes not as wide as they usually were. Kou was being serious- as serious as his sweet mind could let him be. He almost seemed to resemble his big brother even more- when the two were serious.

“If something happens, tell me, okay? I mean it. I don’t want this year to be bad for you- as your friend and boyfriend! Let me do what I can to help, alright?”

You blinked a bit. Kou’s words were so sincere, you felt your heart beat a bit quicker. “A-alright. Thank you, Kou. I really mean it.” You spoke, bringing the boy into a hug to hide whatever sort of expression you were making.

“Of course! You don’t need to thank me, (Y/N). I’m happy to try and help-!”

mitsuba sousuke <3

“(Y/N), if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’ll give you something to complain about.”

Ah, Mitsuba… he spoke, his arms crossed as he sat next to you, silently noticing your slightly disheveled clothes. Judging by the slightly down look you wore, too many things were now adding up. Something was bothering you, and he was bound and determined to find out what it was.

“Mitsuba, it’s okay, really. Here! Let’s eat, I’m starving!” You opened up your bento box, sliding one his way, and sticking the chopsticks into your mouth. Though you hummed happily, Mitsuba was… in Detective Mode, to put it lightheartedly. Your every move was being analyzed, as he tried his best to figure out what was wrong. Your eyebrows furrowed, as you swallowed a bit harder than usual.

“What’s the point of lying to me, dummy? If you aren’t hungry, it’s probably because whatever is bothering you is ruining your appetite. Talk to me. I’m serious.”

You sighed, feeling as if the food was stuck in your throat. Or maybe your throat simply felt as though it had a lump in it…? Either way, you were painfully aware of the unpleasant feeling. Along with the creeping suspicion that Mitsuba wasn’t going to leave this alone. Was he good at reading people?? Were you just easy to read…? Or maybe, he was just far too accustomed to the way you reacted to things. Able to focus in on the little things, especially when he wanted to. Perhaps it was the talent of a photographer? Being able to read the entire picture??

Perhaps you were thinking too much into it, desperate for a way to get your mind off of the things going on around you.

“I’m just… dealing with some stuff.”

“Well, duh. What kind of stuff?”

You kept your gaze glued to the floor, fiddling absentmindedly with the chopsticks. You knew you could confide in Mitsuba… yet, something about it felt practically impossible. What would happen if you told him? Could he do anything? He was merely a ghost…

“Oi, I asked a question. Listen, and listen well, you idiot- I know I can’t solve all your problems, but I can at least listen- which is what you’d better be doing right now. You listen to me, though who wouldn’t want to is beyond me, so I can at least do the same. I’m not your therapist, but I am your boyfriend.”

Those words danced around in your mind for a bit, as you considered how to put it. For a moment, you simply nodded, letting Mitsuba know you heard- and were acknowledging- what he said. A few more moments passed before you began to speak.

“Lately, there have been some students… picking on me, I guess. It’s… discouraging, and makes school feel like a living nightmare. You’re the only good thing in my day at this hellhole.”

“Oh.”

You tightened your grip on the chopsticks, trying to read Mitsuba’s tone. Suddenly, it clicked- remembering Mitsuba mentioning being bullied for being “feminine” and “foul-mouthed”. He truly, genuinely, understood where you were coming from.

“I see, then… I’ll tell you what to do, (Y/N). Tell an adult, lame-o. I don’t give a flying flip about ‘oh, they won’t believe me’ or ‘what if the bullies blah blah.’ At least try it- it’s hard, but I don’t care about that either. Also, freaking ignore them. Obviously, you don’t want to pay them attention, so don’t.”

“Mitsuba, it’s not that easy-”

“I know. (Y/N), I’ve been in your shoes. Maybe it’s different- I dunno what kind of bullying they’re doing. Still, if you’re good enough for my standards, you know you’re at least worth something. So don’t let those low-lives get you down. I promise you, if I could, I’d give them a piece of my mind. But, since I can’t, just… do it yourself, or something. Don’t endure it, you rat.”

(“Mitsuba, all your insults lowkey feel like bullying-”

“Shut up, stupid-face, you can’t tell a teacher on a ghost. What’re you gonna say?? Waaaah, sensei, school mystery number 3 is calling me names!! Hah.”

“Tsuchigomori-sensei can see you, you know. And he teaches both Minamoto boys!”

“Lalalaaaa, I can’t hear you-”)

tsukasa yugi <3

Tsukasa… knows.

There was no other way to put it. You knew he knew, and you knew he was just waiting. A part of him wanted you to ask him for help- to confide in him, even if it took some pushing. He was… a bit different in that sense- I mean, how was he to know you didn’t enjoy being bullied? Was it the same way he felt when Amane looked at him with such hatred?

“(Y/N)!! What’s with such a sad look?? Did you get a bad test grade?” Tsukasa questioned, floating alongside you as you entered the broadcasting room. You simply shook your head, placing your bookbag on the floor, then standing back up.

“It’s just been a day, Tsu,” You added, taking a seat near Sakura. As you did, she pushed a cup of tea your way, her gaze as it usually was. She looked right through you, as if you were nothing but a ghost. Still, it was a much better look than the ones given by the bullies. Muttering a ‘thank you’, you lifted the cup, fiddling with it slightly.

“If there’s something bothering you, feel free to share it,” Sakura spoke, her gaze staying on you, then finally closing as she sipped from her cup.

“If there’s something bothering you, share it.” Tsukasa added, placing his head on your shoulder and staring at your eyes. His gaze drifted to your hands when you brought the cup to your lips, then over to your throat as you struggled to swallow.

“Runt, if you don’t back away from them, you’ll the the one bothering them,” Natsuhiko spoke, raising his eyebrows at Tsukasa, then offering you a slightly concerned look. His expression was enough for you to know he wanted to know if you were alright- to which you shrugged, reaching up and patting the side of Tsukasa’s face.

“Don’t worry, guys. I’ll be fine, really.”

Sakura pondered for a moment, before standing. “Mitsuba, would you like to walk with me? I should go grab something.”

Mitsuba, who had been sitting off to the side- glanced up, his usual puppy-like expression on his face. “Sure,” He replied, standing up, practically in sync with Natsuhiko.

“I’ll go as well, my lady!”

Oh. She’s doing that on purpose.

Your eyes followed the trio as they left the room, and you could feel Tsukasa’s eyes still stuck on you. The moment the door shut, he spoke. “(Y/N), tell me what’s wrong. You don’t seem to enjoy being miserable!”

“Am I supposed to?” “You’re miserable then? What’s wrong, c’mon!!”

“I didn’t say I was- just that I don’t think many people like it,” You spoke, taking another sip from the tea. The warmth of it made your throat feel hot, but it didn’t help the lump stuck in it.

“(Y/N). Just admit to me what’s wrong, and I’ll do what I can!”

You sighed, not wanting to grow frustrated. Tsukasa was… trying. He just didn’t understand everything- the boy who enjoyed seeing people wear normally unpleasant expressions, of course he wouldn’t personally understand. He wanted to help you, but how could a ghost help? Much less, the ghost of a boy such as him?

“(Y/N)-” “I’m just dealing with some bullies. It’s fine, Tsukasa- I’ll figure something out.”

“I’ll kill them <3”

“Tsu-”

Tsukasa stepped away from you, crossing his arms. “So, (Y/N), you don’t like it when people bully you? I’ll take care of it! Promise!” “Stop it right there, Mr. Only-grants-wishes-for-the-dead. Don’t ‘take care of them.’ I just need to get enough confidence to tell a teacher or something…”

Tsukasa paused, pouting his lips slightly, before nodding. Quickly, he floated back over to you, and trapped you in a hug. His arms wrapped around you securely, making you feel rather safe for being in the arms of such a destructive boy. “Fine. I’ll go with you, then, (Y/N)! I’ll even hold your hand!! And I definitely won’t let those bullies bother you any more~.”

“Tsukasa, please, don’t do anything drastic-” “Whatever you say, (Y/N). You know I can’t go against the wishes of my cute partner~!”

#anon #gn!reader #x gn!reader #oneshot #tbhk #jshk #kou minamoto #mitsuba sousuke #tsukasa yugi #tbhk x reader #jshk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #kou minamoto x reader #mitsuba sousuke x reader #tsukasa yugi x reader

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wackatoshi · 3 years

Text

booty call

(time-skip) sakusa kiyoomi x reader

synopsis: (a lil alcohol, n.sfw themes obvs lol but nothing explicit) booty call or butt dial? sometimes, they can be one and the same.

horrible pick up lines, msby interactions, humour, sakusa’s a smooth texter... enjoy

When was the last time you felt the touch of another human being? Too long — which is why you’re marinating at home like a sad old sponge, deprived of affection, dousing your loneliness with a drink.

You tilt your head back, letting the last few drops trickle down your throat, fingers wrapped around the neck of a cheap wine bottle. It sends a buzz through your body, a sensation that pales in comparison to the magic of hands on hands, the warmth of someone’s skin pressed against yours.

Your bleary gaze lands on the phone — phones? you swear there’s two of them — propped on the coffee table in front of you.

Before you can think twice, you’re reaching out for it, fingers tapping through your passcode in a blurred hurry.

Before you can think twice, you’re texting your designated booty call.

At least, you think you are.

Sakusa Kiyoomi’s spending a casual night in with his teammates. He’s sitting on Atsumu’s couch, leafing through a book, when someone’s phone starts to ping with a ricochet of notifications. For the most part, he ignores it (because it’s half-past-nine, so it certainly can’t be his), until Atsumu glides over to the counter to have a peek.

“Oi,” he calls, a brow hiking up his face. “Omi. Someone’s messaging you.”

Sakusa furrows his brows in disbelief. Instantly, another six deafening dings burst through, making his phone jolt on the counter like it’s been shocked.

Atsumu drops his head to peer down at the messages. All of a sudden, his face breaks out into a devilish smirk, triggering all of Sakusa’s fight or flight instincts. He abandons the book, leaps to his feet and snatches the phone from the table.

He takes a single glance, and immediately blanches. His notifications are polluted with a string of raunchy messages, all from an unknown number. Even as he’s punching in the passcode, they keep coming, one after the other, an inundation of thirsty pleas clogging up his phone.

Frantically, he pulls up the chat and skims up to the top of the twelve new messages, each text horrifying him more than the last.

YOU: hey boo 👻

YOU: hiiiiiii

YOU: ☺️☺️☺️ feelin some typa way....you down...? it’s me. going

YOU: timber

What the hell. Sakusa scrolls on, in spite of himself.

YOU: where r u

YOU: i wanna [redacted] your [redacted] until u [redacted] ☺️☺️☺️ wkieowkskwiwk yes i do ahohga

YOU: rearrange my Guts like a scrabble board. desecrate my temple. plunder my down UNDER

YOU: please

He attempts to form a response, but your messages are incessant.

YOU: call me galileo coz im gonna make u see stars tonight 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩

YOU: name one thing wetter than the ocean

YOU: ;)

His face starts to burn. He’s not sure if it’s out of sheer embarrassment for your sake or something else entirely. He brushes the latter possibility away, because that would be absurd, he doesn’t even know what you look—

YOU: (Attachment)

Oh.

Okay, well, the face certainly doesn’t match the messages. He hates that his knee-jerk reaction is that you’re cute, even if the photo’s a blurry selfie bedazzled by a glittery Snapchat filter. Squinted eyes, puckered lips, adorable cheeks. He wonders, for a second, if you’re being catfished, until—

YOU: (Video Attachment)

And there you are, in all your ratty boxer-shorts-and-tee-shirt glory, making sweet love to your dispassionate carpet. Sakusa stares in abject horror. God, you must be completely off your face to be compelled to send something like this. He can just make out the faint sound of Nicki Minaj in the background, spitting a volley of encouraging rap verses while you flop around on the floor like a freshly-caught salmon.

If there’s anything impressive, he thinks, dryly, it’s your lack of shame.

“Oh?”

A voice beside his ear. One syllable, saturated in a knowing lilt.

With a start, Sakusa quickly switches his phone off, which only makes the whole situation look a hell of a lot more suspicious than it really is.

Atsumu, hovering close over Sakusa’s shoulder, can barely suppress his glee.

A tense moment passes between them. Sakusa stares him down, while his mind races, frantically searching for a way to disarm this ticking time bomb of a misunderstanding before it detonates into chaos.

Sakusa takes a deep breath.

“Don’t—”

“Sakusa’s got a booty call!”

Stunned silence descends upon the room. Heads turn, all movements frozen, and Sakusa can almost hear the rest of his team’s collective five-and-a-half brain cells lagging as they process the news. Before he can react, they’re all swarming around him like bees, buzzing with probing questions and teasing jibes.

“Who?” Bokuto demands, his eyes wide as an owl. “Who?”

Hinata’s over the moon.

“Congratulations!” he gushes, so sincerely Sakusa almost catches himself feeling bad. “I’m so happy for you! We all knew someone would come around, eventually!”

Sakusa frowns. “What do you mean—”

“Wait, really!” Inunaki exclaims, bounding over. “Show me!”

“Dude,” Atsumu laughs. “Do you even know what a booty call is?”

“Booty call?” he asks, his face crumpling with disappointment. “I thought you said beauty haul.”

“Enough,” Sakusa snaps, mildly panicking because his phone is vibrating yet again, much to everyone’s intrigue. “It’s not a booty call. Someone’s just got the wrong number.”

“Sure,” Atsumu sings. “Omi’s got a lover.”

“I don’t,” he bites again, and swats the wandering eyes away before checking the latest string of texts.

YOU: ;)))))((((()((((

YOU: coming? ha

YOU: get it

Sakusa starts typing his message.

SAKUSA: you’ve got the wrong number.

A pause. He hopes this is the end of it, until those three terrifying little dots bounce up on the bottom of his screen once again.

YOU: lmaoooo what

YOU: stop playiniwijek277383$:893&!:$3898 o nwmmaj

YOU: that was my butt btw

He scowls.

SAKUSA: you’re texting the wrong person...I don’t even know who you are.

You start to type again.

YOU: ...

YOU: ok thanos 😓

The easy solution would be to block you. But for some convoluted reason, Sakusa is not interested in easy tonight.

SAKUSA: who are you??

YOU: (Liked Your Message)

YOU: i askjj myself the same think every day :&&’l

SAKUSA: I think you should go to sleep

YOU: without me? ;)))

He doesn’t even bother to point out your blunder. You’ve already made enough of a fool out of yourself in front of him, anyway.

SAKUSA: please stop

YOU: fine :(

YOU: ...

YOU: WAIT A SEXOND

Sakusa waits.

(And waits.

And waits some more.)

A second passes, a minute passes, but the chat stays silent. And even though there’s not single peep from you or his phone for the remainder of the evening, Sakusa, for reasons far beyond him, keeps checking.

The next morning, you are nursing a terrible hangover.

A pounding headache behind your eyes, a discomfort over your hipbones — you shift the fabric of your shorts down and see a blossoming bruise on either side of your hips. Huh, did you actually end up getting some, only to forget the entire shebang?

Groggily, you reach across for your phone and open up your messages. One new text.

UNKNOWN: you there?

With a frown, you scroll up the conversation. As your hazy mind works to translate the text to words, the words to understanding, you almost scream with horror.

The picture. The video. The memories come flooding back to you. It plays for a fleeting second, and you catch all but a glimpse of your limp body smacking down on the floor with relentless force, before quickly scrolling away. But the harm is done, your mind is scarred.

Well, at least that explains the bruises.

Somehow, it only manages to get worse.

YOU: kiss

YOU: 💋*

YOU: soz typo

YOU: let’s make music coz i got a set of congas that go RATATATATATA

YOU: you must be poseidon because MY—

You stop there, pinching the bridge of your nose to allay the wave of humiliation drowning your dignity. The poor person on the other end. Their horrified responses are probably going to be branded into your mind forevermore.

Maybe you should just sweep this whole encounter under the rug.

Or maybe, you think, as your fingers tentatively start to type out a text, you should apologise.

YOU: hi. it’s me again. you were right, I had the wrong number. I’m so sorry

You’re about to launch your phone into the sun when it dings back with a response.

UNKNOWN: yeah, you’re good. not at flirting though

Oh? Your fingers fly across the screen before you can think.

YOU: really? but I kept you intrigued, didn’t I?

UNKNOWN: like a child at a circus

YOU: damn what kind of circus u taking ur kids to?

UNKNOWN: idk, the kind where people make complete clowns of themselves i guess

You swallow down a laugh.

UNKNOWN: what happened to you last night anyway? did you just pass out?

YOU: i did <3 thanks for ur concern

UNKNOWN: lol

UNKNOWN: the price you pay for a free show

YOU: shut up omg

UNKNOWN: can’t lie, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look at a floor so lovingly before

Oh, they’re teasing. You fight off a smile from working its way across your face.

YOU: very funny. now can I just trust that u will delete all trace of this train-wreck from ur phone 🥺

UNKNOWN: of course.

YOU: if I see it going around...

UNKNOWN: I think if people wanted to see an earthworm so badly they’d just go outside

YOU: SHUT UP

UNKNOWN: :)

Shoot. Why are you blushing over a smiley face at ten o’clock in the morning? This is absurd. You need a coffee, stat.

YOU: sadly I can’t reverse the damage, but would a coffee suffice?

There’s a long delay, and you start to panic.

YOU: or I could just venmo the $ to you. either works!

UNKNOWN: are you asking me if I want to get coffee with you? when you don’t even know my name?

YOU: names are irrelevant now. u have seen too much :/

UNKNOWN: maybe, but not all.

Your face flushes. You pause, fingers hovering over the keys for a moment, contemplating a smooth riposte.

UNKNOWN: sorry I’m walking, can’t text

A wave of disappointment slumps over you.

UNKNOWN: facetime?

Okay.

Okay okay okay okay okay okay.

You start to pace around your room, all too aware that you are still in pyjamas, your hair looks like a birds’ nest, and your voice sounds like you swallowed a brick the night before. It’s a disaster.

But so was last night, and yet this stranger still seems to be friendly.

YOU: sure

Your phone starts to vibrate, an unknown caller ID flashing across the screen. For a moment, you consider cancelling and blocking the number altogether, but the desire to put a face to the mystery behind the messages gets the better of you.

You accept the call.

His face pops into view — a masked man with black curls falling over his face like wisps of ivy, eyes dark as night, and two moles above his right brow, like the beginnings of a constellation. He raises a hand to shift down his mask.

“Hey.”

You hitch a breath. This man looks like he could be a reincarnation of Adonis, sent into the world as evidence that all those legendary gods really did exist once upon a time, and that some of them looked like this.

“Hi,” you reply, reverent.

He’s so cool, so collected. He brushes a few locks of hair from his face — a casual move that sends your heart skipping beats faster than you skip songs.

“I’m Sakusa.”

“Hi, Sakusa,” you breathe.

His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly.

He looks so familiar, but you can’t quite figure it out between your splitting headache and the way his gaze keeps flickering from you back to wherever he’s walking. Actor? No, surely you’d remember. Singer? That would be plain unfair. Model? You wouldn’t put it past—

“So,” he starts, wryly. “About that coffee.”

“Yes,” you rush to agree. “Coffee. It’s very good. Do you? Coffee?”

He laughs, shortly.

“You’re not drunk again, are you?”

“No.” You feel it, though, what with this man’s voice bearing a timbre that is downright intoxicating. But one long look at those coffee-coloured eyes would be enough to keep you up all night.

So you let him talk — he’s just like his texts, terse and concise, but isn’t brevity the soul of wit? He keeps you on your toes, with a dead-panned quip here and there, eliciting laughter out of your awful hangover. It turns out that you’re not even that far away from each other at all, a train station or two at most, which is some stroke of sheer luck. Sakusa starts to tell you about his favourite little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that nobody seems to have discovered yet.

“A coffee snob?” you tease.

He studies you, through the screen, and you almost feel the weight of his gaze as if he were right in front of you. He smiles, softly.

“I prefer to keep a low profile.”

And just before you hang up, with the details of a coffee shop date still fresh in your mind, you have the sense to ask for his full name.

“Kiyoomi,” he supplies. “Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Rings a bell, doesn’t it? But when you tell him yours, he repeats it, and all you can think about is how your name has never sounded so wonderful before.

It’s not until you hang up, his name echoing in your memory, that you run a Google search for this man. Thousands of results. A plethora of pictures, teeming with irrefutable evidence of his good looks.

And oh, God.

You lift your gaze from your phone to stare at your closet door, where your brand spanking new work uniform hangs off the hook, bearing the emblem of a gold-trim eagle that blinks back at you, eyes narrowed as if to say—

What the hell have you just done?

#i love a good hot mess x together guy trope LMAOOO #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa #ridiculous. do we still call these crack fics or is there a new term for it idk #PLEASE IGNORE THE MISTAKES I AM DOING MY BEST™

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dawnmon · 3 years

Text

Foolish Tommy Lore Transcript

Title says it lol, on May 6th they did lore that I transcribed at the time; the whole stream is great but I only transcribed the lore bit just for funsies, regardless of if it already exists. If it does, welp; I promise this is my own typed out thing that took an hour or so lol

Copy pasted from a google doc; whole 2.2k word transcript beneath the cut:

*Text*: Sound effects *Laughs* *Sighs* *Pickle sounds*

(Text): Actions, descriptions, or lulls (Pause) (Long Pause) (Looks away) (Loudly)

/Text: Overlapping lines

Pickle: Pickle.

https://youtu.be/Djy6uPtIKiE

Starts at 2:52:50

Foolish: I am a rich man, Tommy.

Tommy: Well, cool. I’m not.

Foolish: *Laughs* You’re wearing full Netherite armor. Well, besides the iron boots.

Tommy: Well I borrowed from Tubbo, so I could go and fight Dream.

(Pause)

Foolish: ...Oh, how’d that go? (Pause) ...Wait, you fought Dream?

Tommy: …*Frustrated sigh*

Tommy: (Heading to the Pickle) Do you hear that, do you hear that?!

Foolish: N-No no, no, nono, no no no, that is an important question!

Tommy: Do you hear that?!

Foolish: That is an important question!

Tommy: *Pickle sound effect* Ayyy! /Amen brother, amen!

Foolish: /No no, bad, no, shut up Pickle!

Foolish: What do you mean, you fought Dream?

Tommy (Quietly): ...W-Well, y’know… you’ve seen Wilbur, haven’t you?

Foolish: No, no, actually. Well, actually, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Ghostbur…. Probably, like, a few weeks ago. Lovely guy, I like Ghostbur.

(Long pause, Tommy looks down at the floor)

Foolish: Do you need Pickle time? You seem upset.

Tommy: Nope. We just mine.

Foolish: Just mine? Okay! Okay..

Tommy: *Long sigh* … Ghostbur’s, um, Ghostbur’s not here anymore.

Foolish: Oh, did he pack up? Move out? Got bored? He seemed like a free spirit.

Tommy: Yeah, he moved out, um, to this little train station, far away. There’s a little train station, you know, right near the world border. There’s a little train station.

Foolish: Oh, well that’s cool! I wanna see that sometime. (Pause) ...I was thinking about building a train myself, actually, I was gonna call it The Hype Train.

Tommy: ...That’s really cringe.

Foolish: Well, I-I disagree, That depends on your definition of cringe.

Tommy: You hit it, the nail on the head.

Foolish: No, I disagree, I-

Tommy: There’s a little, um, there’s a little train station, out near the world border, and Ghostbur went, but he left Friend.

Foolish: He left Friend?

Tommy: But we’ll get Friend to him soon.

Foolish: Oh.

Tommy: Because then he’ll be happy. ...But no, um, Ghostbur left, and I, I went to prison, to go and….

Tommy: (Pause) How much can you… take, Foolish?

Foolish: Take? What do you mean?

Tommy: Blood. Blood. Does that upset you?

Foolish: Uuum, mm, see, okay, okay, I-I don’t really, do that anymore. I haven’t killed a soul since being here. I don’t really do killing.

Tommy: (Slightly shaky) Ouh...well, um. I went to go and kill Dream, Foolish, you see, you know he killed me, don’t you? /And uh-

Foolish: /Yeah, I’m aware that- Wait, speaking of which, h- I never really asked you, you know, I knew it was kind of a touchy subject… How exactly are you back?

(Long silence. They stare at each other.)

Foolish: Okay, okay, maybe wrong question, wrong question…. Y’know, one step at a time…

Tommy: Alright, I don’t really feel comfortable talking about that with you, Foolish, /if I’m honest.

Foolish: /Okay, okay, no, fair enough,

Tommy: But, um…. *coughs* No.

Foolish: So, you fought Dream?

Tommy: Yeah.

Foolish: Recently?

Tommy: Well, I tried to, and then Wilbur, uh, was revived, he was revived, and he came back, uuuh, and now he’s… I don’t know where he’s gone, (Energetically) but all I know is I’m proving that bitch wrong, ay?!

Foolish: Wait, what do you mean-

Tommy: Because he told me, he told me I’m weak! He told me I couldn’t even lift… lift my whole weight, six-foot-three, and now, I’m, what I’m doing is I’m going and I’m picking up all this stone to prove him, I’m gonna get it and I’m gonna fucken go “Yeah, bitch!”

Foolish: You’re… gathering stone… wait okay, I have so many questions, but we'll just stick to one question at a time…. You’re gathering stone… to prove that, you’re a…a man?

Tommy: Well, I already know I’m a man, just to, fucken prove him wrong. And I need to, uh-

Foolish: That you can… gather stone?

Tommy: (Pause, quieter) Well, y-yeah. Fuckin’, I don’t know how to speak to you, man.

Foolish: I don’t really see how this solves the problem…?

Tommy: Well, it doesn’t solve the problem, it’s preventing the problem, Foolish, alright? Have you noticed that all the problems come, the-they don’t get solved, do they, alright? It ends up with some madman screaming he’s solved it, alright, and now he’s- and then look at ‘im, alright, now he’s taken away everyone's favorite man. Ghostbur, alright? Problems don’t really get solved on this server.

Foolish: No, no, yeah, I-I suppose you’re right….

Tommy: Yeah. /Well, that’s what I’m doing-

Foolish: /Well, how do we go about changing that? By gathering stone?

Tommy: No! Well, what I’m doing, my friend, is preventing the problem. Before it gets out of hand, like it did before, alright? *Sigh*

Foolish: So… Wilbur’s back… Uumm, okay, yep, I’ll just- I’ll- I’m not even gonna ask how he’s back, that’s-that’s a question for another day-- and you’re here, just, you’re trying to stop him? You don’t- You don’t like that he’s back? I- Weren’t you guys friends at some point?

Tommy: Listen. Listen, alright. /Come over here Foolish,

Foolish: /I’m still a little fuzzy on everything,

Tommy: Let me-Let me show you something, alright? You-You’re still very new ‘round here, /I’m not really sure... what you are, but, come over here, alright?

Foolish: /Yeah yeah yeah.

Tommy: (Leads him to L’manberg) You see this? L’manberg.

Foolish: Oh yeah, I’ve heard this before.

Tommy: This was mine and Wilbur’s na- It was Wilbur’s nation, (shakily) it was Wilbur’s, which makes it all the more heart-wrenching, alright? And he decided, that even, *sigh* and he doesn’t mean this, but even though at the time--when we made this?--it was to get away from Dream, because Dream, wouldn’t let us do what we wanted to. He told us that we had to live under his big, iron fist, but we went “No, Dream, that’s not fair, is it?” alright, you don’t think that’s fair, do you Foolish?

Foolish: No, no, /so you were a couple revolutionaries...revolutionists, basically.

Tommy: /We can’t- People want to do what they want. So we made this nation, yeah, we made a nation, and it was glorious, and it was amazing! People challenged it, sure, but we got through it!

Tommy: *Heavy sigh* And then to try and con--you really don’t know the story?-- /and then to try and consolidate our power... we held an election.

Foolish: /I mean...yeah.

Tommy: Now… *Sigh*

Foolish: Oh man, you’re saying there used to government here? Oof.

Tommy: Now, the problem with an election is it kinda puts all your life on the line, which can be good, if you’re confident, but perhaps we were a little overconfident… and because of that, Foolish, well, we, um…. We lost! To the hands of JSchlatt, right here, actually, right about here is where we lost.

Foolish: Oh.

Tommy: And Schlatt banished us. Now, we were okay, when- I was okay, when we were banished, and I knew that we’d get it back, that we’d talk about it, right, as you said, peace is the option.

Foolish: Mhm.

Tommy: ...But here’s the thing, Foolish. Wilbur didn’t want to do anymore talking, he’d given up with that, because some people aren’t strong enough, alright, some people stop talking.

Tommy: ...You know the phrase “treat others how you’d want to be treated”, Foolish? /That’s a really important phrase.

Foolish: /Yeah! Yeah (nods)

Tommy: And people hear it, you hear your teachers say it, you hear it when you’re young, people don’t ever listen to it, “treat others how you’d want to be treated”. Wilbur disregarded that rule. He decided that... he wanted to be treated poorly, so he’d treat everyone else poorly.

Foolish: Why do you think that?

Tommy: *Sigh* Honestly, I…. Sometimes I don’t know, myself. (Pause). But this block here, (Gestures to TNT at Wilbur’s shrine), he used this and he blew up L’manberg and...shattered it into a million pieces. Now, Wilbur, he was a good man, he is a good man, deep inside him, alright? /But he’s been a-

Foolish: /So you’re saying there’s still redemption for him?

Tommy: Well, he’s been a good man deep inside him, but he’s been a bad guy for a very, very long time. And I know that there’s still good in him, there’s still good in everyone, really, Foolish, even if they are all assholes, and wankers, and… but-

Foolish: Do you believe in second chances?

Tommy: No, I don’t. I don’t really believe in second chances, I don’t- that’s not really a thing for me, Foolish, it’s just that… *sigh*...I believe everyone’s got a little bit of good in them. And I know that Wilbur had good in him, alright, so I won’t g-

Foolish: You said “had”?

Tommy:...Yeah, he did, because when we made this nation- although now he seems to claim- he claimed to me, Foolish, that the nation (slams fists on irl desk) we built together! *Shaky inhale* ...He claimed that it was all just a ruse for power. Now, I think that Wilbur’s just being a bad guy, alright, and that’s okay, we’re all bad guys, everyone messes up, it’s- you learn the most from your mistakes. He’s made so many mistakes, so many that have hurt so many people, but, what this is gonna be about isn’t giving him a second chance, isn't giving him a third chance, it’s not about chances, Foolish! It’s about making sure you don’t give up on the people you care about. So I know you’re still really new to this server, and I know you’ve built lots of things,

Foolish: (Nods) Yeah, yeah,

Tommy: So I know if you really care about someone, do not give up on them, Foolish, don’t give up on people, alright? /Because that’s how you lose.

Foolish: /You know, Tommy, I think I had you wrong. I think I had you wrong.

(They leave L’manberg)

Tommy: Oh, I don’t know what that means.

Foolish: Well I just, y’know, you’re a little more...mature than I thought you would be. I thought you were just a loud, obnoxious, y’know what I mean, do-what-you-want, y’know, a couple muggings here and there, but no, maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye.

Tommy: Well, I still do that, obviously, because it’s funny. And it’s fun-

Foolish: Well, *Laughs nervously* Nah, I mean- I understand…. But maybe there’s more to you, Tommy, than I thought.

Tommy: Thanks, I guess. (Begrudgingly) ..Maybe there’s more to you, too.

Foolish: Oh, there’s so much….

Tommy: Okay.

Foolish: Do you consider yourself to be the good guy or the bad guy?

Tommy: ...That really depends who you ask, doesn’t it, you know? If you ask Dream, he’d say I’m- he’d say I’m his little- I’m his little play- (shakily) his little toy, that he plays with, y’know? It doesn’t…

Tommy: *Inhale* Foolish, honestly, I used to consider myself the “good guy”, y’know, the fucken second in command, going around and going “yeah, let’s do this!” yeah, but recently… these past….

Tommy: …*Shaky breath* (Quietly) These past 6 months, or so, Foolish, everything got so much harder than it was before, but, because before it was just “us fighting the bad guys!” but it was also clear, y’know, it was all so clear,

Foolish: Yeah, nothing muddy,

Tommy: But it’s not been clear for so long, alright? It wasn’t “these are the bad guys, these are the good guys,” now it’s, “he’s doing this, and that makes him a bit worse, that makes him a bit-”, it all got so fucking complicated, so… I don’t know. It depends on who you ask, but… *sigh*

Foolish: I dunno, it all seems strange, cause, just hearing from others, and y’know, learning a little bit, it seems like you’ve been… the hero, you’ve been, the villain, the conqueror, the savior, and even now I still have no idea what you exactly are.

Tommy: Well, that’s up to you to decide, isn’t it? I’m just a… I dunno, these days Foolish, I’m a little weaker than I used to be. I’m not who I want to be, but… *long sigh*

Foolish: I’m gonna be honest with you, Tommy, that’s the same case for me as well.

Tommy: Oh, really?

Foolish: Yeah, yeah yeah yeah

Tommy: Here’s the thing, Foolish, unlike you, I don’t really have a choice. I have to try and be who I want to be, ‘cause if I don’t… very bad things are going to happen on this server. And now Wilbur’s back, Foolish, I can’t… quite frankly, no one can risk that. So I don’t really have a choice. I’ll just keep on mining, I’ll and keep on pogchamping.

Foolish: You’re just gonna pog through the pain?

Tommy: I try to, and then Twitch deleted the Pog emote.

(They talk about Pogchamp and Lore Man for the rest of the stream [a very funny bit])

Ends at 3:03:23

#Dream SMP #Dream SMP Transcript #Transcript #foolish gamers #Tommyinnit #Ask to tag

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childish-ish · 3 years

Note

Yoo! *hands you subway sandwich* I absolutely loved the soulmate AU with Micheal making choices for each other. And I was wondering (if you can/want) what would it be like for Billy Lenz.

hii *fucking devours subway sandwich* thank u so much i love u <3 i would love to write for him! sorry if hes ooc :<

sorry it took so long too, i thought it said lOOMIS AND I LOOK BACK AND IT SAYS LENZ LMFAAAOOOOOOOO then i procrastinated xd its super awkward and weird, im sorry!! i tried- i was on major fucking writers block!!

bro u made me eat a bug dont talk to me

soulmate au.. makin choices fo eachother..

billy lenz x reader

also, just imagine like. a party right before christmas and they dont call the police to help them rather do it themselves, but then 1 girl calls and they're on their way at the end.. ya dig? ALSO I KNOW ITS HIS HOME BUT I DIDNT HAVE AN IDEA SO xd

"Hello?" You answer the phone politely, looking over your notes before closing the book as you wait in silence for a reply on the other line. "Hellooo?" You drag out the 'o' in hello.

"Y/n? Hey, hows'it going. Listen i have this party goin' on and I know you don't have jack-shit to do, so, why don't you come on over?"

Barb! Ah, that bitch.. should i? You thought over the pros and cons as Barb waited impatiently on the other line.

soulmate chooses: go to party.

"Yeah, I'm coming. Streets?" You ask, opening your notebook back up, flipping to a blank page as Barb told you the address. You hang up on the girl and rip the piece of paper off, holding it between your teeth as you lift yourself from your cushioned chair, grabbing your coat that hung on the back and quickly stuffed the address in the pocket of your coat.

eat bug or do not eat bug.

You furrow your eyebrows at the choices. Before choosing 'do not eat the bug'. What the fuck?

Of course you would choose not to eat the fucking bug. You weren't a dick. But your fucking soulmate was. You were totally gonna beat their fucking ass for choosing such choices.

You sigh, grabbing your coat on the way out. Your necessities jingling in your pockets of said coat. You shove your hand in, dragging out your keys, turning around to lock your door. Sighing once more, as you enter your car and start the ignition. You pull out the address. "Can't be too hard, can it?" You mutter, finally pulling out of your driveway.

"Hello!" You wiggle your fingers as a small wave at the unrecognizable woman who opened the door. "Hello." Sge greeted back softly. "Are you a friend of Barbs'?"

"You betcha!"

"Well, I'm Jess! It's a pleasure to meet you.. come on in!" Jess opened the door wider. You see a few other girls chatting lively. A glass or a beer bottle in their hands. You follow Jess.

"Y/n! You made it! Good job." Barb greeted you, immediately handing you a beer you watched her pop open. You grab it, took a gulp, and thanked her.

You spot an ant crawling on the counter by you. Jess and Barb began to argue softly. Background noise.. You debate on whether to wipe it up and eat it. You shake your heads of the thoughts to rid of the possibility of your soulmate choosing-

eat the ant.

You growl under your breath, crushing the ant under your index finger and wiping it off on your tongue. You swallow it with your spit.

Im totally beating my soulmates fucking ass.. you thought angrily, chugging the rest of your piss-tasting beer. Chug, chug, chug! You cheer yourself on.

soulmate chooses: chug.

You chuckle before downing the rest of your cheap beer. Barb hands you another wordlessly. A smirk planted on her lips as she watches you down another.

"You should really slow down, Y/n."

"Eeh come on, Jess." Barb rolled her eyes, tossing an empty bottle into the trashcan. "Her soulmate probably made her chug." Barb defends poorly.

"I suppose.. how about you chug some water?"

"Yeah.. that'd be best. I'm already feeling a fucking buzz!" You laugh, being the lightweight you were.

Soon. You had awoke in a extremely comfortable bed with a small headache.

"It's so quiet.." You mutter to yourself. Dragging your hand over your face before quickly pulling away, realising you already had acne that was beginning to sprout. You stare at the ceiling, glancing at the window. Still night-time. You turn your head to the nightstand. The lamp was on. A small glass of water.

"Awh." You smile at the thought of one of the girls leaving a cup of water for you, quietly closing the door behind them. You immediately sit up and chug the water, tossing in the two pills that lied on a small napkin right next to it. You swallow, lathering the pills up in your spit.

You stretch your arms over your head, before falling back onto the plush mattress layered in bedding. You sigh, before finally deciding that it was time to get up and see what was going on downstairs. If you were even upstairs.. you cant tell. Maybe you were downstairs? You continued your train of thought as you closed the door behind you politely. Not bothering to take the glass with you.

You continue down the stairs, hand sliding down the railing as you slowly step down each step, before noticing the sticky, yet not sticky liquid your hand laid in. "The fuck? Strawberry syrup, L-O-L." You lift it up to your lips, licking. Clearly not thinking as the taste registered.

"Pennies. Blood? Oops." You wipe your fingers off on your shirt, quickly continuing down the stairs. "Baaarrrb?!" You call out, awkwardly. "Oh. Who's the shit-face drunk lying on the floor." You step closer towards the dining area. "Barb? You fucking drunk." You snicker.

soulmate chooses: kick her.

You do so. Not like you had any choice yourself. Kicking her lightly in the stomach, you step away. "What the fuck?!" You shriek, slapping the hand that was placed in your shoulder. You turn around to face a rugged man in a dark sweater and black pants. no shoes? Yet socks on his feet.. "Who are you?!"

The person before you didn't answer before lifting up a single hand thay held a.. glass unicorn? The tip of the horn was covered in a red substance. You could only assume strawberry syrup once more.

"Murderer!" You shriek, grabbing the lamp next to you and chucked it at the offending man who barely dodged it. He screamed back in response before lunging at you; successfully tackling you to the carpet rug.

"I can't believe you, are my soulmate.. well no, i can." You place your index finger on your chin in a thoughtful manner as you stare at the ceiling. "Are you?"

"billy made you eat an ant." he snickers horridly in your ear.

As, Billy, with the biggest cock known to man, squabbled and licked the shell of your ear, muttering about pigs and boobs and pussies, you nod to yourself.

"I can just hand you over to the police, no problem." You hug yourself. "But could I, really? My soulmate. Who has killed people.. Barb. God, you fucking cunt!" You screech, rolling away from him, just to jump back on the wide-eyed motherfucker, wrapping your hands around his neck and your cunt being right over his crotch. Haha.

He gasped for air, short, uneven nails scratch at your hands.

Tables were turned, and you were back on the floor with Billy over you, screaming out profanities.

"I'm sorry, Billy." You apologize falsely. Tears streaming down to your ears, since, you were on the floor.. gravity? "You killed my friend, man. I didn't even know her that long!"

Billy leans over and licks the tears away. You flinch away, before he pulls you into his lap awkwardly, his head dipped down into the crevice of your neck and sniffed loudly before giggling to himself.

"Billy's pretty little pig. Billy's. Pretty pig. Pretty cunt. Pretty, pretty, pretty." He mutters, an odd sense of nostalgia washed over you, catching an odd scent that activated said nostalgia.

"Move bitch. Let me get fucking comfortable." You snap, pulling out of his hold and turning your body around to face him. Crotch to crotch as you wrap your legs above his own.. does this make sense? You wrap your legs around his and he crosses his legs, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you fiddle with his hair.

"Man, you are such a fucking dick. Making me do all those fucking things while i chose nice things for you.." You lay your head on his shoulder. Very much stinky, yes.

"We should dip though. Didn't one of the girls call the police while yo' dumb-fucking-ass was suffocating one?" You pull away, getting a good look at his face.

You wouldn't say he was.. handsome.. but you certainly wouldn't say he was ugly. His skin was.. a sickly pale yellow. His.. fuckimg huge brown eyes stared at you. His cracked lips were curled into a unnerving smile.

soulmate chooses: leave.

"Yeah. Let's go." You stand, offering him a hand.

Billy's blood coated calloused hand makes contact with your own. You gag, covering your lips with your free-hand. "Fucking disgusting." You mutter in disgust, enduring it for the sake of your new partner.

You shove Billy in the back of your car, slamming the door shut and sprinting to the other side, just to slip right before you put your hand on the door.

You swing it open angrily, sitting down and starting the ignition, ignoring Billy's giggles and mutters as he peers out the window like a little kid looking at snow for the first time.

break the window or tap obnoxiously.

You roll your eyes, the hint of a smile plastered onto your lips.

tap obnoxiously.

#slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasherslikebeetroot #billy lenz x y/n #billy lenz x you #billy the moaner x reader #billy the moaner #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz #black christmas 1974

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3lsmp · 3 years

Text

a 3rd life smp Grave trio au fic in which Cleo is falling and can't figure out why.

TW : derealization, unreality, time loop unreality, claustrophobia and panic attacks.

(this was supposed to be another micro fic. it is not a micro fic. it ended up at 900+ words, very nearly 1k)

"CLEO!!"

Her head snapped upwards with a soft gasp. Where had her mind been again? It.. probably didn't matter.

"Y-Yes Bdubs!"

She watched the blonde as he lazily made a far too casual pillar up to form the wall of their home - the crastle.

"Have you collected more of that cobble yet Cleo! we need it for the walls remember!!"

Cobblestone? that was right.. wait. was it? was the Crastle made of Cobblestone? Cobblestone didn't seem familiar.

She looked around her at the sturdy walls Bdubs had built. The greys of the blocks warping and slurring together. With a shaken hand she reached out to touch the structure of pale rock in front of her, an attempt to find some consistency in the blur. However, this attempt would be interrupted. Her mind fog broken by the distressed shouts of her partner, Bdubs, who had suddenly remembered his lack of any Elytra.

"CLEO! CLEO I DONT HAVE AN ELYTRA! IM- IM GONNA JUMP INTO THE WATER!"

She opened her mouth to shout her refusal of the idea, to tell Bdubs that was a horrible idea but as fast as her first word had formed Bdubs had hit the floor. His Items exploded at her feet and with it as did the floor.

Cleo suddenly found herself plummeting through a thick darkness, feeling weak and torn to shreds. Had her side always hurt that badly? she grasped at the phantom wound, staring up at where she thought she had been somehow falling from.

The image of the crastle had since disappeared however, any sense of up or down had faded out minutes ago or seconds ago? the cloudy thoughts in her mind failed to make any sense of it.

Frantic eyes shot from side to side to get bearings of any sort before slamming shut in hopes of this being any kind of dark nightmare, maybe one of those horrible ones where she died! but.. that's wrong. she didn't die in this dream.. Bdubs did.. how did that make any sense! in a sudden burst of frustration she thrust her free hand outwards in a fist only to be met with.. wood? a stiff, slightly decaying wood.. it felt... dirty almost. muddy. With this sudden jolt to her fist her eyes bolted open but.. what her eyes met wasn't what her fist had connected with.

In front of her sat Scott, Blue hair blown into a mess by the wind kicked up at the boarder. A Determined yet welcoming expression sat on his face as his lips moved. oh. oh he was talking! She tried to make out the words as best she could despite her almost dazed state.

"..-kay? Secret alliance. We'll be allies behind the sce-..."

allies. yes. Cleo had those.. Bdubs and.. and Scott of course. and .. um.. who was it with Scott again? wasn't it Grian? or.. no. Something didn't sit right with that. She looked up, meeting Scotts eye, about to ask about his partner. she needed to at least fill this one gap in her mind. But once again the world seemed to play tricks on her. She blinked, her question readied in her mind and as her eyes were met with light once again.. he was gone. everyone, actually, had vanished. Even the villagers from the village nearby had disappeared all together. She shook her head almost violently in absolute disbelief.

"No.. nono not again- Not again! Do not drop me again! What does this all mean! I don't understand what's happening!!!"

She panted, panic filling her lungs rapidly. She kneeled to the floor and grabbed at the grass with a need to feel it. To feel it be normal. The panic burned her lungs with a thick smoke. In fact.. the smoke almost smelled real. Felt real.. Her attention was suddenly torn from the grass between her grey-blue fingers. was that.. fire..? Fire. It had collapsed over the rest of the server like a scorching, destructive wave. Where had it even come from!? how had she not noticed this before it got this bad!! The flames licked at the sky with a raging orange blaze and as Cleo took a step forward to make her escape.. the pain in her side grew in strength once again.

She stared up at the dancing flames with blurring vision, the slurs and twirls of the flames becoming somewhat morbidly beautiful. As the pain in her side grew harsher and sharper she quickly felt the strength of her arms and legs weaken greatly and soon she was collapsed onto her back, squinting in pain. At some point her cries had joined the volume of the flames slowly surrounding her. With nothing left to save herself she let herself lay, in a circle of flame, a sword discarded at her side that.. hadn't been there before, she couldn't find it in herself to care though, not in that moment.

She took one final deep breath and closed her eyes, wishing, hoping, willing it that she would just wake up at home. In the crastle, in bed. That when her eyes would open again she would hear Bdubs calling her to collect resources! Or that Scar was outside with Grian bothering them again. Please oh please just let it go back to normal.

and so she blinked. The Crastle? what? the behind of the crastle?

She blinked again. Was.. that Joels house?

She blinked a Third time only to be met with the muddied wood she had felt in that moment earlier. Her breath ran from her, in a frenzied moment of unfiltered panic she screamed, slamming her fists upwards and at the rotting door and revealing an unnervingly familiar sight. and sound.

"CLEO!!"

Her head snapped upwards with a soft gasp. Where had her mind been again?

... It probably didn't matter.

#01 #fics from me #grave trio au #ENJOY THIS >:D HAVE SOME PAIN!!!!!!!!!!1 #Unlike my scar one this really doenst work outside of au context !#so to all you grave trio au enjoyers this one is for you <3 #if it wasnt clear : the fire is reference to her death to skizz - being on fire then dying by his sword. which is the sword that was-#-beside her near the end! and the wound in her side is the slash that killed her! you can see the wound exactly in that lineless art I-#-did a while ago of her :D the view of the back of the crastle was bc of her death location and ofc joels house was her falling off-#-the roof and dying! shhhh we ignore that I forgot what her other death was and that theyre out of order this is all good fun and im dumbie #SO YEAH . ENJOY THE FIC SDFHSDKNSDJ SORRY FOR THE TAG RAMB #RAMBLE*

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tickly-trashcan · 3 years

Text

Bonsai {AkiRai}

A/N: using a gif cuz im lazy BUT i needed to get my emotions out because these two have been giving me the biggest brainrot lately and I cannot stress enough just how much i love them. I BEG if you havent watched the show yet you should definitely check it out, it’s only 12 episodes but it’ll get you in the feels. anyway i’ve talked long enough, hope you guys enjoy this one!

Summary: Akihito has been put in charge of taking care of Mirai’s bonsais. He fails to properly take care of them, ruining all of Mirai’s hard work. How will she get her revenge?

Word Count: 1.6k (under the cut)

“You’re so unpleasant!” Mirai wailed, storming out of the literary clubs room. Akihito ran after her, calling her name.

“Kuriyama, I’m sorry! You know I’m not good with plants!”

Mirai had been sick for the past week and away from school, so her bonsai in the literary clubs room had been left in the care of Akihito. Akihito had been left with minimal instruction due to Mirai being the one who normally takes care of the plants being sick, Mitsuki being absolutely no help, and Hiroomi being too interested in Akihito’s underarms to assist.

So, as a result, he had over groomed, over watered, and just overall ruined Mirai’s bonsai that she had spent months taking care of and making sure were in top condition. She had also spent most of her rent money on them in the first place, and she was more than upset knowing that she would have to buy more now.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Kanbara!” She whined, tears burning in her eyes as she ran up to the rooftop, the place where she had first met Akihito…

It seemed like so long ago, when Akihito had first seen Mirai standing on the rooftop. He had predicted wrong what she was planning, but still he ran up to the bespectacled beauty to try and talk her out of it.

“Someone who looks as good in glasses as you simply must not die!” He had yelled, fists clenched in determination as he watched the strawberry-blonde turn her head.

“How unpleasant,” She had muttered dryly, jumping towards Akihito. Before he could even react, he felt something pierce his chest, and when he looked down there was a sword made of blood stabbing him.

He felt pain searing through his chest, but he still managed to will himself to speak, clenching the sword with one hand.

“Can you do something about this sword, please?” He asked, a small grin on his face.

Mirai had looked at him with a mixture of shock and horror as the immortal boy only chuckled to try and off-set the pain. Yes, that had been how they met, and slowly they had managed to become friends, and now they were something even more.

Mirai shoved open the door to the rooftop, holding it shut behind her as Akihito tried to force it open.

“Please, Kuriyama, I’m really sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise!”

“You won’t do it again because I’m never speaking to you again! Never ever ever!”

Akihito managed to push the door open and squeezed through onto the rooftop, Mirai already running away from him again. Akihito grabbed her wrist and held on as she tugged, trying to escape him as he begged for her forgiveness.

“I’ll get you new bonsai, then we can raise them together!”

“I don’t want to raise anything with you, Plant-Killer! You murdered Risa and Kenichiro!”

“You named your bonsai?!”

Mirai finally shook her wrist free of Akihito and pushed him, knocking him over. As he fell backwards he grabbed onto her again, pulling her down with him.

They fell down, Mirai on top of Akihito as she immediately sat up, staring at him angrily.

“How unpleasant!” She wailed again, her signature catchphrase having been stated many times in the literary club already. Akihito sighed, rubbing his now sore head as he was about to speak another apology to her, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a surprised yelp.

Mirai angrily dug her fingers into Akihito’s sides, scribbling around as he threw his head back, laughing loudly as she attacked him.

“K-Kuriyahahahahama! Dohohon’t! I said I was sorrehehehehe!”

“Save your apologies, Plant-Killer! They mean nothing to me!” She yelled over Akihito’s growing laughter as she now dug into his ribs, rubbing her knuckles in them in the way she knew drove him absolutely crazy.

He squirmed beneath her, squeezing his arms against his sides in an attempt to squash the sensations, but only ended up trapping Mirai’s hands in one of his more sensitive spots. He was smiling widely as laughter poured from his lips, panicked and loud.

Mirai continued to pout as she tickled poor Akihito, her anger far from vanished as Akihito cackled beneath her, squirming to try and get out of her grip. He threw his head back and shook it around, kicking his legs and digging his heels into the ground as she continued to messily scribble along his ribs, creeping up closer to his upper ribs as Akihito squeaked.

“Kuriyama! Not thehehehere!”

“You deserve it and you know it!” Mirai exclaimed indignantly, digging her hands under Akihito’s arms, making him screech unflatteringly as he squeezed his arms tighter to his sides, trying to block out the sensations but only managing to trap Mirai’s hands in his worst spot.

“StahahaHAHAHAP! Not thehehehehere, plehehehease!!”

“You’re so unpleasant!” Mirai blubbered, her voice breaking. Akihito was too busy laughing his head off to try and comfort her, but he desperately wanted to. He knew how upset she was, all he wanted to do was to tell her that he was going to make it up to her, but with her currently tickling the living hell out of him, he wasn’t able to do much.

It wasn’t like tickling was new in their relationship. Ever since Mirai had found out the other part of the reason why Hiroomi always stuck his hands under Akihito’s arms, she had always used it when she wanted to mess with Akihito.

That said, Akihito had recently discovered that Mirai was just as ticklish as he was, and it had helped him get out of certain situations with just a few pokes and an exclamation of “How unpleasant!”

With a ridiculous amount of willpower, Akihito managed to move his arms from his sides, flinching a few times as they desperately wanted to clamp back every time Mirai scribbled harder or delicately pinched the sensitive flesh. He reached up and grabbed onto Mirai’s sides, making her squeak. Still laughing, Akihito squeezed his hands, successfully making giggles pour from Mirai’s lips.

She retracted her hands from his body and used them to try and pull his hands off of her own, squealing as she turned from side to side, Akihito sitting up after catching his breath.

“Kaha - Kanbara! You’re beheheing-”

“What? Unpleasant? Well, I’m gonna keep being unpleasant until you forgive me,” He said, a small smirk on his face. He rubbed his thumbs into her hipbone, making her squeak and double over with high-pitched, girlish laughter.

“Hehehehe! Plahahahant-Killer!” She repeated, and Akihito only chuckled, making her whine.

“Dohohon’t laugh at me!” She howled, throwing her head back when Akihito started to scribble his fingers over her tummy, spidering over the sensitive torso.

“Forgive me, Kuriyama~?” He said in a whiny tone, only making Mirai giggle more at his antics. She laughed and shot her hands back at Akihito, tickling under his arms again as he choked on a laugh, crumpling forward slightly and squirming as laughter started to spill once more from his own lips.

“I’ll nehehehever forgive youuuu!” She declared, laughing brightly like a small child as Akihito laughed with her, creeping his fingers up to her lower ribs where he knew he would get a good reaction. Mirai jerked, more bubbly laughter filling the air around them as her own tickling on Akihito weakened, her upper arms now clamped to her sides, which made it difficult to tickle Akihito.

“Juhuhust say it!” Akihito laughed, and Mirai shook her head. Akihito began to knead her lower rib cage, making her positively squeal as she fell forward, leaning against Akihito as she squirmed madly, pulling her hands away from Akihito again to try and keep him from tickling her.

Akihito panted as he continued to knead her ribcage, rubbing his thumb in circles as her laughter grew in volume and pitch. She wasn’t expecting the tables to have turned as they did, but she probably shouldn’t have expected any less of the half-youmu who was currently tickling her to pieces.

“Alrihihihight! I f-forgive yohohohou!” She finally exclaimed, having had enough of the tickles on her ribs. Akihito stopped, smiling softly at her.

“H-How unpleasant,” She said quietly, and squeaked when she felt another poke at her side.

“Let’s not look at it in a negative way, now you can get some new bonsai and we can raise them together,” Akihito offered, and Mirai blushed, turning her head as she took off her glasses to clean them, a nervous habit of hers.

“It’s easy for you to look at it in a positive light, Plant-Killer,” She huffed, and Akihito sighed, though he couldn’t fight back the amused grin on his face.

“Is that my new name now?”

“Yes.”

Akihito chuckled softly, watching as Mirai put her glasses back on and adjusted them with her thumb. Akihito shyly pecked her cheek when she finished adjusting her glasses, making her face heat up as she sputtered.

“Y-Y-You! Don’t do that, meanie!” She whined, pounding her fists against Akihito’s chest as he laughed.

“Alright, I won’t,” He said, a lilt in his tone that made Mirai suspicious of him even more. “Can you get off of me though? We can go get more bonsai now if you want.”

Mirai quickly got off of Akihito, brushing herself off as he helped himself up, rubbing the back of his head again that was still somewhat sore from the previous fall. He reached his hand out to Mirai, who looked at him hesitantly. He smiled gently at her, the smile that he knew she would never be able to refuse, and she took his hand.

“Do I get to name one of the bonsai since we’re gonna be raising them together?”

“S-Stop making it sound like we’re parents! And no, they’re my bonsai so I get to name them,” Mirai huffed, and Akihito snickered.

“Our bonsai.”

#akirai #akihito #mirai #beyond the boundary #tickle fic

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

98. I’ve been hired to kill you, but you don’t seem that concerned???

Super/vigilante/mercenary au? I feel like it would be really cool if one of them has known the other’s secret identity for a while but doesn’t have anything against them. The two have also been becoming /close/ friends with mutual pining, so the hit is actually just a good excuse to reveal their identity before asking them out. Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I tried to work in as much of this as I could

Content warning for mentions of guns and mentions of death

It’s a dark and stormy night, because of course it fucking is.

Indrid steers the borrowed car down the street, rain hammering the car while his heart tries chiseling it’s way from his chest. He doesn’t want to be here, circling the block like a shark on a reef, the light from the top floor, left corner of the apartment building telling him there’s no pretending his prey isn’t home. He doesn’t want to think about the instructions he burned, the lethal object hidden in his clothes.

He doesn’t want to kill Duck Newton.

“Excuse me, but I have a rather odd question; which of these trails is the least traveled?”

The ranger looks up from the map between them, grin friendly and a little lopsided, “Lookin to do some birdwatchin or somethin?”

“I like to draw but I, ah, I also get easily overwhelmed by crowds.”

“Try this one” The man circles a trailhead, “not super popular this time of year. Watch out for mud.”

“I shall, thank you.”

He didn’t.

Which is why he’s back in the visitor center, trying to get enough of the mud off so that driving home isn’t miserable. Worse, the ranger from earlier walks in, takes one look at him, and snickers.

“I tried! Truly, I was careful, but there was this-”

“Patch of stones in the trail?”

“...Yes. How did you know?”

“Fell flat on my ass two days ago thanks to them. Wait here a sec.” The door swings shut, then opens again while Indrid is rinsing mud from his glasses. The ranger holds out a packet of body wipes, “this’ll get the worst of it.”

“Thank you ranger...Newton.”

That same smile, reaching a pair of mismatched eyes, “Just call me Duck. It’s a nickname.”

Indrid parks in a spot far from any streetlights or cameras, pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and starts towards the apartment complex.

“These are fascinating.” Indrid peers over the edge of the dock at the early blooming bulbs.

“Glad you like ‘em, thought they might be alley after you showed me those drawings of the marsh.”

He imagines Duck seeing the flowers on his rounds and thinking not of the seasons, the weather, the way their petals look near the water, but of him. It’s the sweetest thought anyone’s ever spared for him.

The lobby door opens easily, courtesy of the copy of the keycard left in his mailbox. He knows he should take the stairs; fewer people use them.

He calls the elevator.

“Duck? The sign on the door is, that’s just temporary right?”

“Nope.” Duck sets his hat on the counter, runs a hand right through the grey streak in his hair, “they’re closin the whole park until further notice, which is probably gonna be never. Laid all of us off.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Even Indrid could tell it wasn’t. That from their occasional conversations, Duck’s work was akin to his heart, kept life flowing through him on even the roughest days. The assignment had told him not to worry, that he was almost doing his target a favor, ending a life he wanted over anyway.

Indrid knocks on the door, tossing his options about in his mind as slow footsteps approach. He could do what he was sent here for. Or he could offer Duck Newton something to brighten his days.

The door opens, Duck standing there in boxers, a plain white t-shirt, and a confused expression.

“Indrid? Jesus, come in, you're fuckin soaked. This is some storm.”

“At least it will help with the drought.” Indrid closes the door, slips off his shoes, lets Duck take his sweatshirt to hang near the heater, angling his body so he won’t see or feel the handgun tucked in his waistband.

“Yeah. Assumin it don’t just mudslide all the hills that lost their cover durin fire season.” Duck sighs, plops down on the couch, “sorry, ain’t exactly in a chipper mood.”

“That’s sort of why I came to see you. I, ah, I wanted to see how you were getting on after the park closing.”

Duck gestures to the messy apartment, then at himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you got enough money to reopen the park indefinitely.”

He chuckles, “I wish I did.” He picks up a small, wooden ship, “goodness, did you make this?”

“Yep. Know it’s an old man hobby but, uh, I dunno. I just like makin stuff. Putting things into the world, even if it’s just a model ship on the shelf or a mint plant on the windowsill.” His smile is tired, but there’s a determination to it that makes up Indrid’s mind for him. He’s about to make his offer when Duck adds, “mind grabbin me some water since you’re closer to the kitchen? Cups are in the middle cabinet.”

“Of course.” Indrid crosses into the small kitchen, mind wandering to what their first date will entail as he sets his hands on two glasses.

The cold metal at the base of his neck hurtles him back to earth.

“Someone set you up, slim.”

“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Duck’s hand goes instantly to Indrid’s gun, pulling it free and tossing it away before roughly patting him up and down. The barrel on his skin never wavers.

“Duck, please, I, I can explain.”

“No need to. Thought you seemed familiar, went diggin and found out who you work for. Bet you thought I hadn’t seen your nine mil, but I ain’t lived this long by bein careless.”

“I don’t understand. The file they gave me didn’t say anything about this.”

A bitter chuckle, “Wasn’t always a ranger, slim. The fact they didn’t tell you that makes me think they’re hopin I off you, not the other way around.”

“But, but I didn’t do anything.” The crack in his voice is why he was never cut out for this, he told them that, over and over again.

“And you ain’t gonna.”

“Duck please I, I wasn’t going to do what they told me.”

“If your bosses are who I think, then helpin me would be a goddamn death wish on your part.”

“It would have been worth it. One date with you would have been worth whatever they did to me if they caught me after I ran.”

“That’s mighty funny” the barrel disappears, and the ghost of a kiss takes it’s place, “I was busy weighing whether askin you out was worth the risk of gettin shot.”

Duck sets the Glock on the counter as Indrid slumps against it, turning to find the ranger watching him carefully.

“What do we do now?” He sort of wants him to kiss him, sort of wants to storm out and find whoever thought he could be gotten rid of so easily.

“I say we-” Duck freezes as three, sharp knocks come from the door. He crouches to the floor, Indrid following him. The ranger grabs Indrid’s gun from the floor, whispers, “stay put, follow my lead.” Then he calls, “who is it?”

“I have a package for you to sign for, Mr. Newton.”

“Be right there. Actually” he lowers his voice slightly, “uh, Indrid, you’re right by the door, could you-”

The shot breaks the wood right where Indrid’s head would be. Duck fires two shots, both of them sighing when there’s a tell-tale thump of body meeting carpet.

“Glad yours had the silencer. Buys us some time, but someone is bound to come outta their apartment eventually and find the fucker.”

“Our hitmen also have to report completion within a certain time frame or back-up is sent. And no, I can’t do it for him, it has to be voice contact.” Indrid stands, calmer than a moment ago; this part he knows.

“Good to know. In that case, slim,” he raises an eyebrow, “think it’s time you and I take a vacation.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

“You really got no clue what they’re after you for?” Duck winds them along highway 50 as the sun peers anxiously over the horizon.

“None.” Indrid fishes out the roll of mini doughnuts he bought near Donner Lake, the first place Duck had deemed safe to stop since they left the coast. They’re in his car, Indrid knowing full well the one he borrowed has a tracking device installed, “I’m mostly a numbers man; they give me scenarios and I give them likely outcomes. I, ah, I also helped with clean up, but I suspect they did that when they were annoyed I’d given them what they thought was an inaccurate prediction. I don’t like the aftermath of disasters, even if they’re small. And I was never, ever assigned a hit until last night” He worries a hangnail, “I thought they were satisfied with my work. Even if they weren’t, they could easily do away with me. There was no point in sending me on a fake mission and hoping you’d kill me instead.”

“Unless they got something against me too, which they could.” Duck drums on the wheel, “I, uh, I joined a, uh, guess you’d call ‘em a vigilante group when I was younger. I was eighteen and they recruited me, sayin how there were certain folks who were chosen to protect the world from evil. I avoided it for a few years, but they were persistent, and honestly I thought I could make a difference. That we were just protectin folks who the system didn’t. And we did. Kinda.”

Indrid offers him a doughnut, which he takes and chews before continuing

“Trouble was, not everyone agreed on who needed protectin. It got so convoluted and so goddamn dangerous that I decided I wanted out. Wanted to spend the rest of my life makin things grow, lookin out for the woods, that kinda thing. It almost worked. But if I could go back in time to talk to that kid, I’d tell ‘im there are enemies you can’t unmake, things you can’t undo.”

“Very true.” Indrid murmurs, “I suppose I’d tell myself I did not blame him for throwing in with who he had to in order to survive.”

“Pretty sure that’s what you’re doin’ now, too.”

“No.” Indrid shakes his head, “right now I am on the run with someone I like a great deal.”

Duck flashes him a smile, flips the blinker to turn them into the only sign of civilization for miles; a cluster of buildings calling itself Cold Springs Station. The groggy teen at the counter gives them the key to a cramped cabin.

Indrid tosses his bag--the one he hid in the trunk of the borrowed car, knowing the likely outcome of his visit would involve flight of some kind--down on the right side of the bed, Duck doing the same on the left. It’s only when they’re under the covers, both half-asleep, that he notices he forgot something.

“Drat. I meant to stick something plush in my bag. I, ah” he blushes, “I sleep much better with something to cuddle.”

A strong arm drapes over his waist while Duck tucks his head under Indrid’s head, “how’s that?”

Indrid winds his limbs around him, feeling like a little kid who’s just had his favorite teddy bear returned to him after hours of tearful searching, “perfect.”

------------------------------------------------------

The plan is to weave through the Southwest like a drunk bee before turning North; they need to put off visiting any places with friends or family for as long as they can. They spent a morning on the floor of a run down motel with a map and some pens, marking off the safest routes and places they’d like to visit. Duck picks state parks, Indrid any place likely to have lots of sweet food.

Whenever they stop for the night, they never bother asking for two beds. While they’ve yet to go further, Indrid delights in waking Duck with a kiss on the cheek each morning.

On the Nevada border Indrid spends two hours playing Blackjack, counting cards enough to win several thousand dollars but not enough to get caught. In a pizza place outside of Salt Lake, Duck wins Indrid a stuffed mothman from a claw machine (“just in case you gotta sleep alone some time”).

And fifty miles from Alamogordo, they get into trouble.

Indrid carries his weapon near constantly, but he really didn’t think he needed it at the Motel 6 Breakfast Buffet. When the man waiting for the waffle maker next to him says “outside, Cold, let’s get this over with” he goes still, wishing they’d at least given him time to eat.

Then he hurls his scalding mocha into the man’s face, striking him in the ribs and breaking his nose before he even hits the floor. Orange and red liquid splashes his face, two shots hitting the juice dispenser behind him. The other two assassins don’t get a second chance to fire; Duck takes out one with a chair, jabs the other with the splintered leg, and gathers both their guns with an ease that Indrid admires.

As they’re sprinting for the parking lot, Indrid slapping an extra two hundred dollars on the lobby desk in apology, he realizes admiration doesn’t quite capture his feelings. Duck is so calm in the face of danger, so commanding, and so very, very...hot.

The moment he allows himself that thought is the moment he dooms his focus for the remainder of the day. He contributes to the planning of their next stop, to driving and watching the mirror for cars that follow for too long, but his mind is back in the dining room, hoping Duck will turn the fire in his eyes onto Indrid, bend him over the beige table and take him while the people who tried to hurt them whimper and bleed on the floor.

“‘Drid? I’m gonna go shower, didn’t get a chance this mornin. You wanna scope out dinner?”

“Of course, but I fear it might be the vending machine special again.”

“Eh, I can live with that, especially if they got those Oreo packets.” Duck blows him a kiss and shuts the bathroom door.

Duck’s showers are between five and six minutes in length; Indrid’s certain he can get himself off in that time. He slips his pajama pants down, spits in his hand, and pretends the fingers pressing on his neck are not his own. That Duck’s voice is in his ear the same way it was that first night, low and so firm Indrid has no choice but to bend.

“You droppin hints, slim?” Duck leans in the bathroom doorway, towel around his waist.

He bolts upright, pants tangled around his knees, “Nono, I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you were going to be a few minutes more.”

“Wanted to shave and forgot my dop kit. Now I’m kinda disappointed that I was gonna miss the show.”

“I, ah, I, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Thought we established we were into each other.” Duck’s smile falters, “wait, fuck, if you decided you ain’t I’ll back the fuck off.”

“No!” Indrid crawls to the edge of the bed nearest Duck, not caring how silly he must look, “it’s the opposite, I want you even more now than I did when we started this trip. After this morning I--ah, never mind. The point is, I would very much like to get you into bed sooner rather than later.”

“How about now?”

“Only if you…” Indrid’s brain screeches to a stop as Duck drops his towel. Now he understands where the urge to create phallic sculptures comes from; he wants to preserve this sight for all time.

“Glad you approve.” Duck chuckles, joins him on the bed, “gotta say the, uh, feelin’s mutual.” He slides a hand along Indrid’s dick, gone soft from his alarm, and lets out an approving groan as it hardens against his palm, “that’s it, sugar, get excited for me.”

“If I get any more excited I will explode.”

“Can’t have that, it’s a pain to clean blood off of walls by yourself” a kiss finds his cheek, “you got a preference for how we do this?”

“I, I’d like to, ah, receive. At least for tonight. Is that alright?”

“Hell yeah.” Duck growls, abandoning him on the bed and laughing when he whines, “gimme two seconds, slim, then I’ll take care of you.” Two condoms and a small bottle of lube bonk into Indrid’s foot, “packed those just in case. You’re gonna get one of ‘em out and open yourself up for me while tellin me just what got you so riled up. Shirt off, c’mon, get to it.”

The gruff tone means Indrid is blushing on every inch of skin by the time he’s fully naked. As Duck’s gaze moves over him, all traces of dominance wash away, leaving expression tender when their eyes finally meet.

“Christ, ‘Drid, you look better than ever coulda pictured. Shoulda been bookin more places with pools just to get you shirtless.”

“It’s January, dear.”

“Hot tubs, then.” Duck nudges him onto his back by kissing his shoulder, and the sight of the ranger above him reminds Indrid’s fingers what they should be doing. He fumbles the condom open, gasps when one digit feels like a massive intrusion.

“Easy slim, easy, you’re probably still tense from this mornin.”

“I thought that much was obvious.” Indrid grins as Duck bends to kiss his collarbone.

“It is, so start tellin me what got you so horny you jerked off the first free second you had.”

“It’s a, a bit embarrassing OH, ohthat'snice” he sighs as Duck kisses a slow trail towards his hips, “but I find the moments when you demonstrate a certain...ruthlessness in-incredibly arousing.” He wiggles his hips happily as Duck drags his lips across his belly.

“Keep goin.”

“You’re brave, and calm even when things are awful, and that makes me feel so very safe with you. But then there are those times when I remember how dangerous you could be, AHnnn” the second finger goes in easier than the first, “that when it, it comes down to it you are more seasoned in lethal matters than I am and I, you could render me utterly helpless, have me, use me, hurt me, but instead you offer me more tenderness than I deserve.” He glances down to where Duck’s chin rests on his chest, the ranger’s eyes overflowing with affection.

“You want the gentle me or the rough one tonight?” Duck tucks a strand of Indrid’s silver hair behind his ear.

“Rough.” It’s so quiet he’s amazed Duck hears it.

“Okay. In that case-”

“AHgod!” Indrid’s hand is pulled free as Duck first flips him over and then hauls him onto his knees.

“Hands on the wall. Now.”

Indrid sets his palms on peeling grey paint as foil crinkles behind him. When the head of Duck’s cock rubs his entrance he whimpers, hoping the prep was enough.

“Here’s how this is gonna go; I’m gonna use this cute little ass however long and however hard I want, and you;re gonna keep your hands there the whole fuckin time. You move, or you mouth off, and I shove some fingers in along with my dick just to remind you who’s boss.”

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid rests his forehead on the wall.

“It gets to be too much, say stop.” A kiss to his neck, “much as I wanna ruin you, wanna be good to you even more.”

“Understood. Now please, please fuck meEEEh, ohgoodnessAH, ahhhgod.” He scratches the wall as Duck stretches him open, the prep proving enough but only just and tears pricking his eyes by the time Duck bottoms out.

One hand stays on his hip while Duck’s right arm wraps around his chest, keeping them close, “Fuuuck, now I see what your job was; ass this nice, you were the fuckin cocksleeve for the entire Organization, weren’t you?”

“Not at all” Indrid rolls his hips at the taunt in Duck’s voice, “I was a very valuable asset.”

“Yeah, I’ll say you’re an asset.” A sharp thrust, the menace of which is broken by Duck giggling at his own joke, Indrid hiding his face in his arm to do the same.

“I say in, ahgod, an office all day, no one saw me, I was not h-hired for my looks, I promise you.”

“If you say so. I say it’s their. Fuckin. Loss.” Three thrusts and Indrid’s cock is dripping onto the pillows, and he moans as Duck settles into a demanding rhythm.

“Got another theory for you, slim.”

“D-do tell.” Whether the stammering is from his teeth clacking together or his thoughts being bounced around his brain from the force of Duck pounding into him, he can’t say.

“I think you stuck around as long as you did because you get off on it danger.”

Indrid sucks in a breath, whimpers, “No. I, I was there because I was apprenticed out and, as you knowOH it’s, it’s hard to leave such places.”

Fingers on his throat, pressing but not squeezing, “Liar. Bet you got off at least once a day, let everyone from the hired hits to higher ups cum in you as long as they made you think they could off someone. Oh fuck, heh, you like that?” Duck smirks as Indrid tries to fuck himself in time with the pumps of his hips.

“Yes, goodness, I’d never want it, only want you, but, but the idea is divine.”

“Too bad, because now you’re all mine and anyone who tries to take you is gonna be in for a world of hurt.”

His climax curls in his stomach, begging him to touch himself and free it, but he’s determined to be good.

“Duck, please let me cum, please, it’s so good but I can’t-”

“I’ll help you out sugar, don’t worry. But you gotta do one thing first.” Duck nips his ear, “say you’re my personal toy from now on. C’mon” the fingers on his throat tighten, “say i-”

“I’m yours, I’m your toy, only you can have me, you can do whatever you wish to me and I’ll take it with a smile, anything, sweetheart, please, pleasepleasepleaseAHhhhn.” His cum splatters on the wall, Duck’s hand leaving his dick the instant it does to dig his fingers into both hips and fuck up into him with ecstatic groans.

“That’s it sugar, take it, be good for me and lemme fuck you until you can’t move, ohfuck, fuck, ‘Drid, yes, fuckyes.” He holds him tight as he cums, breath warm against his back. Then he’s pulling out and slumping forward as Indrid falls back into his arms.

“Ooops” he snickers, spotting the cum, “still easier to clean than blood.”

“Indeed.” Indrid bites his lip, “I, that was wonderful but there’s one thing more I would like. Will you kiss me.” He looks over his shoulder to say it. Duck cups his face, turns it so he can bring their lips together. It’s far slower and twice as tender as anything else they’ve done together.

“Can’t believe I forgot to do that until now. Gonna kiss you silly.” Duck kisses him again as Indrid turns in his lap. When he pulls back, his face is serious, “Y’know, it’s easy to be brave and calm when I’m doin’ it for you. You make me feel like I can face any goddamn thing, long as it’s for your sake. That make sense?”

Indrid studies his face in the half-shaded light from the bedside lamp, sees the curves and colors, sees the man he was willing to run away for.

“Yes, sweetheart, it does.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #meet ugly #hitman au #I guess?#assassin au

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hannie-dul-set · 4 years

Text

the air was cold, kissing goosebumps onto the bareness of your skin as you walked through the doors of the hotel's entrance.

eight-thirty-one. you took a glimpse at your phone. it had been thirty one minutes since your last text to jaehyun, saying that your shift was over and you were about to get ready, and you hoped that he hadn't been waiting for you for too long.

a silver clutch in hand, you passed by the front desk, sending the receptionist a smile before finding your way towards the elevator. you weren't exactly paying the utmost attention to the interiors of the lobby, but even with a single glance, you would already be able to tell the luxury that the place withheld.

it was quiet inside, nothing but the hollow sounds of your clacking heels were to be heard.

honestly speaking, the nerves from yesterday never left the traces of your veins— and once you found yourself in front of the reflective doors of the elevator, you felt your heart thrumming even harder against your ears. pressing your lips together as you took in a long breath, your fingers grazed the cold, metal buttons of the control panel. and before you could input the numbers of the highest floor, you heard the sounds of chattering, and a couple of heeled shoes clattering against the tiled hotel floors coming towards you.

"i swear, my feet are gonna kill me."

"lira, you have no one to blame besides yourself for being short."

"the both of you shut up— did you see how good jaehyun looked tonight?"

after hearing the exchange, you quickly pressed open the elevator and shuffled your feet inside, only to have them enter as well. they didn't seem to mind your presence— scratch that, they were flat out ignoring you, talking amongst themselves as their voices echoed inside the confined walls. you didn't mind, keeping to yourself as you escalated through the floors.

it wasn't your business to listen to them, and you tried your best to just let their conversation pass through your head. but when you heard the mention of a certain name, you couldn't help your ears from perking up.

"as if you'd get a bite of him now that seonha is back."

that's right. you thought. is jaehyun doing okay?

"does that bitch think she owns him, or something?" one of them scoffed. "she's been clinging onto him since she got here."

you fiddled with your phone in your hands, biting down your lip as you pondered on texting your boyfriend to check up on him, but you decided against it since you were almost there, anyways. he was probably busy handling the guests— you didn't want to disturb him.

with an accompanied ding! the doors opened, along with the trickling release of your breath.

you exited the elevator after the three other girls, seeing nothing but an empty hall and an attendant situated in front of two large doors that lead to where the event was taking place. the muffled sounds of music slipped past the cracks of the dark wooden entrance, and once opened, it got clearer, louder, until it was all you could hear.

the first thing you noticed when you got inside was gold.

schools of tiny, golden specs swirling against the dark blue tint of the ceiling and walls of the area, like make believe stars swimming inside a vast ocean. it was mesmerizing, honestly. but before you can get any more sidetracked from your agenda, you decided to look for the reason why you're here in the first place—

jaehyun.

considering the mass of people inside, you might think it would have been difficult to find him, yet it only took you one glance at the heightened stage at the far front and you already found your heart smiling at the sight of him. there were a few other people with him, of which he was conversing with, but their faces were blurred as your eyes trained on him and him only.

the girl who said that he looked good tonight— whatever her name is—was absolutely right.

you were about to march up to him, a blinding grin on your face, until a stray conversation found its way into your senses and your head snapped towards the direction from where it came from.

"they look good together, don't they?"

"who?"

"jung jaehyun and im seonha."

at the mention of their names, your gaze diverted back to the stage in front, noticing the very pretty girl beside jaehyun— clinging onto his arm as if he were her life support.

"aren't they dating?"

"who knows, but i wouldn't be surprised if they were."

there was a faint stinging in your chest as their stringed words seeped into you, squeezing your throat until you could barely even squeak out a sliver of breath. you tried your best to block them out— you really did— but as the murmurs continued, flooding into you like ceaseless surges of water, you found yourself drowning.

"with the status and looks such as theirs, you would think that they were made for each other."

"it's a bit envious, isn't it?"

you weren't supposed to be feeling like this. jaehyun told you that he didn't care about seonha, that his actions were only for keeping up appearances. he told you not to think of anything about what people might say, telling you that none of that matters. he told you time and time again that he loves you, for fuck's sake.

jaehyun loves you.

but why did it hurt so much?

"y/n, you're here!"

a voice broke through the tides, causing you to jump in surprise. quickly, you blinked away the tears that threatened to spill, and took in a deep breath of air.

"ah, mark!" you smiled at him, and he quickly found himself in front of you, burying you in a sudden tight hug which caught you off guard, but you squeezed back nonetheless. his act brought you warmth, and frankly you needed it after being exposed for too long by the nipping cold of the venue.

the both of you broke away, and you couldn't help but laugh at the excited grin on his face after seeing you. "did you just arrive?"

"oh yeah," you answered. "i arrived not too long ago."

"jaehyun hyung is up front. want me to call him for you?"

"no, no it's okay! i'll go to him myself," mark hummed at your assurance. he was about to say something else, until a loud voice started calling for him from afar, and you raised a brow at him.

he only groaned, a subtle pout on his lips after hearing that. "fuck— sorry, y/n, but i have to go. have fun with jaehyun hyung!"

that was the last thing he said before disappearing into the dark blue ocean once more, your smile leaving as he did. again, your gaze turned to jaehyun and seonha. he looked happy, that much you can tell from the faraway distance, and you couldn't help but think that—

they do look good together.

before you can do anything or think of anything else, you could see jaehyun excusing himself from the group he was talking to, dropping out of your sight. immediately after, you felt a buzzing from your phone, and you promptly opened it to check.

oh.

you wouldn't lie, you felt your heart flutter when you saw that. it tugged at your cheeks— causing you to smile to yourself as you stared down into your phone. but that was immediately cut short as the previous waters that were washing over you had tried to sink you in its depths once again.

"ah, the director left only for a moment, but it seems like seonha had missed him already."

"it must be nice to be young and in love."

the hold you had on your phone tightened along with your chest. you stared at his message— one, three, seconds passed. the exit was behind you, and he didn't know you were here yet, so it would be fine. it took a moment, but you managed to fumble out your typed response.

and just like that, the ocean was no longer.

gold painted canvas

the classic rich boy and poor girl love story but with less prejudice and more happiness

35 // an ocean

a/n: uwu

feel free to yell at me in the comments/in your tags/in my inbox HHAHAHA im terrified of the ocean but watch me make a million analogies with it

masterlist | next >>

taglist:

@joshva @salty-for-suga @starlightshua @itsjynop @riverdale-kpop @lokideadontheinside @aborivin @catallergieswillnotstopme @kingalls00 @hannahdinse8 @irrelevxntstxr @junglewoos @stopitvpls @lynniac @neolights @shailaaa @elmuchohottie @bat-shark-repellant @hufflepanda221b @svteez @sehunniepot @imyourmuse @shyshybabyy @crtznstuff @rosiethefairy @junghoe

unable to tag:

@jaehyunsgoodthing @neocultech-baby

#jung jaehyun #nct #jung jaehyun x reader #nct x reader #jung jaehyun social media au #nct social media au #jung jaehyun texts #nct texts #jung jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios

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marveloussupernerd · 3 years

Note

im going to come thru and request one of your holiday prompts!! please do jumin saying number twelve 💀💀 but like it’s the penthouse

Christmas Lights and Bruises - Jumin Han

This is from my Christmas prompt list , requests are currently open so feel free to request :)

Prompt: “I fell off the roof putting up Christmas lights”

Summary: Jumin really wanted you to have the best Christmas ever. If that meant he got a few bruises along the way... well... that was okay by him

FIRST OF ALL after a Google search: a fall from over 50 ft will almost def kill u and Jumin lives on the eighth floor at least (80 ft up min) so he would die. I’m not trying to kill him SO we’re just gonna say that the penthouse ceilings are high and he had to use a ladder to line the ceiling w lights

ANYWAYS ty for requesting bb I love you and literally everyone has requested seven for these prompts but you ? Just saying this is like everyone else erasure (no h8 to those requested seven tho :))

You were going to go for a nice day out while Jumin finished up some work at the home office. He didn’t have too too much, but he still sent you to the hairdressers because you were in need of a cut, and he wanted to get your nails done too while you were at it. You opted for the cut first.

Christmas was only in a few more weeks; you were so excited! This was your first Christmas with Jumin by your side (more notably as your HUSBAND by your side), so you wanted to make it special. The past few Christmases had been meh for you so you really wanted to make this one fun. You had already ordered his present and it was on its way. Soon you wanted to put the tree up too!

You hadn’t opted to get too too much off for your haircut, a little over an inch (2.5 cm) or so, but you were still excited to have it look all nice and fancy. Plus the hairdresser was always soothing. After she had washed your hair you made you way over to the seat to start the cut.

Not even half your head cut later and you were getting a phone call from one of the building’s security guards. He knew where you were at the moment so you figured it was important. You asked your hairstylist to wait a moment then picked up the call. “This is Mrs. Han.”

“I’m so glad I got a hold of you. Uh, your husband has had a fall...”

“A fall? Is he okay?” Your hairdresser raised her eyebrow.

“He refuses to lay down and rest. I swear I heard something crack so I called the doctor...” he sounded concerned.

“Alright. I’m on my way.” You took off the cape and stood up, hair still wet and half-cut. “I’ve got to go. Can we finish this later?”

With all the money she was getting paid? Of course she wouldn’t say no. She nodded and wished you the best. You flung on your heavy coat and headed out.

“Would you like me to send Driver Kim?” The guard asked.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m only a few blocks away. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You hightailed it to the penthouse. How did he fall!? He was supposed to be working. Your face was cold; it was below freezing out and your wet hair certainly wasn’t helping. Maybe you should have brought a scarf.

You rushed into the building, heading up to the penthouse floor and to the front door. The security guards were waiting for you. “Mrs Han.” They greeted you, standing at attention.

“Is he okay? Where is he?” You questioned.

“He’s likely at his desk right now, Ma’am. The doctor should be here in about 15 minutes.”

You rushed through the door, not bothering to take off your coat (you were cold enough already granted) and rushed to the office, knocking before opening the door immediately.

Jumin was at his desk, typing away at his computer. He looked up to you and smiled, then winced. “You’re home early.”

“Jumin!” You rushed by his side, kneeling next to him. “Are you okay? You had me worried.”

“Oh,” he waved his hand to disregard what had happened. “You heard about that. I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to be strong around me,” you cupped his cheek in your hands. “Won’t you lay down until the doctor gets here?”

He sighed. “I suppose if you’d like me to.”

You grabbed his arm as he stood up, carefully guiding him to bed. “Would you care to tell me how you fell?”

“Well... I might as well since you’re about to find out anyways. I... fell off the roof putting up Christmas lights.” He sounded dejected. You helped sit him down gently in bed.

“The roof!? Jumin we’re on like the eighth floor!?” You were shouting. You were just so shocked.

“Oh... not the roof. The... ceiling? I tried to line the ceiling with Christmas lights for you in the living room. But... I fell off the ladder.” You pulled the blanket over him.

“Oh Baby,” you stroked some of the hair out of his face. “You didn’t have to put those up. We can pay someone to put those up.”

“But... I know how much you love Christmas and I wanted to make it extra special for you.”

“I know. I bet it looks great,” you kissed his cheek.

“Not really... the lights are hanging around only half lit up.

“Well I’m proud of you anyway. Now where does it hurt?”

He looked kind of uneasy, as though he still didn’t want you to know how much it hurt. He had a tight frown on his face. “My... chest. I don’t know. Right here?” He pointed under his chest. Men were never very good at injuries, huh.

“Your ribs? We’ll have the doctor check them out. You might have a concussion too if you hit your head.” You gently pressed a kiss to his lips. “You’re so sweet. But please, let me help next time. You had me worried sick.” Your eyes were glossy. What a stupid thing to cry over. But you were quite upset. What if he had gotten severely hurt? What if he had actually tried to do this outside?

“Okay. But I’m okay, alright?” He reached forward slightly to unbutton your winter coat, pushing it off your shoulders. “Oh my,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh my what?” Your voice was just as soft to match his.

“Your hair... has looked better. I thought I had paid to have it done.” His hand reached out to touch your hair, a crunching sound being made as soon as he touched it.

“Oh, it probably froze. I, uh, left as soon as I heard. She only had time to cut half of it. But, I’ll get it done later! So long as you’re okay. You know, I can actually just have them come here so I can stay with you if you-“

“Honey,” he cut you off. You looked back at him. He had a warm smile on his face. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I’ll make you some tea while we wait for the doctor. He should be here any minute though.” You stood from your spot, but Jumin caught your wrist before you could leave.

“Stay here with me. Call the Chef to make tea or something. I just... want you here for now.” His eyes looked sleepy. How could you refuse? You sat down on the side of the bed, shifting so you could stroke his hair. He shut his eyes as you waited.

The doctor said he had bruised a rib. He probably also had a minor concussion and should rest as much as possible and avoid stressful work. He clearly didn’t know Jumin. Still, you’d try your best to keep him resting for the next few days. He lived and worked in such a fast-paced environment that the doctor worried any work could set him off and make his conditions worse.

“Watch Christmas movies with me?” You asked, after the doctor had left. You had put your hair up so that you didn’t have to look at it, half-cut, every time you passed a mirror. If the hairdresser didn’t get here soon you’d cut it yourself. It was that annoying. Still, for the sake of Jumin, you tried to ignore it.

“I haven’t seen very many,” he commented, eyes locked on you as you climbed into bed, pajamas and fuzzy socks on. “Christmas movies.”

“For real!?” You took the remote from the bedside table and climbed under the blankets, scooting closer to your husband. He was on his back, head propped up by pillows. He wanted to switch to his side but you wouldn’t let him. It would hurt!

He pulled you closer by the waist until your head was resting on his shoulder. “For real. I’ve only seen... hm... A Christmas Carol. It’s A Wonderful Life...”

“That’s all!?” You moved yourself off his shoulder to look at him in disbelief.

“And Rudolph.”

“That’s still all!? We have so many to watch.”

“But my work-“

“Nope. I’ll arrange for someone else to do it. We have to watch Elf. And The Santa Clause. And Frosty the Snowman. And The Polar Express! And.. so many more!” You snuggled back next to him, using the remote to pull up the first Christmas movie of the night.

He sighed, rolling his eyes playfully.

“I cannot believe you rolled your eyes!” You teased. “What have you done for 27 years without me!? Without these movies!?” He flinched. “Oh! I’m sorry,” you pushed away from him slightly. “I hadn’t realized I was hurting you.”

“No, come back.” He was POUTING. Pouting. You had never seen him pout like that. You didn’t move though. “I don’t mind it.”

You huffed at him.

“Okay.” He scooted closer to you. “If you get on the other side we can cuddle and it won’t hurt. Because it’s my good side. How about that?”

You climbed over him, sitting on his other side, resting your head on his shoulder. “Better?”

“Better,” he sighed. He grabbed your hand in his. “Now start the movie. It seems I have a lot to catch up on!”

With all the movies and excitement and you, how could he possibly go back to work?

Bye writing for Jumin is my element I was so happy writing this. Ik I write for him a lot and if I write for any character too much it’s like blah. But he rlly is my favorite character :) I love him

#mystic messenger #mysme #Jumin han #Christmas

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thepictureofsdr · 2 years

Note

If someone sends a long ask/an ask and you don’t answer them are there usually specific reasons?

This isn’t about any particular ask I just get worried when I send long asks, or asks about characters that accounts don’t talk about much in case I’m bothering them

Is there a general rule that if you haven’t answered an ask in _____ you probably won’t? I know after I send asks I usually spend the next 4-5 days anxious as to whether someone will respond or if I’ve annoyed them (because I really care about the things I send but I obviously don’t want to bother anybody!!)

Again, feel free to ignore this message if it is annoying or anything and if it is I’m sorry I hope this doesn’t come off as rude because that’s not my intention at all

anon we are CONNECTED i saw this literally because i opened my phone to explain this WE ARE CONNECTED OUR MINDS ARE ONE YOU READ ME

yes!!! i actually wanted to apologize to anyone who’s sent me a longer ask for how long it takes me to respond sometimes, i have a few in my inbox rn. im a freshman in college and it’s taking some adjustment, and im mentally worn out more often than not.

but i really genuinely do love getting longer or more complicated asks, im honestly honoured that people choose ME of all people to share thoughts with. but because of that, i refuse to answer anything unless i can give a genuine thought out response from my undivided attention, i don’t want to half ass a response and treat someone’s thoughts like they mean nothing and deserve only a few words.

i used to answer asks whenever i got them but now i tend to mass answer them on days im feeling energetic and mentally present if that makes any sense, i want to give each sentence the attention it deserves and answer it with the respect it warrants. i remember how happy i was when people started reading my posts and interacting, i’d never want to treat longer asks like they don’t mean anything, bc your thoughts and opinions are so wonderful and i really do value them. a common phrase for me is “anon i’m sorry if you didn’t want an essay” bc i tend to respond with a lot of thoughts if the ask warrants it

there are some asks i don’t answer, like ask games that i accidentally left for a week and the og post is buried and everyone’s forgotten it (IM SORRY 😭) but if it’s anything to do with thoughts on the books or a question or something engaging, i WILL get to it i swear i’m not ignoring anyone. it’s just some asks i can answer quickly with opinions i have straight off the bat or simple info i don’t have think about, but if i haven’t responded it means i’m gonna properly read through and think

i’ll take literally anything, it doesn’t matter if it’s long or about a character i don’t always talk about, no one should ever underestimate the value of interpretation or opinions (unless it’s bigoted then we mass block) and if someone just gets annoyed y’all deserve better. no ones a bother to me, if anything i’m the bother for not responding fast enough lmao m

am i taking tumblr asks way too seriously??? probably. but also i was that kid in honours english who didn’t shut up and wanted to talk about all kinds of theories and weird analysis and i know how important these thoughts can be SO I WILL BE TREATING EVERY LONG ASK WITH THE SNOBBY AIR OF ACADEMIA WE ARE ALL PROFESSORS HYPER ANALYZING THESE BOOKS AND I AM ENCOURAGING IT

tldr i love you all i’m just annoying and tired and i’m gonna read your long asks like a fucking professor bc yall have interesting thoughts 🤝

also if there are any reoccurring long askers, yall should start identifying yourselves if you want to! i remember seeing someone have conversations with their “egg anon” it’s funny

#tysm for the ask!!! <3 #answered ask

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 3 years

Text

y’know the wildest thing still to happen to me on this hellsite was my first experience of sexting, sans nudes, that was done in front of at least 250-500 followers because of those horny anons i had in early 2013 when i was 17. instead of being exposed to it on my phone privately with a partner at that age, it was done publicly for the internet to see lmao. i remember begging the anons to stop and “come off anon” because i was “losing followers” at the time too bc i was so insecure about my follower count lmao. and then yeah when they came off anon they were both 28 years old.

to write the responses, i just consulted cosmo mag sex pages for ideas hoping that the anons would like the options i chose. in one i detailed doing anal- a sex act i hadn’t even done yet irl- let alone every other thing i suggested in them (head, idek long, drawn out foreplay, some stupid fancy sex moves that cosmo was all like “use these moves to spice up your sex life 🔥🔥”, sex in a bath, i’m pretty sure i had some lines about tying or handcuffing them to a bed (????) etc etc etc)….

when again, i had never even done any of those above sex acts in real life. i was a naive teen who was incredibly shy in regards towards her love life because she’d “never been kissed” and had never had the “hot emo boyfriend whose in a band and is covered in tattoos” she’d always wanted, let alone even a boyfriend that she had actually fucking liked (ie clear braces boy, for like a month in year 9/2010 vs the popular boys that made fun of her, that she always had unrequited crushes on)…. hell, my blog title when i first started on here in 2011 was “the perfect epitome of being forever alone” because of these very reasons. but here she was, writing explicit sex acts to strangers like she knew what the fuck she was doing, to an audience of 250-500 people- and then to fucking grown ass men in inboxes. i was just parroting the shit i’d read in cosmo (both sex advice and sometimes excerpts of erotica/“sexy, steamy reads” they had some months) and also heard repeatedly in the porn that my high school stalker/creeper at public school loved to show (harass) me with to flirt with me, whenever we were alone together at school in 2012/2013.

like you could tell how naive i was….. because i used ridiculous lines like “like a gentleman entranced, you lead me to the bath for our next foray” and dumbass prose-y things like that. because what the fuck does that even mean 😂😅????

and this is why i think minors should be careful with their online experiences. like yeah, you could say that i wasn’t a minor anymore- more of a “young adult”- who should of made the smart decision to not engage with these anons. but i was a kid. i thought it was fun. and when the dudes came off anon, i thought to myself “it’s not like i’m ever gonna meet them if i ever go to the US or puerto rico at any point. it’s not like that they’ll ever recognise me in person or ever reach out to me again in the future. i might as well do it.” and i did eventually end up ignoring the guys in my inbox, due to my mental health kinda plummeting from the middle til the end of 2013 because of my end of high school exams and stuff… and also the puerto rican guy’s infamously inappropriate “hot PE teacher fucks HOT female high school student in the girls change room showers” fantasy which fucking disgusted me, when he full well knew that i was STILL IN high school.

and obviously again, there’s the point about using the “block” button function. but as i’ve stated several times over my years on here, back in my early days of tumblr, i never wanted to block or unfollow people (even if they were trash like these two men), because it seemed so “mean” and “final”. obvs now i have no qualms about blocking people, and actively encourage younger people on here to use the block button with reckless abandon towards creepy people or people who can hurt them in some way. but to high school teenage me, the whole “using the block button” thing seemed to go against me being a “nice girl/person” so i never used it, no matter which social media platform i was on.

this is why i’m hella scared for young teen girls on tik tok wanting to have onlyfans accounts: because it’s where they’ll be exposed to ACTUAL CREEPS AND PREDATORS incredibly quickly; all because they can make money off selling images of just their feet or eventually their body….. depending on what these creepy strangers demand from them….. and they’ll feel like they’ll have to do it…. but to do it before you even start experimenting properly with relationships and sex is even worse. like. yeah. i’ve admitted before that i originally started this tumblr to possibly post nudes, to see if i’d get the positive feedback that i so desperately wanted/craved from the boys in my year at catholic school- eg. to be called “sexy”, “hot”, “fuckable” possibly “beautiful”- like some of the so called “popular girls” got on their hella basic bikini photos back then (like i remember one girl i knew ended up with like 500 likes and a fair amount of comments on one of her bikini pics and i was INCREDIBLY BITTER because not even a pic of me with a nice outfit on, my hair done and makeup on could EVER get those numbers, let alone even break over the double digits).

but i decided posting nudes or other explicit images on here was an absolute no go, because i realised that i never wanted people that i knew digging up barely clothed/naked pics of me and sending them to me all like “hey, is this you?” and then possibly mocking me, all because i would’ve been dumb enough to put my face in them probably at the time. now when i take nudes and send them, i never show my face. because i know now, that even in relationships, your partner can use nude pics as leverage for arguments or to abuse you in such a way that they’ll upload your pics without your knowledge to god knows where on the internet probably as a way to get back at you in a horrible breakup.

this is what i sincerely hope some young girls who ever contemplate starting onlyfans accounts take some time SERIOUSLY CONSIDER. please know that if you share shit on onlyfans, it can shared and re-shared (i think idek how OF works tbh) to god knows who- and eventually end up in the hands of people you know. i don’t fucking care if it’s a “good way to make money!” or if people think that im trying to stop teen girls from being “girl bosses” and the other dumb as fuck internet memes you want to throw at me. because this shit isn’t “haha internet meme funny” material. it’s some fucking serious stuff. and also, i’m not saying “don’t become a sex worker when you’re older” or whatever either. you’re free to make that choice when you’re in your 20s (no i even mean 17-19 year olds in this post as “young teen girls”- sorry you’re basically kids to me at almost 26). just please consider where the fuck your stuff can be shared to. who it can end up being shared with or to.

this is why i was so fucking adamant with my infamous old follower mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF that i personally would NOT consider becoming a camgirl for him or just generally… because i had no idea where the fuck my images or videos would end up. and do you know the places i’d never want them to fucking be??? in the hands of my high school stalker/creeper. in the hands of those two 28yo men from 2013 (who’d now be in there late 30s or early 40s). i absolutely don’t want them in the hands the mid-to-late 20s and early 30s men that that girl i met at public school in 2012 who was pissed that i didn’t believe that were “adults” because we were finally over the legal age of consent (16) in our state of australia, and so we were apparently fine to “fuck” literal grown ass men because “just fuck them and they’ll be nice to you!!” which i knew was fucking bullshit.

i absolutely don’t fucking want explicit videos/images of me ending up in “why the fuck won’t you let me give you “sex lessons” in the back of my car as a “favour” and as payment for teaching you how to drive you stupid, stuck up & frigid, virgin bitch!?” guy’s hands from 2014 (when i was 18/19 at the time and he was 25… he ended up being the first person of many i’d EVER block on social media lol). or i don't want them in the hands of those weird early 20s dudes (one of which was trying to set me up with his friend) who hit on me at 16/17 (2012) who were angry that i didn’t like and watch porn as much as they did…. and who promptly asked me at the end of their period of harassing of me: “do you know any sluts we could add?” because i kept refusing their suggestions etc.

hell, quite frankly i don’t even want them to go to mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF either, but the very few and far between nudes that i sent on snapchat to him back in 2016 are some nudes that i’d rather forget lmao. hell. i don’t even know if MAF ever deleted my nudes or shared them somewhere else or not, after he fucking wheedled them out of me with “i’ve followed you for 4 years, don’t be a shit! you owe me nudes!” so he’d just shut the fuck up about my social life decisions and leave me the fuck alone.

i don’t want ANY ONE of the guys i mentioned above to get their hands on photos of minors either…. because i definitely know my hs stalker/creeper would… because his fave “make her jealous” tactic that he’s always used on me is that “hey…. i’m dating a *insert teenage girl’s age here*! be fucking jealous that you don’t fucking have me and feel guilty that you won’t fuck me like this girl does!!!” just like he did in 2015, when i ran into him on the home from uni… when i turned 20 the next week and he turned 20 that december. at that time it was a 14yo girl he used as an example of him “dating”/“fucking” to make me jealous. instead, i was completely and utterly fucking disgusted. like any fucking sane and normal human being would/should be at that horrible age gap. that is literally a fucking child that he was fucking grooming. and we were literal adults. back the fuck away.

just please. PLEASE CONSIDER the types of people that trawl these kinds of sites and their intentions. please consider that you are young. very fucking young. you literally DO NOT need to upload nudes to the internet because it’s apparently a “lucrative” business. fuck the jokey “boss babe” rhetoric around it all the way to fucking hell.

because if you’re a minor: i do not want you to have your first experience of sexting or sending explicit images literally in front of god knows how many total strangers for the whole world to see (okay i know only fans is like subscriber/follower based or whatever. but i don’t care)…… even when you (depending how good you are with relationships etc) haven’t reached the common supposed milestones of your “first boyfriend/girlfriend/partner” or “first kiss” or have even “lost your virginity” (which isn’t real anyway- don’t buy this fucking bullshit)…. just like i stupidly did with my exposure to sexting here on my tumblr back in 2013. these people don’t/won’t give a flying fuck about your privacy or safety. they don’t/won’t give a fuck about your boundaries either.

please don’t possibly scar yourself for life, just because you’re being told that it’s a quick & convenient way to make some money for weirdos on the depths of the internet. you will regret it in future. just like i do now with mine. it should’ve been something personal between me and and a guy i trusted and liked at the time. not to some random 250-500 random strangers on this hellsite (okay the notes on these posts were literally single digits or non-existent, but still… and also some of my irl friends who had tumblr saw these posts as well) for a show….. and then privately with two 28yo literal grown ass men…. who should’ve been fucking hitting on women their own goddamned age and in their own countries and NOT a 17yo high school KID (at the time) from australia; who, now in her 20s, needs therapy to sort this shit out lmao. mind you they both reeled me in with the “you’re so mature for your age” bullshit line…. which i fell for a little bit, even if it did make me feel kinda gross at the time, too. don’t fall for that bullshit either.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #relationships i guess #internet stuff #this went in a bigger direction that i thought it would lmao #but anyway

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